Night Kings: The Complete Anthology (22 page)

He thought the death of the lady in red would
stop its unearthly hold over the land. He was wrong. The problems
only grew worse for the encumbered townsfolk and the forests that
surrounded. Lukas tried to put those thoughts out of his mind while
he traversed the wild lands. It had been a long time since he’d
appreciated the run in such a way. He needed to soak up everything
these ancient lands had to offer for they would soon be behind
him.

The sound of rushing waters brought him to
the edge of a creek. The water skimmed the spine of the mountains
and brought a frantic pace to the water in search of the closest
basin.

Lukas looked dejectedly at the sight before
him. It was too wide to cross, too hurried to swim. It wasn’t so
much the water that bothered him, but the smell of drenched fur
that would accompany him for miles if he were to fall in.

A few outlier rock formations afforded Lukas
a path across the creek. He made his way precariously from one to
the next, fully aware that one wrong move would mean a lengthy
swim. The rocks brought him to the center of the river, but no
further. He took a leap of faith with trust he not spend the next
hour trying to drag himself out of rapid waters.

It was at the apex of Lukas’ leap that he was
struck across the chest by an unknown object. He managed to regain
his balance before he was swept into the water. He spun around and
around in search of the unseen hand that hit him. He saw no signs
of anything out of place. Not until it was too late to act.

A cool breeze rushed over Lukas and brought
the fine hairs on his back to stand on end. He moved to separate
himself from the frosted touch of his oldest adversary, but it was
a move he couldn’t make and was again struck to the ground.

“Lukas Wendish?” a woman’s voice asked.

He refused to aid the apparent vampire in the
slightest and fought to free himself of her embrace. The shadowed
woman dug a thin blade into his neck; and immediately the fight
fled the broken wolf. She kept that blade inserted until he no
longer gave her cause for concern.

“As far as I’m concerned, the only good
werewolf is a dead werewolf,” hissed the vampire, “but it would
seem my maker has other plans for you. Plans that continue ”

She watched Lukas change from monster to man
on the ground before her. In response, she placed a heel upon the
bloodied neck of Lukas. He fought her icy touch, but there was
little he could do in his condition.

“You’ll never be free,” said the woman in the
shadows. “Not in this life. Not in the next.”

Lukas’ last move was upon him. Whatever this
vampire wanted with him she would have it. Best he could hope for
was a pack in the region to heed his dying call. So he howled,
through the blood and pain, to the moon gods above. To anyone that
would listen. It was a call that went unanswered as the blood loss
got the best of him. He faded from consciousness, vampire upon his
throat, and not a wolf nearby to help.

“My, my, such a fight in you,” said the
vampire with a lick of her lips, “I’m going to enjoy this…”

Then it all turned to black.

Chapter Thirty Seven

Night Kings: The Red River

Gregory Blackman

The Darkest Touch

The supernatural realm was but a story to
Elsa Dukane until her eyes burst white with fire. Now the
supernatural was her life and the life of all those around her. Her
friends, one a werewolf and the other a witch, had grown up with
her most of their lives; hidden in plain sight with roots deep in
the community.

What was she? Somehow that question paled to
the other one that weighed heavily on her soul. What would she
become?

She’d seen the light inside the high
priestess of the sisterhood; the darkness of the vampire queen and
her progeny. Soon Elsa would find out where she belonged on that
spectrum. It was for that reason Elsa went to see the Sisters of
Salem and the reason she currently walked to Blackrose Manor.

She knocked on the man in black’s front door
until both the door and her knuckles were painted with blood.

“Goddamn it.” Elsa shook her hands silly when
she realized the trauma she’d inflicted on herself. “Can anyone
friggin’ hear me?”

When no one came to the door she entered the
home of her own accord. Every light in the manor had been turned
off. It was dark, quiet, and there wasn’t a soul anywhere in sight.
Elsa had only her instincts to guide her; instincts that drove her
upwards his many flights of stairs and down a long hallway that
seemed to stretch on forever.

When the hallway finally came to an end there
was a single wooden door. The door was the color of blood and it
beckoned for her touch. She opened the door and walked over the
threshold to the other side. In this room she found Remus Castalon
atop a golden throne, head sunken low, not a pale follower in
sight.

She crept closer and closer to the throne,
but still the king rested in silence. He made no move to greet her,
no move to stop her. Remus let her come to him for a change. In
days past he would’ve taken every opportunity to shape Elsa Dukane
in his image; do what the vampire queen attempted of Lukas.

Remus wasn’t his maker. He would do so in a
more discreet manor. The end result would remain the same.

Kindred were being murdered by the dozens in
his city. The ones still left called upon Remus to solve their
problems. How could he solve the problems of others when he
couldn’t solve his own? He was one man, one voice, and no matter
how hard this man tried he could never be the deposed lady in red.
She wasn’t a leader. She was a tyrant.

She would show her enemies no quarter. She
would drain their bodies and throw them into a heap for others to
bear witness. She wouldn’t stop the spread of the darkness that
threatened to engulf Salem. She would make sure those responsible
could never return.

“You’ve come a long way,” the man in black
said.

The unknown girl had come all this way and
not once did Elsa think of what she would say to him. Remus
frightened her more than any man, woman, or monster in this world.
But none of that mattered anymore. She needed to learn the truth
behind the evil that festered in her city. Elsa needed to see the
face of a true monster—and he was the truest of them all.

“I have my reasons,” Elsa said.

Remus leaned forward, his interests now
piqued, and said, “Then illuminate those reasons for me.”

“Not until you answer some things for me.”
Elsa crossed her arms to

Remus nodded his head in acceptance and
leaned back once more in wait for the questions to come.

In truth, Elsa hadn’t thought up any
questions to ask. It wasn’t until this moment she decided that she
needed to test him. She would see if the truth could find its way
past his forked tongue.

“What do vampires believe in?” she asked.
“What gods do you serve?”

“There is no definitive answer to that,”
Remus said coolly. “Many believe we always belonged to the
archdemons of the nine circles, but that wouldn’t be entirely
correct. The first human vampire, Cain, taught us of the world he
was raised and the ceaseless fires that rages. He spoke of the
torment, the pain, and the sheer enjoyed derived from it all. You
know this place as Hell, but it is much more than that. That world
was merely a shadow of the one we truly belonged to.”

“The nine archdemons didn’t mold us in their
image,” Remus continued. “They found a race known as nosferatu in
the vastness of space. A predator race of menial intelligence these
nosferatu were no match for the forces set upon them and they were
eaten up by the same Hell Gate that now threatens this world.”

Remus stopped when he caught sight of the
malcontent Elsa, less interested in the answer than she originally
let on.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said with a poetic
wave of his arms. “I tend to ramble on in my old age—.”

“Enough,” bellowed a voice inside Elsa, yet
the words were said out loud, regardless of who’d spoken them.
“Where did the vampire queen get her power?”

“It came from within.” Remus crossed his
arms, unimpressed, but intent to see where this was headed. “Unlike
the werewolves that are only as strong as they are meant to be,
some more and some less, kindred are blessed with the ability to
grow in strength from the blood of their enemies. Her power comes
from every soul she has taken, every human, vampire, werewolf, and
reaper. I even witnessed the occasional feasting of succubae and
fiends. Nasty stuff, if you ask me, but she swore it was for the
greater good; her good—.”

“How many souls have you taken?” asked Elsa,
quick to cut him off again once her curiosity in each matter had
been satiated.

“That number, only
they
know,” Remus
replied. “You see, Elsa Dukane, every blessing comes with a price
to pay in the end. The strength gained from the loss of others
slowly drives a vampire closer to the darkness. Every sip of
another’s blood leads us to an inevitable madness, and with every
death, one step closer to the edge. Would you believe that there
are those madder than I? I hope for both our sakes you never
do.”

“What did your maker want with Lukas?”

The questions kept coming, as if someone
inside Elsa were discovering vampires for the first time, no
different than her. Was it a weakness she sought? Or was it a
common ground?

“That I don’t yet know.” Remus had grown
tired of her questions and risked stepping outside her bounds. “I
wasn’t able to ask her that as I ripped her heart from her
chest.”

“You never sleep?”

“Sleep wouldn’t be the appropriate term,”
Remus answered. “Many vampires find the drain brought on by the
sunlight bothersome. They’ll assign the younger kindred to guard
their dens while they wait for the sun’s light to pass.”

“I asked if
you
never sleep.”

“Sometimes I do,” he said wistfully, “when
reality becomes more burden than I can bear. Those slumbers last
for many years at a time. The last time I slept it was through The
Great War. A pity I couldn’t have been there.”

“Tell me of the shadow I saw at the
farm.”

“My, my,” said the man in black with
inquisitive eyes, “such interest in the affairs of my kind. If I
wasn’t so sure you were in love with a filthy werewolf I could
believe you’d grown fond of us.”

His words would’ve startled Elsa, but at this
moment he didn’t speak to the confused young woman. He spoke to
another. Someone older, but unaccustomed to the world they now
found themselves. She said nothing in response to the man in black.
She waited until he grew tired of the silence and answered her
question.

“The shroud,” said Remus with a lick of his
wiry lips. “It is uncommon among our kind. Now that Xenia
Parentucelli lies dead I remain the only vampire of royal blood
with the ability to touch the shadows.”

The man in black’s voice trailed off as the
light from a nearby lantern flickered in the corner of his eye. He
raised his hand to greet the light’s flame, or rather the shadow
embossed on the wall, and with the tug of his index finger Remus
saw the shadows dance towards Elsa Dukane.

“Stop it.”

Despite Elsa’s objections the shadow danced
closer and closer. She balled up her fists in anger and shouted out
again for him to stop. He refused, and when the shroud tickled
Elsa’s shoulder, she was overcome by the spirit that resided
inside. Her eyes burst white for a brief moment, but that moment
was all she needed to see the shroud wilt from shoulder back to
wall.

As suddenly as it began, the fire in Elsa’s
eyes dispersed and she stumbled ever so slightly on the ground. She
blinked profusely and looked around as if she’d forgotten where she
was.

“What was I saying?”

Remus parted his lips to answer her as best
he could, but a misplace shadow at the end of the hall caught his
attention, and he stopped before he could begin.

“You were just leaving,” Remus lied.

He’d never been more intrigued by the unknown
girl. Yet, he felt ill at ease in a one-sided conversation. Until
Remus knew more about the passenger inside Elsa the man in black
wouldn’t be so quick to arrange another meeting between the
two.

“That’s right,” said a surprisingly
overconfident Elsa Dukane. “I’ve seen what needed to be seen. I’ll
leave now.”

Unprepared to let the newly appointed king
see her at her weakest, Elsa turned on a dime and walked straight
out the throne room. She didn’t hesitate and she didn’t look back.
She didn’t even notice the man that stood next to the door.

He was covered in a black veil of shadows.
Not easy to spot if you don’t know what to look for, but Remus
figured if any were capable it would be the mysterious woman on her
way out the room.

“Yes?” the man in black asked as the door
came to a close. “What’s so important that you risk your life?”

Akil Fayed stepped into what little light
there was and bowed stiffly for the newly crowned king. The bronzed
vampire from the old kingdom was a trusted ally to more than one in
the royal court. He had many friends, old friends, and Remus was
lucky to count himself among them. At least, that’s how it was
before the Wendish fields burned.

In their second life there are so few worthy
of one’s trust. Akil Fayed was one of those vampires, and yet, he’d
committed the most heinous of sins. He made attempt on the life of
the king. Even worse, he failed. When Remus took the crown he took
on the privileges that it brought and the responsibilities.

He didn’t want to see harm come to an old
friend, but a non-action would be seen as a weakness amongst the
kindred populace. It would threaten to destabilize him further in a
world that saw less and less need for an undead monarchy.