“May I remind you that the book you and your friends wanted was not in the least easy to procure, and I had to tread in pretty dangerous waters in order to get it for you. We had agreed on a specific fee. No more promises! By the way, in case you decide to change your number once again, do try and remember that talent of mine which led you to retain my services. I’m expecting to hear from you very SOON.
Travis”
Marcus read the message several times. He got a piece of paper and copied it, word for word. He placed the cell phone in one of the boxes and got up to return them, one by one. The guard who was on duty in storage, responsible for the safekeeping of the evidence paid him little mind, he didn’t even try to give him a hand. Marcos said nothing, returned everything, said goodbye and left, with the paper on which he had written Travis’ message nestling in his pocket.
The basement reeked from the putrid bodies which had been thrown in a corner. The owner of the fish tavern, a middle-aged man who had immigrated to the States some twenty years ago along with his wife and their newborn child, considered himself lucky. He had left home with nothing but a few pennies in his pocket and, once he had managed to save a modest sum, he rented a place which he turned to his fish tavern. From that point on, luck had smiled on him. Money had stopped being an issue; his wife was loving and his son a kind and dutiful boy. At that time, he could not have imagined that one day five demons would walk into his restaurant, accompanying Erebus, the gatekeeper of hell, and kill everyone. It turned out that the fish tavern, which had been a source of such good fortune for the man, sadly had been built on a place where the cosmic forces converged; hence the magic there was particularly strong.
Erebus drew a rune on the cold floor of the basement, using the owner’s blood and commenced with the casting of his spell. He was chanting in a low voice, while the rest of the demons stood around him, holding in their hands swords which they pointed to the floor. Erebus was wearing a long white cassock, with a hood covering his head. His skin looked as if made of obsidian, it was raven black, with a glasslike appearance. The sockets of his eyes were empty; the gatekeeper of hell needed no eyes in order to see. He raised his right hand, in which he was holding a small stone and along with it his voice, as he was completing his incantation.
The stone began floating in the air, left his hand and moved a few feet away, over the floor, in front of Erebus. It began vibrating, with increasing frequency and eventually it exploded, creating an energy wave. Now, at the center of the explosion, a woman stood. She was stunningly attractive, scantily dressed, with several pieces of jewelry covering her bronze skin. On her head she wore a golden tiara, while her eyes shone brightly red. Before she had the time to speak a word, Erebus seized her by the neck, lifter her off the ground with his one hand and slapped her with the other.
“Next time, Astarte, follow the orders you have been given. Do not disappoint us again”, said Erebus in a heavy, bass voice, letting the demoness Astarte fall to the floor; immediately afterwards, without waiting for any sort of answer, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Astarte got up, trying to ignore the threat so as to act as a superior towards the rest of the demons who had been left behind with her. In fact, she knew that she had been extremely fortunate that Erebus had managed to return her to this plane of existence. In her mind flashed the memory of the clash she had in that car with the young female vampire, a couple of days earlier. Had Erica known that she had been battling a demon, she would have chanted an exorcism upon killing her, and then Astarte’s spirit would have been trapped in hell for a minimum of a thousand years and a new ritual would be then required in order for her to return. She had acted recklessly; she had attacked Erica immediately after her return to Earth, while she was still in her ghostly form, before she had the time to fully reconnect with her powers. She mustn’t fail again; she knew the fate that would be awaiting her in hell, should she return there without having killed all the Ancients. At least Erebus, when he returned her to Earth, had placed her in her own body, so she didn’t have to create one from scratch or to possess some human. She looked at those standing around her; minor demons, all of them, she couldn’t even recall their names. She needed some serious allies, as soon as possible.
“Where is Orthon?” she asked shortly, with a strict voice, attempting to regain her lost authority.
“He died in Athens… by the hand of a human”, answered one of the demons, with a voice akin to the hissing of a snake.
His face and skin also displayed serpent-like qualities, making Astarte look at him with a look of disgust and superiority. At least she had retained her beauty when she became a demon.
“How is that even possible?” she said, refusing to believe it, “and why didn’t Erebus return him here? I need him!” she continued.
“We cannot be certain… we suspect that the human who killed him belonged to some order of mortals who combat otherworldly creatures and knew how to face us. Otherwise… there might be someone else out there, opposing our plans”, answered one of the other demons.
This one resembled a human, if one was willing to overlook his skin, which was crawling with blisters.
“We cannot continue with our mission; we do not have enough demons to combat the Ancients… Even before Orthon’s demise we had suffered serious losses!” continued the demon, sounding almost panicked.
Astarte resisted the impulse to kill him right where he was standing, choosing to ignore his whimpering complaints. She turned her attention to the rest of them and at the same time started pacing the room, as she was considering their next moves.
“To begin with, we could focus on isolated targets. Erica barely managed to fend off my attack. She is young and inexperienced. If we were to ambush her, all at once, we would be certain to kill her. Then, I could speak directly with the master, so he would send us reinforcements. Before that, however, we have to produce concrete results, something… And I think it would please him if we were to rid him of the successor to Naram-Sin”, she announced to the others, pleased with herself for having found a solution to her problem.
She cast a glance around, none of the demons appeared to disagree with her plan, and so she prepared to give further orders. She was interrupted by the arrival of a man at the edge of the basement. He was wearing a blackest armor and on top of it a long cape of the same color, almost touching the floor. He had his head turned slightly downwards, in such a manner that the hood of his cape covered it. On his belt he had a Thracian rhomphaia, a sword with a scythe-like blade, with an elongated handle, so it could be wielded as a two-handed weapon. The demons who were present at the basement looked at the new arrival and all of them began growling, save for Astarte, who recognized him… and immediately tried to teleport away from him, back to hell, in order to escape. She felt her magic engulfing her body, a dark cloud gathered around her and she mentally pictured the place where she wanted to go. Eventually, though, the cloud began dissipating and she was stunned to discover that her magic had failed her; she was still in that same place as before. The armored figure’s head tilted up and under the hood a humanoid face showed, covered in pale, deformed skin, black-eyed. The man focused on Astarte and with a quick move drew his rhomphaia.
The demons charged him at once, raising their own swords. The man moved with lightning speed, as if he wasn’t weighted down in the least by the armor he was wearing. He dodged the attack of the first demon, who tried to land his sword on the hooded man’s head, blocked the strike attempted by the second one with his scythe holding the blade with both hands and then, gripping it by one, launched it straight at the chest of the third demon. The rhomphaia struck the demonic body, piercing it with ease, as if it were made of paper, and the unhallowed creature dropped to the floor, wreathing in pain. The man, with both arms now free, grabbed two more demons by the neck and murmured a couple of words. His enemies were instantly consumed by flames and he let them drop to the ground. The demons turned into ashes in midair. Astar
te screamed in rage and her skin began crawling. From her back, two blackest wings appeared and soon her head was crowned by two massive bull horns. With a flap of her wings she lunged at the man, attempting to gore him with her horns, but her efforts were in vain. The man had disappeared. She felt a hand grabbing one of her wings from behind and with ferocious strength launching her against the wall, where she slammed with crushing force. The two demons left standing charged the man. The warrior, like a nimble acrobat, dove for his sword. He grabbed it with both hands and, with the scythe in his grip, without even standing up, slashed the space before him from end to end, splitting both demons in two, as if their bodies were stalks of hay.
Once more Astarte attempted to teleport, but again her efforts proved fruitless; the man threw the rhomphaia against her, nailing her on the wall behind her, as the blade pierced through her shoulder. The demoness screeched in pain and began cursing her enemy in an ancient and forgotten dialect. The man approached and seized her by the neck.
“I want information and, by the way, no, my mother never bedded a horse”, he said, smirking at her curses, as if they were two old acquaintances engaged in teasing banter.
His voice sounded melodious and stood in stark contrast to his appearance.
“I want you to tell me exactly how your master intends to defeat the Shadow”, he added, in an equally friendly tone.
It was Astarte’s turn to laugh, despite her pain.
“What’s wrong? Something came along which you’re unable to divine? I thought you could see everything!” she mocked him.
The smile disappeared from the man’s lips. His eyes flashed with hatred and wrath, whereupon he grabbed Astarte by the chest. He pulled her off the wall, through his sword, which was still lodged in the wall, and then forcefully slammed her back.
“Do I look like I can see everything?” he screamed at her. “Would I be here if I could see everything?”
Again, he pulled her off the wall and with stunning speed he tossed her to the other end of the basement. Astarte crumbled, almost fainting. She tried turning to her magic, to heal some of her wounds, but she felt the rhomphaia pierce her body once more, low at the waist. The man was again upon her.
“Answer me!” he boomed.
She managed to ignore the pain enough to smirk, at the same time spitting blood, and tell him:
“… You are doomed to fail! Always!... Madman!”
The next thing she felt, before regaining her senses back in hell, was that searing sensation on her neck, as the rhomphaia, which had withdrew from her waist, was slicing her throat.
Part Two
Plans and Prophecies
Chapter 5
Erica could feel the daylight around her, burning like a fire, even though it did not touch her. The plane’s jet engines sounded in her ears like drills, she felt vulnerable. She hated flying, but it was a necessary evil. She was sitting in her private jet, which was equipped with tinted windows, keeping at bay the sunrays, and yet she had added drapes, just to be on the safe side. Whenever she flew this high, she felt weak, as if she had been thrown in an acid pool, protected only by a flimsy suit that was fast disintegrating.
A year had passed since she had turned a few of her victims into vampires at a bar-restaurant in the States. A lot had changed in that short period of time. First and foremost, as far as her plans were concerned, her financial situation. She had acted with speed and determination in creating new vampires, traveling from one state to the next. She had managed to kill some famed vampires fairly easily, taking control of their assets as well as their underlings; at least, those she hadn’t killed in the process. None was able to stop her. Upon seeing her, her adversaries saw nothing but a young and inexperienced vampire. Only in their last moments, as their stricken bodies dropped to the ground, would they realize their mistake.
Tens of small transportation companies were now under her control -vampires were fond of these particular enterprises- which she had merged, forming two giant conglomerates. In the world of the mortals, she had taken steps to make the two companies appear as if they were competitors, while keeping a secret that both belonged to her. Soon she branched out in entertainment, acquiring a few clubs in various American cities, which provided her with income, laundered the rest of her money and, most importantly, provided her with enough sustenance. A network of private hospitals had proven very useful in this since, although she had been unable to fully wrest it from the vampires who had created it, she was nevertheless able to reach an understanding on very pleasing terms.
The second most important thing that had changed was her ability to gain access to information. In this, Travis had proven invaluable. His computer skills were nothing short of stunning. Within a short time he had provided her with information on a variety of subjects, far more than she had learnt during the ten years she had spent with the Order. Finally, she was able to appreciate how such a large population of vampires was kept under control, instead of taking to the streets like a swarm of locusts, destroying everything in its path. In ancient times, the vampires had formed ten clans, according to the Ancient one who had created them. As the centuries went by, as their numbers swelled, the clans began displaying different tendencies within their ranks, to the point that subgroups had been formed. Then came the Middle Ages, along with the Great Revelation. This was the first time that humanity realized what was lurking within the society and thus began the infamous Crusades, when “heretics” were burnt at the stake. Men against vampires, while the vampire nation also split into two armies: those who adhered to the old ways, the times when humanity ignored their existence and, on the opposite end, those who believed that they must dominate and eradicate humanity.
In the end, mankind and those vampires who favored discreetness won the day. With the end of the Middle Ages the vampires had lost over half of their population and, for the first time in over two hundred years the Ancients returned, once the battles had ended. The surviving vampires eyed them with suspicion and a new fear over what was about to happen. The Ancients gathered their strongest children and led them to the Temple of Blood, a complex nestled within the sand dunes of Sahara. Using unknown magic, they took the hearts of their children and placed them in a massive brazier, filled with glowing embers, at the top of the Temple, binding them in magic and thus keeping them alive. The magic of the brazier, combined with the powers of the Ancients, allowed them to have complete and utter control over their children.
A second period of strife began for the vampires upon the return of the Ancients and their children from the desert; they set about systematically eradicating all other vampires. Those who had managed to survive the previous centuries were slaughtered without mercy or hesitation. A few managed to flee to America, the new continent that the humans had discovered at the time, but the Ancients followed them like a river of blood, destroying in the process many of the native populations. Almost two hundred years later, the vampires left on Earth were under the absolute control of the Ancients. Each new vampire created by their children was bound by the same magic controlling their progenitors. None could escape the control of the ancient vampires now, who thus secured the anonymity of their kin. Mankind, as was in its nature, forgot what had happened in the past and considered the testimonies of its forefathers as fairytales. The war against the vampires became a war against “heretics” and “witches”. The slaughtering of vampires and native populations in America was considered a result of Europe’s expansion into a new continent, while the death of so many people was attributed to “diseases brought there by the Europeans”.
The following centuries passed without major incidents and the unseen control of the Ancients was forgotten, although they very much continued exerting it. Lacking any pressing reason to act openly, they chose to withdraw behind the scenes. The remaining vampires were let loose, to do as they pleased, provided that with their actions they wouldn’t endanger their shared secret. Their numbers began increasing once again, but n
ow the overall population was more limited and the clans quite fixed. On those rare occasions that one of them committed some serious crime, he was punished by banishment from the clan, which turned them into fair game for all the rest. Thus, a balance was created. The only proof that all this had happened were the Dead. This was the name given to the children of the Ancients who had had their hearts removed.
Erica had placed a massive file on her lap, compiled by Travis, which included the names and the locations of almost all the Dead. The file was open at the page including information of a Dead rumored to be the underling of a specific Ancient; the very one who had abducted Lucas’ sister. His last known location was Athens, but the trail stopped there. That posed no problem for Erica, who looked forward to returning to the homeland of her father, the place where she herself had been born.
The private jet landed with a gentle thud on Athens International Airport. Impatiently, Erica opened the jet’s exit the moment the aircraft had stopped moving. The small ladder deployed before her and she immediately walked down. It was night by that time and she hated wasting time. She saw Travis patiently waiting for her nearby. He looked at her and smiled. He had become her right hand, his assistance had proven time and again to be invaluable, but at the same time he had earned a lot for himself. Erica had realized that, her inheritance of Naram-Sin included the aura of the Ancients. Although she took care to keep it under control, so other people around her were not affected, the vampires she chose to have close by soon noticed several changes on them. Travis’ body, for example, showed significant improvement, compared to the imperfections it carried in its human form, which had carried over to his vampiric existence. His stamina and resilience had increased, along with his various powers. Even his appearance had improved; his body had become more muscular, his face less bony. Now he had little trouble securing sustenance, as he could charm any human he wished. In fact, in his new home he kept several vials of blood at any given time, drawn particularly from blonde models, who he met by “chance”, as he used to say.
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