Hair, Greg - Werewolf 03 (6 page)

Chapter 12: Requiem

Annelise hung in the ubliet, death circling the room, touching her periodically, then drawing back, restoring a gasp of life, teasing her with a brief relief of release.

“God, it stinks in here,” said Tsukiko, entering through the still broken door. “How do you stand it?”

Annelise didn’t answer. Didn’t move, nor open her eyes. She barely expelled breath. Tsukiko felt only the slightest electrical charge. So slight, that she questioned if she even felt that, or if it was psychological, knowing she was so close to a vampire.

“I don’t understand you,” the Japanese werewolf continued. “I kidnap you, take you from your husband, bring you here so that Nicholas can have his way with you, and you…you still beg him to stop…whatever he was doing the other day. To me. Why?”

Still, no answer.

“I guess you don’t understand me, either,” Tsukiko said. “Why do I stay with him after he treats me like that? Why would I stand by his side even after I stood outside this room the other day and heard his true plan? After what I heard him say to you yesterday about women? All good questions. All good questions, and the answer to each one is because, I have honor, that’s why. He found me on the streets and took me in. I will not dishonor myself, or my family, by turning my back on the one who saved me.”

She removed the bone that Nicholas had left protruding from Annelise’s stomach. The vampire elicited no reaction as Tsukiko noticed the bone was dry—no blood dripped from its tip.

“However,” she continued, “I will also not bring dishonor by turning my back on the other who tried to help me. I will surely pay a price for what I do here now. But, it’s a price I must, and will, accept.

“I know you can hear me. So listen well, now.” She pulled the dangling, Danish vampire closer to her. “You will have your freedom today, but the next time we meet, on the field of battle, I will do everything in my power to kill you. Don’t try to save me, because even if I wanted redemption, I don’t deserve it.”

Tsukiko released Annelise, letting her swing back and forth. Then, shifting to her werewolf state, she climbed up Annelise’s body, over the dead, Scottish teen girl’s body, to where the chains that supported both were bolted to the ceiling. With a great tug, the dead teen dropped into the pit below, as Tsukiko swung Annelise to the side and let her drop to the floor.

Tsukiko landed beside the vampire, and transformed.

“So why free you, you’re probably wondering somewhere inside that coma of yours? Because, hell hath no fury…”

Reaching for the thermos still sitting beside the chair, she took the cap off. The scent of decaying blood rushed out. The feel of the splattering of dried blood on the container reminded the werewolf of a relief map.

“Even I wouldn’t drink this,” said Tsukiko. “And I thought the room smelled bad.”

She drew quiet, pausing every moment, when she heard footsteps in the corridor. The clicking of expensive Italian heels echoed down the hall to the ubliet, as they drifted further away and out of range.

“I hope, wherever you are in there, that you’re praying that we’re not caught.”

She lifted Annelise’s head and poured the stale blood, tiny drops at first to wet the lips, into the vampire’s mouth. The Danish vampire’s long blood-washed blonde hair hung in tangles and clumps, and clung to her shoulders.

Several moments passed with no reaction before Annelise opened her eyes. Looking around the dark room, she finally noticed her head resting in Tsukiko’s arms.

Annelise’s eyes widened and she shook violently, as if in a seizure, unable to lift her arms, seemingly trying to free herself from her supposed captor. She tried to scream. Annelise stared at Tsukiko as she fought vainly.

“Sshhh,” Tsukiko hissed. “Please. Please, be quiet. You’re going to ruin everything. People here aren’t deaf, you know. Though, one is now blind. Anyway, listen, I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to help you. I’m getting you out of here. I know you don’t want to drink this, knowing the source, and that it’s aged, and not like a fine wine, but if you want to live, for now, you must drink.”

Annelise’s eyes shot around the ubliet, looking for someone standing in the shadows, waiting to pounce on her. When she saw no one, she calmed down, letting Tsukiko tip the thermos again. The vampire closed her eyes, trying not to gag on the repugnant life-giving, life-saving, blood. A slight stream poured out of the corner of her mouth as she winced.

“I don’t know what bothers you more—the taste of old, dead blood, or the thought of where it came from.”

Annelise looked up at the werewolf, and furrowed her eyebrows, as if she were still trying to figure the game Nicholas’ ally was running. Then, she blinked twice.

“The source, huh? Well, like I said, if you want to get out of here, drink up.”

Slowly, Annelise lifted her hand to the thermos, helping Tsukiko tip it. It was apparent that small amounts of strength were returning. The vampire looked up at the werewolf, and blinked, nearly in slow motion, very deliberately.

“You’re welcome,” Tsukiko said. “But, please, don’t say that again.”

Picking Annelise off the cold, castle floor, Tsukiko carried her, quickly, quietly, outside the fortress walls of Kilchurn Castle. Annelise snapped her eyes shut from the small amount of starlight that shone on her now-pale face.

“I’m going to carry you a few miles away,” said Tsukiko, “and leave the canister with you. You’ll have to find the strength to go on from there, yourself. Head south.

“If you want to see Ryker again, kill what you have to, drink what you can.”

Through the dark, Scottish countryside, the Japanese werewolf carried the Danish vampire. Traversing the lowlands of the Highlands, through the hills and glens of central Argyll and Bute, they traveled.

Soon, Tsukiko, carrying Annelise, reached the ghost town of Dalmally. The werewolf kicked open the pub door and lay the vampire on the bar.

“This is where we part,” she said. “I’ve done all I can to help. It’s help to you to go the rest of the way. As a woman…I’m sorry. As a loyal follower of Nicholas, I will try to kill you when next we meet.”

Tsukiko set the thermos next Annelise’s head, and turned to walk away. The Dane grabbed the Japanese woman’s hand, as tears rolled down.

“Thank you,” Annelise whispered, her voice dry and raspy.

Tsukiko looked at her, let go of her hand, and walked toward the exit.

“South,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Chapter 13: Requiem

“Alessandro knows that we must hurry, my friend,” said the Italian vampire, “but he also knows that we must feed. We have come so far so quickly, with not a drop to eat. Oh, no, not a drop.”

“Okay,” said Ryker. “It’s so late at night. We’ll probably have some good luck finding what we need in the Catacombs. I’d rather find something that’s already being served. It’s not far from here.”

Quieting his friend, as they neared the city limits of Paris, Ryker’s thoughts returned to his last happy memory of Annelise before she’d been taken during the battle at Kentucky Kingdom in Louisville.

Sitting at a little café in Venice, Ryker and Annelise were having their first date in months. She was radiant—her golden-blonde hair made even more so by the bright rays of the setting Venetian sun streaking down.

“You think Landon’s doing okay in Mexico?” she asked. “What does Catalina have in mind, anyway?”

“He’s with Cat, so I’m sure he’s fine. I don’t know why she wanted to take him to Mexico, but I know there’s a good reason. She wouldn’t have taken him, otherwise. But, listen, let’s not talk shop tonight. For one night, let’s put all of this out of our minds, and enjoy the evening.”

He stretched his hand across the small, round table, and laid it on hers.

“I want you to know,” he continued, “how happy I am to be with you. The day I met you was the second greatest day of my life.”

“The second?” she laughed, jerking her hand out of his. “If meeting me was the second best day, what’s the first?”

“The day you turned me—when I was given eternity to spend with you.”

The Danish woman blushed, her pale, Northern European skin, glowing red as they allowed themselves to be stuck in the moment. A single tear flooded, then fled, her eye.

A gondola slipped past the square where the little café sat, the boatman slowly pushing his vessel along, like Charon on the River Styx, waiting to ferry his next passengers.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said. “I hate it anytime we’re apart, but that always makes the return that much sweeter. I’ll always come home to you.”

Ryker smiled as he stared into her deep blue eyes. The same pair of eyes he’d been looking longingly into for centuries. He had never grown tired of gazing into them.

Suddenly, Connor burst upon them, panic smeared across his face.

“I’ve been looking all over for you guys,” he said.

“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Ryker.

“It’s Catalina. I mean, it’s Landon. I mean—“

“Calm down,” Annelise said. “Take a second to breathe, then tell us.”

Connor took a couple deep breaths, then tried again.

“Catalina just called from Mexico. Landon’s on his way to Kentucky. Nicholas called Cat’s phone using Celeste’s. Cat said that Landon just left, and he’s heading to Louisville to meet Nicholas. She thinks it’s a trap.”

“And I agree,” said Ryker, standing from his chair.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to Louisville. Sorry,” said the Dane, turning to his wife. “We’re gonna have to reschedule this date.”

The bright lights of Paris, bringing Ryker out of his inner trance, illuminated the way to the entrance of the catacombs, though, of course, the vampires needed no illumination.

“I’m sure there’ll be other vampires who may have something to share,” Ryker said. “This is the only stop we can make, though. After this quick bite, we have to get moving again, and not stop until we reach Kilchurn Castle.”

“Alessandro understands. Yes he does.”

Entering the dimly lit subterranean, the pair found that Ryker’s guess had been right. A Parisian vampire paused his feeding as the travelers approached. Speaking in French, Ryker introduced himself and his companion.

“And you seek nourishment?” asked the Parisian.

“We do,” said Ryker.

“Alessandro did not know you speak French,” asked the Italian in English.

“Your time on the island has caused you to forget a great many things, I think, my friend. Like the capacity of a vampire’s brain.”

“Why do you not seek food above?” the Frenchman asked, in English. “I will speak in English so that everyone understands.”

“Thank you. We are in a great hurry,” said Ryker, “and knew of the famed hospitality of the French.”

“You are in luck, then, my weary travelers. As we have plenty tonight, and are accommodating other guests, from the United Kingdom.”

The Parisian motioned to small group, three vampires, feeding in a dark corner behind him.

“A hundred thanks,” Ryker said. He and Alessandro approached the meal being offered by the French—a young man, in his early twenties.

“He wishes to be turned,” said the Parisian. “So I will accommodate after dinner. By the way, I am Jacques.”

Ryker and Alessandro, their eyes blue, fangs extended, each chose an arm, and fed. The thousands of skulls of long dead Parisians watched from their perch. Blood dripping from his mouth, Ryker looked toward the other travelers.

“So,” he began, “you’re from the UK?”

“Yes,” said a member of the group, not looking up from his meal.

“What brings you to Paris?”

“We are looking for other vampires, and werewolves, to join our cause. Actually, it is another’s cause, but one we fully support. We have asked our gracious host, Jacques here, if he is interested.”

“Yes, they inquired,” said the Frenchman, “but I have no interest in such things.”

Ryker watched the other vampire look slyly over at Jacques, then turn away when he noticed the Dane looking at him. Ryker’s intuition spoke.

“For whose cause is it that you seek recruitment?” asked the Dane. “And what’s your name?”

“Blake is my name. And, you probably haven’t heard of him, but soon, everyone across the globe will know the name Nicholas.”

Ryker felt Alessandro stop feeding. The Dane looked at the Italian, then back toward the small group.

“Nicholas, you say,” said Ryker.

“Yes. He’s looking for recruits. Actually, kid calling himself a king, is. We saw their video and decided to join, then we were sent from their castle in Scotland to look for others who may want to be a part of his scheme.”

“I have heard of this Nicholas. And I’ve heard of the kid. Jamie’s his name. I wonder, was anyone else there?”

“Only a woman.”

“A woman?” asked Alessandro, sounding almost panicked. “What did she look like?”

Ryker nudged Alessandro, hoping to calm him down.

“Japanese,” said Blake. “Do you know her?”

“Maybe,” said Ryker. “Anyone else? A blonde woman, perhaps?”

“No. No one else. Since you have heard of Nicholas, and Jamie, would you like to go to Scotland and meet them? I’m sure they would love to have you there.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Ryker, with slightly more than a hint of sarcasm. “But, we are not interested in joining Nicholas’ cause. You mentioned a video. What video?”

“It’s not important now,” said Blake. “It’s just unfortunate that you’re not interested, because we have other instructions, as well.”

He stood, followed by his two companions, and encircled Ryker, Alessandro, and Jacques.

“I see,” said Ryker.

“What is this?” asked Jacques.

“I do believe they mean to kill us. I believe that’s the other part of their instructions. Kill those who will not join. What they have neglected to do, though,” said Ryker, rising, “is learn who we are. Know thy enemy, young vampire.”

“Please, enlighten us, before we kill you.”

“Yes,” grinned Ryker, “before you kill us. We are looking for my wife, the blonde vampire I spoke of. We are heading north, to Scotland. We go to Scotland because Nicholas is holding my wife hostage.”

“What is her name?” asked the Parisian.

“Who are you?” asked the other.

“Her name is Annelise. I am Ryker, and this is Alessandro. And we are those whom Nicholas is recruiting against.”

“Annelise,” said Jacques. “I—“

“You are with the one they call Landon Murphy?”

“Yes. I am his co-Consul. And you have picked the wrong place to stop for a snack.”

“Alessandro agrees with Ryker. Oh yes. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Blake. “Is he special? How does that happen to a vampire?”

“Yes, he is special,” Ryker said, smiling. “It’s funny how people use the word ‘special’ as a derogatory term, when, in fact, those that are, special, have more strength than you can possibly imagine. Tell you what; I’ll sit this one out.”

Ryker sat back down, next to Jacques.

“What are you doing?” asked the Frenchman, standing. “We need to fight.”

“Sit down,” Ryker said, reaching up and pulling the Parisian back to the floor, next to the young man waiting, in a zombie-like trance through everything that was happening, to be turned. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Alessandro stood between his friends and the other three vampires.

“Alessandro wants you to know that he does not enjoy what he must do.”

“You may be strong,” said Blake, “but there’s three of us. Let’s see what you got.”

Alessandro’s eyes blazed blue, like the lower part of a flame, as his fangs grew. Before Blake’s friends could make a move, Alessandro moved behind one and, using that vampire’s hand, removed the heart of the other. Alessandro then grabbed the former vamp’s head and spun it like a top, eventually wobbling to and fro, before finally falling off. The headless body stood, still.

“Oh, fuck,” said Blake.

The young vampire turned, ready to run for the exit, when countless skulls flew from their vantage points, pummeling Blake. One final skull struck the back of his head with such force, that his own head flew off and was replaced by the flying cranium. There, on the neck where Blake’s face once rested, sat a new, fleshless head.

“Well, Jacques, they can’t say I didn’t warn ‘em,” said Ryker. “Thank you for your graciousness. We need to get back on the road, now.”

“Very true, indeed about the warning. But, please, you cannot leave, yet. I need to tell you that you do not realize how Fortune has smiled on you today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your wife,” began the Parisian, “she is no longer in Scotland.”

Ryker felt his knees buckle.

“Annelise? What do you know of her? Please, tell me. Why did you not mention this until now?”

“I did not know who you were until you said her name.”

“Please, speak quickly. What do you know?”

“Calm, my friend. She lives. She has been freed from her imprisonment. I do not know how, but she has been freed. An underground network is moving her south. Word has been traveling that, should anyone come upon you, to let you know what has happened.”

“Where is she? Please, hurry.”

“At this point, she is probably in Germany. She is being moved to the one location she keeps mentioning, though, no one knows why, since the place has been destroyed.”

“Burghausen,” whispered Ryker. “She’s going to Burghausen?”

“Yes. She is probably near there, now. You must double back.”

“How do I know you speak the truth? This could be a ruse to get me off the path to Kilchurn, giving Nicholas time to—“

“I assure you,” said Jacques, “on my word as a proud Frenchman, she lives and is in Germany. I am asking you trust what I say. Please, there is a network of people trying to reunite you two, trying to help you. Please, do not let that be for naught. You must go to Burghausen.”

Ryker stood there, studying Jacques, looking for any sign that would reveal the vampire’s ill intentions.

“Alessandro believes him, yes he does.”

“As do I, Alessandro. We’re going to Germany, my Italian friend. Thank you, Jacques. Thank you for everything. Should you ever need anything, we are based now in Venice, on the island of Poveglia.”

“Yes,” nodded Jacques. “Now, please, hurry. They may already be waiting for you.”

Ryker shook Jacques’ hand, then led Alessandro back out the Catacombs, up to the streets of Paris, and out the city.