The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon (36 page)

The teenager began to cry.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be quick. Then you’ll come back as one of us. Which is much more than you deserve.”

Melinda sunk her fangs into his neck and drank. When his thrashing and whimpering died out, she stopped sucking and let the body slide to the floor. Standing up, she looked around at the carnage. Not bad for one night’s work. Three assholes recruited to her coven. Three malcontented shits that, once let loose on Washington, would fuck up the city big time. Chiang Shih could stick that up her ancient, puckered ass.

Melinda grabbed her last victim under his arms and dragged him across the classroom. She would have just enough time to get these three down to the fallout shelter and get back to her hotel before sunrise.

R
eese went through
the by-now all too familiar routine for reading Ferrar’s memoirs. Show up when the museum opens. Putter around for fifteen to twenty minutes until the other researchers arrived. Then wait until everyone became engrossed in their own projects before retrieving the basswood case, removing the Bible, and sliding the hand-written memoirs from their pouch. Thumbing through the pages until he came to the location where he had last left off, Reese resumed translating.

22 October 1485

After much prayer and contemplation, I have decided on how to deal with the vampirus. As a man of the world I pondered how you deal with creatures that are the spawns of Satan? How do you ensure the salvation of something that has no soul?

As a man of God I am reminded that it is my duty to offer redemption to anyone, even those who reject Him.

I discussed my plans with the remaining guards, since they will assist me in implementing them. As expected, reactions were mixed. Two of my guards refused outright, declaring what I proposed was a blasphemy and accusing me of blurring the line between what is holy and what is sacrilege—a charge, I fear, which may not be unfounded. The other guards agreed to assist but, although none of them said as much, I know they have reservations. I pray that in trying to save the vampirus’ souls, I have not condemned my guards’ to damnation.

I have the vampirus’ auto de fe scheduled for just before dawn tomorrow morning.

23 October 1485

It is finally over.

Our preparations began shortly after midnight. I brought in twelve extra guards, swearing them to secrecy under the threat of excommunication. We prayed together and took Holy Communion—a pathetically futile gesture against what we witnessed.

We started by setting up the quemadero, five pillars in all, one for each vampirus. I opted against a public burning, using instead the prison courtyard. Once the place of burning was ready, we retrieved the vampirus.

To ensure our safety, we brought the creatures out to the courtyard one at a time, each in their basin filled with holy water. Once all five basins were outside, we waited until ten minutes before sunrise to lessen the chance of an escape. As sunlight began to flood the morning sky, my guards moved quickly. In three-man teams, they removed the coffins from the basins. As one team member held a bucket of holy water at the ready, the other two lifted the lid off the coffin, removed the vampirus, and lashed it to a pillar. Most of the creatures submitted with minimal resistance. One, however, tried to overpower its guards and escape, stopping only when the bucket of holy water was tossed into its features. It bellowed hideously as the holy water seared its face, but it allowed itself to be lashed to its pillar. With minutes left to sunrise, the guards set each pillar on fire.

God, in his infinite mercy, granted these creatures one last chance at salvation through cleansing by fire and sunlight. I stood before each vampirus, blessing whatever remnant of humanity resided in their bodies and offering each to receive the sign of the cross which they had each denied. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, they each rejected their final chance at salvation. The vampirus blasphemed me and my guards, threatening us with acts of vengeance none was in a position to enforce.

Only Emilio Carius remained passive, seemingly oblivious to the flames that seared his legs. Only as the sun burst over the prison roof and washed across the courtyard did Emilio Carius speak to me with a solemn warning.

“You will not defeat us. Like your Christians, we grow in number every day. But evil is stronger than good, and in the end we will prevail.”

At that moment, the first rays of sunlight struck the other four vampirus. Never have I heard such woeful cries. It must have sounded like the chorus of anguish from the depths of hell itself. As the sunlight inched down their bodies, their skin charred and peeled, coming off in ashen flakes. The muscles, eyes, gums, and tongues disintegrated in a similar manner. Then their skulls darkened, blistered, and crumbled, their howls dying out as their throats turned to dust. As more and more of their bodies became exposed to the sun, the rate of disintegration increased until, within minutes, the four vampirus were reduced to nothing more than piles of ash.

Emilio Carius was spared this fate because of an abutment on the prison roof that cast him in the shadows. The flames rose up around his body, roasting him alive. When the fire ignited his legs, Carius cried out with a pitiful wail and lashed out against his restraints. The body transformed from human to demon. Its skin became the color of death. Fangs replaced teeth, and claws replaced fingers. The face looked like that of an animal, with a furrowed forehead and fiery red eyes sunk deep into their sockets. In this monstrous form, blisters welled up and erupted along its extremities and face, and its abdomen swelled.

Carius turned to me, his eyes trying to penetrate my soul. For a moment, I thought my time to die had come. He lunged at me, straining against the ropes securing him to the pillar, and would have easily snapped them had he not been so weak. The stress of trying to get free caused his abdomen to rupture, spilling his organs and intestines into the fire. His thrashing stopped as the pain became too intense for even this creature to endure. Carius slumped forward against his restraints. His body soon crumbled like the others. Skin and muscle, flesh and bone peeled away in flakes that mixed with the fiery embers drifting to the heavens.

Ten minutes after sunrise, all five vampirus had been reduced to ash.

Most of my guards had not witnessed these death knells, for at the first ungodly wails of anguish they had fallen to their knees to beseech our Lord and Savior for salvation. Once the hellish moment had passed, I gathered my guards together, heard their confessions one final time, offered absolutions, and reminded them of their vow never to speak of these events

But though the incident may never be spoken of, I know it will remain forever in our nightmares.

26 October 1485

It took me three days to work up enough courage to return to the courtyard where we burned the vampirus. I could still hear their wails. I could still smell their charred flesh. I could still see them crumbling into ash. It is an image that will haunt me for the rest of my mortal life.

I gathered the ashes from around the five pillars and placed them into a silver urn, filling the remaining space with holy water and mixing the two. I sealed the lid with wax from votive candles. The archbishop blessed the urn, which was then encased in the foundation stones of a church being built in a village near Barcelona where no one will ever find it.

The personal property of Emilio Carius and the other vampirus, including their residences, was confiscated and destroyed by fire.

Everything, that is, except the Vampyrnomicon. I agonized over what to do with that damnable book. If it falls into the hands of The Master, then man may well bear witness to the end of days. However, the book provides the key to destroying The Master and ridding the world of these creatures forever. My decision could just as easily condemn humanity as well as save it.

Perhaps it was human weakness on my part, or maybe prescience, but in the end I opted to keep the Vampyrnomicon safe yet well hidden until such time as circumstances dictate man’s next course of action. As such, I wrapped the book in a monk’s shroud, placed it in a silver box, and locked it shut. The box was entrusted to Father Olmos, a respected priest from Saragossa Cathedral who was tasked with carrying the Vampyrnomicon to the east and ensuring it is safely ensconced from the evil that plagues the west.

As for myself, I intend to retire from the priesthood. There is no way I can offer my parish the promise of eternal salvation when I am no longer certain that mankind might not one day fall prey to universal damnation. The archbishop of Saragossa has written me a letter of introduction to his friend, the abbot of the monastery at Mont St. Michel, requesting that I be allowed to stay there and live out my days in peaceful contemplation.

May God keep me, bless me, and grant me eternal salvation. Amen.

13 May 1486

I never intended to write again in this journal, but I feel the need to include on final entry.

This afternoon, I received a visit from a young priest from the east who called on me on behalf of Father Olmos. The young priest informed me that, according to Father Olmos, the Vampyrnomicon resides in the Dambovita citadel and is safely in the bosom of the defender of the faith. He assures me that the book will never be found by man or vampirus, for Father Olmos is the only individual who knows the exact location of the book. He has formed the Protectors of the Treasures of Solomon’s Temple, a small group of devotedly religious men who will protect and preserve the secrets of the Vampyrnomicon. Father Olmos will pass the information down to only one other person who can carry the secret after he has passed on. That individual, in turn, will pass on the secret to a trusted confidant, and so on in perpetuity, until the book is needed to save humanity.

For the first time since crossing paths with Emilio Carius, I feel a sense of peace and confidence in the future.

God has shown mercy on my tortured soul.

Reese flipped the last page over to see if anything had been written on the back, in particular notations explaining the location of the Dambovita citadel, the identity or the defender of the faith, or any information on the Protectors of the Treasures of Solomon’s Temple. Nothing. Damn. These clues were useless. A bunch of cryptic descriptions more than five hundred years old that made no sense, and several claims about the importance of the
Vampyrnomicon
but nothing about its content.

All right, Reese told himself. Calm down and think. The clues purposefully were kept cryptic so no one could find the
Vampyrnomicon
except those who intended to use it to defeat the undead. He needed to solve those clues, and he could not do that sitting in this research room. He required access to the Internet and his personal library back at Salem State. Assuming that the whole story of the
Vampyrnomicon
was not just the ramblings of a priest who had gone mad. Assuming that Ferrar’s clues were, in fact, decipherable. And assuming that the book had not been lost or destroyed over the last five hundred years. A hell of a lot of assumptions to base a war against the undead on.

Reese jotted down a few innocuous notes about the location of the
Vampyrnomicon
. He would conduct some research on the Internet after meeting Drake and Jessica for dinner.

*     *     *

“I’m surprised you
like this place,” said Jessica loudly to compensate for the background noise as she thumbed through the menu.

“Why’s that?” Drake slid off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the chair.

“They don’t serve bourbon. Only beer.”

As Drake sat down, he took the menu out of her hands, flipped it to the last page, and handed it back. He tapped the section marked alcoholic beverages. “Maker’s Mark Whiskey. The next best thing.”