The Pilgrims of the Damned: A Vampire Thriller, page 42
Miles watched for an opening to use his bloodline gift, but was unable to get through the mass of bodies that continued to assault the Dusk. The attack didn’t last long, as Ulfrik tore into the desolate, sending them flying back, not always in one piece.
With an opening, Miles ran toward Ulfrik but was smashed into by something running toward him at speed. It took him off his feet, and only his own strength and agility managed to get him free of the attacker’s grasp before he could be driven headfirst into the nearest tower.
A low growl emanated from beside Miles as Church barrelled into the huge desolate who had charged into Miles, taking the larger creature off its feet. As desolate poured past Miles, Church pinned the larger desolate to the ground, grabbed its leg, and tore a chunk free. The desolate screamed in pain followed by several nearby explosions from above that made everyone throw themselves to the ground. The walls of the cavern shook, and pieces of the ceiling fell, almost hitting Amelia, who used her magic to create a shield of roots above her head.
“We’ve got him!” Lauren shouted, removing the talisman and tossing it to Miles.
“You need this,” Miles told her.
“The large desolate I controlled are dead; the rest will do what I say. Go get the Dusk.”
Miles nodded and rushed over to Thomas, kneeling beside the injured vampire. “The First Priest?” he asked.
“Down there,” Thomas said. “He knows how to put this big bastard back to sleep. I’m sure of it.”
“We hurt it enough until it retreats,” Miles said. “That’s how they did it last time. Although last time, he had a sarcophagus here waiting for him to crawl into before they moved it. I doubt he built a second one.”
Miles glanced around back toward the fight, where the huge desolate had gotten free and had thrown the rock at Church but missed by several dozen feet. It had one arm hanging uselessly by its side, and blood poured from a deep wound along its belly, but it was fending off the desolate controlled by Lauren.
“There are levels below here,” Thomas said. “We can get him down there and blow the entrances to the city.”
“There’s a helicopter up there with a lot of fuel,” Miles said. “If we can get it down here, we can use it as a bomb.”
“It would collapse a large part of the city above us,” Thomas said.
“So we make sure no one is up there,” Miles said.
There was a rumble of noise as more desolate ran into the room.
“Go!” Thomas shouted as he created a shield of red energy in front of him, pushing it forward as he walked, trying to force the desolate back out of the door.
Roots and vines tore out of the ground, wrapping around the desolate, pulling some of them back down under the dirt. “I’ll help here. Just stop them,” Amelia said.
The large desolate hobbled by, followed by Church, who was certainly having the better end of that particular contest.
Miles ran, following Ulfrik, hating the fact that he was leaving his friends to deal with whatever trouble now came their way, although he was sure they’d be fine. He pushed it out of his mind as he reached the end of the hallway, kicking open the wooden door and revealing a large chamber beyond.
There were three large black stone columns on either side of the chamber, and a black throne at the far end, which to Miles looked as uncomfortable as a throne could possibly look. Two wooden doors were also in the chamber, both closed, leading deeper into the city.
He walked to the closest door and pushed it open, revealing a hallway beyond. The smell of fresh blood tinged the air, along with something else. Desolate.
He sprinted down the hallway and created a cushion of telekinesis in front of him as he hit the door at the other end of the hallway while running at full speed. He tore through it as if it were made of plywood, ready to catch whoever was beyond by surprise, and hoped that it would give him the edge.
Miles stopped running, and blinked in surprise himself.
The cavernous chamber beyond was like a dragon’s horde. With hundred-foot-long walls, and fifty-foot-high ceilings, it contained a huge amount of jewels, gold, and silver, all in large piles. It also held the bodies of several dead desolate, all of whom were missing their heads, their blood splattered across the riches they lay among.
Miles heard footsteps behind him, tensed at the possibility of attack, but immediately calmed when Thomas entered the chamber. He looked worse for wear, although Miles was happy to see that he was up and about.
“That is a lot of stuff,” Thomas said.
“The First Priest should be around here somewhere,” Miles said as he walked across the room to the only exit there. “How goes the fighting?”
“The huge desolate is dead,” Thomas said. “But more desolate arrived, so they’re being dealt with. Everyone was okay when I left.”
Miles was relieved that those he cared for were fine, although the idea of Ulfrik hiding out somewhere in the vampiric city left a bad feeling in his gut.
Miles pushed open the door and revealed a second large chamber.
“The library,” Thomas said.
Miles nodded and stepped inside the grand room. It was a hundred feet long, with ceilings just as high. Blue-flamed torches sat every few feet, illuminating the large number of scrolls and parchments that littered the multitude of black stone bookcases. A spiral staircase sat at the far end of the library, leading up to the second floor, where balconies on either side of the central area overlooked where Miles and Thomas stood.
Miles took a long sniff of the air. “Blood,” he whispered.
Thomas nodded. “I’ll go up, you stay down.”
Miles nodded and stepped to the side of the entrance, moving between the bookcases and discovering that the room went much farther to the sides than he’d expected. He moved quickly, but quietly, the musty smell of the library interfering with his sense of smell the farther he moved from the entrance.
The library was a maze of shelves and piles of old scrolls, most of which looked to be too fragile to even attempt handling. After a few minutes of walking, Miles heard a loud shout from back toward the entrance. He set off at a run, retracing his steps with ease, until he came out of the maze of shelves at the door again.
“Thomas!” Miles called out.
There was no answer.
Miles leapt up the thirty feet to the balcony above, pulling himself up and over, almost knocking over a stack of scrolls as he landed. He moved along the floor, the scent of fresh blood filling his nostrils the farther he got away from the dusty tomes, until he reached a black stone door, close to the staircase.
The door was open and Miles stepped inside, the scent of blood now so strong that he knew he would find the cause inside.
Thomas’s body lay on the floor, his head several feet away, resting next to a pile of scrolls. The cut had been clean.
“Oh, Thomas,” Miles said sadly, and looked to the far end of the room where a bloody First Priest Pedro de Moxica sat, holding a broadsword across his knees. Blood dripped from the edge of the sword in a steady beat against the stone floor.
“He wouldn’t just let it go,” the First Priest said. “He shouldn’t have given me a chance to turn myself in. Should have just killed me. He never was one for the violence that sometimes needs to take place.”
“Thomas was a good man,” Miles said, looking from the body of someone he had come to like and respect, up to someone he very much wanted to tear in half.
“Good men tend to die quickly,” the First Priest said. “I wonder, Arbiter, are you a good man? I’m pretty sure you’re not.”
“You woke Ulfrik up too early,” Miles said, ignoring the barbed comment. “He’s not at full strength.”
The First Priest stretched and stood, keeping the broadsword down by his leg. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You know that Liam really did find something in here about using the blood of a Dusk as a weapon,” Miles told him. “You all but gave the Magistrate access to a way to kill us.”
“Liam and Stuart were traitorous, and paid the price for their betrayal,” the First Priest said.
Miles removed the talisman from his pocket, and saw the hunger in the First Priest’s gaze as it settled on it. “You want this?”
The First Priest laughed again. “You put it on, I assume. Didn’t make you feel too good, did it?”
“It’s made with magic,” Miles said, voicing a guess he’d had for a while.
“Yes,” the First Priest said. “I will take it from your corpse and gift it back to my king.”
Miles slipped it over his neck, feeling a surge of power flow through him. Power that belonged to someone else. “Ulfrik is going to get to watch you die.”
The First Priest charged forward, throwing several sharpened crimson daggers at Miles, who used his telekinesis to blast them apart, sending them flying around the room where they eventually dissolved once they’d hit something.
When the First Priest was only a few feet from Miles, his broadsword pulled back ready to strike, Miles blasted the blade of the sword with telekinesis, causing the fast-moving First Priest to shift his weight to compensate.
The First Priest’s eyes widened just long enough to see Miles’s elbow smash into his face. He kicked the First Priest onto the ground, placing a foot on his neck and pushing down, the broadsword clattering to the side. “I am so done with your bullshit,” Miles snapped. “I am done with this fucking place, with all of this death and mayhem. I considered giving you a fight, a fair fight, but all I can feel is the power of the monster you unleashed, and the need to turn your body to pulp. You are old, but age doesnae make you powerful. I’m going to guess you ambushed Thomas, stabbed him from behind.”
“He didn’t deserve a fair fight,” the First Priest managed to stammer.
“Exactly,” Miles said, kicking the prone vampire in the ribs, feeling them break under the force.
The First Priest flew back across the room, smashing into the wall hard enough to bring pieces of stone down with him.
Miles picked up the sword and strolled over to the First Priest, who threw more crimson daggers at him, but they were easily avoided or parried with the blade.
The First Priest got to his feet and threw a wild punch at Miles, who blocked it, grabbing the wrist and snapping the elbow with his free hand. The First Priest screamed in pain, and Miles stamped down on the side of the House Idolator member’s knee, shattering it. He leaned into the First Priest and whispered, “I’m going to burn all your plans to nothing.”
“No,” the First Priest said, now lying on the ground. “You’re just a vampire, you’re nothing special. You’re not.”
Miles placed the tip of the broadsword against the First Priest’s heart.
“Please don’t,” the First Priest pleaded.
Miles pushed the sword into the heart of the First Priest hard enough that he felt the blade chip the stone on the opposite side of the vampire’s neck. Miles pulled the blade free, covering the wall beside them in blood, before bringing it back down onto the vampire’s neck, decapitating the First Priest.
When he was done, Miles stood over Thomas’s body. “I’ll tell your First Lord what happened here today,” Miles said. “I’ll make sure people remember that you were a good man.”
He exited the library and headed back toward where he’d left the others fighting the desolate. Miles reached the room with the throne in it when he was greeted by Lauren and Amelia, the latter of whom was covered in dark blood.
“Thomas?” Lauren asked as a dozen desolate followed her into the room.
Miles shook his head sadly.
“Thomas,” Amelia said, raising one hand to her mouth. “Oh, no.”
Church ran into the room and went straight up to Miles.
“You okay?” Miles asked her.
Church barked once as he stroked her head, noticing that she too had a lot of blood on her, none of which was hers. “You have trouble?”
“A couple more of those large desolate decided to join the fight,” Amelia said. “Hence the blood.”
“Louisa arrived to help and her soldiers went that way,” Lauren said, pointing to the door beside them. She stared at the talisman around Miles’s neck as it glowed faintly. “You okay?”
“No,” Miles said as he got to his feet, pushed the door open, and set off at a run. They continued along a long sloping hallway that took them farther and farther underground, only reaching a door after a few minutes, although the sounds of gunfire reached their ears much sooner.
Miles kicked the wooden door open hard enough to keep it from ever being usable again, and they saw that Louisa and her team of twenty soldiers had opened fire on Ulfrik, as a dozen more dead desolate, and even more soldiers, lay all around them. This was not a battle Louisa and her people could win.
Ulfrik moved between the humans at ease, practically ignoring the bullets and incendiary shells as they tore into his body. Each incendiary round caused a small flare effect as they hit the Dusk. Blood poured from the wounds that were inflicted on Ulfrik, but he jumped up, high into the air, landing on stone beams that crisscrossed the ceiling of the room nearly a hundred feet above where they all stood.
“We can’t stop him,” Louisa said.
“Get your people out,” Miles told her, looking up at the darkness of the rafters above his head. He spotted Ulfrik, who was crouched at one end, a look of rage on the Dusk’s face.
“The First Priest,” Louisa said.
“Dead,” Miles said.
Ulfrik dropped down, landing in the middle of a group of soldiers, tearing into them before Lauren could send her desolate to help. Everyone sprinted toward Ulfrik in an effort to slow down his murderous rampage, with Miles reaching him first, slamming into him, taking him off his feet, and throwing him back across the room into the tower. Black stone rained down over Ulfrik.
“Get back to the entrance,” Miles said to Louisa. “Make sure we’re ready to blow this shithole the second I’m done.”
Louisa didn’t need telling twice, and with several of her team carrying those still alive but wounded, they exited the room, leaving Miles alone with Amelia, Church, Lauren, and the dozen desolate that Lauren had with her.
“Miles,” Lauren said, genuine concern in her voice. “I thought I could stop him, but I can hear him in my head.”
“Go,” Miles said. “Make sure nothing else bothers us while we’re busy.”
Lauren said nothing, but Miles heard her and the desolate leave the room.
“She should have stayed,” Ulfrik said, standing upright and brushing pieces of stone off him. “I would have enjoyed watching her feast on you.”
“You can either go climb back into your sarcophagus, or you can die here,” Miles said. “Pick one.”
Ulfrik laughed.
A low, angry growl left Church’s throat as she stood beside Miles, her teeth bared, her lips pulled back in a snarl.
“You can’t hope to kill me,” Ulfrik said, stepping across the corpse of a desolate, crushing its ribcage as he did. “That talisman is mine.”
Miles wanted to fight, to feel his fists connect with Ulfrik’s body, to hurt the Dusk, to make him feel pain. Instead, Miles stayed calm. He pushed down the vampire’s need for blood, the need for violence, and stayed where he was, in his vampire form, waiting for the opening he knew would come.
Ulfrik moved faster than Miles would have thought possible, slamming into him and throwing Miles back across the room. Miles hit the wall hard, dropping to his knees as Church and Amelia assaulted the Dusk. Church’s speed and Amelia’s magic—thorn-wrapped vines whipping out toward Ulfrik—managed to push the Dusk back, but as the vines wrapped around his legs, he laughed.
“Vines?” Ulfrik shouted. “You come at me with vines?”
The floor beneath Miles’s feet shook as stone was ripped out of the ground and flung at Ulfrik, striking him across the head, causing him to bleed. In a rage, the Dusk charged at Amelia, but Miles moved to intercept, slamming into the more powerful creature, both of them knocked back across the room.
Miles landed next to Church and rolled to his feet.
“You fed from me,” Ulfrik said, already standing, his wounds healed. “But it wasn’t enough. I am a god. You are abominations.”
Miles removed the talisman from around his neck and threw it to Amelia.
“That is mine,” Ulfrik said as Amelia caught the talisman and immediately put it on.
“Come get it,” Amelia said, the air around her shimmering with power.
Ulfrik ran toward Amelia, a roar of anger escaping his lips, but he never reached her as the ground beneath the Dusk’s feet exploded up, throwing Ulfrik back across the room. Amelia tore more and more stone from the ground, throwing the large slabs at the Dusk, who was soon buried under a mound of rubble.
Amelia dropped to one knee, gasping.
“You okay?” Miles asked.
Amelia nodded. “This is… this is a lot.”
Ulfrik burst free from the mound of stone and ran at Amelia and Miles, but Church intercepted, driving herself into his chest with furious speed and power. She knocked the Dusk off his feet, but he reached out, grabbing Church by her flanks and throwing her across the room. She hit the floor hard, with deep lacerations across her body.
“Check on her,” Amelia said, standing tall once again, a hum of power all around her.
Miles ran over to Church, who was bleeding from deep wounds, but none of them looked to be anything that would bother her for more than a few minutes. Until she was healed, she’d be unable to fight, although she continued to try to get to her feet to help Amelia, only to find herself back on the ground.
“Stay here,” Miles said, kissing Church’s forehead. “Heal.”
Church whimpered and licked Miles’s face.
Miles turned to find that Ulfrik had Amelia by the throat, holding her aloft, her feet dangling above the ground.
