Unholy Torment

by Kristie Cook

  “So I have a question,” Terrence called from the back of the room. “If the Amadis side needs more numbers to be able to clobber the Daemoni side, why don’t you turn humans?”

  And I should have known that was coming.

  “We wouldn’t do that to a human’s soul,” Tristan said for me. “We wouldn’t take that risk.”

  “But if we’re volunteering to be on the good side?” Terrence pressed.

  “Right,” another guy said. “What if we wanted to? I’ve always thought it’d be brilliant to be a vampire.”

  “And to be immortal but not be evil? Have all that strength and speed and be able to kick those Daemoni’s arses? That would be fabulous,” a girl agreed.

  “It would be.” Terrence pointed his finger at me. “So what do you say? You could make us vampires, and we could fight for you.”

  Several others chimed in their agreement with Terrence’s proposal.

  “Trust me, you don’t want this life,” Vanessa said.

  “But we should get to choose,” Terrence insisted.

  “We cannot turn anyone even if we wanted to.” Solomon’s deep, booming voice quieted everyone. “We would be breaking the very vows that saved our souls in the first place. It is not an option, so let it go.”

  I let him and the others deal with the grumblings while I returned to the office to help with the conversion. We spent over twenty-four hours with Ammi, but because she was newly turned and hadn’t asked to be, she converted rather quickly. Sheree wouldn’t even need to spend much time with her for faith-healing since she’d never lost any of her humanity. If only all conversions could be so easy.

  She cried when we told her what happened.

  “I always had a thing for vampires, thanks to you, Alexis,” she said through her sniffles. “But I’d never wanted to be one.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  She sighed. “I suppose it could be worse. Thank you for saving me.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe I’m really talking to you. But then again . . . I’m a bloody vampire. Which is more preposterous?” Her brows pinched together. “What happened to George and the others?”

  “We hoped you could tell us,” Kristen said. We’d allowed her into the room once we knew Ammi would be okay—that she’d be safe around her own sister. This was a whole different situation than Sonya and Heather had been in.

  Ammi shook her head, but then her eyes sparked. “I do remember one thing he said when he paused from sucking all my blood out of my body. He said, ‘Don’t worry. We won’t kill your friends. We’ll take good care of them, actually. We’ll need some Normans around for food, after all.’”

  “What? They’re starting human farms or something?” Sheree asked, and I sucked in a breath.

  “Kristen,” I said, “you mentioned something about bizarre-o military camps. What did you mean?”

  She snorted. “It’s where all the stupid humans are going. You know, not like us. They’re following the military guys like sheeple into this fenced off place over there by Parliament. They’re basically being held hostage. Why? You don’t really think it’s a human farm, do you?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, and said, “I’m thinking we need to check it out.”

  Chapter 17

  “The camp is run by the military and government, though,” Kristen said. “Not the supernaturals. Not the Daemoni.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure there’s a difference,” Char muttered.

  “Our queen wouldn’t allow such a thing!” Ammi gasped, clapping her hand against her chest.

  Your queen might not be alive . . . or human. A thought I kept to myself.

  “So she’d allow concentration camps?” Char asked, and both girls frowned. “That’s what this sounds like to me. You’re right, Alexis. We do need to check it out.”

  The next day, at high noon, Owen cloaked Tristan, Vanessa, himself, and me, and the four of us followed Kristen’s directions down the road and across the street toward Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster. I wanted to stop and gawk at the historical Gothic structure, but pillars of smoke rising into the sky and the sharp odor of burning buildings filling the air served as constant reminders that this was no sightseeing tour. We were on a mission.

  Kristen had warned us that we wouldn’t be able to see much until we moved farther down the street—seemingly farther into the heart of our enemies. As we passed an old church and a sign showing Westminster Abbey to our immediate right, though, I began to wonder if this camp, or whatever it was, possibly had nothing to do with the Daemoni after all. Maybe the norms had realized the evil ones couldn’t enter sacred grounds, so they’d found refuge there. But before we reached the abbey, the barricades broke wide enough for a car to pass through, into an area where perhaps dignitaries were once dropped off, but was now full of several dozen rectangular boxes that looked like the big shipping containers used on cargo ships. A twelve-foot high fence with rounds of razor wire spiraling across the top of it surrounded the entire area, and a line of soldiers spread out along the fence, one about every fifteen feet. No other people could be seen, but we could hear their heartbeats, and I could sense their mind signatures.

  Hundreds of Normans packed into the metal boxes.

  As we watched, two uniformed soldiers and a man dressed in black exited the building and came into the camp. The civilian glanced up at the sun showing itself from behind scattered clouds and scowled. The show of contempt for the sun gave away his true species: vampire. The threesome walked over to one of the pods and opened the door, ordering everybody out. A couple dozen norms shuffled out of the box, blinking against the daylight. The soldiers stood on guard while the vampire inspected the people.

  He pointed to an elderly man with a hunched back and bowed legs. “No. No good.”

  The soldiers pulled him to the side. The vamp said the same about an old woman and a younger man who hadn’t stopped coughing.

  “Get him out of here,” the vampire ordered, and the soldiers dragged the sick man apart from the others, and without even a heartbeat of hesitancy, shot him in the head. My heart jumped into my throat.

  “Oh no,” I whispered as I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  “They’re good,” the vampire said, indicating the remainder of those who’d been in the box. “Send them on.”

  I focused in on the norms, looking for anything helpful. Several had bite marks on their necks and wrists. They’d definitely been fed on.

  “Look at that one’s wrist,” Tristan murmured from right next to me. “The one with the red shirt.”

  I zeroed in on what he saw on the guy’s arm: a fresh tattoo of angel wings and the initials A.K.

  “There’s one accounted for,” Vanessa said.

  Before we could inspect anyone else’s wrist, the soldiers rushed the norms back into the box. All except the two older people. The vampire dragged them both inside, presumably for lunch. I wanted to be sick.

  “That definitely was not a place of refuge,” I said once we returned to the bunker, and I told Ammi, Kristen, and the woman with the silver bun, all of whom seemed to have taken leadership roles here, what we had seen.

  “The military and government are obviously working with the Daemoni,” Tristan said.

  “And it sure looked like they were harvesting humans,” Vanessa added. “Weeding out the frail and keeping the strong.”

  Kristen and Ammi both frowned and shook their heads.

  “I can’t believe this has happened,” Kristen said.

  “Did you see Steven or Josie?” Ammi asked with a touch of hope. “George? Any of them?”

  “We saw a blond guy with a red shirt and a tattoo like yours.” Tristan tapped his finger against the inside of his wrist.

  Ammi nodded. “Steven was wearing a red shirt. We’d argued about why he’d worn such a bright color when we’d gone out, but he’d spilt kerosene on his only black one. I’m sure he’s not there alone. We have to save them!”r />
  “We have to save all of them,” I agreed.

  We spent the rest of the day and the next scoping out the Norman farm and making our plan of attack. It wouldn’t be easy when the House of Commons was full of military and Daemoni. We’d have to be sneaky as foxes, hoping the norms would recognize we’d come to free them and not scream for help. On the second day, we prepared to head out. Ammi joined us.

  “You need to stay here,” Charlotte said when she noticed the girl.

  “I can help,” she protested. “Those arseholes changed me. I want to hurt them!”

  “You’re not ready,” Tristan said.

  She scowled at him. “I have to go. I promised everyone.”

  I cocked my head as I looked at her. “What do you mean you promised everyone? What did you promise?”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and turned her face away from me. “I promised them if they didn’t come back, I’d come and get them.”

  “Who, Ammi? If who didn’t come back?” I wracked my brain, but couldn’t recall anyone being sent out for supplies or survivors. But, on closer thought, there were some people noticeably missing. Tristan realized it at the same time I did.

  “Where did Terrence and the others go?” he demanded.

  Ammi didn’t answer.

  “They’ve been gone for a couple of days, haven’t they?” Tristan asked.

  She gave the slightest nod. My stomach sank at the thought of more of their group being captured. We’d be severely outnumbered, and there was no guarantee we’d be able to help anyone escape.

  Tristan jabbed a finger in her direction. “You’re staying here.”

  She looked at me with pleading eyes. I could only shake my head.

  “The last thing we need is another of you getting captured,” I said as we headed for the door.

  We’d barely made it up the steps, however, when the door to the outside banged open, and several bodies blocked the gray light of day. Three stumbled through, dragging two others along. I smelled them instantly.

  “What have you done?” I demanded as I ran to them.

  The three on their feet were mostly fine . . . except for the deep fang gashes in their shoulders. The other two—Terrence and the girl—lay unconscious, but the scent of vampire blood ran through their veins.

  “Now you have to convert us,” one of the guys said with a smirk that I wanted to slap right off his face. “They got the vamps, but we found the wolves.”

  “You idiots!” Charlotte snapped as she and Owen picked up Terrence. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “Sure we do,” said the girl. “You’ll convert us, and we’ll be able to fight for you, just like we said we would. And now we can’t be killed.”

  “You’re not immortal,” I growled as I leaned down to pick up the unconscious girl. Tristan beat me to her and scooped her up into his arms. “Vampires aren’t even immortal.”

  “But we’re practically impossible to kill now.”

  “Not until you go through your first transformation,” Sheree snarled, following us down the hall. I’d never heard her so mad at a patient.

  “Good on us tonight’s a full moon then, isn’t it?” the guy said.

  Charlotte dropped Terrence’s feet, leaving Owen to hold him at the shoulders, and spun on the guy. “Which means you can’t be here! You won’t be able to control yourself with the smell of human flesh tempting your taste buds and your beastly needs.”

  “But you’ll convert us,” the girl said, not sounding quite as sure of herself anymore. “Right?”

  Charlotte strode up to her and glared down at the shorter girl. “You don’t know what you’ve done. By choosing this, you may not be able to convert! And certainly not between now and nightfall.”

  “But . . . but we still have our souls. We still have hope. You said as long as we have hope, even just a little . . .”

  “It means we can’t kill you. Not on purpose. It does not mean we’ll succeed in converting you before you die.” Charlotte spun on her heel and stalked back to Owen and Terrence, muttering, “Idiots.”

  “I don’t understand,” the girl whined, and it almost sounded like a puppy’s whimper.

  “The conversion process has been known to kill in some cases,” Sheree said. “And if it doesn’t kill you, your first transformation might. Or, at least, you’ll wish it did.”

  We took them into what had apparently been a packing and shipping room before. Three long rows of tables stretched across the center of the large room and shelves of boxes lined the sides. Owen and Charlotte magically bound the five of them to the tables.

  “I sure hope this holds, because they’ll be a mess tonight,” Charlotte muttered.

  The magic binds held, although it seemed questionable at times. The conversions were grueling, taking every bit of Amadis power we managed to build. We took turns, forced to pause for breaks over the next several days, until the full moon phase passed completely. On the last night, we thought we might have succeeded in easing them through their first monthly cycle when the guy’s human body exploded into were-goo and a large, red wolf appeared in his place. We’d been through many transformations over the past few nights, so this one’s appearance wasn’t our dilemma. The fact that dark energy and hatred still radiated from the wolf was the problem.

  He stood on the metal table, still bound to it, and his black nose sniffed the air. The huge head swung toward me, and the lips curled upwards, baring his fangs. A growl rumbled up his throat, and he lunged forward, snapping his powerful jaw at me. Although I knew he couldn’t reach me, I jumped back instinctively. Hunger—a primal need for living flesh—shone in his black eyes.

  “Calm down,” I ordered, but he only continued to growl.

  Sheree strode our way, and as soon as he caught her scent, he spun on her, snarling and snapping more intensely than ever.

  “Yeah, I smell like your enemy,” she said, “but I’m not. I’m here to help, remember?”

  He barked and bit in her direction, either not understanding her or not caring. I silently moved up behind him, close enough to push Amadis power into him, and I turned it on full blast. The canine body reared back as he let out several yelps, twisting and turning like a mean bull with a rider on its back. His fangs nearly latched onto my hand several times, grazing my knuckles more than once, until finally his moves came slower, with less power.

  The wolf collapsed. I lightened up the intensity but continued pushing Amadis power into him, even as he morphed into a naked man lying on the table.

  “I . . . I lied,” he panted, curling into a fetal position on his side as though he suffered tremendous pain. “I didn’t do this . . . to help. I just wanted . . . to be powerful. I don’t want . . . to be weak . . . like you.”

  His throat rumbled again, and his teeth elongated. Claws grew from his nail beds and fur popped through his skin in patches, but then the transformation stopped, leaving him halfway between human and beast. He whimpered and whined, then yelped and shouted as the sounds of bones breaking crackled throughout his body. His limbs and shoulders changed shape several times, back and forth between man and wolf. I pulled back the strength of my power even more until it dwindled into a light trickle. But his body continued twitching and cracking. He cried out in agony. I released the power completely and held my hands in the air.

  Charlotte rushed over. “No, he needs more not less!”

  “I don’t think he can handle it,” I said.

  “We have to try,” Sheree said, and she clasped strong hands onto his neck and hip, holding him still as she pushed positive power into him.

  Char placed her hands on the wolf-man, too, and I joined them. But it was all Sheree and I could do to keep him from breaking free from our grips. Different parts of his body waved through the various stages of transfiguration at irregular rates, all of it speeding up until he became a blur underneath our hands.

  “We’re losing him,” Char said through clenched teeth.

&nbs
p; I couldn’t possibly push any more goodness into him. My own energy depleted rapidly, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d take on the dark magic that created monsters such as this. I opened my mind to call Tristan over to power me up with his love when the man fell completely still.

  “Oh no!” Sheree gasped, jumping back.

  I lifted my hands, pulled back, and then froze like him. Watched his face dissolve from utter agony to as slack as a sleeping baby, saw his eyes dim until only emptiness remained, and studied his chest as it fell one last time. His final breath whispered between his lips.

  “No.” I lunged for him again.

  We tried CPR, we pushed more loving power into him, we did everything we could, but he only lay there. Still. Dead.

  With my eyes burning as angry tears threatened to fall, I finally shuffled backward, a mixture of anger and grief bubbling in my chest as I glared at his body. When my back hit a shelving unit, I took my first breath in minutes, and my head snapped up. A whole crowd of people stood in the doorway and beyond, heads bobbing above other ones as those in the back tried to catch a glimpse inside the room.

  “Anyone else want to be turned?” I seethed at them. “Or are we clear that this is a fucking bad idea?”

  Their eyes and faces turned away from me. The crowd quickly dissipated, any conversation made in hushed tones. A few people came in, picked up the naked body, and carried him away.

  “The corpse needs to be burned,” Charlotte said as they passed through the door.

  Those were the last words spoken in the room for another two days as the newborn vampires and the other wolves finished the conversion. They awoke with the excitement of success, but that instantly disappeared when Sheree told them what happened. But nobody could do anything about it now. He was dead. They were turned. But they were converted. We had four more Amadis, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled with this development. I prayed no other norms with good intentions decided to do the same thing. Maybe it was better for them, after all, to be against us rather than for us.

  “Yesterday they moved two of those metal boxes where they’re keeping people,” Ammi reported the day after we declared all four of them as safe. She, Kristen, and a few others had been watching the Norman farm in case anything changed, and now they briefed us in the dining room. “Put them on lorries and took them away.”