Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (35 page)

         Azrael twined the strings
around his fingers. Waggling and twisting his hand, he made the skeleton dance.
"The
Heart Taker
strikes again!" he announced, laughing
loudly. "Soon, all will bow to me. After they realized that I am the only
true leader, who will guide the vampires to a better world. All the clans will
become loyal to me. They will make my army truly invincible and I will
subjugate mankind for all time!"

         Azrael put the marionette
aside and walked to the chest where he kept his sacred relic, the old epitaph,
once found in Babylon. Carefully, the vampire lifted it from the chest and his
eyes slid over the cuneiform, his mind working feverishly to decipher the
words. "If only I knew. Hmm...
Utu... God of the
sun..." His fingertips brushed over the edges of the words. "What
does the sun god have to do with the folk of night? I have to find the
connection between the verses, otherwise I won't be able to decipher the
secret."

         A small cough
sounded behind his back and surly he turned around.

         Chalice stood
at the door and asked bashfully, "May I interrupt, my Master?"

         "You
already did," he growled. "What is it?"

         The bad mood
of her Master did nothing to improve her own grumpiness. Almost insolent, she
snapped, "I no longer want to be the nice girl for the little
huntsman." Furtively, she waited for Azrael's reaction, but he had only
eyes for his epitaph. He seemed to have forgotten about her presence.

         Chalice
prattled on. "His mother truly guards him like a lioness. Yes, she sure
honors their name," she snorted. "Kyrian is nothing more than a lion
cub."

         "What
did you say?" the vampire pressed quietly.

         "Uh..."
Chalice hesitated. "That he is a lion cub?"

         "Their
name," Azrael whispered, staring at the stone slab.

         "Master?"
In the face of his strange behavior, Chalice became insecure. "I... I'm
sorry. Of course, it's not the correct translation. I know. Actually, it would
be
Sunlion
, but that sounds so funny. It only... the comparison... well,
it seemed fitting to me."

         "Shut
up!" the vampire thundered, gazing at her so frighteningly that she froze
instantly.

         "When
the blood of the golden lion runs dry, the heir and epitome of Utu will
appear... see the connection..."

         "Master?
What are you talking about?" Chalice inquired carefully.

         He cut her
off with another dismissing gesture. The vampire held the thought and an idea
formed, originating from Chalice's comparison. Azrael reached for some
parchment and a quill to write down his thoughts. He dipped the quill into the
black ink and began. "God of sun... and a sunlion... but where is the
connection?"

         He stared at
the words. "No, it can't be. How could it be? Was it really right in front
of my eyes, the whole time?" he spat in disbelief. "What part do
vampire hunters have in a prophecy about vampires? And who will appear? A
vampire? A hunter? Who will it be?"

         Brooding, he
leaned back and stared ahead. "Vampire hunters named Leosol. It can't be a
coincidence." He was not much closer to solving the secret, but calmed
down a bit. "At least I can concentrate on this thought, which is more
than I had before." A demonic grin spread across his face and his eyes
glowed in a deep red. Then he remembered the presence of his subordinate.
"Come forward."

         Carefully,
Chalice drew nearer.

         "Did the
huntress get my message?" the vampire asked.

         Chalice
nodded, her heart beating wildly. "Yes," she answered. "She will
be here soon. As will Kyrian. Our scouts discovered him when he left the
castle, shortly before the huntress. They both are on the street towards
Paris."

         "Good,
good... what about Michel?"

         "He is
waiting at the castle."

         Azrael didn't
answer and so Chalice blurted, "My Master, what if the hunters arrive at
the same time? Our whole plan will go up in smoke!"

         The vampire
rose and smiled at his companion in the coldest way. "What gives you that
impression? You did play the orphan in front of this guy, didn't you? You told
him about this place?" Chalice nodded and Azrael was satisfied. "He
won't go to his mother. His pride would never allow it."

         "What
happens then?" she asked, her voice trembling.

         Azrael
tenderly stroked the young woman's face. "Oh, did I forget to tell you
about the second part of my brilliant plan? No need to tremble, Chalice. You
won't have to do much." His hands slid down and enclosed her wrists. He
pushed her gently in direction of the bed and lowered her onto it. Azrael let
go of her hands, but kept their gazes locked. "It is something you are
very good at."

         Confused, she
looked at his smirking face, while he wrapped shackles around her wrists and
bound her to the bed.

         "What?"
Chalice demanded, furiously.

         "Shhh...
you will like it, I'm sure. Take your time and relish it. Play the little, lost
girl."   Azrael showed her the key to the shackles and placed it into a
small chest on the nightstand. Taking his cape and cane, he smiled once more at
her. "Grigolin!" His voice boomed like thunder through the place.

         Slightly
bowed, another vampire crept towards him.

         "Begin,"
Azrael ordered.

         The servant
nodded eagerly, a treacherous grin forming on his scarred features.

         On the
threshold, the vampire turned to the desperate Chalice once more, to blow her a
kiss.

         After he had
disappeared, enormous activity started all around the young woman. Under the
lead of Grigolin, Azrael's loyal servants cleared the building, silently and
thoroughly. They left Chalice behind, alone and bound to the bed. Silence fell
and the young woman's heart grew heavy. Small doubts started to rise in her.

*****

         Helena
arrived at the Palais' locked gates, shortly after the last vampire had left
the place. She leapt from her horse and carefully scanned her surroundings.
There was no sound. Her watchful eyes slid over the closed shutters. After she
had made sure that she was alone, she went to a small door. Something had
flashed in the moonlight. There was a knife, which pinned a piece of paper to
the door. The huntress pulled it from the wood and read the short message.
"Michel's handwriting, as far as I can see... in blood..." she
whispered and read the note. "A good night to lose one's heart..."

         Helena's eyes
widened as she realized the purpose of the words. "Skylar, Kyrian, my
beloved children!" She felt the blood rush through her veins. "It was
a trap!" Instantly, she straddled her horse and galloped back to the castle.

         It had grown noticeably
colder in the tranquil valley of Ardeal. The high mountains were covered with
snow, as were the trees at the edge of the rocky foundation.

The weather on this late autumn
day wasn't beautiful. The sun was shining murkily from a gray, cloudy sky. It
was the day of a funeral. The old priest, who had died about a week ago and had
been put on the bier in the small church, was to be buried.

         Andrej jumped off his
horse. He rubbed his hands, trying to warm his cold, stiff fingers. Then he
patted the stallion's strong back and scanned his surroundings.
"Idyllic," he muttered in a bitter tone. "A nice, little village
full of busy, simple people."

         Andrej guided his horse
to a shelter at the tavern and tied him to a post. Freezing, he wrapped his
coat tighter around his shivering body and observed the village's inhabitants,
making their way to the small church. "All of you lead a god-fearing life,
going to church like good little Christians..."

         "...but is it the
truth or just for pretense, huh?" a husky, emphatic voice interrupted him.

         "Granny Ana."
Andrej looked at the white-haired woman. The crone was tiny, barely reaching up
to his waist. Time had left immense marks on her. Ana's skin looked like
wrinkled, dry parchment and had its pale, yellow color. Her hunched appearance
made her seem more vulnerable than she truly was. Intelligence was shining in
her dark, clear eyes, betraying a witty mind.

         After a long sigh, Andrej
finally answered, "I don't know what you mean. Besides, if people will
turn their backs on the church, just because the last priest in this valley
died, then you, out of everybody, should be very happy."

         "My young friend, I
admit that I was never impressed by the hypocritical Christian doctrine. I
still followed the old customs and traditions, like we have done for ages in
Transylvania."

         Andrej didn't reply
anything. He began to feel uncomfortable, but the old woman wasn't finished.
"Live and let die, that's my motto, or let live for eternity," she
added and winked at him.

         The tall man was stunned
for a tiny moment.

         "You do approve of
that, Andrej, don't you?" Ana followed it up, seeing his unwillingness to
answer.

         "Whatever you
say," he responded curtly.

         Still, the old woman
wasn't satisfied. "We both know better, don't we?"

         Andrej also didn't answer
that question. Between them lay the knowledge of a truth nobody dared to talk
about out loud, in order to keep harm at bay.

         "Take a look around.
All you will find are peasants, cow herdsmen and greedy grocers with the
intelligence of a woodlouse." she remarked contemptuously.

         With that image in mind,
Andrej smirked. He was about to respond, but the arrival of Rouven and his
buddies interrupted them. They were laughing, bawling and pushing each other
along the way to the church.

         "These
good-for-nothings!" the old woman spat. From the corner of one eye she
gazed at Andrej and added, "You would like to be one of them... as a
friend, I mean."

         For a while, the tall man
watched them and then said, "No. That was a long time ago."

         "Yes, yes. Time is
changing fast and there is nothing we can do about it."

         "Well, come on.
Let's go, Granny Ana, and stop talking about old times," he said
forcefully and took one of her arms, guiding the old woman to the church.

         The old building was
filled to bursting. Each and every inhabitant of the village was present. They
had had a long discussion, one that went on for too long. The shadows of the
tall firs were growing longer and daylight was fading fast.

         Some people rose, clearly
upset.

         After a seemingly endless
speech, the village's mayor, Nicolae Dimov, fell silent, giving in to the
demands of his people for a quick burial.

         Rouven placed his shovel
over his shoulder and raised his voice, "Forward, to the Death
Field."

         The group followed him,
some helping to carry the wooden casket, others lightening the way with
torches. At the beginning it was a long, silent procession that accompanied the
dead priest. Soon enough, angry and fearful voices made themselves known. The
people didn't want to be outside their safe houses in the darkness.

         Finally they reached the
cemetery and hurried to dig the grave.

         Rouven saw this as a
silent competition between him and Andrej, who also had a spade and helped. The
hothead kept glancing from the corners of his eyes at Andrej, who wasn't
impressed in the slightest and just kept on digging.

         It was hard work to dig a
hole deep enough for the casket, because of the low temperatures the soil was
nearly frozen. Nobody said a word. The only thing that could be heard was the
dull thudding of the spades and the torches' quiet crackling.

         After the men were done,
they carefully lowered the coffin into the hole.

         Rouven's father, who had
kept to the background, stepped forward ponderously to say the last words.
"Ash to ash. Dust to dust."

         Ana sneered at his trite
words.

         After this very short
speech, the grave was quickly covered with dirt and one of the older people
brought out his violin to play a traditional funeral song as last goodbye.

         Tension was heavy in the
air and from the background the whimpering of children that clung tightly to
their mothers could be heard. As soon as they were done piling the soil,
somebody called from the crowd, "Bury him beneath stones!"

         Another one added,
"Yeah, it's better to do that!"

         Restlessly shifting his
legs, the mayor replied, "No way! It would mean a return to old customs
and beliefs."

         Mikahel, the village's
smith, chimed in, his face still wet from the hard labor, "So what if we
are? You ensured to bury the old Ion Marlin in direction of the rising sun.
Admit that this was intended, Nicolae."

         "Oh, foolish
Mikahel. That is pure coincidence," the mayor powerfully defended himself.

         The smith crossed his
arms, "Yes, but didn't
you
demand that everybody of Ardeal had to
be present at the funeral? Didn't you want us all to have a look and make sure
that the old Marlin is truly in his casket, before it was nailed shut? Do you
want to deny that?"

         Fiery mumbling and
muttering could be heard. "Mikahel is right... let's listen to
him..."

         The mayor had to think
for a moment. He ground his teeth and yielded. "Alright, get stones and
pile them on top of the grave."

         Instantly the people
formed a line, passing on hand-sized stones they found at the cemetery grounds.

         In the end, Mikahel and
his son Dimitri set up a tombstone. Written on it was, 'Father Ion Marlin
1531-1598 Rest In Peace'.

         Eventually the crowd
scattered, leaving the men to go to István's tavern while the women and older
people took care of the children.

         Andrej was the last
person that left the cemetery.

         Once again, Ana appeared
beside him.

         "Granny Ana, is
there something else you need?" the tall man asked politely, even though
he wasn't in the mood to talk to her.

         "No, no. I was just
thinking... tomorrow, I'll go to dig up a wild rose and plant it on top of the
grave."

         "A rose? At this
season? Where are you going to find one?"

         "Leave that to me. A
wild rose will protect the grave."

         "You really believe
in that ancient hocus-pocus?" Andrej sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Or do you want to make fun of the old Marlin at his grave?"

         "Ah!" the crone
exclaimed irritated. "We both know what ancient powers lay hidden
here," the old woman replied annoyed.

         Andrej pretended to
overhear the implication.

         "What are you going
to do now, my young friend?" Ana inquired.

         "I'm off for a cup
of wine at István's to honor the dead Father, before I return to the
castle."

         "Yes, once in a
while you really should mix with the people here. Good idea," Ana croaked.

         Andrej shrugged his
shoulders indifferently. "I don't care much about them. Wouldn't I give
them money for supplies and services, these nice people would chase me to the
devil and burn down the castle."

         "No, the fools
wouldn't dare to do that. Not now, when everything is about to change,"
Ana said mysteriously. "Have you seen the poor lad Anatol lately? He's got
some stories to tell."

         Andrej wanted to say
something, but he left it at a sigh. He said goodbye to Granny Ana and went in
direction of the tavern.

*****

         At the castle, it seemed
to be a night like any other. Silently, Sadden had left her chambers and now
strode through the lonely corridors of the castle. An inner restlessness was
her constant companion, ever since she had had that dream. Nothing could divert
her thoughts from it.

         After some time of
aimlessly walking around, she came to the decision to look for the other two
inhabitants. Since Lilith's arrival, Sadden found the silence rather unusual.
The vampire left the wall's inner circle and stepped onto a narrow, smoothly
polished granite bridge that arched high over the inner courtyard.

         Sadden reached the middle
of the black bridge. She stopped and looked up at the night sky. All clouds had
disappeared due to the icy wind, which had blown strongly from the mountains
during the day. Above Sadden, the sky spread out like a dark blue carpet of
velvet. The stars sparkled like thousands of diamonds. Smiling at the beauty of
the night, the vampire closed her eyes for a moment, letting the image settle
in her mind. "It smells like snow..."

         Sadden's eyes flew open
and indeed, it had began to snow. It was the first snow of the year in the
valley. Enchanting, the snowflakes danced softly through the air and became
caught in Sadden's raven hair, where they sparkled like tiny splinters of a
crystal. In that peaceful moment, new hope grew inside her and the belief that
dreams could come true.

*****

         In another part of the
castle, melancholy ruled Lilith's thoughts. The young vampire sat on the lowest
step of the staircase in the big entrance hall. She hugged her legs to her
chest and stared at her suitcases. Hraban was perched on a lion-headed statue
of black marble and thoroughly cleaned her feathers.

         Sadden appeared at the
end of the gallery and looked at her protégée, who didn't take notice of her.
Puzzled, she glanced at the suitcases on the floor of the hall.

         Lilith jumped in surprise
as she suddenly became aware of her mentor's presence behind her on the stairs.

         "You wish to leave
us?"

         "I cannot
stay," Lilith mumbled, averting her eyes.

         "You cannot stay? Or
rather, you do not want to stay?"

         "Being away from my
family hurts too much. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Being kept in the
dark about the reasons why I was sent away drives me crazy. I can feel there is
something wrong." Her voice trembled slightly.

         Sadden nodded and sat
down beside her on the stone steps. "I understand."

         Lilith could hear the
sympathy in her tone. Embarrassed, she turned away from the master vampire.

         Gently Sadden stroked her
back and said, "You really think it would be right to oppose your father's
wishes?"

         Lilith jerked and shook
off the caressing hand. "What is wrong or right? I am a member of the
clan, and I want to stand by my parents. There is a great disunity among us, I
can feel it. Don't you?" She gazed deeply into Sadden's sapphire eyes and
wondered about her expression. "Do you not feel it? The disaster, which
seems to be spreading like an epidemic? Slow, but steady."

         Sadden's eyes became
distant. Everything inside her refused to search for a connection to her folk,
but Lilith's tortured expression pierced her very soul. Clearly irritated, she
leapt from the stairs and went to a window. Sadden opened it and looked into
the snowy night. It seemed as if the dark chaos had just been waiting to be
welcomed into the castle. Immediately, it took possession of Sadden. Inside her
mind, she could hear the screams louder than before.          Lilith rose and
grabbed her teacher's shoulders, spinning her around.