Seeker (26 page)

“Why was Willem also drained?” Celeste asked, finally.

Frederick swallowed, feeling shame for his lies. “The hunger got the better of me, I fear. Draining the Sekhite was not enough…” He hung his head, and mumbled, “a moment of weakness I regret.”

For a moment longer there was silence, and Frederick looked up. Erwyn eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing, keeping his thoughts secret for a change. Theodor raised an eyebrow at Frederick and shook his head, disappointed that one so close to the Three would give in to the hunger so easily, then turned to Celeste.

“This is grave news indeed, Frederick,” she said shortly. “That the Brotherhood should know of the test…”

“And, possibly worse, that they know you're in town,” Frederick added, looking directly at Erwyn. He narrowed his eyes in response, but otherwise gave no indication he understood the implication Frederick was throwing his way. Frederick looked back at Celeste. “They will surely take advantage of this. The Three are very rarely in the same place for any given length of time. The Brotherhood has been growing in strength these last few decades…”

“And soon they will strike,” Erwyn offered up. Frederick wasn't too sure, but he thought he heard a threat in Erwyn's tone. Neither Celeste nor Theodor appeared to register the threat however, so Frederick marked it down to his perceptions being clouded by his knowledge of Erwyn's part in the ruination of the test. Whatever his part was exactly was something Frederick would have to find out.

“Let them. They have foolishly shown their hand now,” Celeste said, “and so we will be ready. We cannot leave Canvey for at least a week, since we have many audiences prearranged and cannot disappoint the upyr in this county. And I have a personal meeting with Lady Isobel which cannot be simply cancelled. If we leave suddenly then the Sekhites will know we are aware of them as they are of us.” She stood up and looked to each of her inner circle one by one. “We will not be cowed by the threat posed by the Brotherhood, not now that we are so close to the time of Onuris's return. Neither will we be caught unawares; preparations will be made. The Brotherhood will not find us such an easy target this time. We removed them once, we can do so again.” She walked over to Frederick and laid a hand on him. “Keep looking for the Seeker, the Ancient said you will find him and you shall. Just try to make it within the next week if you can,” she added, bestowing upon Frederick her most beautiful smile.

* * *

Frederick remembered the moment very clearly; it was a day that was destined to change his life. He had been summoned to Romania by Wamukota the Ancient, the oldest of their kind. Why Wamukota wished to see him Frederick did not know, but it was a calling he could not ignore. Wamukota was hiding out in a small village in Moldavia, which in 1790 was a precarious place to be, situated as it was in the middle of the war between Russia, Austria and Turkey. The upyr world had only just come out of its own war, which saw the birth of the Three, and no upyr wished to enter a war between humans, so Wamukota had chosen his hiding place well. Nonetheless, the Ancient wished to see Frederick and so he had no choice but to endure the perilous journey across Russia. He had felt young when he left Celeste's side in France, but by the time he reached Tuzara Frederick felt very old and knew his first preternatural body was dying. Before starting on the final leg of his journey he had visited the small town of Jassy, and there espied a fresh nineteen year-old male who would make the perfect recipient for his first transference. An act that would see the end of his life as Frederick Holtzrichter.

Having undergone transference many times since then, Frederick found it funny how scared he had been by the thought at first. Being so close to another male was not a notion he liked to entertain, but Celeste had coached him well, and he understood that as one of the upyr he had to put away the morality and ethics of his human life. First though he had to meet with Wamukota.

“The Book of Origin? Of course I know of it,” Frederick said. There was not a single upyr alive who did not know of the Book; ever since his Rebirth Frederick had heard of the mythical book, lost some two hundred years ago. It was purported to be the history of their people, as written by the Ancient, but many rumours and stories circulated about both the Book and the Ancient, and most of them were contradictory
.

For two years Frederick had tried to find everything he could about the Book, ever since he'd seen a few translated pages in England. Despite the tenacity of his search, there was only one thing about which he was certain; the upyr had origins in Ancient Egypt, and bore a connection to the little known Egyptian God Sekhmet
.

“The Book was, ah
, returned
to me almost a year ago,” Wamukota said
.

Frederick stared at him in shock. The Ancient was small and frail, his brown skin like brittle paper, but his brown eyes were alight with life and intelligence. Frederick leaned forward in his chair, his hand tightening around the flagon which still contained wine untouched by his lips. He could barely believe it
.

“It was in the possession of a man called Edward Lomax,” Wamukota continued, his long white hair being blown into his face by the breeze, “he attempted to use his knowledge of the Book to blackmail me into removing someone called Theodor. I believe he is known to you?”

Frederick knew Theodor well, another consort of Celeste's, and now a member of the Three. He knew little about Theodor, though, but had heard talk of Lomax before, and was not surprised to hear the English upyr was still pursuing his private vendetta against Theodor. Although Frederick was still none the wiser as to the source of the vendetta
.

The Ancient smiled, bearing his rotten teeth. “This Lomax soon found that although I may be old I am by no means weak. Ever since my book was stolen in 1588 I have been continuing to write notes, detailing my dreams and visions of our shared history. Of times before Ancient Egypt.”

“Before?” Frederick balked
.

“Yes, but let that not concern you now. For the past year I have been translating my notes into Sumerian and various other languages I have learned in my long life, putting them into the book, trying to make some kind of order from them. It has been hard work, and remains incomplete. But now my time has come. This body is wearing thin
…
and after almost four thousand years of life, it is time to die. Finally.”

The enormity of the moment overwhelmed Frederick and he could find no words to say, yet Wamukota just smiled at him. The smile put Frederick's mind at peace. He could not begin to understand what it had to be like to live for so long, but he suspected he too would welcome the end when it came
.

“Why
…
” He swallowed and tried again. “Why have you called me here? What can I do?”

“I wish to pass my work on to you. You will finish what I have started, compile my notes, make sense of the chaos.”

Frederick's throat was dry. He put the flagon to his lips and sipped the wine, which was somewhat thicker in texture than he was used to. Spoiled by the wine produced in France, no doubt, but he didn't much care for Moldavian wine. The Ancient watched him with a smile
.

“Why me?”

“Because learning the truth has become an obsession for you.” The Ancient raised his eyebrows. “You think I am unaware of your intensive search? You have found much translated material
, badly
translated material. But now you shall have the original book, notes and all.”

“But I know nothing of this…what did you call it? Sumerian? I have never even heard of the language.”

“No, it is the language of my ancestors. Dead now, much like your own Old Prussian, but in time it will be discovered again, and when it is you will find the best translator to help you. It is not all in Sumerian, some of it is Egyptian, and my own blood will give you a start in understanding the hieroglyphs of my people. As for the other languages…well,” and here the cracked face smiled, “they will give you reason to expand your mind.”

Frederick thought his mind had expanded more than enough since becoming an upyr, but one word struck him. “Your blood?”

“Yes.” The Ancient indicated the flagon in Frederick's hand, and Frederick looked down at it. The reason for its strange thickness suddenly became apparent. “That is not merely wine, but contains my own blood.” Wamukota leaned forward, his old bones creaking. “In time, in two hundred-twenty-one years, you will also need my blood to help you find the Seeker.”

“The Seeker? You mean Seker?”

Wamukota shook his head and laughed. “Seker! That is very good. Once upon a time I…” He stopped laughing abruptly. “Times now gone. No, not Seker. The Seeker.” The Ancient nodded. “The Book will explain this to you. One day the Seeker shall appear, and with my blood in your veins you will know him…”

Frederick had done everything he had promised, studied the Book, completed the notes as best he could given that most of them burned in the monastery with the Ancient in Moldavia, enlisted the help of Melinda, too. For over two hundred years Frederick had believed in the mission Wamukota had given him, and he had never once told anyone, not even Celeste, that the blood of the Ancient filled his veins. He had been so sure, nine years ago, that he had felt the Seeker in Willem. But then last night happened.

He had confused his own feelings with his mission, and it had cost the life of an innocent man. Frederick could not let Willem's life end so abruptly.

So now he waited. It was almost twenty-four hours since Willem was killed, and he stood at the edge of the Lucy Road alley. Soon the first stage of Rebirth would begin, and Willem would enter the pontus, the netherworld between humanity and upyr.

13.

Frederick sat on the narrow wall, leaning towards the lamppost that had once housed the remaining light source of the alley. He glanced around; the differing sounds of various songs mingled in the air coming from the nightclubs littering Lucy Road, and once again, much like the night before, the alley was deserted. The clubs didn't close until four and so Frederick was left alone to do as he wanted. He had already smashed the second lamp, casting the alley in a pit of shadow. As an upyr he didn't need light by which to see clearly, unlike the bouncers at the doors of the nightclubs who, if they chanced a look towards the alley, would see little but dark shapes moving beneath the shadows.

Already he had placed several plastic packs in strategic spots along the alley, and he had but one more to do. This he tied to the lamppost. Once done he jumped off the wall and landed softly on the ground.

Each of the small packs contained blood, taken from one of the secret blood banks that were used to source the food of the upyr who lived in Essex. Such blood banks were located all across the world; just one of the initiatives the Three had set up to prevent the hunger overcoming their people. It was true that the upyr had mostly outgrown their
need
for blood, but there was barely an upyr alive who didn't like the rich taste of blood, and so fresh blood was always on hand for those who wanted it. For a small price, of course.

Much like the human world, supply and demand was the stock and trade of many upyr-run businesses. But the Three curtailed any potential unscrupulous business taking place, so that if money was not available then the upyr could trade their services for a pack of blood. It had taken some wrangling, but he had managed to convince Anthony, the owner of the Chalkwell blood bank, to allow him ten packs. Anthony was one of the thousands of Upyr Initiates seeded throughout the human world; humans who aspired to the life of an upyr, a reward they would get once they had proven their loyalty. Unlike most Initiates, though, Anthony did not partake in Red Source, the name given to upyr blood by the Initiates who drank it. He was saving himself for rebirthing.

As far as Anthony knew Frederick was on a secret mission for the Three; this was enough to ensure his cooperation and silence. Anthony would never question a mission for the Three and knew better than to discuss it with any other, and so word that Frederick had procured so much blood would never reach the Three.

He looked around the alley. Blood packs led from the lamppost and along the alley to his borrowed van, which was waiting outside the church, the backdoor wide open. Inside which was a pile of five more packs, enough to entice the thirstiest of upyr. Especially one not fully formed.

Soon the first stage of the Rebirth would take place, and Frederick had to ensure that Willem's shayde did not stray far. For the first night he would be a thing of no substance, merely a shadow of a ka driven by a thirst for life. His mortal body, as well as those of the hired thugs and the Sekhite, had been incinerated as per the standard procedure of the clean-up. Such an ignoble end for any life, but it was better that than any trace of the upyr be given to the human world.

Already there were some in that world who suspected, and the only way to contain the potential threat posed by such people was an exercise in damage limitation. Empirical evidence of otherworldly happenings was destroyed by the clean-up crew, leaving nothing but idle gossip and hearsay. Willem and the thugs would soon be on the list of missing people in the UK.

It seemed very likely that people would miss Willem and start poking about; they'd find nothing but a trail that ended outside a nightclub in Southend. Already today a few texts had been sent to Willem's phone which Frederick kept in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Jake was persistent, and on at least one occasion he had tried to ring, too. But as with all those who fell afoul of the upyr, the relatives and/or friends left behind would eventually give up the searching and mourn the loss.

Usually a Rebirth would happen under controlled circumstances supervised by a member of the Rebirth Council, thus preventing the authorities snooping around. The carefully chosen soon-to-be fledgling upyr would be taken to a secret place where their Rebirth could be contained. But Willem's was born from tragedy and desperation, and worse was, unfortunately, out in the open. It could so easily attract the attentions of other upyr, which would most certainly lead to the involvement of the Three. Frederick could not risk that, and so he hoped that the packs of blood would be enough to trap the shayde in the van, which he would then take to a secret location.

Short of bringing a human to sacrifice to the shayde there was little else Frederick could do. He just hoped it would be enough. And if not, then he could always bring Stephen directly into the upyr world earlier than planned.

He looked up sharply, feeling an odd prickling at the edge of his consciousness. Turning on his heels Frederick narrowed his eyes to see what he could only feel.

Someone was watching him.

He closed his eyes, trying to zone in on the presence he felt. It was definitely human, but there was something else there, too. A human presence would barely register on the periphery of an upyr's senses, especially not one with Frederick's limited psychic ability, however this was a little more than human, but not quite upyr. It could only mean one thing.

There was a hunter in town.

“Damn it,” Frederick hissed.

The hunter couldn't have picked a worse time to scent an upyr. And Frederick could not risk a confrontation now, not as Willem's shayde was about to enter the pontus.

With speed that surpassed that of any normal human, Frederick hared down Lucy Road and broke right. He slowed down at the bottom of the sloping street and came out on Marine Parade. Even at this time of the morning people still wandered. Across the road several people sat on the small wall, joking and talking while friends went skinny dipping in the sea beyond. A properly trained hunter would never attack in the open, instead they would follow the upyr into a back street or some other secluded spot. Most hunters had a stroke of arrogance about them, believing themselves better than any upyr by virtue of the human blood that ran through their veins. As such they were over confident and prone to fall into the simplest of traps.

Frederick suspected this hunter would be no different, and so he continued along the seafront, passing the closed arcades, nodding a passing hello to the random people who emerged from the smaller clubs that didn't quite qualify for the prestige of Lucy Road. All the while he could feel the hunter at his back.

* * *

He came to the gates of Southchurch Hall Gardens along Woodgrange Drive and stopped. Woodgrange was mostly a residential street, covering the length from Southend through to Thorpe Bay, and as such it was not well suited for taking care of an ill-fated hunter. However the parkland area beyond the closed gates was big enough to allow for quick disposal without disturbing the local residents. For show he lifted his head and pretended to sniff the air, snapping his head left. From the point of view of the hunter it would appear that the upyr prey had caught the scent of fresh blood, which made removing the upyr a necessity. Frederick smiled to himself and leapt over the closed gates, landing softly on the other side.

The parkland was in darkness, which suited Frederick's purpose. He walked up the path towards the grassy mound, pretending to stalk something. He stopped and sniffed, then shot right and dived into the small clump of trees. Once submerged behind the green foliage Frederick came to a standstill and turned. He waited.

The hunter came into the opening a short time later, half crouching, wooden stake raised in preparation. Frederick could not believe what he was seeing.

It had been a very long time since such a thing had worked on an upyr; it was inconceivable that a hunter would not know that. Wooden stakes were the tools of modern TV and books, not a part of a true hunter's arsenal.

He watched the hunter a little longer, drawn by a sense of familiarity. At first Frederick had been expecting to see Maia, but this young man was certainly not the anticipated hunter.

Frederick shook his head. It didn't matter. The world could always do with one less hunter.

Purposely, Frederick stepped back into a less dense space and stepped on a fallen twig. He froze as the hunter spun to face him. Feigning surprise, Frederick turned and fled further into the trees. The hunter pursued him.

The chase went on for ten minutes, with Frederick slowing his pace from time to time, allowing the hunter to get close, before heading off in a different direction. Frederick was very disappointed in the hunter's performance. He had fought several hunters over the years, and as the offspring of an upyr and a mortal they had inherited some preternatural abilities which tended to make them at least a little formidable, but this hunter seemed to have inherited nothing. He had no real speed, and very little awareness that he was being played with. A proper hunter would have been onto Frederick by now.

Bored already, Frederick decided it was time to call it. He had much more important things to do that morning, paramount among them was returning to Lucy Road before Willem's shayde supped on all the blood packs he'd left there. Even sleep would have been more involving.

Once more he allowed the hunter to close in, and contrived to fall over a stump. Finally the hunter was on him, pinning Frederick down with his knees on Frederick's outstretched arms. Frederick looked up at the young face in horror. And it really was a young face. The kid could have been no more than sixteen, the soft fluff running along his jaw line making him seem even younger.

“Die, blood sucker, die!” the boy hissed, slamming the wooden stake directly into Frederick's heart.

The boy jumped to his feet, looking down at Frederick as he screamed out, no doubt expecting him to dissipate in a puff of smoke and dust or something. The boy grimaced, and muttered, “from dust you came, to dust you will return.”

Frederick appreciated the poetry, but it was time the hunter was educated properly. He stopped his fake screaming abruptly, and looked down at the protruding piece of wood.

“Hmm,” he said, chewing his bottom lip. “Not really working, eh?”

The hunter clearly had no idea what was going on. His lineless face was awash with confusion. Frederick slowly got to his feet, and touched the blood spreading on his white jumper.

“This is going to be a bitch to get out, you know,” he said conversationally. He yanked the stake out with a gasp, and winked at the boy. “Wooden stakes not going to do the job, I'm afraid. Hurts, but that's about it. Sorry.”

“That's not my only weapon,” the hunter said in what he probably thought was a brazen tone. To Frederick it just sounded sad and weak. The hunter launched himself at Frederick, leg raised, but Frederick was faster and used the leg to spin the hunter around into the nearest tree, smashing him against the trunk like a soft toy.

Ribs broken, the boy crumpled onto the earth, gasping for breath. With each gasp the intense pain registered on his face.

Frederick knelt beside him. “I'm sorry, but you chose this life, and for every action there is a consequence.” He tilted his head to one side, and reached a hand out to rest on the shoulder of the boy. “There is something of Maia about you. Why is that?”

The boy spat out blood, and with it the word “bitch.”

Frederick nodded. “Ah, she trained you? Right, well, I think you've been had.” He stopped. Something was not right here. “There's more to it than that, isn't there?” He looked closer at the pained face, and it came to him. “You look a lot like her. Your sister?”

The boy nodded. “And I know…” He gasped for air, trying to shift his weight off his broken ribs, but with every movement waves of pain surged through his body. Feeling almost sorry for the boy, Frederick stood up, and the hunter let out a breath of air. “I know who you are!”

“Yes, well that would follow. She sent you after me, didn't she? That still doesn't explain why I could sense her in you. You have no upyr blood in your veins.”

The boy shook his head, his eyes rolling in their sockets. He was on the verge of passing out, but his anger kept him conscious. “Transfusion…” he began, before his throat contracted.

Frederick understood. Maia had given some of her blood to her brother, and sent him after Frederick. But to what end? She must have known the boy would be no match for Frederick.

“I'm not a great believer in reincarnation, well, except one special case, but if you happen to get a second chance at life, I'd strongly suggest you find Maia. She needs a good killing.”

Frederick lifted the stake, sickened by the horror in the boy's eyes. The ersatz hunter was in much pain, and had been little more than a dupe. Frederick knew he ought to spare his life, give the boy a chance to get even with Maia. But…

A brief thought passed him by. Turning the boy into an upyr would have been even more poetic than the comment about dust, sending the brother after the sister amused Frederick. She certainly had it coming. But no. One unauthorised Rebirth was enough, and he didn't want to push it. Besides, he had more important things to concern himself with, and allowing the boy to live would have been a distraction.

“Last lesson,” he said. “Wooden stakes are useless on my people. Not something a hunter ought to use, still
suum cuique
.” Frederick smiled at the boy's confusion, so he said, “to each his own.” Without further preamble, he brought the stake down, splintering the wood through the boy's breast bone and directly into his heart.

* * *

The acrid smell of burnt plastic assaulted his olfactory system the second he stepped into the alley. Melted and scrunched up, drained of every drop of blood, the packs lay discarded on the alley pavement. He shook his head, letting out a hiss of frustration and rushed over to the van. The back doors were still open, the pile of blood packs empty.