by Stead, Nick
Lady Sarah had no reason to hate the werewolves as Ulfarr clearly did and she could not help but look on the lycanthrope with awe. There was the same savage beauty to this beast as any of Mother Nature’s mighty hunters. She found Lucia’s pelt particularly striking. The she-wolf bore the same markings as natural wolves, her coat a pale grey with a darker stripe running along her back and white across most of her front. Her muzzle was mostly white, save for the grey streak which extended from the top of her head down between her eyes and to the tip of her nose, and the backs of her ears were brown.
“Your alpha female’s fury only proves your race’s untrustworthiness,” Ulfarr sneered. “Order her to stand down, or I will slay the beast she shows herself to be.”
“He cannot order me to do anything,” the she-wolf snarled, taking her place beside Cromus. “We are both alphas, equal in the eyes of our pack and chosen as representatives of our race. I am not bound to obey his every command like some weak human wife.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” Ulfarr said, drawing his sword.
“Enough!” the female wraith thundered, placing herself between them. They were standing so close that the edges of the wraith’s ethereal body passed through them. The three corporeal beings took a step back. “The spirit world will consider the proposal of a united force to meet the Slayers in battle, and we will give our decision at the next moot. I suggest each of the other races does the same.”
Ulfarr scowled and stalked around the wraith and the alpha werewolf pair, and out of the chamber. Lady Sarah watched him go, wondering if she should follow. Lucia fixed her with that burning amber gaze. Was the she-wolf challenging her? She had never been one to back down from a challenge, and she rose to her feet with no less confidence than the alphas had shown, standing tall and proud before them.
Cromus placed a hand on Lucia’s furred shoulder. “We have done what we came to. The pack is waiting.”
Lucia glared at Lady Sarah a moment longer, then turned to her partner. “Then we will return to them. The hunt is calling.”
“Indeed it is,” Cromus answered, shifting into his own wolf-man form. He looked like a male version of the she-wolf, except his fur was the same black as his human hair, from head to toe.
The alpha male gave them all one last glance, then leant in close to the she-wolf and nuzzled her in an open display of affection. She licked his muzzle and prowled outside. He was not far behind, pausing only to give a command to the other male. “Come, Magnus.”
Magnus transformed as well and moments later the three werewolves were out of sight. But it was not long before they sent more howls up into the night, declaring their right to hunt through the hours of darkness, one which was equal to any of the other races. As enamoured with Ulfarr as she was, Lady Sarah could not bring herself to share in his hatred of the lycanthropes, not unless they gave her reason to. She would remain wary of them though. After all, a lack of caution could get a vampire killed.
The other undead started to take their leave as well, the different types of spirit simply vanishing. The ghouls, zombies and the two remaining vampires got to their feet, and all but Titus began to file out of the chamber. Asta left without a backwards glance. Titus remained where he was, waiting for the room to clear before approaching.
“Your name is Lady Sarah?” he said.
“It is. And you are Titus?”
“Yes. I sense you are still young, at least compared to those like myself who have seen a thousand years or more. And I find myself wondering, why did Elder Ulfarr bring you here?”
“He helped me defeat a group of Slayers and then saw fit to bring me to this gathering by way of answering some of my questions. Does my youth make me unwelcome?”
Titus smiled. “Fresh blood is not always a bad thing. How much do you know of our history and what are your thoughts after witnessing this moot?”
“I know little besides what I heard tonight,” she admitted. She hesitated before continuing, aware she was entering into a new world of politics, one she did not yet completely understand. “And I am not sure what to think after all I have just seen and heard. However, given the way I was attacked earlier, it seems there is merit in the argument for meeting the Slayers in battle as one army, before the race of men progresses any further.”
“Indeed.” He smiled, looking pleased with her answer despite his intense, predatory gaze. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and again she was reminded of a bird of a prey. “I believe we have much to discuss.”
“Where now?” Zeerin asked, bringing Lady Sarah back to the present once more.
“We need to keep moving,” she answered. “The where is of little consequence at the moment – not when our enemies are going to be actively hunting us again.”
“It’s me they seem to be most interested in,” Nick growled in the wolven tongue. “And they keep on seeming to find me, no matter what part of the country we run to, or how remote it seems to be. Maybe the only way to lose them is to leave Britain.”
She was pleased to hear the young werewolf acknowledging that. The first night she’d found him, when he’d allowed himself to be hunted by their enemies, she’d had to wonder if this could really be the werewolf Selina had seen in her visions, the one destined for greatness. He’d come a long way since then. She worried about his eagerness to fight the Slayers though.
“What about the war you have been so keen to fight against them?” she asked, daring to hope he might finally have seen sense.
They’d argued so many times about the folly of open warfare, and it wasn’t that she was unsympathetic towards his plight as the last werewolf, or against the idea of defeating the Slayers once and for all. She even agreed with him that it might allow all their races to make a comeback. It was the memory of that last great battle which made her so reluctant. And if Nick had witnessed the same slaughter she had, she wondered if he would be so quick to argue for this idea of a ‘last stand’ he was so keen on.
That last battle hadn’t taken place until the mid-seventeenth century, some time after Cromus had first proposed it at the moot. They’d entered the fight so sure of victory. They’d left with their tails between their legs, literally, in the case of the werewolves. Those who hadn’t had their tails blown off, at least.
Men shifted in the night, restless and wary. Lady Sarah caught the stink of fear oozing from pores and the sound of hearts beating a little too fast. All that blood begging to be set free… No. Now was not the time to feed.
She motioned to her unit of vampires and they moved into position, gripping their swords while they waited for the signal. Her warriors were feeling the same temptation – she could see the longing on their faces. Doubt crept into her heart. Did they lack the discipline needed to fight the hunger?
Then there were the cannons, dark and foreboding, and the muskets in the arms of each and every Slayer. All this artillery made her nervous, but it was too late to turn back. The undead had chosen to fight, and the time for a decisive blow was now. Somehow she didn’t think they’d ever get another chance like this.
A howl went up, from the muzzle of Cromus himself. This was it. The signal they’d been waiting for. The time to act was almost upon them.
One of the younger vampires started forward, eager to charge in for the promised bloodshed. She grabbed his arm before he could get any further. “Not yet! We wait.”
He hissed at her and she raised the blade to his throat.
“We wait!”
His eyes slid to the side, his face relaxing into a neutral mask. She released him and turned her attention back to the humans.
More howls went up and the members of several great werewolf packs bounded into view, united as one. Cromus and Lucia made for impressive figures leading the charge, eyes blazing with fury and teeth bared.
An equally impressive pack of ghouls followed them. Together, the force numbered well over five hundred. It was enough to inspire the fear in the humans they’d been hoping for.
The night lit up with gunfire and the great pack scattered, not fleeing but drawing their enemy’s fire.
“Now!” she hissed, too quiet for the humans to hear.
Her warriors charged with her, striking the line of gunmen before they knew what hit them. Men panicked and dropped the guns they’d never have time to reload, drawing their swords. Lady Sarah ignored them and focused on the rank with their shots at the ready, slashing flesh and cleaving bone. Bodies fell, and for a brief moment she felt a strange connection to the corpses, like some part of her had brushed against the empty vessels just waiting for new life to reanimate them. She dismissed the feeling as nothing more than her imagination, returning her attention to the living.
The werewolves and ghouls circled back round to join the fray, and Titus appeared, leading another force of younger vampires. An Elder charged in at the helm of their main force, and wraiths shimmered among them, a macabre mist, vengeful and deadly. Zombies followed like grotesque shadows.
An animal cry sounded amidst the screams, their first casualty. But they’d already slaughtered hundreds of men. Lady Sarah’s confidence returned as she parried a blow and dodged a lead shot, running the first man through with her blade and snapping the second man’s neck with her mind. They fell, joining countless others on the blood soaked grass.
Victory looked to be in hand, when another round of gunfire rent the night. More yelps tore from wolves and ghouls, and even the wraiths began to scream. Several of the ghostly warriors burst into ethereal flame, then their screams cut off with a terrible finality and they winked out of the mortal realm, banished to one of the spirit planes.
Dismayed, Lady Sarah scanned the battlefield for the source of these new enemies, wielding both guns and magic. More cannons roared, spraying pieces of dirt, flesh and bone. A female werewolf was unfortunate enough to be standing in the path of the cannonball, blown into pieces too small even for her superior healing abilities to recover from. She was but the first of many.
The world descended into chaos and confusion. The artillery seemed to be coming from all around them, but how was this possible? How had they not sensed the Slayers splitting their forces, and how had their enemies gathered such great numbers?
Another cannonball smashed into the vampire at Lady Sarah’s side. He was the same warrior she’d had to discipline, his body exploding just like the werewolf’s. Pieces of him splattered her from head to toe, the edge of the blast knocking her backwards.
Dazed, she turned just as a human swung his blade at her skull and barely blocked the cut. Another took aim and fired, and she screamed with both pain and fury as the shot ripped through her shoulder.
Another human took aim at her head. She reached for her power to defend herself and struggled to find it, too stunned to focus. The man fired, and her death shot towards her in that little ball of lead.
She locked eyes with the man in the instant before his shot claimed her life, watching the smug smile spreading across his face with a strange numbness. It seemed like there should have been anger or fear, or something. But the cannon’s blast had taken even those emotions from her, and she felt nothing as she met his eyes. Then his head caved beneath some invisible force and blood and brains rained down, his shot veering off course. There was only mild surprise as she watched him fall to the floor.
“Come,” said a familiar voice.
She turned to find Ulfarr offering her his hand, and her confusion grew. “Ulfarr? I thought you would not fight beside the wolves.”
“I am not here to fight. The battle is lost. Come.”
Another cannonball landed nearby but this one brought her back to reality. “No! I will not abandon our allies. Cromus and Lucia risked their lives to distract our enemies so we could ambush them – the two alphas and their pack. I will not abandon them over rivalries long past.”
Anger did stir in her heart then, despite her feelings for Ulfarr. How could he let his hatred for werewolves keep him from the battlefield? Maybe his power alone wouldn’t have been enough to turn the tide, but with his help, they could at least have vanquished more of their foes before having to admit defeat.
“And I will not argue with you over the true nature of those beasts, not here. If they have any sense, they will flee with the rest of our forces. The ghouls are already running. It is time we joined them. Come!”
She hesitated a moment longer, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield again. It was true, the other undead had started to run. Her eyes slid back to Ulfarr’s in resignation and she accepted his hand. And so they ran.
Vampire, werewolf and ghoul – all fell before the Slayers’ wrath that night; thousands of them. Only the zombies kept going, but even they couldn’t return from ashes. They’d underestimated their enemy. Humanity’s military tactics had evolved, and the Slayers had evolved with them. Their undead army had never stood a chance. Not when the Slayers had both guns and magic to wield against them. It was their magic that had hidden their forces from undead senses, and the two together, combined with the Slayers’ greater numbers, bolstered by mercenaries, proved simply too much. Only a fraction of their force survived, scattered to the four corners of the Earth to seek refuge in whatever shadows were left.
And that had been before the invention of these modern day monstrosities humans called tanks and jet fighters and nuclear missiles. Trying to engage the Slayers in another big battle would be suicide.
“I can’t fight a war on my own. And for as long as the rest of you refuse to make a stand, I might as well be hiding out in the wilderness instead of constantly running and risking my life in the odd skirmish,” Nick answered, much to her relief.
The discussion went on a little longer until Zeerin said “Come then. Let us be on our voyage before the Slayers put a stop to it.”
Lady Sarah suspected the thought of what might lie on distant shores excited the young werewolf, but as they started out on their journey she was filled with doubts. Her mind turned to more recent events and the memory of that which most troubled her began to replay itself.
She was back in the woods with Nick and Selina after they’d confronted Leon. They were just starting to move on when a gunshot sounded and she felt an agonising impact in her chest. Two more shots rang out and two more bullets slammed into her. Then she was falling into the darkness of her second death, to relive the moments leading up to her rebirth. And as she remembered, her fears for the future grew.
Dim lights appeared, holding back the blackness threatening to swallow all that made Lady Sarah the woman and the vampire the centuries had moulded her into. She was still lying down but the pain of her bullet wounds was gone. That should have meant her body had healed, yet something was wrong. She tried to move and nothing happened. Only her eyes seemed to obey her mind’s commands, rolling in their sockets to take in what few sights her current position had to offer.
Above her there was only the blackness. Her supernaturally enhanced vision should have pierced at least a little way into it, but it was like she’d been sent up into the night sky, in the nothingness between the stars. There didn’t appear to be anything at all beyond the little patch of light she was currently trapped in.
On either side of her candles burned: the source of the light. Beyond them there was only more of the nothingness.
It was impossible to see anything in front of her head without raising it, but she had a good view of what was behind. And as if the situation wasn’t already terrifying enough, the sight of the object she was presented with added another layer of fear, one meant to conquer even the bravest of hearts.
In that moment she ceased to be a former human monarch and powerful vampire warrior. She ceased to be a predator and one of the monsters feared by mankind. She ceased to be everything the name Lady Sarah had come to embody, her inner strength crumbling before that terrible truth she was now confronted with. Stripped of all the defences her mind had built first in her years as a human, and then in her centuries as a va
mpire, she was reduced to a being as vulnerable as a newborn babe. For there stood a headstone, towering over her like a monument to the Reaper himself. The name carved into it was her own and the dates etched upon its surface coincided with her birth in the fourteenth century and her apparent demise that very night, in the year 2005.
But it was not the prospect of an end to her immortality that terrified her so. It was the knowledge that she was to remain trapped here for all eternity, utterly alone with nothing left to experience but her thoughts and feelings. Such a cruel afterlife was perhaps a unique form of Hell, one which seemed worse to her than any physical pain the demons could have visited upon her flesh. She wanted to scream, but her body would not even allow her that freedom. Her incarceration was absolute.
Time passed. Lady Sarah did not know how much time exactly, but she did have a sense of the present becoming the past and the future turning to present, even if it was all one unending, unchanging moment. And after an indiscernible amount of it, she became aware of something new in the blackness.
She could hear the sound of someone approaching. Their footfalls were soft and gave the impression of an animal grace and agility, unlike the clumsy heaviness of most humans of the modern world. But it wasn’t an animal. They were definitely walking upright on two legs, whoever or whatever they might be.
She swivelled her eyes in the direction the footsteps were coming from and found she could make out movement just beyond the candlelight. If her voice had been working she would have called out to them. As it was, she had to settle for thinking the question her mouth refused to speak. Who was there? She wouldn’t know unless they chose to either step into her line of sight or say something to her.