The Pilgrims of the Damned: A Vampire Thriller, page 32
“His burial ground, yes,” the Viking said. “But the vampire thankfully could not wake him. They were using the desolate they woke to dig out the burial ground. He was angry that our waking did nothing to help find our king.”
“So the talisman acts like a Desolate Royal,” Miles said. “It controls the desolate?”
The Viking nodded. “Although with one talisman and a lot of ground to cover, they were looking for a Desolate Royal to help them. The witch, he was given the talisman by the vampire, I remember them talking about it. The vampire said that there was a Desolate Queen coming, that they could use the talisman to control her to help them get more desolate. The talisman only works on desolate that my king created.”
“But Desolate Royalty can only control the desolate they create, right?” Miles asked.
“No,” the Viking said. “They can be taught to control other desolate. It’s difficult and dangerous to do. The vampire told his allies that my king has been speaking to him in his dreams. That the Desolate Queen was going to be in Augusta. I was sent with them to wait for her arrival, and that was when I escaped. I blended in with the throng of desolate leaving Augusta, heading northeast.”
“The same desolate that are hanging around outside this place?” Miles asked, concerned about the idea of a Desolate Royal being able to control any desolate they find.
The Viking nodded.
“Any idea why they’re hanging around?” Miles asked. “Why they’re not moving toward a populated town? There’s a horde of them coming from Augusta, too.”
“The desolate above, the ones that you say are hanging around, are not the creation of Ulfrik,” the Viking said. “They will act like normal desolate. Those moving from Augusta will have numbers among them that will be my brethren; they will try to get back to Ulfrik. When those two groups meet and Ulfrik gives the order, they will all march as one toward their destination.”
“So all of the desolate above, they’re just waiting in Augusta until they get more orders?”
The desolate nodded.
“They’re going to march on wherever Ulfrik is buried,” Miles said.
The Viking nodded again.
“Can I assume that would be bad news for anyone in the way?”
“Yes, it would be… bad to be in their way,” the Viking said.
“So, where is Ulfrik buried?” Miles asked, feeling a pit of horror in his gut. “And how long before he wakes up?”
“Ellsworth Falls is the place,” the Viking said. “And while they have his resting place, he is not yet awake. I would feel it.”
“Why hasn’t Ulfrik been woken up?” Miles asked.
“They are having difficulty gaining entry to his sarcophagus,” the Viking said. “It is made from the same black stone as all of this. Made to contain his power from being able to get out, but to allow his link to his desolate to remain. It kept him weak.”
“If they know where Ulfrik is and just need to wake him up, why are they digging tunnels under another part of the state then?” Miles asked.
“They were trying to gain entry to this city,” the Viking said. “Judging by the werewolves I’ve heard, I assume they’ve done just that.”
“What do they want down here?” Miles asked.
“I do not know,” the Viking said.
“Any chance Ulfrik has a library or something of the like down here?” Miles asked. “Stuart is looking for a cure.”
“There are chambers filled with knowledge and wealth,” the Viking said. “The city had a great library, and many of my desolate brethren were placed outside of it to guard such a treasure.”
Miles looked over at the doctor, and back to the library. “Stuart is trying to find a cure for his cancer. Vampire blood does all kinds of wondrous stuff to humans when it comes to healing. The blood of a Dusk—”
“It might cure him,” Dr. Davies finished, although he didn’t sound partially hopeful.
“My king’s blood can cure a great deal,” the Viking said. “He used to use the promise of his blood as a healing tool to get the humans to work with him. He promised a lot.”
“I thought he just killed everyone who stood in his way,” Miles said, noticing the sadness and anger in the Viking’s voice.
“At first, only if necessary,” the Viking corrected. “Pointless human deaths serve no one. They are food, servants, workers, some even became advisers.”
“So if, say, a human found information in that library about Ulfrik’s blood and its properties for healing, that human might well align themselves with the vampires they’re meant to hate in hope that they can get some of that blood for themselves.”
“They will have been lied to,” the Viking said. “You cannot change who you are. A witch who drinks the blood of a Dusk will not heal from their wounds; it might actually do the opposite.”
“So this might actually get Stuart killed quicker?” Miles asked.
“It’s possible—there would be more information in the library, but I do not think you have time to search for it.”
“Is it the room with all the books that we came from?”
“That is a small number of books in comparison to the library itself,” the desolate said. “The library is grand, and vast.”
“Do you know where the library is?”
“From here? No,” the Viking said sadly. “Although I believe the people who took me to Augusta, one of whom was a werewolf, said something about allies in Maine who are digging out part of a city near the ocean.”
“Got to be Brunswick,” Miles said. “The Commander there is working with the Magistrate, who in turn work with Stuart and Liam. So, he was digging around, found something interesting, and got his Magistrate friends to come in and do the dirty work. The question is what do the Magistrate get out of it?”
The Viking and Dr. Davies both had blank expressions.
“Rhetorical question,” Miles said, and turned to the Viking. “What do you want for telling me all of this?”
The desolate stared at Miles for a moment. “Peace.”
“Death?”
The desolate chuckled, which sounded like someone with a chest infection. “No. The city of Dusk, this city, needs to be resealed. The interlopers need to be removed.”
“Why don’t you want Ulfrik woken?” Miles asked.
“He broke his promise,” the Viking said sadly.
“What do you mean?” Miles asked.
“He told us that all of his children were loved,” the Viking said. “That we were special. He lied. He only trusted that which he could control. Dusk need to rest. Once they have used a lot of power in the creation of their children, they must rest for a long time. Ulfrik knew this; he knew his time was coming to an end, and that he would need to rest.”
“What did he do?” the doctor asked.
“He killed everyone he couldn’t control,” the Viking said. “The vampires that he had created, he was afraid of them. He was afraid that they would try to take his power, that they were trying to take what he had done for himself. So he started to cull them.”
“He murdered his own creations?” Miles asked.
The Viking nodded. “He hunted them down, slaughtered them. Those of us desolate whom he personally created saw what was happening and knew that our autonomy would be our death sentence. Many of the vampires had fled by this point, but those of us who remained—vampire and desolate—banded together and stopped him. It took many lives, and we were unable to kill him. All we could do was hurt him enough that he fled. We could not find him, although we searched for many days. Eventually, we found his tomb in the city, and knew that despite his injuries he would awaken with a rage the likes of which none of us had ever seen before. We moved the black stone sarcophagus, dragging it to a new place, away from his influence. Once he was entombed in his new burial site, we put the black stone pillars around the sarcophagus. We’d already taken his talisman, ensuring that his power would be weakened so long as the pillars remained. And then those of us who survived came to the city to rest. The vampires left.”
“Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?” Miles asked.
The Viking looked at Miles with nothing but sadness in his eyes. “He is our father. It was one thing to kill him on the field of battle, but to murder him in his burial ground defenceless and weak? None of us could do it, so we ensured that no one else could wake him. The black stone sarcophagus was made to contain his power, to afford him a good sleep. We added extra defences for it once he was entombed.”
“Right up until the fall of Maine,” Miles said. “When the defences you had put in place were weakened.”
“Where was First Lord Fuller?” the doctor asked.
“He had left America some months before,” the Viking said. “Only a handful of desolate such as myself survived the encounter; hundreds of normal desolate died in the battle. I do not remember how many vampires survived, but it was not many.”
“If he wakes up, how do we put him back down?” Miles asked.
“You hurt him enough, and he will need to heal again,” the Viking said. “He has not been asleep long enough to have healed fully. He will be weak and feeble. That will be your only chance, unless you wish to see many of your friends die.”
“Even a weakened Dusk is a dangerous amount of power,” Miles said.
“True,” the Viking agreed.
“Will the other desolate like you side with us?” Miles asked.
“I do not know,” the desolate said. “I think that those of us who fought against Ulfrik are small in number. They will be first-generation desolate like myself who will be on the side of the Dusks.”
“How many of those ten thousand under Augusta are his children?” Miles asked.
“A few hundred,” the Viking said. “The rest were turned by us from the human population. They’re not quite the mindless creatures that their children became, but not far off either. They are weapons and slaves, little more.”
Miles looked over to the doctor and back to the desolate. “How do we reseal the city?”
“I do not know,” the desolate said. “I assume you’ll figure that bit out.”
“Okay,” Miles said, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “We need to get to Ellsworth and stop someone, possibly the First Priest of House Idolator, from raising a long-sleeping vampiric god of death and blood. That about sum it up?”
“Yes,” the desolate said. “My king is not a god, although I do understand that you may see him as one. The death and blood part are accurate.”
“Anything else?” Miles asked, feeling he needed to be away from the creepy desolate. “You mentioned the Desolate Royal you went to find. Do you know her name?”
“Lauren Gibson,” the desolate said.
Miles shot to his feet. “Lauren is here?”
“Ellsworth,” the desolate said. “Had I known you are aware of her, I would have said something sooner.”
“Is she okay?” Miles asked.
The desolate shrugged. “I fled before they found her. But if they have her, she will be with Ulfrik. They wanted to use her to help keep the desolate in check.”
“How can Desolate Royalty control desolate they didn’t create?” Miles asked. “I didn’t think it possible.”
“Control is not the same as subdue,” the desolate said. “She can keep them compliant, but she cannot control them. Is she your friend?”
“Yes,” Miles said.
“You’re friends with a Desolate Queen?” the doctor asked.
Miles turned toward him. “You kept a desolate chained up in a tower like hairless Rapunzel. I’m not entirely sure you’re in a position to criticise.”
“When you leave, please release me,” the desolate said. “Promise me that you will find those trying to raise my king, and stop them. Should he rise, a lot of people will die.”
“Will he be like a desolate?” Miles asked. “Mindless, savage, only looking for food?”
“It is in the nature of Dusk to be all things that they create,” the desolate said. “Being a mindless monster is as much a part of him as his ability to care for those he creates. By modern standards, he would be considered evil, maybe. He might have been considered evil by the standards of our time, too, but he brought us all to this new land, and gave us purpose. At least in the beginning. Until he decided that his trust and love were conditional with his control.”
The doctor bent down, removed a key, and unlocked the manacles from the desolate’s wrist. Miles waited for the frenzied need to feed to begin.
“Thank you,” the Viking desolate said, rubbing his wrists. He looked over at Miles. “This isn’t new to you. The surprise at a desolate behaving oddly.”
“Lauren is the first Desolate Royal I’ve ever met who was not interested in bathing in the blood of everyone around them.” He paused and considered it. “Actually, she was, but they all deserved to die horribly, so I’m not too concerned.”
The desolate got to his six-foot-four height and looked down at Miles. “You would kill me if I did something to concern you. It is not a question.”
Miles didn’t see the point in responding to the not question.
“Doctor, thank you for your help. You have been an interesting companion.”
“Thank you for sharing your knowledge,” the doctor said, offering his hand, and then reconsidering it when the desolate didn’t bother to shake.
“How do we get out of here?” Miles asked.
“The large doors at the end will take you to the part of the city that had been joined to the tunnels used by those scientific rats who decided to kill and torture my friends,” the desolate said. “They’re all dead now. Anyway, go up through the hole they created, and there’s a tram that will take you all around the state.”
“That might actually be quicker than waiting for a ride,” Miles said, checking his watch. “Which isn’t due for several hours.”
“I ask you only one favour,” the desolate said solemnly.
“Sure,” Miles said.
“Blow the hole up before you leave,” the desolate said. “Reseal this city.”
“What about the werewolves?” Miles asked.
The desolate’s smile contained a hunger for the first time. “I will be dealing with those. They want to find me, but I will find them first. I will show them why they should never have come here.”
Miles was going to ask if he needed help, but decided that if the desolate and the werewolves wanted to kill each other, he was perfectly fine with it.
“Will you be able to leave this place once we seal it?” the doctor asked.
The desolate shook his head. “I am going to go deeper into the city. When I’m done, I will make for the great library, where once my lord’s rest is no longer disturbed, I will drop back to slumber. Go safely.”
“You sure you can’t help more with the location of the library?” Miles asked, he was sure it was Brunswick, but confirmation would be nice.
“Southwest of here,” the Viking said. “I remember sitting outside of it and watching the ocean. It will be nice to walk within the halls of this city, to see the great library once again.”
The desolate left the room a moment later, and Miles remained where he was, not entirely sure how he was meant to deal with what had just happened. He’d just allowed a talking, cognitive desolate to leave. A creature who, by all rights, wasn’t meant to exist. It was another bit of proof, as if he needed any more, that those created by the Dusk were a different level of power from those not.
“We go across the walkways,” the doctor said. “We go through the doors, across the cavern beyond to the hole. I don’t know how we’re going to blow it up to seal it after we’re through.”
Miles considered the problem for a moment. “Any chance there’s something a bit more potent than the ingredients to make a perfume bomb in this place?”
“No, although the trams do use fuel to work,” the doctor said. “We could use a tram as a bomb.”
They left the room, returning to the top floor to take the opposite exit from the one they’d arrived in, using the walkway to move close to the two double doors that were identical in all aspects to the doors opposite.
There were screams and roars from somewhere inside the chamber. “I guess they found one another,” Miles said, hurrying the doctor along.
“I will miss him,” Dr. Davies said sadly.
“You want to stay?” Miles asked as they reached the door of the tower.
“Not even slightly,” the doctor said.
Together, they descended the tower, leaving to more sounds of fighting—whatever was going on, it was not a short-lived contest. Miles wondered just how much stronger and faster a first-generation desolate might be, and pushed the idea aside. He did not want to find out. Ever.
The pair ran to the large doors, which were slightly ajar, and moved through into the cavern beyond. Before they went anywhere, Miles used his telekinesis to pull the open door closed, the noise of it closing reverberating through his chest.
The cavern beyond was exactly the same size and shape as the previous one, with six more towers. The only difference, apart from no other sets of doors to go through, was the car-sized hole in the side of the room, beyond which some kind of machinery could easily be seen.
The pair ran to the hole, clambering up inside to find one of the drill machines that had been used to help kill everyone at Falmouth. Miles walked around to the control panel, and after changing to his vampire side, tore out the panel and wiring, before pushing the machine off the tracks it sat upon and down into the hole, where it got stuck with a calamitous amount of noise.
The dark tunnel that both the doctor and Miles were inside had tram tracks and a tram, and nothing else now that Miles had removed the drill.
“Does it work?” Miles asked, going to the cab of the tram and finding the doctor already there.
“It does,” the doctor said, tapping the dash. “It’s a map of the whole system. It only goes one way. So it’s north from here to Bangor, and then east, south, beyond Ellsworth, and back across down under several places, before heading over to Augusta. It takes several hours to do a whole loop, from what I figure.”
