The Pilgrims of the Damned: A Vampire Thriller, page 39
“I found it in the city beneath the state,” the First Priest said. “It’s how I managed to find you, my lord.”
Stuart removed the talisman and held it out to the Dusk, who seemingly ignored him.
Liam let out a roar and turned into his werewolf form. “You help him first. We want what’s owed to us or I will take your blood myself.”
Ulfrik punched his hand through the werewolf’s chest, removing it, and tearing the werewolf in half, letting the sides drop to the ground as if what he’d done was nothing. “Here’s what you’re owed!” Ulfrik shouted. “You petty impurity.”
He turned to the witch. “The talisman,” he said, taking Stuart’s hand and ripping the arm off from the elbow.
Stuart screamed as Ulfrik gingerly removed the talisman. “This let me see through your eyes. Silly little traitor.” The chaos witch started to use a spell, his hand glowing red hot, before Ulfrik crushed the man’s remaining hand, snapping off each finger in turn and eating them.
Miles tried not to pay attention to the horrific levels of violence he’d just seen, although Stuart’s screams were cut short a moment later when Ulfrik grabbed the witch by the head and bit down on his neck, the Dusk’s jaw opening wider than a vampire’s was able to. The Dusk drank deeply from the chaos witch, the blood spilling all around until Ulfrik was done a few seconds later. He tossed the broken and dying body of Stuart against the far wall, which he hit with a sickening crunch. A paperback-sized book, bound in red leather, tumbled out of the inside pocket of Stuart’s coat and landed on the ground beside him. The grimoire.
“There is another,” the First Priest said, pointing over to Miles.
“You little fucker,” Miles whispered.
“A vampire,” Ulfrik said thoughtfully. “But not of my blood. Despite his strength.”
Miles stepped out of the pool, wishing he wasn’t about to have a battle with a creature several times more powerful than him, while utterly drenched.
“Which House are you?” Ulfrik asked.
“Venator,” Miles said.
“Drest’s House,” Ulfrik said with a frown. “One of my brother’s ilk. Drest was a great warrior in his day. One of the few bloodlines worth a damn. Have you earned any of his talents? For even one of impure blood, there could be exceptions made for those who are strong.”
Miles shrugged. “I don’t grovel.”
Ulfrik looked around him at the still-prone desolate and continuously bowing First Priest. “Yes, well, some people should know their place.”
“How do you know modern English?” Miles asked. “It’s been bothering me. I expected something more archaic.”
“When my power exploded out of me, it rushed back. I’ve been asleep, but my mind has sought out others over the years, learning, talking to those who would be of assistance.”
“Like Lauren.”
“You are friends with the Desolate Queen?” Ulfrik said. “She had no knowledge of her true power. I had hoped that the vampire world would have realised just how much the Desolate Royalty are like the Dusk. They are the closest to my kind. The true successors to the Dusk. Although most of my brothers and sisters disagree.”
“She’s gone,” Miles said. “She had enough of feeling like she was being drugged.”
Ulfrik took a step toward Miles. “She was desolate. She belonged to me.”
“The desolate do not belong to you,” Miles said.
Ulfrik laughed again.
“I met one of your desolate in the city you built, one of the original Vikings who came over here,” Miles said. “He did not like you one bit.”
“The betrayers are in my city?” Ulfrik roared. “I will hunt them down and flay their skin from their bones for what they did to me. I will ensure their punishment is swift.”
Miles wondered if he’d just signed the Viking desolate’s death warrant.
“My kin will not give me much time to do what must be done,” Ulfrik said, as if he’d totally forgotten about his swearing of punishment and torture only a moment ago.
“You are the only Dusk awake,” the First Priest said.
Ulfrik looked over at the cowering vampire. “No, I am not. But that is a problem for later. Now, I will bring this place under my will. I will ensure that the people of this… Maine… are punished for what they did.”
“The people who experimented on the desolate you created are all dead,” Miles said.
Ulfrik stared at Miles for a moment. “I will find their ancestors, those who have come to this place and think that they are in charge, and I will give them a choice. Bend their knee and become my people, or die. And when I’m done with Maine, I will move on. I hear that the number of humanity has grown increasingly large in this country in the centuries since I was here. It is time for them to understand their true place in this world.”
“I won’t let you,” Miles said. “You’re a threat to everyone you don’t deem good enough.”
Ulfrik’s laugh was deep and long. “You are a little vampire. I am a Dusk. You are nothing to me, but I admire your courage. And because you are friends with Lauren, I will give you a chance. You will find her and bring her to me, and I will let you serve a new master.”
Miles laughed. “Go fuck yourself.”
Ulfrik moved so fast that Miles barely had time to react to him as his strong hand wrapped around the Arbiter’s throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand. “I will kill you here.”
Miles wrapped telekinesis around Ulfrik’s thumb, and with every bit of strength he had, snapped the digit.
Ulfrik roared in a mixture of pain and anger, dropping Miles, who channelled his bloodline gift and slammed it into Ulfrik’s chest.
Ulfrik staggered back several feet, dropping the talisman onto the ground as he wobbled, helped up by the First Priest, who used his own bloodline power to turn his energy into a physical manifestation, putting up a shield of crimson power around Ulfrik. The shield had stopped Miles’s bloodline gift from fully connecting with the Dusk.
The Dusk charged forward, through the First Priest’s power, which made him wobble again, and Miles took the opening, moving under the flailing arms, and leaping up onto Ulfrik’s back. Miles sank his fangs into the Dusk’s throat, drinking down the warm, powerful blood in an effort to weaken the creature.
Miles used his talons to hold on to Ulfrik, but the Dusk grabbed hold of Miles’s neck, ripping him free, and throwing him across the chamber. As Miles had still been fang-deep in Ulfrik’s neck, the resulting wound was a huge hole in the side of the Dusk’s throat, which pulsed blood all over the floor.
“I will not die,” Ulfrik said, running through the door and wall, collapsing a large part of it as the First Priest followed close by, with the desolate shambling after.
Miles knelt on the ground, the blood of the Dusk covering him as a feeling of overwhelming power racked his body. He screamed in pain as the sounds of heartbeats from outside the crypt flooded into his mind. He could smell the desolate who had left; he could hear their footsteps as they shambled up the ground. He felt his body repair itself, felt the bumps and bruises heal, the cut on his side stitch itself back together. It was all so overwhelming, and in the distance, high above him, he heard the bark of a dog.
Miles forced himself back to his feet, his body practically pulsating with power. He walked by Stuart, who was surprisingly still alive, although even his magic couldn’t heal him from having his arm and hand torn off.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” Stuart said softly. “I don’t deserve this.”
Miles stopped beside the murderous witch and looked down at him, picking up the book and flicking through the blank pages, which started to be filled before his eyes.
“This wasn’t yours,” Miles said.
Miles heard Stuart’s heartbeat as it slowed and tasted the particles of blood in the air. He looked over at the two halves of what had been Liam. Apparently they could add torn in two to the ways that werewolves could die. He looked back at Stuart, who stared up with a mixture of fear and pleading.
“Help me,” Stuart said.
Miles crouched down beside the witch and whispered, “You deserve a lot worse than what you got. Enjoy your tomb.” He spotted the talisman on the ground and picked it up. He stood and walked up out of the burial chamber. He was done with Stuart and Liam, but he wasn’t finished with Ulfrik.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Church!” Miles bellowed as he left the barn. The sounds of every living thing for a kilometer all around him burned into his mind; he heard their heartbeats, felt their fear, and it overwhelmed him. He crashed to his knees but refused to give up, practically pulling himself out of the barn and into the mud outside.
It wasn’t until he was some distance from the barn that he saw Church, who ran toward him and buried her face against his neck.
“Good to see you, too,” Miles told her and looked around. “Thomas.”
Church turned and looked off to the distance.
“Ulfrik took him?” Miles asked.
Church barked.
Miles sighed. “He came back to help, didn’t he?”
Church barked again. Followed by a low whine.
“Damn it,” Miles said. “How’d they get away so fast?”
Church ran a few feet away and sniffed the ground before running back.
“There was a vehicle here,” Miles said.
Church barked.
As the power inside his body began to calm itself, Miles managed to use a nearby fence post to pull himself upright. “I can feel the heartbeats of so many things. Where are the desolate who were here?”
Church barked and pointed to the ground.
Miles followed the multitude of scuffed footprints in the soft mud to a set of tyre tracks. “They followed the car.”
Church barked.
Miles looked up toward where he had flown in an effort to get to Ellsworth. “We need to follow these tracks,” he said.
Church whined, turned to the side, and barked as something approached them.
Miles readied himself for a fight as Lauren and Amelia exited the trees at a jogging pace. “I’m fine,” Amelia said as she reached Miles and Church. “Witch constitution is better than a human’s.”
“She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Lauren said. “Also, we found your car and brought it here; it’s just beyond those trees.”
“Good,” Miles said.
“So, he’s free,” Lauren said, looking over at the barn.
“And very angry,” Miles said.
Lauren shook her head. “He’s afraid.”
Church let out a snort.
“No, really,” Lauren said. “I was in his head for days. He would talk to me, make me feel like I wanted to be there. Now that I’m away from that influence, I can remember stuff he said. He hates what happened in Augusta, but he’s also scared of what happened there. He felt the deaths of the desolate he’d created. They were first-generation desolate. They spoke, they were closer in kind to what I am. These soldiers, these scientists didn’t just kill mindless desolate who were killing people—they killed desolate who tried to tell them what they were.”
“Those responsible are all dead,” Miles said. “There’s no one left.”
Church whined.
“We need to follow Ulfrik,” Miles said. “Wherever he’s going, we need to stop him.”
“Just the four of us?” Amelia asked. “Is that possible?”
Miles and Lauren both shook their heads. “They have Thomas.”
“Why?” Lauren asked.
“Thomas is a trap to get First Lord Fuller here, so Ulfrik can kill him.”
“Why?” Lauren asked.
“Ulfrik doesn’t trust anyone he can’t control,” Miles said. “He wanted to kill all of the vampires he made, but Fuller and the First Priest weren’t here. I think the First Priest has made it very clear he’s happy to be controlled. Fuller much less so.”
“Anything else insane?”
“I was there because if Ulfrik had turned on the First Priest, he wanted me to use my bloodline power so that he could kill the Dusk himself,” Miles said. “The First Priest is power hungry, and he’s not fussed how he gets that power.”
No one spoke for several seconds.
“On the plus side, Ulfrik killed Stuart.” Miles passed the grimoire to Amelia. “This is yours.”
Amelia took the small book and smiled. “Thank you,” she said, flicking through the pages. “This means a lot.”
Miles removed the talisman from his pocket. “This belongs to Ulfrik. It has part of his power inside it. The First Priest said that he found this under Brunswick, in a library there. That he found how to locate what was meant to be Ulfrik’s tomb there, too. Any chance they’re the same thing?”
“You think the talisman is a way to find Ulfrik?” Lauren asked.
“I think we’re running out of options,” Miles said. “Maybe my drinking from him will help, too. I don’t know, millennia-old vampire gods being real was not on the list of stops for the pilgrimage.”
Lauren blinked. “You did what? Are you okay?”
Miles considered it and nodded. “Feel fine. Feel better than fine. I feel like I could fly all the way across this state without stopping, but I’m nae sure if I actually can, or if the power of Ulfrik’s blood inside of me just makes me overestimate my strength. Either way, we’ve got somewhere to head to before he makes things much worse.”
“So that talisman is linked to Ulfrik, yes?” Lauren asked. “And you drank from him. Any chance you can put it on and see where he is?”
“Let’s see if we can find out,” Miles said, putting the talisman over his head and letting it fall across his neck.
The talisman glowed red, and Miles took two steps before a wave of memories hit him, doubling him over. He crashed to his knees, his mouth open in a wordless scream, as the memories of Ulfrik crashed into his brain like a runaway truck. He saw Lauren rush to him, talk to him, but he couldn’t hear anything, not even Church’s barking as her concern took voice.
Miles blinked, and collapsed to the ground as memories that were never his swirled inside his brain.
He recalled being picked up by Lauren, being carried back to the car that he’d abandoned. He knew he was being placed inside the back seats, and that Lauren had started the car, driving off at speed. He knew all of it was happening, but it was as if he was watching something that was happening to someone else.
Instead, Miles’s brain only wanted him to concentrate on seeing Ulfrik. He saw similar memories to that of the talkative desolate down in the city beneath the state. He watched as Ulfrik fled Norway, narrowly avoiding a large number of vampires who wanted him dead. He feared them. Miles felt it in his chest.
Miles watched Ulfrik arriving in America, watching as he enslaved so many people to his cause. He watched it fail, he saw the Pilgrims arrive, saw so many who were eager to give away their humanity for a taste of power. Saw the regret of so many when they realised that they were now under the control of a much more powerful creature.
Ulfrik’s life flickered before Miles’s eyes, jumping years or even centuries with every blink, seeing the betrayal of his creations as they realised that he would kill them one by one. The sense of betrayal tore through his soul, the multitude of dead at his feet as they forced him into his sarcophagus. Until there was only darkness. A deep slumber that was anything but. He could feel those desolate who still lived, the ones who hadn’t betrayed him. He knew they were out there, like a comfort blanket. He cared for them, in a way, more so than anything else he’d ever cared for. He considered them his personal property.
Miles saw that Ulfrik felt the death of every single one of the desolate he’d created. He saw Ulfrik talk to the First Priest in a dream, tell him about a group of men and women who had desecrated those he had created. They had worked in a laboratory under Augusta. That Augusta was to never be sullied with their kind again. That he wanted them dead. He reached out to coach the First Priest, to swear that he would never have killed him, that he knew that the First Priest had been loyal. The First Priest told him that First Lord Fuller had known the betrayal was going to happen, and that’s why he fled. Ulfrik hadn’t been sure if it was true or not, but it felt true, so he accepted it as so.
He spent years telling the First Priest where to look for his tomb, trying to find any of the desolate who might be able to offer a glimpse at where he was buried. His black sarcophagus was meant to be under the city, and he was enraged that those who had forced him into his sleep had moved it. The rage and hate filled Miles’s mind, flooding it until Miles couldn’t think of anything but the need for vengeance, the need to inflict suffering on those who had wronged him. But more than anything, he wanted his throne back. He wanted his city back.
Miles sat up and screamed. He looked around at the five people who were all staring at him with a mixture of shock and horror.
“Hey,” Miles said as Church jumped up onto the bed beside him. “How’s Amelia?”
“She’s good,” Lauren said. “Getting ready to head out when we know where we’re going.”
Miles looked around the faces of the Bangor council members who had come to his room. His head still swam as the huge amount of memories swirled around his head. He had never felt anything quite like it. He still saw flickers of memory. A library. A huge expanse of knowledge and power. A crypt. And desolate guards, a lot of desolate guards.
Miles lay back on the bed and let everyone else talk as he tried to figure out the images and information that had been dumped in his head.
Lauren nodded. “Also, the First Priest is a seriously bad person, and they have Thomas.”
“This is sounding worse and worse,” someone said.
“So, where is Ulfrik going?” someone else asked. “Augusta?”
“He’s not going to Augusta,” Miles said, sitting up. “That’s not the feeling I got when I drank from him.”
“You drank from him?” Bethany asked.
“Little bit,” Miles said, removing the talisman and dropping it to the bed beside him. “I have a memory of Ulfrik talking to the First Priest, telling him to find that talisman, to give it to someone who can be controlled. It increases your power exponentially, but it also links you to Ulfrik. It lets him know where you are, lets him see through your eyes. He was in contact with the First Priest throughout. He’s been watching everything through Stuart’s eyes. He knew that Stuart and Liam had made a deal with the Magistrate to get them some of his blood.”
