The Disciple and Other Stories of the Paranormal (22 page)

I soon gave up the disguise and again went
attired ready for battle. So did Marcus. It changed nothing in how
people reacted to us, but we were better able to escape or
fight.

We wandered, looking for someplace,
anyplace, that would accept us as much as for ’Pires. It was far
easier to find the ’Pires than safety or even the mildest of
welcomes.

We were still forced off the main roads for
most of our traveling. This made finding solitary vampires somewhat
easier because either we looked like prey to them or they thought
to take us where no regular person would see.

We were deep in a wooded area. The foliage
was so dense no sunlight reached the ground. A good place for
vampires, just as the last several small forests had been.

The vampire attacked suddenly and swiftly,
but Marcus and I were prepared. We fought back-to-back, giving the
’Pire no openings. We ripped the head off, set it on fire, and
looted the body.

“
This one wasn’t too
bright,” Marcus said as he handed me the small amount of valuables
he’d found. “Weak, too. He shouldn’t have tried to take us both at
once.”

The head burned away as we finished and lit
the body on fire. I looked around. “Why did this ’Pire attack? He
wasn’t trying to feed or turn us.” I looked at the necklace Marcus
had removed from the vampire’s neck – a thin leather cord held a
wooden Cross of Christ.

“
Maybe he thought he’d be
a hero and impress the rest of his clan.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth,
than we heard the unmistakable sound of a mob approaching.

“
There!” a voice shouted.
“Just as they said! The killers have murdered Brother Alfonse,
defiled his body, and robbed him.”

Marcus took my hand and we ran.

We ran through the woods, the villagers
after us. Fear is a wonderful motivator and even though we were
tired, we didn’t slow down.

“
There,” Marcus gasped as
we breached the trees to see a little homestead. “A
horse!”

She was a smallish mare, older, and didn’t
look capable of carrying one person too far, let alone two for any
distance.

Marcus ran to her anyway. He hugged me
tightly and kissed me deeply. “Ride.”

“
I can’t leave you
here!”

He stroked my face, as the sounds of the mob
drew nearer. “You can and you will. You’re stronger than me,
stronger than all of us. And I can face death if I know you’re
safe.”

“
Let me fight with you,
then. We’ll face the mob together.”

“
No.” Conviction I hadn’t
heard since we’d come back in time was in his voice. “I’ve always
known that you were the key to our success. Us both dying means our
mission and our lives were failures. I don’t want that. For me, and
the others, you have to survive and go on.”

I wanted to protest some more, but I knew he
was right. And I couldn’t let his sacrifice, or the sacrifice the
others had made, be for nothing.

I kissed him again, for far too short a
time. Then Marcus picked me up and shoved me onto the horse’s back.
He slapped her rump and shouted, and the horse ran. I looked back,
to see Marcus fighting. All too quickly, the mob surrounded and
overpowered him.

I try not to remember the sounds of the mob
tearing Marcus apart. But, like so many other memories, it never
leaves me.

The mare and I ran on for a few miles. As
she tired we reached another wooded area. I headed us into it and
we hid.

I waited for nightfall, then snuck back,
riding slowly, ready at any moment to make the poor mare run her
fastest. But we were unmolested. The villagers had stopped looking
for me. Killing Marcus had been enough for them.

They’d defiled his strong body and beautiful
face. I didn’t care. I still kissed where his sparkling blue eyes
had been, and the ragged hole that had once been his mouth.

I wrapped his body in his cloak and gathered
what was left of his possessions. Interestingly, the villagers
hadn’t taken his Nightsticks. Perhaps they believed them
instruments of the Devil.

I heaved Marcus’ body over the mare’s back
and we walked back to the woods. I buried Marcus there, marking his
grave as all the others had been.

“
Goodbye Marcus, my love.
I’ll see you in Heaven, if nowhere else.”

And it was there that I cried for the first
time since that vampire gang in the future had destroyed my
life.

I cried for the loss of my love, my family,
my innocence, my little sister, and all my friends. I cried because
I would never see Marcus’ eyes again, I would never talk to anyone
who knew and understood me, I would never have a life, only an
existence. I cried because I and the others had failed. I cried
because God – once my savior – had deserted me again.

The tears flowed for hours. The new day
dawned and I still cried. Finally, though, my tears were used up. I
lay on Marcus’ grave, while I slept and, when my dreams woke me,
wondered what to do now.

Light shown through the trees and lit the
small sack that held the last vampire’s belongings. I dumped them
onto the ground. Nothing worth Marcus dying for was in here. Just
some few coins and the necklace. I stared at the wooden Cross of
Christ for a long time.

The mare and I left Marcus’ grave at dawn
the next day. I rode her for several days, then let her go near a
farm. Every other living thing with me had died horribly; why
should she suffer the same fate? She trotted towards the safety of
domestication while I stole a handcart – I had what was left of
everyone’s belongings with me and couldn’t carry them alone
easily.

This somewhat fair trade made, I headed to
whatever fate might hold for me – more alone than I’d ever known
someone could be.

I went on with the mission. I had nothing
else, after all. Nothing else except for the certainty that the
pattern we’d been searching for was almost complete.

My being alone should have meant I was
picked off easily. But the opposite was true.

Alone, burdened only with the handcart and
supplies, I drew no untoward notice from any people I passed. I
killed vampires as I found them, also without too much issue.

The pain of being more effective alone
intensified my loneliness. But that pain also honed my focus.

I wasn’t looking for stray ’Pires or even
clans, but for something more important – the center of the
pattern, the point from which the plague radiated. I wore the
vampire’s necklace, both for remembrance of Marcus and as a
talisman to lead me to my goal.

The ’Pire who had attacked us so that the
villagers would see us attack him in return had worn a wooden Cross
of Christ without issue. The villagers had called him Brother. So
at least one vampire had been a man of God before being turned. And
at least one vampire had continued to practice as a man of God
until Marcus and I had killed him.

The question being begged was simple – how
many other men of God had been turned and where had that turning
happened? Either the ’Pires had randomly chosen Brother Alfonse or
they hadn’t. I needed to find out, so I held onto the talisman and
looked for its brothers.

It took some time, but the talisman
worked.