Evolution (Demon's Grail Book 2) (5 page)

“True.”

“Come on, then,” he adds with a grin, patting me hard on the back, “enough natter, I've got a bet to win. Time to confess. What species
are
you from? Or will I only find that out once I start peeling you out of those wet clothes?”

I open my mouth to tell him to get lost, but then I realize there might be a better way to deliver the news.

***

“Busy in there, is it?” asks a small, hunched Hoshkian as he passes me a few minutes later, heading into the pub just as I'm heading back out into the pouring rain.

“Not really,” I reply, stopping to wipe blood from the blade of my sword. “To be honest, it's a little dead.”

I hear the door creaking open, and I can't resist turning to see the Hoshkian standing in the doorway, staring at the scores of corpses that litter the bar area. Blood is dribbling freely from several of the bodies, splattering onto the floor, and even the barman is slumped dead against one of the beer pumps. Frankly, the scene is even more impressive than I'd realized, and I can't help but feel a little proud. All those idiots, removed from the world by little old me. I deserve a medal.

Slowly, the Hoshkian turns to me, his face drained of all color.

“It got a little rowdy,” I tell him, before turning and walking away into the night. “Spread the word, old man. Some of these remote little places aren't quite as safe as they once were. In fact, some people even think there might be -”

Stopping suddenly, I see a dark figure up ahead, standing in the rain and watching me calmly. After a moment, he turns and walks away into the shadows, but I know I have to follow. I guess I should have realized he'd show up around now. He's already let me run free for longer than I expected.

Emilia

“People are starting to notice us,” I mutter, as we sit beneath an oak tree by the side of the road. The branches and leaves above offer
some
protection from the night's rain, but not much. Ahead of us, a vast dark forest spreads to the horizon, hissing under the relentless rainfall. “I don't think we can hide our presence for much longer.”

I wait for a reply, but he says nothing. The only sound comes from the storm all around us.

“At the moment,” I continue, “it's little more than drunken gossip in small taverns. People spreading whispered rumors about spiders having been seen, nothing that a sane person would take seriously. There'll come a time when that changes, though. Eventually we'll be spotted by someone whose word is taken a little more seriously, and then things might become difficult.” I turn to him, watching the silhouette of his scarred face against the rain. A light breeze is blowing, ruffling the tattered strands of dead flesh that hang from his features. He has no eyes, no nose, and just a few torn gaps for a mouth, but beneath his flesh there's a brilliant white and blue light burning, occasionally visible through the thick cracks than run through his flesh. “Has the council planned ahead for that eventuality?” I ask. “We can't remain in the shadows forever.”

He pauses, before turning his face toward me a little, just enough to let me see the dark hollows of his eyes. At the same time, I can hear a dull creaking sound from within his neck. At times like this, I find myself wondering more than ever about his true form. Skellig isn't a spider, nor is he a vampire or a werewolf, so he should be from one of the lower species, except... There doesn't seem anything lowly about him at all. Just his gaze is enough sometimes to send a shiver through my chest. Father would never have sent a lesser being to advise me following Keller's death. Whatever Skellig is, he emanates a sense of great, calm power. There's something ancient about him, too, something that hints at deep experience. From the few things he's told me about himself, I get the feeling he has traveled extensively.

“What of Karakh?” I ask finally, trying not to let the desperation leak into my voice. “Has there been any word? Are we any closer to -”

Before I can finish, he raises his left hand and points out into the rain with a bony, almost skinless finger.

“What?” I continue, turning and looking out at the rain-filled night. Sometimes Skellig can be so inscrutable, I struggle to understand what he means at all. “It's a storm,” I continue. “I've never seen a storm like it, it's been raging all day and there's no sign of it passing yet. What's wrong, don't they have storms where you come from? Where
do
you come from, anyway?” I pause for a moment, feeling cold rain dribbling down my face and under my clothes. “It's nights like this that make me want a home more than ever,” I whisper. “That dumb drunk fool in the pub was actually right about one thing. I'm tired of living on the road, moving from camp to camp.”

I wait a moment longer, but Skellig's finger is still pointing into the darkness.

“What?” I ask, with a hint of frustration. “I don't get it, what am I supposed to be looking at? I don't know what world you come from, but in
this
world we communicate with words!”

Again I wait, but of course he gives no answer.

“Can't you just tell me?” I continue. “I'm not a mind-reader.”

As I wait for him to speak, the rain starts to fall even more heavily. I never thought that was possible.

“There is one,” he says finally, his voice heavy and scratched with old age. “Close.”

“One what?” I ask.

“One of
them
.” He pauses, his empty eye-sockets watching the darkness. “A vampire scout was sent several days ago to check on rumors of spider activity in this area. He spent much time searching in all the wrong places, but finally he strayed a little too close to one of the nesting grounds near the fifteenth ridge, and he had to be eliminated. Unfortunately, the process was not quite completed and now he's trying to drag his ravaged carcass back to his friends at Gothos so he can report on our presence.” He pauses again, and this time I can hear the rasping sound of his breath. “I would prefer not to be the one who kills him. I try to exert myself as little as possible these days, so...”

Suddenly he turns to me, his empty sockets seeming larger than ever.

“I thought
you
would enjoy the privilege instead.”

“A vampire?” I ask.

He smiles. “A vampire.”

“How far away is he?” I continue, feeling a knot of anticipation in my chest. I've waited for a moment like this.

“Can't you sense him already?” he asks.

Turning again, I look out at the darkness. Just as I'm about to tell him that I can't sense anything out here at all, I realize that there
is
a presence, albeit one that's faint, one I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been brought to my attention. If it's a vampire, he must be far away or weak, or...

“Dying,” I whisper. “He's dying.”

“Mortally wounded,” Skellig replies, unable to stifle a smile that bares small, sharp teeth. “Not an easy thing to do to a vampire, but nevertheless, he has only a day or two left. He most likely wouldn't make it back to Gothos to report anyway, but... I would prefer to make certain. I do so hate leaving loose ends.”

“You want
me
to kill him?” I ask.

“You've never killed a vampire before, have you?”

“I...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that this is a challenge I must face. A challenge and a privilege.

“Your father will be very proud,” he continues. “I shall report to him when you are done. If I were to tell him that you had killed a vampire, some of his concerns would no doubt be calmed.”

“What concerns?” I ask, shocked by the idea that Father is still worried.

“He has yet to see proof that you are strong enough for the challenges ahead.”

“But I've done so much since leaving New York,” I point out. “I thought by now I'd proved myself to him!”

“You thought wrong.”

Feeling a flash of anger, I get to my feet, stepping out of the shelter into the rain. I'm drenched after just a couple of seconds. “I'll kill the vampire,” I mutter darkly. “Not only that, but I'll save his skull and drink wine from it tonight. Then we'll see what Father thinks about my strength and readiness. I'll find that foul vampire and torture him slowly, it'll be practice for when I get my hands on Abby Hart. I'll peel away the wretch's soul and feast on every moment of misery until -”

Suddenly I feel something cold being pressed into my right hand, and I look down to see that Skellig has given me a small, dented dagger. I've seen him carrying it before; on the hilt, there are markings that clearly belong to a language, but which are unlike any letters I've encountered before.

“A simple execution will be enough,” he says calmly, looking up at me with those dark, empty eye sockets. “Not every act has to be a performance, Emilia. Not every killing requires a speech beforehand.”

“But my father -”

“Will no doubt be happy to know that you've killed a vampire for the first time. Keep it simple.”

I examine the dagger for a moment, before realizing that he's right. “It should have been Abby Hart,” I say finally. “My first vampire kill, I mean. That's why I've been delaying this moment, I was hoping that I'd get another chance. I should have slaughtered her after what she did to Keller.”

“Be patient.”

“You should have seen the look on her face when I saw her at Jagadoon,” I continue. “All sunburned and dusty, and leaner than before after training for so long. There was hatred in her eyes when she looked at me, but also fear. I can
use
that fear against her. I can torture her and -”

“Stop,” he says firmly. “Again, Emilia, you talk when you should be acting. Keller clearly did not teach you well.”

“Keller was the greatest teacher I could have had,” I reply, bristling at the criticism.

“He was a traditionalist,” Skellig replies. “He taught you
some
useful things, but it is good that I am now in charge of your development. Your father was wise to ask me for this help. I can correct the mistakes that Keller made with your education.”

I pause for a moment, wanting to defend Keller's memory but feeling as if I'd merely be showing weakness. “Are you sure you don't want to be the one who kills this vampire tonight?” I ask finally. “That way, I can still wait and have Abby as my first victim.”

“Do your job,” he says darkly. “Your have your orders.”

“And Father will be pleased with me?” I ask.

He nods.

“Does he... Does he ever say anything else about me? He isn't
really
losing faith in me, is he? I rode all the way out to Jagadoon and I walked back, he must have noticed that.”

“He did.”

“So he's... I mean, he's proud of me, isn't he?”

“You have the dagger,” he replies. “Go kill the vampire. This is one of the final rites of passage you must face, before your training is complete.”

***

It doesn't take long to find the miserable wretch.

Barely twenty paces from the oak tree, in the middle of a clearing with rain pouring down all around, a dark, hooded figure is crawling through the mud, dragging his shattered body ever onward. He hasn't noticed me yet, not even as I step up behind him, and finally I stop and watch as he digs his hands into the mud and hauls himself a little further. He lets out a pained cry, trailing not only his remaining leg but also the section of spinal column that has been drawn from his back and left dangling. Looking down at my boots for a moment, I see that there's blood on the fabric. In fact, there's blood everywhere, soaking into the mud. This creature is so close to death, I'm surprised he can still move.

Good.

The death of a vampire should always be celebrated.

And then suddenly he stops, as if he senses me. After a moment he turns his head a little, and I see that his face has been split down the middle, cracking the skull and revealing glistening red meat within. One of his eyes is clearly ruined but the other remains intact, along with most of his mouth, and there's a kind of handsome, striking nobility to his soul that immediately strikes nausea into my gut. There's a part of me that thinks no creature should be reduced to such a miserable state, but I know that sentiment is misplaced; I must savor every moment of this idiot's misery.

“Going somewhere?” I ask, smiling as I step over him.

He keeps his eyes fixed on me.

He knows he can't fight back.

He knows what I am. A spider, and his executioner.

“So let me guess,” I say after a moment, raising my voice so I can be heard over the sound of so much rain. “A few days ago, perhaps a couple of weeks back, you set out from some vampire staging post, perhaps from Gothos itself, filled with confidence and determined to play your part in this conflict. You planned to track down some spiders, observe them for a while, and then report back. Play your part in the build-up to war, except... Except it didn't work out that way. You got noticed, and now you're in this mess.”

He stares up at me.

He's waiting to die.

“We don't usually bother killing vampire scouts,” I continue, crouching down in front of him. “There's no point, it'd be a waste of our energy and there's no harm in letting you run around exhausting yourselves, but on this occasion you got a little too close for comfort. We can't go making things
too
easy for you, can we?” Smiling, I hold the dagger up for him to see. “They say this blade is made from one of the few remaining slivers of metal recovered from Karakh. That's what my master told me, anyway. I just thought you'd like to see the weapon that is going to end your miserable life and -”

“Do it!” he hisses.

I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I'm struck by the hatred in his eyes.

“Get it over with,” he continues, as blood runs from him mouth. “It's enough that I have to die. Don't torture me by making me listen to your pathetic threats. I'm not interested in anything you have to say!”

“I'm not threatening you,” I tell him. “I'm merely telling you how things will be.”

“You'll never find Karakh,” he spits back at me. “That much is certain, it's written in the Book of Gothos itself. You can search for all eternity, but you'll never even come close.”

“We're
already
close,” I sneer.

“I've seen...” He gasps, as if the pain is too much. “I've seen your forces massing beyond the Navarian ridge. I've seen the pathetic little army you've spent six months building.” Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “It's nothing. Whatever you're planning, you don't have the resources to pull it off. You don't even have any allies. When the true nature of the spiders' return becomes apparent, don't you think other races will mass to join the vampires in our fight against you? You'll be ground into the dust before you get a chance to fight back.”