Vengeance

by Erica Stevens

  After five minutes, the excitement of the crowd calmed again. “Bring forth the traitors!” The queen declared.

  Traitors? Tempest didn’t have much time to ponder who the traitors were before the invaders began to unlock the stocks and remove the vampires from them. The crowd parted to let the invaders pass as they led the prisoners down the center of the street toward the hotel. A choked sound escaped her when the vampires within the crowd began to spit and beat at the vampires walking by them. The prisoners threw their hands up in an attempt to protect themselves, but before they were halfway through the mob, bruises and blood marred their faces and clothes.

  “What are they doing?” Pallas gasped.

  “I don’t know.” Tempest said the words, but a niggling horror was already forming in the back of her mind.

  The crowd continued to part in order to let them pass, but she could no longer see the prisoners within the sea of angry vampires. She stood, unable to move, as she waited to see what would happen to those poor, beaten souls.

  “This world will become ours again!” The woman somewhere at the front of the crowd declared in the same excited, passionate voice that roused the crowd to more cheers. “And we will do whatever is necessary to take it back!”

  Tempest jumped as flames burst upward from the courtyard outside of the hotel. Horror chilled her bones when agonized screams rent the air. The flames soared nearly to the tops of the houses before coming down to ten feet in height. The flames leapt and danced in the glass; the light from the fire played over the three of them.

  Over the top of the snapping fire and the crackling wood, the screams continued to echo through the night. The crowd shifted, moving just enough so she caught a glimpse of one of the prisoners straining against the ropes binding him to a pole seconds before the pile of wood beneath him burst into flames.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. More screams echoed through the night as the flames licked over his body, sizzling and blistering his skin. Tempest had never seen anything so gruesome in her life, yet the crowd had begun to stomp their feet and cheer again. Another fire erupted from somewhere to the left, more shrieks pierced the air and reverberated off the mountains.

  “And anyone who stands in our way will be dealt with swiftly!” The woman vowed. “I am the most powerful vampire alive and those who follow me will know superiority once more! They will follow the one true leader and be rewarded for their loyalty!”

  The shouts of joy and bloodlust from the crowd swelled ever higher, making it almost impossible for her to think. This was far beyond her scope of comprehension.

  She’d experienced cruelty at the hands of some of the vampires who had run the orphanage. One had locked her in the attic for a week when she’d been late, another had once beaten her so badly she’d been unable to walk for two days, but never had she imagined such brutality as what she witnessed now.

  Worse, she’d never expected for so many to take pleasure in what was being done to their fellow vampires. Either far more of them had agreed vampires should take over the top position than she’d realized, or they were being swept up by this woman’s promises and the excitement of the moment. She would like to believe they would come to their senses later, but she wasn’t so sure that would happen.

  More cheers erupted from the crowd as another fire surged into the air.

  “Tempest…” Abbott started; his skin looked oddly green in the reflection of the window.

  “I’m going,” she whispered. “I’ll go now.”

  Maybe she could have justified staying with the children instead of trying to get help before, but there was no doubt now they would either join the mass outside or die, and she certainly wanted no part of this, nor did she want to be burned alive. The children would have no choice, now more than ever she was convinced the children in the other towns had not survived.

  “I’ll need the cloak,” she murmured.

  Pallas walked over to the piano and pulled up the lid. From inside the piano, she pulled the pieced together white cloak she’d sewn from whatever white clothes, sheets or pillows she could find. Pallas had started to piece the cloak together on the second day after the invaders arrived. It was nowhere near as fine in quality as the cloaks the invaders wore, but Tempest would pass a cursory examination, and it would help her to blend into her environment.

  She hadn't been certain she’d ever attempt an escape. Who was she kidding, she had as much courage as a cat most of the time? She’d survived by living like a cat too, slinking through the shadows, keeping her head down, and hunting for her food. Like a cat, she’d also learned how to be sneaky, and how to survive by bringing as little attention to herself as possible.

  Not once had she ever stood up to any of the vampires who’d run the home and abused her. She’d never envisioned leaving the security of her village behind for the unknown, and aside from these mountains she’d never dreamed of adventure or being something more than what she was.

  Years ago, she’d accepted her lot in life and been content with it. She’d never dreamed she’d one day be looking to flee her village. She tried not to shake like a leaf at the realization of what she was doing, and what would happen to her if they caught her.

  This was about more than just her, she reminded herself as she tugged off her heavy black cloak and dropped it on the couch. She pulled on the much lighter, makeshift one Pallas handed to her and clasped it at her neck. When she was done, she shoved her heavier, wool cloak into the waistband of her pants, against her back. The thicker material of her cloak would be a lot better for her once she was free of these mountains.

  “Are you sure you have everything you need in the caves?” Pallas inquired.

  “Yes.” Turning away, she rested her hands on Abbott’s shoulders. “Take care of the children, if it becomes necessary to turn me in, do so.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued before he could speak. “Protect them first.”

  She turned to Pallas and hugged her. “The same goes for you.”

  Pallas hugged her forcefully. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” she vowed.

  Pulling the hood of the cloak over her head, she slipped through the dining room and into the mudroom behind the kitchen. Her gaze drifted to her snowshoes stacked neatly with the children’s, but she didn’t grab them. None of the invading vampires used them, and she would have to discard them once she reached the trails anyway.

  She glanced back at Pallas and Abbott to find them watching her with troubled eyes from the doorway. She gave them a wan smile before twisting the knob and stepping into the night. Goose bumps broke out on her flesh, but at least she wouldn’t die from the cold.

  Her gaze went to the vampires patrolling the mountains, but all she could do was hope they were too busy watching the twisted celebration to keep an eye out for a lone figure amongst the shadows.

  Trudging through the snow, she made her way toward the mountains. She didn’t have to glance back to see if the flames were still raging from the fires. The screams resonating through the night and the glow of the flames playing over the snow told her they were. Finally making it to the mountainside, she pressed her back to the jagged rocks. She stayed within the shadows as she moved, hoping her hastily made cloak would make them think she was one of their own if they spotted her.

  She was almost to the end of the street when she slipped into a crevice in the mountain. Turning sideways, her back pressed against the rock wall as she slid through the cave. Her nose almost touched the rocks across from her. The mineral scent of the rocks and the damp cave filled her nostrils; the steady trickle of water against rock sounded from somewhere within. Through her thin cloak, she could feel the coolness of the rocks surrounding her.

  The close confines of the walls gave way enough to let her walk straight through the cave. She took four steps forward, before kneeling and turning to her right. There, a rock rested against the wall. Fumbling with it, she pulled the rock away from the wall and grabbed the canvas ba
g tucked within the hole behind it.

  Over the years, it had become easier to store her things within the mountains instead of trying to sneak them out of the orphanage every time she escaped into the caves. The beating that had caused her not to walk for two days had been a result of being caught trying to sneak rags out for her torches.

  The beating hadn’t stopped her from doing it again, but she’d learned to keep a constant back up of supplies on hand afterward. It had been three years since she’d left the orphanage behind, but she’d been unable to break the habit of stashing extra provisions in some of the caves. Maybe a part of her had always known she would need these supplies in the future.

  Digging through the bag, she wrapped her hand around the lighter within and pulled it free. Flipping back the top, she flicked the flint and a small flame blazed to life. It barely lit the gray, jagged walls across from her. Returning to the contents of the bag, she pulled out a rag. She wrapped the rag around the end of the waist high stick she pulled from the hole and lit it on fire. As long as she stayed within this cave system, she could use the torch to light her way.

  She placed the torch against the wall, pulled her cloak from her back and shoved it into the bag. She pulled the string on the bag to close it again, tied it around her waist and shoved it around so it rested against the small of her back.

  Reclaiming the torch, she turned to study the gloomy cave stretching out before her. She knew this cave well, but she couldn’t get her feet to move forward. She turned to take in the shadows behind her. She could go back to town. Maybe someone else would succeed in escaping. Maybe someone else would be able to do something, maybe someone else had already gotten out. There was no guarantee of that though, no way to know for certain, and what if they failed to reach someone, but she could somehow make it?

  She continued to stare back the way she’d come, if she continued forward there was a possibility she’d never see her home, her friends, or the children again. If she didn’t go, there was a bigger possibility they would all end up strapped to a pole and set on fire.

  That reminder caused her to turn away from her hometown. There was no way to know what would happen when they discovered her missing, but she did know none of them would walk away from this if she stayed here and did nothing. Gathering the waning dregs of her courage and without looking back, she slipped further into the caves.

  CHAPTER 8

  William couldn’t tear his gaze away from the shining blood colored eyes looking back at him. He’d been in The Barrens; he’d seen what happened to vampires who weren’t able to feed. Seen how ravenous, mindless and monstrous they could become. These creatures fell somewhere between the hairless, almost slug-like creatures, who’d run free in the dry and desolate Barrens, and a normal vampire.

  The eyes of the vampires across from him shone like rubies in the light playing over them. Their chapped and colorless lips skimmed back to reveal their fangs. They hissed excitedly when they spotted him standing on the bottom step. Pale hands wrapped around the bars of the cells holding them back; most of those hands had no nails attached to them. The nails on the ones who did still have them made him wince when they scraped against the bars.

  Dried blood and torn skin hung from the end of some of the ragged fingers. It took him a minute to realize some of the scraping against the bars wasn’t only from fingernails. It was also due to the bones protruding from the tips of the shredded fingers. Some of them yanked at the bars, others sniffed the air like a dog trying to catch the scent. His scent.

  Most of them no longer had eyebrows, and they were all in various stages of hair loss on their heads. Some still had almost all of their hair, others had bald patches showing through, and the rest had glistening, pale scalps.

  He’d tried not to think about those creatures in The Barrens since they’d left there, but staring at these things across from him, he now recalled how their skin had been almost strangely translucent. The lack of a blood supply seemed to have drained them of the blood that had once been in their body. He kept expecting to see inside their skulls to their brains.

  To the left of the two cells, he spotted another, smaller cage. The gleaming metal of the bars, and the sawdust on the floor let him know this cage had been hastily assembled after the others. He lifted the lantern higher to chase away the shadows lurking in the corners of the basement and obscuring the cage. Everything within him revolted at the sight that greeted him.

  A silent scream resonated in his head as he stared at the small, lifeless bodies sprawled across the bottom of the cage. Children, dozens of them.

  He didn’t move closer to the bodies; he had no desire to see any more of them, or to learn how they had died. It hadn’t been by natural causes if they’d been locked away in this basement. He assumed their fragile, young bodies hadn’t been able to withstand the starvation, but he had no intention of confirming it.

  He almost turned away and walked back upstairs, but his conscience tugged at him. These were not the vampires of The Barrens; they hadn’t been put here because they’d been sentenced for a crime. If they’d been put here as a form of punishment, he couldn’t imagine what would have warranted this type of imprisonment and abandonment. These were men, women, and children who had been locked away for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.

  He couldn’t leave them here like this to suffer and starve. With no food supply, they would become withered, dry husks like the ones the old king had kept in his twisted trophy room. He couldn’t find the keys and set them free; they would attack and drain him if he did. There was no saving them, not anymore.

  Walking to the first cell, he pulled the bow and arrows from his back. He set the quiver by his feet and took a steadying, unnecessary breath before tugging an arrow free. He’d felt as cold as ice these past few months, as deadened as The Barrens, but he couldn’t stop the sorrow and regret churning within his chest as he took aim at the heart of the vampire closest to him.

  It threw itself more vehemently against the bars as its hands swung viciously at him. The nubby bones sticking out from its fingers swung repeatedly at him, a mindless killing machine that could never again see the light of day.

  He released the arrow. The twang of the string resonated in the dank room beneath the prison before it hit the creature with a dull thud. The force of the arrow sent it reeling backward. Silence descended as the vampire hit the ground; its hands clawed at the arrow still protruding from his flesh. The others stared at him for a moment, and then like sharks smelling blood, they pounced upon the body of their fallen cellmate.

  He didn’t know why they hadn’t turned on each other to begin with. Perhaps it was some kind of agreement not to destroy their own kind, or perhaps it hadn’t occurred to them in their degenerating state. Now the scent of blood broke any kind of agreement they may have had and aroused their primitive instincts. They tore and clawed at the dead vamp like a pride of lions on a downed antelope.

  Sickness twisted in his stomach, but he raised the bow and fired a new arrow at another vampire and then another and another. When he started to run low on arrows, he tugged his crossbow free from his waist. He loaded in the first bolt and fired it at the one standing against the bars.

  There were four twisted and starving vamps still standing in the second cell and three in the first when he ran out of arrows and bolts. His arms shook when he lowered the crossbow and tied it to his waist. He didn’t look over the carnage he’d created. He knew what blood and death looked like; he’d dealt with it his entire life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he tried to block out the slurping, wrenching sounds of the feast going on within those cells as he turned back to the stairs.

  With a heavy heart, he climbed the steps. Throwing his bow onto his back again, he began to search through the desks for keys. He discovered them hanging on the wall, behind a jacket draped over a coat stand. Returning to the cellar, the sounds of the feeding frenzy going on washed back over him and caused him to take a step back. The hideous
crunch of cartilage and bone, as their fangs and hands tore at the bodies like they were nothing more than a piece of chicken, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Were they eating the flesh too? He tried not to look closer, but his eyes were drawn to the bone now emerging through the shrinking carcasses. He’d made the right choice in putting these vampires down, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the sickness in his belly. Pulling two stakes from the holsters strapped to his waist, he stepped up to the bars. They didn’t look up from their feast when he unlocked the door and stepped into the cell with the three vamps.

  Adjusting his hold on his stakes, he cautiously approached the vampires, not at all fooled into believing they weren’t aware of his presence, or their opportunity at a chance to escape. He didn’t know what had happened in this town, but he couldn’t take the chance of these things spilling into the nearby towns, if those towns still existed.

  He was almost to the closest one when it released a hiss and launched at him. William spun out of the way, grabbed hold of the neck of its shirt and yanked it back. The clothing ripped in his grasp, but he drove the stake into its heart. The creature squealed and stumbled toward the back wall. William spun and threw the next stake underhand, behind him at the next creature rushing him. The stake flew through the air and embedded itself in the creature’s heart.

  It howled as it fell over, kicking and flailing violently upon the ground. William’s fangs extended, excitement pulsed through him as the thrill of the kill slid over his body. The man inside him was repulsed; the vampire craved more. This whole situation was hideous, but he couldn’t control the baser, more volatile urges shaking him. His skin tingled, his body felt electrified. For a second it almost felt as if his heart raced in his chest again. Bending down, he jerked the stake from his first victim and spun to take on the third.