Destiny of the Vampire (Adventures of the Vampire Book 1)

by P. D. McClafferty

  The creature in the cage drooped. “Follow this corridor and go down two levels. The exit to the outside is there. That’s where they haul the dead bodies, and the lowest level is where they keep the highest-level prisoners, like mages and vampires.”

  One of the cells swung open, and a huge wolf stepped out, swinging to face Max.

  “That’s a werewolf,” the nixie whispered. “Very dangerous.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit.” Max turned to face the wolf, willing his eyes to glow red. “Listen pal, you fuck with us, I’ll stun your ass and leave you locked in the cage. Work with us, and you will be free in a few hours.”

  The wolf threw Max a level look with his golden eyes then turned and trotted off down the corridor. Xia and Moses had their lockpicks out and were working furiously at the rusty locks. Max took out his own lockpicks, looking at them for a long moment. It’s been so damn long.

  “The lower tumbler pushes left; the upper tumbler pushes right,” Casey called out. “They’re all the same, damned sloppy fools.”

  Max stuck his picks in the lock. “That’s an odd sentiment coming from the burglar.”

  Casey laughed dryly as a door swung open with a creak of rusty hinges, and he started on another. “Right is right, boss.”

  Another werewolf bounded out of the open cell, studied the humans for a moment, then turned to race down the corridor toward the lower levels.

  The cell door Max was working on clicked and swung open, so Max moved to the next.

  “I owe you me life,” Lenora Mosswood said, hovering in the air before his face.

  “Can we discuss this when we’re out of here, over coffee or brandy, maybe? Right now, I need all the intelligence I can get.”

  Lenora hovered and thought. “Did you know that the entire castle is protected from gateway travel—the whole archipelago, actually—right down to the water’s edge?” Her tiny perfect face took on a dark frown. “How the hell did you get here, anyway?”

  Max clicked the next cell open. “We stole a fishing boat. We’ll steal the ferry boat to get the prisoners out.”

  Lenora’s laughter tinkled again. “The supreme governor is going to be so pissed, he’s going to blow a gasket.”

  Max swallowed a chuckle, suspecting that the translation runespell he’d been using had also blown a gasket, judging by the number of colloquial American curses it was translating the local language into. A chill touched him for a moment as the words neural network and artificial intelligence sprang to his mind.

  Max looked up at the group of creatures flying about his head. “Did this supreme governor guy decide he only wanted female nixies?”

  A titter of laughter swept through the flying crowd.

  “You must be from a long way off,” Lenora replied. “There are only female nixies, and that’s the way it’s always been.” She looked fondly at the five other figures that hovered in air. “They caught a dozen of us and have been ‘amusing’ themselves. We six are all that are left of my patrol.”

  “Huhh!” Max replied, looking around. All the cells on this level appeared to have been opened. “Next level, team. The night is passing, and a guard is bound to show up.”

  “The guards are on the lowest level and are supposed to perform hourly checks. They’re late. I’ll go find out.” In a flicker of iridescent wings, the small flying creature was gone.

  Max pocketed his lockpicks. “This is getting weirder and weirder.”

  “Why did you stop for the oshibka?” Sir Filvendor asked from directly behind Max. The word he’d said was untranslatable.

  “They are living, thinking creatures who deserve to be saved, besides which, I needed the intelligence.”

  “Ahhh,” Filvendor mused, “I knew there was a reason. Oshibka, or ‘nixies,’ as you call them—are common in the province of Ideryn, and we often kill them for sport.”

  Max heard a hiss of anger from the creatures hovering behind him.

  “It’s not like they think or feel.” Filvendor let out a biting little laugh. “It’s not like they’re elves.”

  Max pulled up his helmet, keying the com for Shyilia. “I’m really developing quite a dislike for that guy.” From a quick glance at her vitals in his HUD, he could tell that Shy was furious.

  “Don’t feel alone, Max.” Her voice was filled with rage but not directed at him. “Lenora is my friend, and I’m as upset as you.”

  There was a rush of wings, and Max experienced the odd sensation of having a nixie sit on his shoulder and knock on his helmet with her knuckles to get his attention. When the helmet folded back into the collar of his armor, he saw that Lenora was laughing. “You’re not going to believe it,” she wheezed out as Max shot her a sour look. “The werewolves took out all three guards.” She held up a bloody key on a broken leather thong that had once been attached to a neck. “This is the key to the cell doors. It should make things quicker.”

  He took the key she’d been struggling to hold up. “Thank you, Lenora. That helps.”

  “You’re welcome.” She flashed a radiant smile. “The level you’re approaching is reserved for magic users that can travel. There aren’t many of those. The last level is reserved for mages and vampires. Rumors say the supreme governor has captured all the vampires capable of traveling. There are so many that the cells on the bottom level are literally packed with people. He takes certain individuals out to use until they die, and then he selects another.”

  Down the dank cell-lined corridor, perhaps thirty individuals had exited their open cells and stood uncertainly in the smelly, cold corridor as the team opened cell doors as fast as they could.

  Max gave Lenora a speculative look. “Can you talk to those werewolves?”

  She gave him a curious look. “I can. Why?”

  “I’d like you to ask them to guard our rear. I can’t do this all alone, and their help would be invaluable. Afterward… we might have a use for scouts who could change into a wolf at will.”

  “You’re going to legitimize a werewolf?” She sounded shocked and shook her head as she left his shoulder. “I’ll ask, but I’m not sure whether it’s better for them to accept or reject your offer.”

  As the last of the cells on the second level emptied, two black wolves bounded up from the lower level, their red tongues lolling from their mouths. A panting Lenora, who had been flying hard just to keep up with them, settled on his shoulder. “They say—” She paused to take a deep breath. “That you have a deal for now. They sound attracted to your offer for long-term employment but would like to wait and find out how things here pan out first.”

  “That’s reasonable enough.” Max turned to the wolves. “Wait here. We will go down and begin to release the prisoners on the next level, but there are too many in the cells to bring down this lot right now.” He indicated the milling former prisoners. “We will open the back door to let the prisoners out, while one or two of our number fetch the ferry.”

  The wolves considered him for several long heartbeats before they turned back up the corridor to the keep, where they sat down to wait.

  Turning to the crowd of magic users, Max began. “We’re going to try and free you all, but you have to remain here for the moment while we free others on the next level down and open the door to our escape.” He let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry. We’ve not gone to this much trouble just to leave you behind.”

  A small nervous laugh rippled through the crowd as Max and company wedged their way to the next, and last, stairwell down.

  Max stopped at the entrance to the long and very crowded cellblock. The air smelled of damp stone, unwashed bodies, and overflowing chamber pots. It also smelled of death. Most of the people in the cells looked to be suffering from malnutrition as they leaned against the cold metal bars of their cells, despair written in their
eyes. Max was suddenly reminded of pictures he’d seen of Auschwitz-Birkenau prisoners.

  “Hello, Maximilian,” a weak and familiar voice said to him from one of the cells. Grand Master Mage Oewaelle Itkey’s once-white robe was a dirty grayish brown and had been ripped off at the hem, probably for bandages. Her face was worn and haggard, with dark circles under her violet eyes. Her shoulders were slumped.

  “That cell first, Casey,” Max commanded the stunned and staring team members, pointing at the mage’s crowded cell. “Moses, please start on the back door right away. We need to get these people out into fresh air as soon as we can. Also, send a retrieval call to the tug to come to the back door. Some of these people will be unable to walk to the ferry.”

  When the last of the people had cleared the cell, Max saw that one inmate still hadn’t moved. “Come, friend,” he said gently, stepping into the cell. “It’s your lucky day.” He was just bending over as Oewaelle touched his arm.

  “I’m sorry, Maximilian, but that is the body of Styvius Cluzax, Mage of the Blue Sash, and my dear friend.”

  Max touched the neck to check for a pulse, only to find it cold and already stiff with rigor mortis. “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”

  The cursing brought others to the cell, the first being Shyilia.

  “What is it, Max?” she asked just as Max rolled over the gray-faced body of the mage. “No!” she shrieked. “No, no!” She lunged for the body, but Max held her back. “He was my friend, Max. He can’t be dead.” Shy began to shake then cry in great wracking sobs. She turned and threw herself into Max’s arms, weeping uncontrollably into his shoulder.

  “Filthy human pederast,” Filvendor snarled from behind Max’s back.

  “Max, watch out!” Xia cried in desperation, and Max turned his head just in time to see Xia interpose herself between his back and Filvendor, catching the leaf-bladed spear meant for Max between her own shoulder blades.

  Xia’s helmet retracted as she crashed to the stone floor, her blue eyes wide with pain and shock. “Max?” she whispered, red blood bubbling to her lips.

  “Nooo!” Max shouted to the stone ceiling then turned to Sir Filvendor, who was slowly backing away, his sword leveled toward Max as if it might somehow save him.

  Max murmured under his breath, as his left hand drew the insanely complex runespell he’d practiced again and again with Moses. With his palm facing the elf, he released the spell, and a beam of intense light flashed from his right hand to the elf’s sternum. The melted blade of the sword hit the floor with a clang, and Sir Filvendor stood for a moment, staring at the fist-sized smoking hole in his chest. The hole continued through the warded cells, the steel bars, the granite walls of the castle, and directly through the nearby stony mountain. The elf’s body hit the floor with a clatter of armor but bled very little because the pumping mechanism had been effectively vaporized.

  “Max!” Oewaelle grabbed his arm urgently. “She is dying. You must bite her now! Drink a little of her blood and then let her drink as much of yours as she can. The more she drinks, the more of the vampiric virus will get into her bloodstream, and the faster she will heal. Do it now!” Her fingers were already moving as she wove the spell that would turn Xia. Max ignored the words she was speaking as he bent to the woman he finally admitted he loved.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “Now?” she whispered.

  “Now.” Max bit. After swallowing a quarter liter of her warm blood, he opened his wrist with his handy Ka-bar and forced her to drink. She swallowed a half liter of his blood before her heart finally stopped beating. Her body sagged in his arms as his blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Behind him, he heard Shyilia begin to wail softly.

  Chapter 12

  THE FINAL OPERATION – PLAN B

  Whispers and a faint murmur of sound finally drew Max’s attention from the rapidly cooling body in his arms. Blinking his tears back, he reached out a hand to gently close her glazed-over eyes. His mind was numb, and several long minutes passed before he realized that what he was hearing was quiet, hushed conversation.

  “…is there anything in the first-aid kit we can use?”

  “She be dead, Mérilla,” a deep male voice replied. “Nothin’ we can do now but say a prayer.”

  Max wanted to do nothing more than keep his eyes shut and stay in the quiet cell, holding Xia. Cradling her in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to see Oewaelle facing him. Perversely, she was smiling.

  “It worked, Maximilian.” She brushed a strand of Xia’s dark hair from her face. “You turned her. I can feel the changes at work deep within her.”

  “But…” He looked down at the body in his arms, already turning gray in death.

  The mage chuckled in sympathy. “Yes, she is dead, Max. It will take the virus a few days to restore her body and restart her systems. During that time, it will prevent cellular deterioration, if it’s worrying you. I suspect that after you were turned, you went through a period of restoration yourself before you awoke.”

  Max thought back to the moment he’d awakened in the morgue. The packing slip on his box had said that he’d been waiting shipment for four full days since the shooting. He groaned. “Fuck! What do I do now, Oewaelle? She was…” He took a breath. “She was my second in command, and I relied on her.”

  “Continue on as best you can, Maximilian. Soldiers fall in battle, and you can’t give up when something like this happens. She will return to you, after all.”

  He nodded slowly and looked up to see his team staring at him with stricken eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that they didn’t know about Xia. Shyilia was kneeling on the floor, weeping slowly but steadily. He looked at the closed door at the end of the cellblock and raised an eyebrow. “The door?”

  Moses looked embarrassed. “We can’t get the locks open, Max. Both Casey and I tried. Good job working out the coherent light formula, by the way.”

  Max sighed, turned, and handed Xia’s body to Moses. “Hold her, Moses. I’ll take care of the door. It won’t be as quiet, but it will get done.” He smiled at the big black man, who was staring sorrowfully at the body of the Asian woman in his arms. “And don’t bang her head against any cell bars on the way out. She finds out, and she’ll kick your black ass when she wakes up.”

  Moses gave him a long look that said eloquently, he thought Max was certifiably insane. “Max, she’s dead.”

  Max smiled, speaking loud enough for everyone on his team to hear. “Oewaelle and I turned her as she died.” Max shot the mage a look of thanks. “As many of you may have noticed, you’re not in Kansas anymore. Different rules apply here.”

  The team gaped at him as he turned away, and for some strange reason, the former inmates made way as he walked the long stone corridor to the back door.

  Heavy, black, and iron clad, the back door wouldn’t have been out of place in a New York City bank. Approaching the ominous exit, Max could feel the warding protecting the door from magical opening. Luckily, he had something a little more direct in mind. “Casey, front and center!”

  “Yeah, boss?” The young man cast a disgusted look at the nearly impregnable door as he came to stand beside Max.

  “You tried picking the door. We brought along some advanced cutting explosive with a wide range of core loads for any job. Would that work?”

  Casey groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I forgot about the friggin’ ACE, boss. Yeah, it would take that door out.”

  “Good. Take out that door and then hustle your ass back up to the next level, where you will find a couple of wolves guarding our rear. Get the wolves and all the mages moving in this direction, and then blow the stairwell leading up to the next level. I want to slow down any movement from the opposition. After that, get back down here, and we’re gone.”

  Casey sighed. “Finally.”

  As M
ax set down the sealed eighteen-liter olive-drab can containing the explosives, Casey popped the lid and began removing various fifteen-millimeter sticks of differing widths. “You couldn’t get a Breacher Strip, boss?” he asked, referring to a roll of explosives specifically designed to remove doors, windows, and sections of unreinforced wall.

  “I only had so much room to work with when I ordered this stuff, and I had to go with multifunction whenever possible. ACE will also take out doors.”

  “That it will, boss.”

  It took Casey ten minutes to set the charges, after which, he ran down the corridor to join the crowd hiding behind a shield of air Max and Oewaelle had created. Casey shot everyone a toothy grin as he held up a small remote detonator with a red button on the top.

  “Fire in the hole!” He pushed the button.

  Max picked himself up from the floor, where the blast had blown him, and helped Oewaelle to her feet. His ears were ringing, and he saw her lips moving but heard no sound. At the far end of the corridor, the armored and warded door was… gone, along with a sizeable piece of the surrounding stone wall. He shook his head to help clear the fog and looked for Casey.

  “You used a little too much explosive!” he shouted when he found the man struggling to his feet.

  “What?” Casey shouted back, also shaking his head.

  “Too much explosive,” Max mouthed.

  “Yeah,” Casey yelled back, “and I think I used a little too much explosive.”

  Max sighed, knowing that he should have had the team raise their helmets before the blast, but that would have caused a panic among the already-jittery former inmates. He pointed to the door. “Go!” he shouted. “Get everyone out.” Now that his hearing was slowly returning, he could hear an alarm gong banging stridently.

  “Boss, we’ve got problems,” Mérilla said over his earpiece.

  Max stepped into an empty cell and raised his helmet so that he could hear better over the babble of voices.