Rising to darkness

by Lucia Guglielminetti

  If you read this message, you should know that I've been looking for you for a week.

  Nobody has heard from you since the 21st when you called me. I also broke into Vincent's house but he claims that he's been looking for you as well, of course, for purposes very different from mine, and has been unable to find you anywhere. The things that worry me the most are two: the Arab's still alive and there hasn’t been any report about an attempt on his life. Even Greylord is gone. It can’t be a coincidence, given that the two of you disappeared at the same time. I'm afraid you met and killed each other in some way, but his fellow beasts deny this possibility and refuse to reveal their boss' latest moves. All I know is what you have left written on this computer. I'm sorry I didn't want to talk to you that night; if I could turn back time, I would. You'd have come out with a different frame of mind and, even if it would not change anything, at least you'd have known I was with you and was thinking about you. My pride and my stubbornness led me, once again, to think only of my feelings. I hope that it's not too late to amend things. I will go to pay a visit to the Sheikh to force him to talk, after all he should be one of the last people who saw you alive. My brothers, all of them, will be with me. If you read this message in the meantime, call the number that you know and be prepared to endure the inevitable succession of insults you deserve for having worried a vampire as old as myself.

  P.S.

  Al Farai is no longer in London or, at least, this is what they want us to believe.

  I also met Skinner, Greylord's second in command. It seems incredible, but we decided to join forces to find you. We believe that if one of you jumps out, the other one will follow. He admitted that, on the very night you came to kill the Sheikh, Greylord himself was waiting to intercept you, yet even his tracks have been lost in this loathsome character's hotel. It's vital to be able to track him down to make him confess what happened that night. Can it be possible that a plain human can cause such havoc in a supernatural community as ancient and powerful as ours?

  Shibeen.

  Dubai, June 1

  Here we are. Six vampires and a pack of werewolves in the desert. It sounds like the beginning of a joke. The Arab’s days are numbered and when we find him, I'll take care of his confession. It is a shame that Vincent didn't issue a single vampire to help us. He claims that it's all a plot designed by the werewolves to expose him and the Clan, and he doesn't have the intention of rendering any assistance to them, especially to save someone whom he'd rather see dead. They’re all very tense here, my brothers hardly tolerate the presence of the seven lycans that make up their team and we're always on the verge of a riot. We're in a beautiful luxury hotel in the city, the first one we had encountered, to be honest; we rented some rooms for a week. They will move in daytime, we'll do the same at night. We're not sure that our man is here, he could be anywhere in the world or still be in London in his wonderful penthouse, laughing at us. Our informers back home will let us know. The days pass and my anxiety for your fate is increasing every minute. I can't figure out what could hold two powerful beings like you if not death. The thing that terrorizes me the most is the complete lack of mental connection with you, as if a wall had been raised between us. Please, wherever you are, resist and give me time to find you.

  Yours, Shibeen.

  Dubai, June 2

  Perhaps the lycans found the Sheik's hideaway.

  It's a wonderful mansion, out-of-town, surrounded by a lush garden that the doubt arises of not being in the Arabian Desert but in a tropical forest. This climate makes the lycans almost hysterical. With their body temperature higher than normal, they suffer from the heat in an abnormal way and do nothing but drink and sweat, sweat and drink, always being very irritable. Yesterday, Seamus nearly got into a fight with Roderick, a guy in his thirties, with red hair and yellow eyes. Since we've been here, his nose peeled and his cheeks hot. If I hadn't stepped in, a brawl would have ensued, destined to degenerate. The lycans are convinced that you're the one responsible for all this mess and suspect that you've harmed their leader, and then disappeared so as not to incur their wrath for revenge. We believe likewise but with the roles reversed so this doesn't help to make the atmosphere more relaxed. Skinner and I are the only ones who seem a little bit calmer. Although it annoys me to admit it, I'm starting to appreciate his practicality and intelligence. He's not even unpleasant as a travel companion: his humor is rather caustic, which almost always manages to get me to laugh even if laughing is the last thing I want to do these days. He’s very polite and respectful, at least with me: he calls me ’ma’am’; he always greets me with a nod without ever being servile or submissive. He looks like a giant bear towering over us all but, despite his sheer size, he can move with amazing speed. I'd rather not be forced to have any kind of physical confrontation with him. My brothers seem to think the same and try to control themselves in his presence... at least a little. We will try to penetrate into the Sheikh's mansion tonight. We’re all aware of the risks but none of us is willing to give up.

  June 2, 4:15 a.m.

  Al Farai was in the house.

  We had to kill all the people in his villa, including two of his wives, before he decided to tell us what happened the night you were supposed to have dealt with him. At least, now, we know the truth, even if it's more terrible and surreal than any of us could have ever imagined. As incredible as it may seem, you are both prisoners of a terrorist organization with infinite ramifications, whose main goal is to create an overzealous army ready for anything and with extraordinary physical traits. To achieve this, other than having unlimited financial resources furnished by criminals as affluent as the Sheikh himself, a model on which to continue the research was needed. What's better than a vampire in regards to strength, resistance to injury, speed, and talent for attack? If you add immortality, you have before you the perfect soldier. The only drawback, as we all know, is our inability to expose ourselves to sunlight, not an insignificant detail. To remedy this inconvenience, the imaginative scientists leading the project had thought to combine our winning features with those of another supernatural creature infinitely strong and lethal as us: the werewolves. This is where you come into play with Greylord. The Sheikh said that he had immediately recognized you the night you met him at the bar, barely managing to restrain his joy for having succeeded in luring you into his lair. Capturing a vampire of your age and with your characteristics was beyond all their most optimistic expectations. He had heard about you from a friend of one of his secret service agents. In their circle, the tale of an infallible killer named Atropos, in business for fifty years, was being circulated; everybody, from Israel to England to the USA had used him for their dirtiest business. He had managed to contact you for a job contrary to your usual modus operandi just to tease you and draw your attention before becoming insistent and threatening with the vulgar attack in the Alma tunnel. It forced you to react and to find him to avenge the offence in person. When I asked him if he had thought that doing so would have put his own life in danger, he shrugged and told me there's nothing more important than that operation to him. He was willing to do anything just to make it happen. In his opinion, the real stroke of genius was being able to get close to Greylord in order to ensnare the both of you in one shot, persuading him about his plans to give you to him in exchange for a large sum.

  ’He fell for it so naively?’ I asked.

  ’I realized very quickly that his personal obsession was Atropos. Half an hour after my phone call, he rushed to my hotel and reserved a room for a week, persuaded his eternal opponent would have soon showed up to make me pay for my arrogance,’ the Sheikh said.

  His men could do nothing but confirm. After he hung up, he seemed beside himself with excitement. He even turned involuntarily and dashed outside their lair without anyone being able to follow him, let alone reason with him. For almost two hundred years, he was obsessed with getting his hands on you and, whenever he thought that he had succeeded, you escaped under his no
se... This drove him crazy. He didn’t have to wait long. After just two days, in the middle of the night, you penetrated the Sheikh's apartment and everything was accomplished.

  When I asked him how he managed to render harmless two dangerous creatures like you, he laughed and asked me to open a drawer in the desk of his office. He could not do it since he was tied to a chair, his face bruised black and blue, surrounded by a mountain of corpses, at least a dozen of bodyguards and family members. There, where he pointed, I found a DVD and put it in the player below the huge flat screen TV displayed on a wall in the sitting room. It was a shot taken with a fixed camera equipped with a wide-angled lens since it had covered most of the room. At first, you can see the Sheikh sitting in his bed, looking to the left, perhaps because he heard a noise. The window suddenly flings open and, a moment later, there you are standing next to him, as if there was a forward leap in time. Actually, you moved so fast that the camera failed to record your movements. The Sheikh is startled, then you sit on an armchair and cross your legs. You seem very calm and confident, even amused.

  ’Good evening, my friend, finally we meet again,’ you said.

  You were twirling something very small between your gloved fingers. It looked like a shotgun bullet or something similar but the Sheikh revealed to us that it was a vial of lethal gas. That was the way you had chosen to kill him, adding that he'd found it very ironic and apropos given the fake mission he had proposed to you.

  ’Good evening, Mr. Atropos. Finally, I've managed to get your attention. You have been playing hard to get,’ he answered, his voice steady and controlled. For a moment, I felt a hint of admiration for this madman, challenging death to achieve his goal.

  ’You know, usually it's unwise to draw too much of my attention. I'm surprised that you have committed so much to it since I had already declined the work you offered me. Do you think that having me riddled with bullets was the best way to gain my cooperation?’ Now, even your voice sounded calm and controlled, but I know you and I sensed a barely restrained rage in it. When you speak in such a soft voice, it is never a good sign.

  ’Well, it certainly got me what I wanted most: having you here,’ he said. You frowned for a moment, the little item stops rotating in your hand as you raised your eyes towards him and leaned forward. An answer like his would have perplexed anyone.

  ’Sheikh,’ you resumed speaking slowly, as if you were addressing a three-year old child. ’You have guessed why I have come here tonight, haven’t you? This isn't a social visit, and it’s not even an afterthought about your proposition. I'm here to kill you. You knew that I would have done it.’

  ’Yes, of course, I knew you'd have tried.’

  ’Then why on earth should you be happy that I’m here? You know what I have in my hand?’

  ’I'm afraid not, but I'm sure that you will reveal it to me very soon. To answer your first question, however, I would like for you to open that door to your right, please. Don't worry; I'm sure it will be a wonderful surprise for you.’

  One moment you're sitting, in the next one you grabbed him by his pajama shirt and dragged him out of his bed. It's the only time I see his smile falter: when he found himself with your teeth just a few inches from his face.

  ’Are you kidding me? Uh? I don't like surprises, obviously, this is something that you haven't clearly understood yet. Open that damn door and pray that there's nothing I find not to my liking.’

  The camera was recording the scene from a frontal position: the door he pointed to you was just below it, on the left. You both approached it, as you keep him in front you, shielding yourself with his body while pointing a gun to his head. We heard your voice order him to open it, we saw his hand reaching for the handle and then lowered it. Then, you seemed transfixed, staring at something we cannot see for the moment, looking thunderstruck. I heard a gasp escape from your lips, but I can't understand it: it must be that bizarre native language of yours. You even let the Sheikh go; he looked really satisfied and winked to the hidden camera.

  ’So, what was I saying to you, Mr. Atropos? Isn't it a wonderful surprise for you? None other than Greylord, your archenemy, served on a silver platter! You're speechless, aren't you?’

  Your eyes wandered from the doorway to the Sheik for several times. You kept the gun in your right hand but pointed it towards the floor. You looked completely confused and I know how little you like it. Indeed, after another moment, you hurled yourself to him, your fangs exposed; you grabbed him and pointed the gun to his head again.

  ’What's the story here? What does Greylord have to do with you? What's he doing here, unconscious? Talk, or you will be dead in thirty seconds, I swear. Twenty-nine...twenty-eight...’

  ’I... it's a gift... for you... to show my regret for the incident in the tunnel. We started off on the wrong foot and I'm very sorry. I wish we could part as friends... what do you say?’

  ’How do you know so much? How did you know what I am, who Greylord is, and what he means to me? These are supposed to be secrets and they've been for centuries, how can you be so informed? And how the hell did you catch him?’

  ’Why don't you bring him here? He looks like he's waking up; maybe he'd also like to listen to the whole story. Then, we can all make ourselves comfortable and I'll explain everything, down to the smallest details.’

  As you disappeared in the doorway, the Sheikh addressed a much decided nod to the hidden camera, running a finger across his throat. A moment later, you reappeared dragging something behind on the floor that, at first glance, looked like a huge metal bullet. When you lifted yourself up, giving a clearer view, we realized that it's the lycan chief, wrapped from his neck down in what seems to be a very long chain, probably silver judging from his pained expression. At that moment, I had to hold my allies back from tearing the human's head off.

  Then, all hell broke loose in the suite.

  From the door below the camera, a throng of armed men irrupted. You took off like a rocket to the left and threw yourself in the room where you'd just taken Greylord. The sound of a rapid succession of gunshots was heard, along with screams and groans of pain, but the flood of armed men coming from the entrance seemed to have no end, and all were heading towards the door that you took. After some minutes of confusion, two men reappeared dragging a body out, and they let it fall alongside Greylord, lying on his stomach. Someone removed the black hood and your unique hair appeared, then someone else turned you on your back and the camera focused on your face. At this point, someone had to restrain me from tearing the Sheikh’s head off. Anything would have been better than seeing the terror on your face, your eyes darting in every direction, looking for a help that would not come while the rest of your body remained completely motionless. Somebody took the gun you were still clutching in your hand. Your lips were trembling, as if you were trying to say something but couldn’t. He bent down next to you. We couldn’t see his face but, from the tone of his voice, I'd swear he was smiling.

  ’Don't be scared, sir, you're not dying. Not now, at least. You've been stung by a dart containing absinth essence and laudanum. We know that they have a wonderful paralyzing effect on marvelous creatures like you. For your friend on your right, we used a double dose of a much more traditional product, old Pentothal. Now, both of you will be transported to a secret place, where you'll take part in a project that is very close to my heart, the real reason why I organized this expensive charade. You should be proud because, thanks to the both of you, a new breed of invincible warriors will take rise, enabling us to triumph over the West once and for all. Of course, for this to happen, the both of you will have to be sacrificed, but don't be sad: a part of you both will continue to survive in those noble soldiers of Allah and make them great. Now, look at the camera up there, right in front of you in the air duct. Right there, good. Say goodbye...’ Fade. End of the video.

  ’You, little...’

  In the living room, pandemonium broke loose, to which I contributed decisively. Two
of the lycans even transformed under the terrified eyes of the Sheikh who lost his cool at the time. They tried to attack him but, fortunately, the others held their companions back. If they had killed him, our hopes in finding you alive would have been down to zero. Everybody was screaming, trying to get their hands on the human, everybody was railing him, threatening him with the most atrocious tortures if he didn't reveal where you were held prisoners, but not a word escaped from his mouth, at least until three that night when we vampires left his house to escape the approaching dawn. If we continued in this way, he would have been dead by tomorrow without having revealed where the mysterious laboratory in which they are trying to create these monstrous hybrid warriors.

  I don't know what kind of experiments they wanted to subject you to, but I understood very well that their outcome would be fatal and wondered if it's not already too late. Twelve days can be an infinite time, even to an immortal.

  If I could have access to the records of your work, I could find someone in the high human domain willing to help me in order not to lose your services. Before I left, I inspected your house high and low, I even uprooted the door of the safe but, other than weapons, money and some peculiar object from your past, I did not find anything that could help me. I might have raided the wrong house but I don't have the time to go to Paris now and ransack your home there. We must force the Sheikh to talk, period. Something tells me, though, that he'd rather die than endanger his lifetime project. I duplicated the DVD and watched it again as soon as I got to my room. Although it's painful to see the last part, your expression so scared and lost, I loved hearing your voice again and seeing your beautiful face. I miss you so much and I’m terrified of going to sleep for I'm sure my fantasy won't spare me from the dreadful images of things they're doing to you.