Luke Irontree & the Last Vampire War (Books 8-10), page 65
“I want the dark entity. Your god. Saubarag.”
Several of the vampires flinched, others returned their gaze to the dirt. Luke gave them a few moments, but no one spoke up.
He reached out with his rudis and angrily yanked the stolen life essence from the body of another vampire into his. It slapped to the ground, adding to the pool created by the other young vampire. “We’re not starting off very well.”
“You don’t know him…” one of the vamps muttered. “He’ll destroy us.”
Picking the vampire next to the one who’d just spoken up, Luke drained it, splattering the speaker in a shower of explosive goo. He didn’t know why some of them exploded but was glad for the timely assistance. Coated in the remains of his former comrade, it trembled uncontrollably, and its eyes bulged.
“Saubarag”—the fangers twitched again at the mention of the name—“may destroy you at some date in the future. But I will destroy you right here and right now. You are currently alive only at my forbearance. I don’t care if I have to kill every one of you. I’ll just go find some more fangers. Eventually, someone will tell me what I need. But it won’t do you any good. You’ll be dust in the wind.” He pointed to the growing pool of muddy, bloody vamp remains. “Or a shitty slick of mud.” He spat into it.
The vampires looked at each other furtively, wondering who would be the first to betray their god. Hoping to encourage them and remind them of their stakes, he slapped the flat of his rudis into the palm of his other hand over and over. Each time the wood hit skin, the vampires flinched.
“You have one minute to make a decision before I start killing,” Luke said, nodding toward Sam. Out of the corner of his eye, she set the timer on her phone.
He continued slapping his rudis into his palm while staring coldly at the vamps assembled in front of him. Deciding not to wait, he targeted the fanger next to the one who’d spoken up and yanked its essence. It puffed out and blew all over the vamp who was already coated in the sludge of its neighbor. The combination made for a nasty, dust-coated mess.
“You said we had a minute!” it protested.
“Pray I don’t alter the deal any further,” Luke replied, his voice deadly quiet.
“I don’t know where the Dark Lord is. I swear. But I know who does…” The vampire broke, its spine curling in a slump.
“You better talk fast.” Next to him, Sam’s phone alarm went off.
“The Emperor knows. Find him and he can tell you where to find…” It rolled its hand, afraid to mention Saubarag.
“The emperor?” Luke hitched an eyebrow up.
“Constantius. He has a house outside of Bend on the Deschutes River.” The words tumbled from the vampire’s mouth almost faster than it could form them.
Luke narrowed his eyes, a sneer spreading across his face. “Tacky decor? White carpet and towels?”
The fanger nodded its head so hard Luke thought it might fall off and roll away.
“We burned that place to the ground weeks ago. You better give me something I don’t already know in a hurry, or you’ve reached the end of your immortality.” Luke pointed the rudis at the vamp, twitching the tip of it side-to-side crisply. “Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick. Tock. Your time is running out…”
“That’s all I know! Please, I swear!”
“I believe you,” Luke replied.
“You d—”
Luke angrily yanked his sword back, and a glob of golden light connected the vamp to the wood sword, and then the vampire poofed out and blew away in the evening breeze. Some of the vamps jumped away, one falling after tripping on the chains shackling it. Others squeaked and moaned in fear. Only one vampire, in the back row, stood stock still.
It slowly raised its head, staring back at Luke. “Eusebius. That’s who you want.”
Chapter
Two
Eusebius. Constantine the Great’s Christian zealot. The likely orchestrator of Luke’s exile from the Roman Empire. Eusebius. Constantius’s lapdog.
“Eusebius?” Luke said quietly, but he was sure the vampire could hear him.
It gave a firm nod.
“Constantius’s lapdog?”
The fanger snorted. “Eusebius plays the part, but he’s Constantius’s sire. ‘The Emperor’”—the vampire sneered—“gets to play the important man, but the power resides with Eusebius, and Eusebius reports to the Dark Lord.”
“How do I find Eusebius?”
“That, I don’t know. But if you’ve stayed true to your past practices, you probably have the answer in your possession. Did you take the computers from Constantius’s house before you burned it down?”
Luke nodded.
“You’ll likely find his address somewhere in one of them.”
“They’ll kill you for this betrayal,” another fanger hissed.
Luke snatched its life force away. That seemed to catch the vamp willing to speak off guard, as it flinched away from the fanger who’d just threatened it.
“Continue,” Luke commanded.
“There are lists of properties and assets. Constantius kept them, as do a few higher ups. They include properties and hiding spaces. It’s not a full directory of all vampiredom, but you should be able to find what you need there.”
“Do you have a password?”
“No. I’m not important enough for that. I’ve given you all I know of use. And no one here knows anything more than I do. They’re all fairly low-level newer vampires.”
Luke swept his gaze over the remaining vampires. None of them had the steel to speak up. Most of them slouched to look as small as possible, several shaking in fear. He couldn’t sense any vampire of real power. The fanger was probably right.
“Is this true? If anyone has any tips on Eusebius, speak up now.” Luke hoped someone would have something, but all he saw was shaking heads. He turned his head toward Sam. “Document them and add them to our registry.”
“Right.” She pulled out her phone and moved close enough where she could get a good photograph of each individual vampire.
When she finished, Luke placed his hands behind his back, the rudis dangling casually between a couple fingers. “You’re the first vampires I’ve ever set free. This is your one shot at mercy. Spread the word. I want Eusebius.” Sam nudged him on the shoulder, shoving a phone at him. It was on with its phone number displayed on the screen. “If you have any tips, you can call this number.” Luke read off the burner phone’s number. “But if I ever see you again, you will be the first to die.”
“What should we do with them?” Sam asked.
“March them out the gate and a few hundred yards from the camp, then cut them loose. I want them to spread the word about what happened here. The vampires’ night is over. I’m coming, and I’m taking them all down.” He turned back to the vampires. “You better run, and I mean run fast! Run and hide in whatever hole you can find. Run until you’re as far away from me as you can run, then run some more. Do you understand me?”
The vampires nodded eagerly.
“If anyone of these blood sucking bastards so much as looks over their shoulder, you’re free to open fire.”
“Got it,” Sam replied. “Get them marching toward the gate.”
Rhonda nodded, shoving the nearest vampire to get it moving. Luke didn’t need to watch the chain gang shuffle away, though the jingling of their chains serenaded him as he stalked across the fort’s yard toward the gap in the wall they’d destroyed during their siege. Roxi jogged to catch up, matching his purposeful stride.
She waited until they were outside the fort before breaking the silence. “Luke…” She paused. “What’s going on? How are you doing that? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He walked for another dozen paces before stopping and turning to face Roxi. “I just began chanting the incantation in my head during the melee after we had to abandon our tank. Then I stabbed a vamp in heart as it tried to attack me. The power slammed through the blade into me. It happened again a few times until I pointed at one running away and then I saw the line of light connecting it to me just before it exploded.”
“And it transfers the power to you?”
Luke nodded. “Completely.”
“You have to be practically vibrating with the energy right now.” She gently ran her hand down his shoulder.
He gave a half-hearted one-shouldered shrug. “I guess.”
Roxi pulled him into a tight embrace, cradling the back of his head with a hand. “I know you’re hurting, dōšagīh. I am, too.” She kissed him softly on the cheek. “We’re all here for you.”
Laying his head on her shoulder, he nodded and drew in a deep shuddering breath. “I’m so angry, Roxi. I feel like I want to destroy everything around me.”
“I can understand that. When was the last time you felt this angry? I mean good and burning rage filled anger?” She stroked his neck soothingly.
“I don’t know. Decades. Maybe centuries,” he mumbled into her neck.
“You’ve been numb for so long. I know. I’ve felt it, too, until we met. But I think there’s been an undercurrent of anger slowly building up over that time, and now that you’ve come out of your numbness, you can feel it, and it’s found a target.”
“Saubarag.”
“Right.” She pushed back a little and cupped his cheeks, kissing him gently. “Anger can be a powerful tool. Keep it focused and remind yourself to let it go once it’s been spent upon its target. Alright?”
He nodded weakly. “I’m just afraid it’ll fill me up and consume everything good I’ve found lately.”
“I know. But I don’t think it will. You’re too good of a person, too good of a soul for it to best you. You’re too strong. Remember who you are. Remember the soft and gentle man who I love and who Maggie loves. Focus on your friends and the connections you’ve made. Keep the inferno of your anger ready and targeted. If you keep your goal in mind, it will serve its purpose then you can let it go.”
“I guess.”
“Do you trust me?” Roxi asked softly, running a thumb over his cheek.
“With everything I am and ever will be.” The words were softly spoken but laced with steel and surety. He trusted her with his everything. They’d struggled across two millennia to be together. He’d threatened a god to save her. He knew without a doubt she’d do the same if it came to it.
“Good.” She pulled him into another kiss, this one a bit more serious than the earlier one. “Now where are we heading?”
“I want to see Pablo.”
Roxi nodded, grabbing his hand. Together, they strolled under the moonlight, saying nothing, toward the medical facilities set up in the shadow of the fort’s northern wall. The shade it provided against the brutal daytime summer sun of Oregon’s high desert helped protect the wounded. It could still be hot in the tent, but at least it helped some, especially if there was a breeze blowing through the large tent.
Maggie walked out from the tent and met them out of earshot of anyone with supernatural hearing. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Maggie. Do you mind if I head into the tent and say hi to a few people?” Roxi asked.
“Not at all. Visitors are always good for the injured. They could use their spirits raised.”
Roxi nodded, squeezed Maggie’s shoulder on the way by, and left them to have some privacy.
“How is he?” Luke asked.
“The same. Still unconscious.”
He slumped.
Maggie took his hand, squeezing it. “That’s good though. His vitals are strong. The breaks are set and healing. Now all we can do is wait and hope.”
He nodded. He knew she wasn’t just spinning a lie to soothe him. She’d never do that. His friend was alive, at least.
“Ready to go in?” Maggie asked, a look of supreme kindness on her face.
He could only nod, not trusting his mouth to make any noises other than utterances of pain. She led him in by the hand. As he approached, Roxi’s laugh drifted out of the tent along with the laughs of several other people. The sound chiseled away a bit of the dark mood encasing him.
They stopped by a section cordoned off by clear plastic sheeting. The burn ward. Only Katya remained inside. She’d tried to stay in the tank to free Misha, even escaping the grasp of her rescuers once to climb back in the burning hulk of the Sherman tank.
“How is she?” Luke murmured.
“Holding steady. We’re keeping her unconscious for now so her body can work. I think she’ll pull through.”
“Good.” He sighed, shaking his head. She’d wake to a world where her partner was gone, dead to help a pack they barely knew. After that, Luke dug deep to find his “commander’s” face so he could walk the tent, talking with the wounded. He was glad most of his people were werewolves. Otherwise, the tent would have been far fuller.
Most of the light injuries had already healed. Those with more serious ones were among the ambulatory wounded. They didn’t need to be in the hospital tent and could heal elsewhere while they awaited any final corrective work that would likely have to be postponed until everyone returned to Portland.
Pulling up a chair, Luke sat next to Roxi by Pieter’s bed. “How are you doing?”
Pieter held up his gauze wrapped hands. “Can’t say I’m a fan of my new mittens, but Doc assures me I’ll be able to take them off soon. I got off light.” He sighed and slumped a little, his eyes flicking towards the section of the tent where Pablo was cordoned off. He straightened back up, plastering a smile on his face that did little to push away the pain in his eyes. “I’ll be able to help out before too long.”
Maggie, who stood next to Luke, squeezed his shoulder. “Just being cautious. Infections are unlikely, but I’d like to give the skin more time to heal before you go out and try to do work.”
It was probably a good idea to force Pieter to stay confined because he would insist on doing whatever he could to help out. Though a task would help him keep his mind off Pablo. Even if his hands weren’t ready, he’d find a suitable job for Pieter to distract him from his troubles.
He reached out and squeezed Pieter’s knee. “I’ll find you something to do—with Maggie’s clearance, of course.”
Luke felt for Tony. Both of his partners had been injured. Though he longed to be here with Pablo and Pieter, he was one of the few wolves left in charge of Portland while most of the pack and their allies were making war in the high desert of eastern Oregon.
Pieter shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’m good at following doctor’s orders.”
Luke managed a half a smile for his dear friend before standing up to work his way down the line of cots, exchanging pleasantries and heaping praise on those who’d been hurt in their cause.
Stopping next to Tutyr’s bed, Luke nodded at him.
The god smiled up at Luke through his bushy, unkempt beard. “Hello.”
“How are you feeling?” Luke asked, sinking into a chair next to Tutyr.
“Good. Be up in no time.”
Maggie chuckled politely. “As soon as you can stay awake for more than an hour, we’ll discuss it.”
Tutyr sighed, slumping in his bed, and stared toward his feet. “Very tired. Would like to curl up with Alfie.”
Luke thought he understood. The god had spent most of his time with Luke and the Portland pack as a giant dog who Gwen had named Brutus. His preferred bed was an extra-large dog pillow they’d bought for him, which he shared with Luke’s orange tabby cat Alfie.
“We’ll let you get back to resting,” Luke said, standing.
Tutyr nodded and wiggled so he was laying down. A few moments later, his breathing leveled out, and he drifted into another round of exhausted sleep.
Luke only had one more patient in the main room to visit. Sitting next to Simone, he laid his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug, kissing her temple. Delilah, a light sheen of sweat covering her face, rested with her eyes closed, a furrow running down the middle of her brow. No doubt, she was probably judging something Luke had done. The thought brought a moment of lightness before the darkness crashed back in. He’d even take her stern scoldings if it meant she didn’t have to suffer the pain of her wound.
“How is she?” he asked.
“In pain, so Maggie keeps her under. Though, she’s healing much faster than a human would, thankfully.” Simone reached out and ran her knuckles gently down Delilah’s cheek.
“Ọ̀ṣọ́ọ̀sì?” Luke asked.
“Yes. He is taking care of his hunter. I don’t know how. You have your wooden sword, but she’s never explained how her connection to the god works.” She exhaled, a note of exasperation coloring it.
Nodding, he stood up and bent over Delilah’s bed, kissing her forehead before whispering, “Get well soon. I need you to keep me on the right path.”
After he visited the last patient, Luke stood in the doorway of the tent, staring out into the blank brownness of the dry landscape.
“Are you ready to see Pablo?” Roxi asked softly, holding his hand.
“No,” Luke whispered, shifting his eyes to the ground in front of him. “But I guess we should.”
She kissed his cheek and led him to Pablo’s bed. He looked like he slept peacefully. The bruising could easily be mistaken for the shadows of the dim tent. Next to Pablo’s head, Maggie set down a folding chair, gave Luke a sympathetic smile, then departed to make the rounds.
He stared at the chair for a minute, then slumped into it, staring at the floor between him and Pablo’s bed. Sighing, he reached over and grasped his friend’s hand, careful not to disturb the IV providing fluids. Not sure what he could say, he just sat holding Pablo’s hand gently.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I should have never wandered into your pub all those years ago. I should have…” He choked up, his eyes burning with unshed tears.
His head falling forward, he carefully pressed the back of Pablo’s hand to his forehead, the tears now flowing. In the background of his mind, he heard a curtain being drawn. The light dimmed a bit as someone gave him the illusion of privacy. Behind him, Roxi rubbed her hand over his back soothingly.
