“Bold words. Especially coming from someone who has killed thousands!” said Sir Angelus, while his anger was boiling inside him.
“How dare a vampire judge the members of the Order?” he wondered.
“I am not speaking as an immortal, human. The truth has always stood there, right before you, even when you refused to see it. You call me Ancient, and truly I am. Do you even know who I am or did you not even care to put a name to the face of your enemy?”
Seeing that no one responded, he sneered bitterly.
“Naram-Sin”.
Only Sir Angelus realized the importance of that name; the rest of the knights, knowing that their leader was a student of history, waited for some explanation, but he did not say a single word. He stood frozen, fearful, realizing how many things he had ignored up to that point. He focused on the tattoos covering the torso of the Ancient and found what he was looking for. A few inches above the creature’s heart he saw the symbol of infinity, two joined circles that formed a sideways eight. In his studies, he had discovered that this symbol was far older than most scientists believed. Even before the city of Babylon had reached the zenith of its civilization, the gods and godliness in general were deemed as something infinite and unattainable by the human mind. Later on, this concept was expanded to include infinity in general, but the Ancient before them had lived in those times. His chest was nothing but a testament of faith towards the gods, probably before he was turned into a vampire. On the left loop of the infinity symbol, and almost indistinguishable from the skin beneath it, was a sun; a silver sun, within the symbol of the gods.
“Once, you were a member of the Order of the Silver Sun”, murmured Sir Angelus.
“One of the leaders, to be exact”, clarified Naram-Sin.
“I don’t understand…” whispered the knight, his nerves frayed.
The Ancient brought his hand to a pocket on his trouser and pulled from it a silver medallion, shaped like a spear, showing it to Sir Angelus.
“Do you recognize this?”
The knight could not be absolutely certain, not from that distance, but he was fairly sure he could guess the correct answer.
“The spear-medallion of Saint George? Tradition has it that it can wound those who are not of pure heart”.
Naram-Sin confirmed the answer with a nod and continued:
“Before I became a vampire, before I gave my consent to something that should not have even crossed my mind, I belonged to an Order dedicated to the protection of the world from those powers that would see it corrupted. At the time when I, along with nine others, became the first vampires, I secretly decided to maintain the Order in a desperate attempt to cheat my fate. And now, at a time when I needed my Order to be stronger than ever, I took a look at you and beheld a bunch of failures, completely useless. Right when I was about to give up and give in to my fate, I spotted the treasure hiding among those sad failures and decided that I had to have it. I killed the members of the other shelters and tricked you, so that you would come here to ‘die gloriously’. And you were only too eager to take the bait… and you brought me Erica. Thank you”.
Sir Angelus could not believe his own ears and felt his anger boiling over, taking control over him. He didn’t try to understand the Ancient’s motives or what it was that he wanted from his daughter; only a single thought dominated his mind: that he would die before he let anyone touch his child. With utter disregard for all his combat experience, he broke ranks and charged the vampire.
“Do not worry, this will hurt us both”, said the Ancient, as Sir Angelus was running towards him. At the very last moment, when the knight was almost upon him, he grabbed his medallion, disregarding the burn in his palm, and brought it down forcefully, shattering it on his throne.
A massive pulse erupted from the broken silver spear. Naram-Sin was glued onto his throne, his body twisting from the pressure it was withstanding, while Sir Angelus was thrown to the other end of the room, where he slammed on the wall. The magical explosion crashed through Erica’s protective sphere like a battering ram. The knights were swept by the spell’s force, which shattered their bones; their death was swift, almost painless. In the end, only one person was left standing inside the room with the golden throne: Erica. The magic contained within the spear had not judged her soul to be impure and passed through her harmlessly.
For a moment, Erica stood frozen, beholding the devastation around her. She was still holding her arms to the sides, but slowly tears welled in her eyes and she began to weep. She let her arms drop and the shattered protective sphere completely disappeared. She ran to her father, hoping to heal him, but she knew it was already too late. His body had been shattered, to such an extent that there could be no salvation. She didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye, to tell him that she loved him. She held his lifeless head in her arms and it almost melted away. Fresh tears flowed from her eyes, her body racked by her sobs.
She could not tell how long she spent kneeling like that, beside him, weeping. Suddenly, she sensed a shadow over her; she turned and saw the Ancient one standing a few feet away, watching her. His wounds were healing right before her eyes, his vampirism completely restoring him to full health. He had the sword of Saint Peter in his hands; he reversed the grip and offered her the hilt of the weapon. Erica simply shook her head.
“Why?” came the question.
She took a few deep breaths, to recover from the crying and stood up, watching him calmly.
“Because it is pointless. I know that you won’t really allow me to kill you. I shall not participate in your sick game. My father is dead. I will not wield to my anger. I will not dishonor his memory. If I live, I shall return; I will then give you one chance to repent and, should you refuse it, I shall destroy you, erase you from the face of earth”.
The anger was palpable in her voice, yet she had not succumbed to it.
“Perfect”, said Naram-Sin, smiling.
He threw the sword to her and she, quite instinctively, grabbed it. At the same moment, he charged her with amazing speed, grabbed her by the shoulders and impaled his torso on the sword she was now holding in her hands. Immediately, blood spewed from his mouth and Erica screamed. She tried to escape his grip, but the vampire still had enough strength left to prevent her from doing so.
“Whoever… kills me… shall inherit my place… This was… my hidden ace… Up there, outside this place, you shall find some men… They disabled your trucks while… you were down here… Happy hunting…”
The vampire’s body was losing quickly its unholy powers and its steel grip on her was loosening. The creature’s skin cracked and before long the fiend had turned into dust. Within mere seconds, the vampire had ceased to exist and Erica let her sword drop to the floor. Her head was hurting frightfully; her heart was pumping like crazy. Everything around her was turning into a blur and the last thing she saw before losing her senses was that the skin of her hands had turned pale.
Chapter 2
The pain was searing; she had just regained consciousness and felt like she had been thrown in an acid pool. The world was a blur. Her arms and throat felt like they were on fire and when she instinctively brought her hands on her throat, the pain doubled. She tried to scream, failed, gave in to panic. She blindly crawled around, not knowing what to do. Her vision suddenly cleared and she noticed the silver bracelets she was wearing; her skin was burning underneath. She quickly broke them off, tearing them apart like they were made of paper. She remembered the silver pendant around her neck and with a swift move, sent it flying away. The pain subsided at once. She didn’t stop there; she quickly removed every single item on her that contained even traces of silver. Finally free of things that hurt her, she took a deep breath in order to calm down and realized that her heart was pounding uncontrollably in her ribcage, terribly faster than humanly possible. Panic surged once more, yet her body was refusing to behave in the manner she would have expected. She felt fear, her body was tense and ready t
o spring into action if need be, yet at the same time nothing was like before. The blood coursing through her veins felt like liquid ice, despite the frenetic pumping of her heart and, as if this was not enough, she realized that she wasn’t even breathing, as if she had no need of oxygen. Her body felt alien on her and for a fleeting moment she felt like tearing it off, throwing it away, like some tattered cloth.
Memories of what had happened returned unbidden and she looked around her. The bodies of the dead knights were still there. Her father, her friends and her battle brothers lay broken and ravaged by a magic that shouldn’t have affected them. She wanted to cry, yet her eyes stubbornly refused to weep. Desperate and angry, she felt a howl escape her throat, which shocked her even more. She wanted to get out of there. She took a step towards the door and almost collapsed. She felt extremely weak. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. She took another step and found herself standing at the door. She had moved impossibly quickly. Immediately, nausea overcame her, yet her stomach didn’t seem to react as it was supposed to.
The only sensation she was certain about, was that of an insatiable hunger. Her stomach felt empty, her head heavy, her throat and mouth dry. Soon, all her fears disappeared, along with that previous shock. Now, all she wanted was a little food; a mere bite would suffice. She walked to the entrance of the mansion, almost mechanically. Everything above ground had been consumed by the fire the priests had set during their attack. The darkness engulfed everything, yet she had no trouble seeing. She could clearly, as if it was daylight, if not better. She approached the trucks and noticed the sliced tires and the holes on the hoods, over the engines. Naram-Sin’s words returned to her mind, the fact that he had sent a few men to destroy the vehicles. “Men! Maybe they could help me”, she thought. Yet, how could she find them?
She looked at the ground, and despite the fact that it had been stomped by feet, her mind immediately began to sort the tracks. Most belonged to the knights, but very soon she pinpointed those that interested her. Their shape, made from regular shoes, and the weight of the body that had pressed down those shoes, made the tracks stand out clearly in her eyes. She followed the tracks as quickly as she could. It was urgent that she found those men; she was not thinking clearly, she was acting based on her instinct alone. She looked around; she was standing at the forest around the mansion. How did she get here that fast? Her mind was refusing to make the obvious connections; she no longer cared. The only thing that occupied her thoughts was finding a little food. Her body was now hurting, the veins in her arms were aching, she was feeling utterly spent. She continued following the tracks through the forest, alternately stumbling and moving at frightening speed.
The smell of men was the first thing that hit her senses and immediately afterwards she heard them. Despite the many and various smells of the forest, theirs was easily discernible. Behind the naturally occurring noises around her, she could hear them talking, shouting and laughing as if they were standing beside her. An image sprang to her mind, she saw herself sitting at a table laden with food and someone was taking care of her. At that moment, this was her most fervent wish, as if she was a child dependent on others. She put all her strength into heading there, as fast as she could; almost immediately she found herself standing before a relatively large and well-built cabin, standing at a small glade. In the back of her mind she was recording the rest of the scenery: the snow-covered trees; a pickup truck that stood nearby, with tires covered by heavy chains; a pile of chopped wood inside a small, open shed, with chainsaws and shovels outside. She headed straight for the cabin’s door, indifferent to all other things, and knocked. She didn’t mean to, yet the wood shook by the force of her hand.
The shouts and laughter coming from within the cabin immediately ceased. A male voice was heard, in an unfamiliar language; yet she had no trouble understanding it.
“Who is it?”
She could hear them, standing up from their chairs, drawing weapons. Judging from the sounds, there were four men, three with revolvers, one with a machine gun. She shook her head, trying to focus on something else. She could not understand how she knew all those things. Her hunger had reached new heights.
“Help!” she said, in English.
She felt that she could have used the language she had heard before, but she didn’t want to. Something warned her not to do it.
The door cracked open and a man in his forties showed his face, pointing at her with his gun.
“Help!” repeated Erica.
The other men opened the door a little more, so they could see for themselves. They were all pointing at her with their guns, but seemed hesitant to use them.
“Help!” said Erica, even more beseechingly, and the men turned and looked at each other.
“Come in”, finally said the man who had first opened the door, in heavily accented English.
Erica walked into the cabin and one of the men closed the door behind him and locked it. The room she found herself standing in was a small sitting room with a large fireplace, and the only door apart from the entrance lead to a second room, where two military bunks could be seen. Erica could feel the warmth in the room, yet she still felt cold. Cards and poker chips were strewn on the table, and one of the men went there and began to tidy up. He pointed at one of the chairs and told her to sit down. She obeyed, mechanically, and then told him:
“Food”.
The man looked at her quizzically, but then nodded.
“I’ll get you some broth, it’ll warm you right up”, he told her.
He turned his back to her and looked at the other men; their surprise was visible on their faces. Over the flames in the fireplace they had placed two sticks that supported a pot, filled with some soup made of finely chopped roots and pieces of meat. The man took a plate from a pile of dishes that was standing on the floor, next to the fireplace, then grabbed the ladle they had left inside the pot and with a couple of quick moves served a portion. Erica felt excited that she would finally get something to eat. The thought of food alone was enough to stop her stomach from aching for a few moments. She looked one of the men, the youngest of the four. He was staring at her, a lot more than the other three, with a wild hungry look.
“She’s a vampire, she’s a vampire. She’s a vampire and doesn’t know what’s happening to her. Perfect, perfect, perfect. How old is she? Someone turned her and abandoned her? Great, she’s hungry, so she won’t have her strength”.
His thoughts took form inside her mind; she could hear them as if the young man had spoken. A series of images appeared immediately afterwards: the man was imagining the various things he’d like to do to her, and none of it was good. The one who served the soup approached her and placed the plate in front of her. As she looked at him, she noticed the exact same thing: hesitation, stemming from their impression that she was a vampire, and a desire for her body, which made all of them willing to brave the danger. Yet, none of that mattered to her; the only thing she wanted to do now was eat. She grabbed the spoon leaning inside the plate and began devouring the soup. In a few moments she was done, but her stomach still felt empty and it hurt even worse than before. As if she had cheated it with what she put in it. She needed real food.
She looked around her; the men had surrounded her and three of them were gripping their guns somewhat tighter.
“Bill, grab her with the chains. If she moves, we’ll put a few bullets in her. They’re not silver, but they’ll slow her down. She’s little, she can’t do a thing”.
It was the younger man the one who had spoken, in their language, but Erica had understood. He seemed excited, as he added:
“Oh, boy, we’re in for some fun today… and then, we can bury her with the others and none will be the wiser”.
While she was busy listening to him, the man standing behind her grabbed a chain and tried to bring it down on her head. Erica quickly moved to the side, the moment she heard the swish of the attempted strike. The chain fell on the table, shattering t
he empty plate, but the man raised it, ready to strike again.
“Stand still, if you know what’s good for you”, shouted one of the others.
Erica had had enough and her anger took over. She made a move, as if she was trying to attack the man in front of her and immediately changed course. A shot rang out, but the bullet found no target. She looked at the young man and in a moment she was standing behind him. She grabbed him by the neck, lifted him as if he weighed nothing and threw him against the wall, shattering some selves there. Before they had the chance to shoot at her, she vanished. Shadows engulfed her and the very next second she materialized before one of the men still left standing. His eyes bulged, but before he had the chance to pull the trigger, she swatted the weapon off his hands. Irritated, she punched him on the chest with all her might. Bones shattered from the force of the impact, while the man flew back, across the room. Simultaneous shots rang out, but this time she was too slow, her hunger was sapping her strength. She felt the bullets strike her body, but she didn’t hurt, it was as if her body was merely pointing out a fact. She turned towards them, even angrier, and threw out her arms. The two men dropped to the floor immediately, before they even had the time to shout in pain; their faces were masks of pure agony. Blood began seeping from their mouths, but Erica didn’t stop. Within seconds, they were dead. She lowered her arms and stood there, watching the bodies. She approached one of her last victims and looked at him, closely. The blood pooling on his mouth had magnetized her. She watched it flow quickly, forming a small pond around his head. “What have I done to him?” she wondered. And yet, she didn’t particularly care about that. She was feeling like a puppy cautiously approaching its first meal. She dipped her finger in the blood and put it in her mouth. Her whole body seemed to awaken, she felt alive at that very moment. Hungrily, without realizing what she was doing, she started drinking as much as she could. It wasn’t enough and soon the blood began to spoil. It smelled bad. Her panic surged again, but this time for a different reason. She didn’t even want to consider that she wouldn’t be able to feed some more. She stood up and looked around her. The young man, the one whose thoughts she had previously heard, was lying at the corner. He was still alive, she knew it. She ran to him, picked him up with her one hand and looked at his face. He was dazed by the blow, but still had some understanding of what was happening around him.