The Pilgrims of the Damned: A Vampire Thriller, page 2
“Maine?” Father O’Brien asked. “That’s a very dangerous place. It’s walled for a reason.”
Maine had been the scene of one of the worst outbreaks of the desolate in the modern age. The outbreak had spread out to New Brunswick, and thousands had died before the plague of monsters had been brought under control. Unfortunately, by the time the desolate had been stopped, Maine was little more than a pariah state. A walled reminder of what could happen should the monsters that dwelled in the darkness be let loose.
“I know all about what happened there,” Stuart said dismissively. “We’ve got someone who knows the way. I may be gone for some time, so I’ve been cleaning house, so to speak. Did I tell you about my neighbours?”
Father O’Brien was almost afraid to ask.
“No matter,” Stuart said as he started to tap his fingers on the table. “You see, they moved in a few years ago. They’re awful people. A couple, both in their mid-thirties maybe. The man, let’s call him Lloyd, constantly smells of weed. I used to come home from the hospital and sit in my garden hoping for some peace, and all I’d hear was Lloyd loudly talking about the amount of cocaine he had to sell. Or arguing with the lady, let’s call her Jill.
“And that doesn’t even begin to include the number of times they had music blaring at all hours of the day and night. People had asked him to quiet down, and he’d told them all to fuck off. Told me to fuck off. When I was healthy, I would have fucked that little nobody up, buried him in the woods so no one ever found him. They were both little more than degenerate criminals. A waste of oxygen.”
“Unruly neighbours are always a problem,” Father O’Brien said, looking down at the gun again.
“Oh, I didn’t shoot them,” Stuart said with a dry chuckle. “That’s insane. Do you know how many people in my neighbourhood would have heard that? I’d never have made it to the car before the police showed up.”
Father O’Brien allowed himself a smile. “So what did you do?”
“I took Jill’s life force and used it to burn Lloyd from the inside out,” Stuart said matter-of-factly. “First time I’d ever done that, and I’ve got to tell you, it was a rush.”
“You killed two people?” Father O’Brien asked, shocked at what Stuart had said.
Stuart waved away the accusation as if it were nothing. “Of course. There was just a little screaming from Lloyd, because Jill was out cold already; she was high as a kite. Oh, well. You want to know something funny? If my wife hadn’t come here every week, and if she hadn’t started talking to someone who works for you, Father, about our lives—if they hadn’t told her that maybe she should consider leaving me, which I thought went against the Catholic ethos—then I never would have been alone when Liam brought me the grimoire and talisman that now sits around my neck. I never would have practiced every day until I could barely read the words anymore. I never would have just murdered two people in their own home and smiled as they died. Your church gave me the opportunity to do better.”
“You can’t possibly think that,” Father O’Brien said with horror. “You were an abusive husband and father; your wife fled because of that abuse. We didn’t put you on a path to murder people. You did that.”
“Huh,” Stuart said, thinking to himself. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s go see what your congregation says about it.”
Stuart popped two more pills, sighed, grabbed the gun, and was up and out of the door, grabbing the key from the hook beside it, moving quicker than a man in his condition would have usually.
Father O’Brien ran after the younger man, taking the cane with him in case he had to incapacitate the clearly mentally unwell Stuart. A man whose wife and children had been afraid of him, a man who had refused to seek help for his own problems, and had used alcohol and drugs as a way to deal with them.
Stuart stood at the front of the nave, looking out over the four people who were staring back at him with confusion. He’d put the gun back in its holster against his back, his hands held out to the sides, showing the tattoos on the palms. He lowered them and turned to Father O’Brien. “Come join us,” he said, waving the Father over. “Now, people of the congregation. I want you all to know that I truly believe that we are in dangerous times.”
“Stuart,” O’Brien said sternly. “Stop it.”
Stuart walked between the pews until he reached the door. He locked the door with the key he’d stolen from the break room. He walked back down the pews until he was halfway and stared at the priest. “Thanks for the talk.” The skin on Stuart’s hands cracked and started to glow as several of the congregation who were closest to him tried to climb over the pews in an effort to get to the door. Stuart waved a hand at them, balling the hand into a fist, and they screamed out in pain, falling back onto the pews.
Several of the congregation started to cough and wheeze, their bodies pulled apart, the energy flowing through to Stuart.
“Stop it!” Father O’Brien shouted. He ran at Stuart, the cane raised high, but Stuart caught it with one hand, slamming his other into the priest’s chest, sending him reeling, and leaving a burned handprint on the cassock.
“You should have minded your own business,” Stuart said as he went back to funnelling the life energy he’d stolen directly into the priest, setting him on fire from the inside out.
The priest fell to his knees, and a look of comprehension filled his face for a moment before his entire body shimmered with the heat and light inside of him. After what had only been a few seconds, his body burst into flames. Stuart spun around as fire leapt from his hands, setting everything aflame.
When done, the nave and all that surrounded it was an inferno. “Say hi to your boss,” Stuart said, picking up his walking stick and slowly moving to the exit. He unlocked the door, tossing the key back into the flames, and walked down the steps, across the road, and to a waiting parked black BMW M3. Stuart opened the door and got into the passenger seat, feeling his energy draining out of him. Magic took a lot of stamina to perform, and he hadn’t all that much to begin with.
“You ready?” Liam asked in his South Carolina accent, with a beaming smile. “The team is all at the border.”
Stuart looked over at the church as the windows began to shatter from the heat. There was no saving the building. “Let’s get this done, then.”
Chapter Two
For years, Miles had wondered how long it would be before he got to spend quality time at his own house. He’d purchased the house and surrounding land the century before, expecting it to be a place he visited often. Unfortunately, his work for the Assembly at the time meant his ability to actually come home had dwindled more and more as he moved around the globe sorting out vampire issues that appeared never ending.
Until four months ago, since the events with Templar International, when he’d told the Assembly that he needed a break. Time away from them, from his job, from people. The last year or so had been far busier than he’d liked: having to put down an internal uprising led by the corrupt First Captain of House Umbra, Vedran Vinko. Vedran had died hard for his crimes, but that had been just the start of the madness. Next up had been finding and stopping a group intent on murdering several Assembly employees, himself included, barely surviving a massacre at a holiday resort, and tracking down illegal vampires, serial killers, and even rampaging desolate. Then dealing out punishment to all those who’d caused death and destruction. It was not exactly restful.
Miles wasn’t particularly concerned that he’d killed—he was a vampire, an arbiter, and killing rogue murderous vampires was part of the job description. But he’d killed a lot of people, and seen those he’d liked and cared for cut down. He needed time to himself.
Lying in a hammock in the large, well-maintained garden of his Highland home, he finally felt he was starting to relax. The five-bedroom home was north of the town of Dingwall, a few minutes outside of a small village known as Evanton, about half an hour drive north of Inverness.
The red brick house was nestled in a wooded area, with the rest of the land just beyond. It was near Alness Bay, which itself was next to the shores of Cromarty Firth, an inlet close to the North Sea. Miles had spent many a day sitting on the shore as the night rolled in, watching the occasional harbour porpoise or Eurasian otter as they played in the deeper waters.
Miles looked up at the stars and closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, he’d barely been up for five hours, but he liked to listen to the bats and owls as they hunted. Church’s bark made him open his eyes and look over at her.
“Aye?” he asked as Church placed her head on the hammock and licked his hand. “Were you out in the fields again?” Miles asked, looking down at Church.
The large dog made a slight whining noise and tried to look as innocent as possible. Other dogs reacted to Church with fear or aggression, but wolves and foxes weren’t fazed by her. There were several fox dens in the area, and Church had set about making friends, spending the nights running through the woods and fields with them.
“You know that those fields don’t belong to me, right?” Miles said. He was grateful that his nearest neighbour, who did own the fields, was fine with Church and her friends using them as some sort of off-road racetrack. Despite the fact that she wasn’t exactly a “normal” dog.
Church looked like a Doberman pinscher, although she was considerably larger. Her mother had been experimented on by her owner in an effort to extend her life. It hadn’t worked, but as one of the two pups she’d given birth to who survived the experience, Church had been imbued with vampiric blood. She wasn’t a vampire, she didn’t drink blood or have any aversion to UV light, but she was considerably larger and stronger than any usual Doberman. She was also frighteningly intelligent and easily capable of understanding anything Miles said.
Above all, though, Church was Miles’s constant companion. His best friend and confidant. Miles had killed those who had tried to hurt her in the past and would do so again. Going for him was fine, it was part of the lifestyle he’d chosen, but going after his dog was not something Miles would tolerate. As several people—vampire and human—had discovered to their cost.
Church barked again.
“You smell something?” Miles asked, sitting up and looking out across the woodland. Like all of his senses, his night vision was excellent, better than most humans during the day, but it paled in comparison to Church’s sense of smell and hearing. If Church could smell someone, then there was someone to smell.
Miles swung his legs out over the side of the hammock as the sound of a car engine could be heard in the distance.
The car was coming closer, and Miles quickly climbed up the exterior of his three-storey home, to the slanted tiled roof. He looked out across the landscape, but there were far too many trees in the way to get a good look at the approaching motorcade. Four cars, all moving in concert, all with their lights on.
“Ah, do you think they’re friends or foe?” Miles said.
Church barked once in reply. Yes.
“Thanks, lass, very helpful,” Miles said, dropping off the roof and landing softly on the patio at the side of his property. “Now that is weird.”
In the distance, flying over the hills to the west of his home, was a helicopter.
“Coincidence?” Miles wondered aloud.
Church barked twice.
Miles looked down at the dog and stroked the back of her neck. His phone vibrated with a message. Miles picked up the device, and saw the name Charlotte, followed by the message: We’re in the helicopter.
Did you nae think to call? Miles replied.
I told you I was going to come see you.
A time would have been good, Miles said. Or a date.
I’ll explain, Charlotte said.
I was only expecting a car. You with them?
Miles watched the little replying… indicator on his messaging app. Sort of.
“I guess we’re about to have guests one way or another. I’ll go put the kettle on.”
Taking the door at the side of the property, Miles stepped into his kitchen, filled the kettle, and switched it on. He removed a mug, putting in a tea bag and single cube of brown sugar. By the time the kettle had boiled, the helicopter was almost overhead. He poured the hot water into the mug, gave it a stir, and left it alone as he walked back outside in time to see the four-car motorcade pull up on his driveway, just as the helicopter flew overhead.
All four cars were identical in colour, make, and model—black Volvo EX90s—and Miles waited as the doors to the first and last cars opened, whereupon four guards in black suits stepped out into the cool night air. They stood by the middle two cars, opening the doors from the outside and stepping back to allow the passengers space to get out.
“Miles,” Mordecai Balderas, an Assembly Justice, said, walking the short distance to shake Miles’s hand.
The middle-aged man had dark skin, a bald head, and a short beard. He wore a plum suit with black shirt and black shoes, polished to a mirror shine. Justice Balderas carried a walking cane made from a dark mahogany, with a jade dragon’s head atop it.
“It’s good to see you,” Miles said with a surprised smile. He quite liked the older vampire, although exactly how old Justice Balderas was, Miles couldn’t say. “I wasn’t expecting any of you.”
The Justice looked back at the cars and saw that the helicopter had landed in a nearby field.
“Ah, yes,” the Justice said. “That’s sort of why I arranged to come see you.”
“Oh, new friends?” Miles asked. “Well, you know how I just love company.”
The Justice gave him a wry look as two more men got out of the third of the four SUVs. The first was tall—more than Miles’s own five-ten—with a bald head and piercing gaze. He wore a well-fitting light grey suit, a midnight blue shirt, and no tie. He had a full black beard which he rubbed with one muscular hand as if in thought. Several golden rings adorned his fingers, and he wore a bronze bracelet that hung from his wrist. He looked over at Justice Balderas and Miles and smiled, walking over and waving away the guards who tried to follow him.
The second man was five-five and wore a black suit that was probably a size too small for his muscular frame. His arms bulged from the effort of being contained inside the jacket, and Miles wondered why anyone would want to look as if they were being inflated beyond their packaging instructions. He had long blond hair that fell over his broad shoulders, and he constantly adjusted his jacket sleeve, presumably to show off the Rolex on his wrist.
“Guten morgen,” the first man said, offering Miles his hand.
Miles looked over at the Justice, who gave the barest nod, and Miles shook the hand of a man he’d only ever known by reputation. “First Lord William Fuller,” Miles said. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” First Lord Fuller said. “House Idolator is honoured to meet you in your home. Thank you for having us.”
“Sure,” Miles said. “Why are you here?”
First Lord Fuller looked over at Justice Balderas and back to the other man, before looking back at Miles. “No one told you?”
Miles shook his head. “I’m making tea, though, if you’d like a cup?”
“Do you have coffee?” the German asked.
“I do,” Miles said. “You might have to wait for it to brew, though.”
“Ah, that will be fine,” First Lord Fuller said with a renewed smile.
Miles looked beyond the First Lord to his companion, just as Charlotte and First Lord Drest walked onto the driveway, accompanied by three guards—two men and a woman—all wearing burgundy suits. All First members of a House had their own Blood Guard, although Charlotte had been trying to get out of it for as long as Miles had known her. She’d finally relented after the mess from a few months previously.
“Ah, we’re all here,” Justice Balderas said.
“Yay,” Miles said, looking beyond everyone he knew to someone he’d never met before. “Sorry, but who are you?”
Everyone turned to the second man who had arrived with First Lord Fuller. “First Authority Thomas Reed,” he said, his voice placing him from one of the southern states, although Miles couldn’t have said more than that.
“American?” Miles asked.
“From Georgia,” he said with a nod of his head.
“Would you like a tea or coffee?”
“Coffee,” the man said and received a glare from First Lord Fuller. “Please.”
“Are these your Blood Guards?” Miles asked First Lord Fuller.
“They are,” he confirmed. “They will be staying out here. I assume that is also the case with yours, Charlotte.”
Charlotte, who had now made it to the front door with Drest, nodded. “Oui,” she said with a French accent.
“You didn’t bring any, Drest?” First Lord Fuller asked.
Drest shook his head. “No room in the helicopter. Besides, I think we’re all about as safe as anyone can possibly be. How are you, Miles?”
“Very confused,” Miles said. “I’m going to make my tea now.”
Miles left the driveway and didn’t look back at those following him as he walked through his home to the kitchen, where he poured the now stewed cup of tea away and re-boiled the kettle, fetching five more mugs from the cupboard. He set about putting tea bags and sugar in mugs as required, and started on the coffee. Everyone else sat at the birch circular table, taking up five of the six available chairs.
“And I never thought I’d need so many chairs,” Miles said.
“You have a lovely home,” Justice Balderas said. “It’s very out of the way.”
Miles laughed as Church entered the room, drawing a wide-eyed expression from Thomas Reed. “I was told you had a dog, but I did not expect her to be so imposing.”
