The Vampire's Heart (19 page)

“
Look, Legion, Calcia… I’m not sure I understand. What is the point in reforming the Raven Legion? There is no war.”

“
Do you believe that? Given the conversation you heard but not an hour ago?”

“
There’s a war coming between Calcians and vampires?”

“
Unfortunately so. A new power has risen to guide the vampires. It must be stopped at any cost. I have contacted the other gods. It seems this new power has made a deal with the fallen angel Samael to be brought back from the dead. I’m not sure to what end for the erstwhile angel, but we can be sure it is not going to be pleasant.

“
So you’ve reformed just us to destroy a master vampire? Isn’t that a little overkill?” I ask, though I instantly regret it; it can’t be a good thing to doubt your god whilst in the presence of your god.

“
And to protect all of Gatheck,” Legion-Calcia tells me. “No doubt you’ll now understand why I wish to turn the demon hordes to my own will. They used to serve me once. I would like them to do so again.”

My head is reeling. Vampires, demons, the Devil! Is anyone evil not involved in this? Bar the Legion and Calcia of course.

“
So when can we expect this war to start?”

“
The Raven Legion will be ready to move before it begins. You will command them, and we will prevail. Now, young Father Holste, I suggest you go back to your section and get some sleep. Legion will be back tomorrow. Do not mention this conversation. You have been severely punished for facing me. Understand?”

“
Yes Calcia.”

I stumble towards the door, somewhat dazed, open it and step into the doorway. I look back over my shoulder at Calcia.

“
Thank you.”

“
May the light of Calcia hold you and keep you warm.”

It was Legion that spoke, the deep menacing voice that terrifies so many. Now, with the recollection of Her real voice, I find it oddly comforting.

“
Go to the other leaders first and tell them that you were wrong to act the way you did. They are in Seraph station.”

I smile and nod and then head back to my section, via Seraph, closing the door behind me.

- Muzbeth -

31 days until the birth of a god

The 2
^nd
day of Spring-Fall, 1538

The morning sun is shining in through the minute gaps in the barn roof; its shafts pick out the dust in the air. I look at the naked girl lying asleep in my arms.

She had fallen asleep last night shortly after we had stopped having sex. Being a vampire I don’t need to sleep, so I’ve just lay here thinking. I’m going to turn her when she wakes up, take her with me wherever I go. I get the feeling that this is who Kellum meant when he said I would meet someone more ‘forthcoming’.

While I wait for her to wake, I find myself playing with her breast, entertaining myself. She stirs in my arms, probably due to my groping, and snuggles closer to me for extra warmth. She will find none in my dead body. Her eyes open and she smiles up at me, a wondrous smile that sends the magic coursing though me to a tingling high. I find myself smiling back. She moans a little as I continue to stimulate her nipple between my fingers.

I lever myself out from underneath her and position myself above her, leaning down to kiss her tender lips, biting the bottom one ever so gently. I enter the woman beneath me, gently thrusting as I kiss her neck, moving slowly towards her shoulder. She leans up, a slight moan leaving her mouth as she does, and her teeth nip the cold flesh on my neck. I bare my teeth and bite down, sinking my sharp teeth into her beautiful white flesh; suddenly she’s kicking and pulling away, hands on my shoulders trying to push me off. I hold on, both with hands and jaws, letting the blood pump into my mouth.

“
Stop! Don’t turn me!”

Her voice is soft and gentle, it plays over my mind and her words sink in. I reconsider my actions. I take my mouth away from the bloody bite mark on her neck. I kneel up, the woman still beneath me, though now she has stopped trying to wrestle herself free.

“
You know what I am; you knew this would happen.”

“
Yes, I do. But that does not mean I wanted it to happen. I am quite happy being alive, thank you,” she says.

“
But if you join me you will live forever,” I reason.

“
What you offer is not eternal life, and even if it was, I do not want to live forever. I want to keep my memories intact; if I were to live forever those memories would become marred over time. Everything ends at some point. Everything has to.”

“
Including your life,” I tell her.

“
Yes, and when I do die I want to stay dead. That said I have nothing against vampires, obviously. Why is it that you wish to turn me so badly?”

“
I want you to come with me, to travel as my companion,” I say, before adding, “I want us to be together.”

“
And you think I need to be dead to do that?” She questions.

She smiles again, sending a shoot of phantom heat through my body. I smile back, continuing where we left off before our brief conversation. I don’t know whether it is the fresh blood or the knowledge that I will have this warm body at my beck and call, but the passion in our love-making is overwhelming. A question pops into my mind, I ask it without even breaking my stride.

“
What’s your name?”

“
Summer,” she answers quickly, “you?”

“
Muzbeth.”

That over with, we continue with what we started last night.

27 days until the birth of a god

The 6
^th
day of Spring-Fall, 1538

We’re heading North up the coastline, travelling by day, ravaging each other by night. We aim to hit the Wyd Estuary in an hour or two. Once we’re past there and up to the northern point of the Covess Mountains, we’ll have to make a decision; either travel to Rebium or to Tomam, to see what havoc we can cause there. Personally I want to go to Tomam, the sunlight in the sky at night draws me in like a beacon. Last night I asked Summer if she knew what it was.

“
It is said to be the eye of Calcia. Supposedly it casts eternal light on the Heart. It’s been there as long as the Heart has,” she told me.

“
Is that all it does? Just keeps the shadow and night from the Heart?”

“
Pretty much, so far as I gather anyway,” she confessed.

“
Why? What’s the point?”

“
Well, honey, you’d have to ask Calcia about that one, and I’m quite sure she wouldn’t want to see you, let alone give you the secrets of her faith.”

“
Oh, I’m sure too.”

I’m still trying to figure out why it is there. There’s no point in talking about it, neither of us know for sure, so it would all be speculation. But something about it is certainly captivating. Every time I see it I want to be closer to it than I am. Maybe that’s what it is, a trap for the vampires. Maybe it draws them into its light and sends the demon back to Hell. That’s what Kellum said happened when a normal vampire walked in the daytime. I’m sure I’ll find out one day. One day soon.

***

In the end we decided to head for Tomam, so it looks like I got my wish after all. Summer said she hadn’t been to Tomam before, so it had been fairly easy to win her over. Apparently Rebium holds no secrets for my lover. Still, we’ve only made two thirds of the journey so far, and on the distant horizon I can make out the incredible height of the canopy of the Brangaine Woods.

The rains that have attacked the past week have lifted, and the sun has poked its bright face through the clouds, albeit not for long. We’ve had brief sunny spells for the entire day, thanks to the very rare breaks in the thick cloud that promises rain for tomorrow. If we’re lucky we’ll make the city by the fourteenth. If not we’ll get very wet again. It doesn’t bother me, but, when wet, Summer isn’t in a passionate mood and that puts me on the offside. Still, I wouldn’t give her up for anything.

Since I met her I feel like I have a purpose now, even if it is only to survive and be with her. Before, with Kellum, I was alive just because I was, now I’m alive because I have something to live for. Love. If a dead being can be alive at all, that is.

I’ve never been in love like this before, but occasionally I get flashes of a memory, probably from my life, of a woman. I have no idea who she is and nor do I really care. But they distract me sometimes. I just wish someone could tell me what they mean. Still, I have Summer, and she is all I need.

20 days until the birth of a god

The 13
^th
day of Spring-Fall, 1538

We travelled fast; the weather spurring us, at least in part, on. During the hours of dark I’d carry Summer, while stopping for enough time so that she could get some proper sleep. Thus we have arrived, a day ahead of schedule, in this massive city.

Tomam’s trees and houses mingle perfectly. Some are standard buildings, with their foundations firmly set into the ground and bound to the roots of the trees that tower above them. Some of the homes are built around the trees, either at their base of high up their trunks. The higher homes are linked by corridors where the trees are closest, joining the massive structures that climb high toward the canopy. Other homes, the most magnificent, are the trees themselves; they’re cut into the thickest of the trees, built onto the sides and lodged into the gaps between the branches.

But as Summer and I walk the streets of once packed, now muddy, earth, with the heavy rain hammering down from above where the canopy is open to the skies, we are the only people that do. This is a big city that should be full of people, especially at a time of year when cities, towns, and villages are alive with activity.

My senses tingle with the sound of pounding hearts. I can feel the people hiding in their houses, too afraid to come out, though there are nowhere near as many people as there should be. I can smell death on the air too, more than usual; they must have buried a lot of the dead recently. These people worry me, it is daytime, and yet they hide, with no evidence to suggest why. Summer and I share a cautionary glance.

“
Wait here. I’m going to find some answers,” I tell her.

“
I have no problem with that, honey.”

I walk off the beaten road and over to a blacksmiths cottage which is not attached to any trees. The main entrance to the house is partly obscured from view by a large, yet cold, furnace; its fires long dead. Stacked next to the furnace, lumber is piled neatly, though now it is sodden through; the heavy and pretty much constant rain seeing to that. As I pass the furnace, piles of tin and copper ore attract my attention, they are low stocked. I can smell the person inside the house. It is a man full of fear, too afraid to do anything but hide.

With a swift kick the front door slams open. Its latch breaks with little resistance. I enter the threshold of the house, looking about for the terrified smithy. I hear whimpering. I listen more intently. It sounds as though it is coming from beneath me, of all places. Maybe this place has a basement? But my senses tell me the living body is directly beneath me. Looking down I see a rough-hewn rug, and my muddy feet planted firmly on it. I can feel, sense, and even taste the fear coming up through the floorboards beneath the matting; it is so pungent.

I step off and kick the rug aside. There is a small hole in the wood, only a little larger than a ring. It really can only be one thing. My questing eyes find the edges where the floorboards have been cut. I crouch and hook my finger in and lift away a section of wood about a foot and a half square; built purposely to hide the small underground chamber, probably only six by six feet in size. I would guess it has a good two and a half feet of muddy water collecting in the bottom, which has to be the runoff from the rain filling it more quickly that it can drain. Inside the hole, barely stood – more clinging onto a long timber reaching from, I assume, the submerged floor to the top of the small room – is the man I could smell, and now the fear is rolling off him. It is battering my senses. I can hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. It disrupts my thoughts.

His dark eyes are glaring up at me, trying to figure out whether I’m friend or foe. I jump down into the hole, quickly grab hold of the man, and then leap back out. The short jump is made harder by the presence of such cloying water. I throw him to the floor, which creaks a little under the force of the impact. He does nothing but whimper on the floor.

I bend and grab him by the ankle, turn and march out into the street, dragging the blacksmith behind me. He puts up no resistance.

I can only assume that he has lost the will to live; he is essentially dead inside. Now he will physically die by my hand, but I will not drink from him. Dead blood has no power and carries a vile taste.

I deposit him at Summer’s feet, who looks at him with something like sorrow mixed with disdain.

“
Speak smith, tell us why you were hiding!” I demand.

The smith does not reply. He barely even seems to recognise that I’ve spoken. And so, he just lies there, in the mud, quivering in the cold. Summer steps up to ask, her feminine charms giving her an edge over my ‘to the point’ interrogation.