Blood Spirit (21 page)

No
more.

Around
him hung the weapons of a warrior. Battle axes, sabers, and daggers he'd
collected from enemies and victims over the centuries lined the walls. Until
that night, they'd been decoration for over a hundred years—trophies from his
past he displayed with pride but relics of a time happily ended. Now they'd be
instruments he'd use to destroy the ones responsible for killing his family.

Reaching
up, he pulled down a saif he'd been given by his sire and felt the weight of it
in his hand. Nearly three feet long, it was a weapon sure to inflict death. But
he needed something more agile, something that would be as deadly but more
easily wielded against his enemy.

Terek
laid the saif on a table and looked around the room for the perfect weapon. On
the far wall he spied exactly what he needed. The fifteenth century falchion
he'd happily taken from a Frenchman in 1488 at a pitch battle between humans
and his kind at Lourdes would be perfect. He'd left the field of battle victorious
just before dawn that night, fighting for the right to his very existence. Now,
he wouldn't be a conquering hero but a vigilante out for justice.

The
falchion felt good in his hand. Power emanated from its hilt, and he swung the
weapon, slicing through the air to reacquaint his body with the movement needed
to separate a man's head from his shoulders. The vampire he'd been all those
years ago reawakened, and the rage that had lain dormant all this time surged
in his veins as he continued to swing the sword.

That
would be his large weapon. Strapped to his side, it would be what he'd attack with
first. Now he needed a smaller weapon—something for when the fight grew close.
Behind him, he found a dagger he'd retrieved from a vampire hunter just before
humans gave up their attacks. A medieval weapon, the rondel dagger was a weapon
he'd often wielded successfully in fights.

Strapping
a leather holder around his hips, he slid the falchion in and reached for the
dagger. Much lighter than a sword, it would do the job in a hand-to-hand fight.
He gripped it tightly in his hand, feeling the strength in his fingers against
the metal. Only one more weapon was needed.

Terek
walked toward a large, finely crafted wood cabinet padlocked at the handles.
Unlocking the doors, he opened them and looked at the wooden stakes that hung
inside. Sharpened to deadly points, they were dangerous to any of his kind.
He'd locked the doors to ensure that none of his vampires could see what he
kept hidden. To all but Jasmine, he'd always been a man of serenity, not a
warrior for his race. He'd left that all behind, happily willing to consign the
memories of his many years of fighting to the past.

He
could be that man of peace no more. Now he'd be the sire the Archons had forced
him to be.

Choosing
a thick stake, he palmed it and felt the threat the piece of wood possessed against
his skin. Tonight, he would be what he'd never been before.

A
murderer of his own kind.

He
pushed that terrible thought out of his mind and slid the stake into the holder
next to the dagger. As a Son of Navarus, he had only wanted to save his kind
from a world of repression and pain the Archons would inflict on any who didn't
believe as they do. He had a duty to all those innocent vampires who didn't
know that to choose sides would make them a target. Now the Archons had brought
the civil war to his home, to his family. He hadn't begun this fight. But he'd
end it.

As
he walked the hallway toward the front door, he stopped. The silence of the
house was eerie. No one sat in the family room talking and laughing with
others. The kitchen was empty. The courtyard stood vacant. As was his habit, he
listened for the thoughts of the women who shared his home but heard nothing
now. The hunter had silenced the beautiful minds of his family and forced the
rest into hiding in a place far away.

He
cleaned up the last of Serena's blood and with a heavy heart took one last look
around the home that just nights before had been full of life. He'd make sure
Serena and the others didn't die in vain. It wasn't enough to remember them
with love. He had to avenge them with violence.

I'm
sorry. I won't let your deaths be meaningless.

He
walked as a man with a purpose down the path from his home as he made his way
to his first place of attack. Spain had two Archons, one in Madrid and one in Barcelona. The Madrid Archon would be heavily guarded as it was the capital, but the
Barcelona Archon would be an easier target. He'd listened carefully as Solenne
had explained the overwhelming workload the two French Archons dealt with and
hoped the Spanish Archons suffered something similar. If so, his job would be
made much easier. An overworked and harried Archon at a secondary office was
easier prey than one who may be tired but would probably be better protected as
the main Archon for the country.

In
truth, he didn't care if he had to slice through hundreds of Archon staff and
hunters to get to the Barcelona Archon. He would pay, as would the hunter who
had made the fatal error of attacking his home and loved ones. That he may not
have been the Archon who issued the order meant nothing.

Memories
of those nights when he'd fought the legions of humans hell bent on his kind's
destruction played in his mind. Those men had hunted vampires out of fear,
believing he and those like him were children of the devil sent to Earth to do
his bidding and ultimately wipe out mankind.

Now
he faced an enemy even more dangerous because they were like him. The Archons
and their hunters were vampires above everything else. But just as he had with
the human hunters for centuries, he would defend his kind against them and
their savagery.

With
one last glance back at the place he'd called home, Terek concentrated on the
Archon's office in Barcelona and disappeared into the darkness.

He
rematerialized in an alley in the Gothic Quarter, an area of the city he'd
visited centuries before. It had changed much since then, but just as in the
fifteenth century, this part of Barcelona still retained a sense of the ancient
Roman village it once was, despite all the modern buildings that had sprung up
over the years. He set off to the Les Corts section of the city, walking over
the weathered cobblestone streets as he made his way northwest and to the
Barcelona Archon's office.

The
city's nightlife, far busier than Cocentaina's, was in full swing, and Terek
easily blended into a crowd moving toward a street festival nearby. Not that he
would've cared, but no one appeared to even notice the weapons that hung from
his sides as they drank and sang to the music that filtered toward them from
blocks away.

As
he marched toward his goal, the crowds fell away and he quickly found himself
alone. All the better. Humans would only get in the way of what he needed to
do. Better they stay clear, content to drink and dance the night away.

On
the quiet street that led to the office, he pushed every thought of Ilona,
Serena, and the rest of his vampires out of his mind. Just as he had before
every battle for centuries, he focused on the one thing that had always made
him a better fighter than any enemy he'd faced.

The
sheer will to survive.

Then
it had been to keep his race alive. Now it was to make sure the bastards who
wanted to erase all goodness from his world paid for the pain and suffering
they'd forced on him and those he loved.

He
neared the office building of the Barcelona Archon and didn't see the guards
he'd expected. No matter. Perhaps the angels were with him tonight, or perhaps
he'd meet the guards inside. Wherever he found them, they'd let him pass or
he'd be the last thing they laid eyes on before he sent them onto the afterlife.

Security
guards and secretaries who had no idea what evil their bosses did weren't his
targets. If he could spare them, he would. He wasn't a monster.

The
building that housed the Barcelona Archon's offices was all but empty on the
first floor. Terek's hand clutched the hilt of his sword in anticipation of
what he'd soon find. He'd likely meet the absentee guards armed with stakes
much like the one he carried on his right hip. As vampires saw little use for
guns, which were practically worthless for killing beings that could move much
faster than bullets, he'd be fighting against weapons like his own.

He
liked his odds.

As
he passed each office door, he read the titles the law and order vampires so
desperately clamored to attain. Assistant Second Archon. Administrative
Assistant to the Assistant Second Archon. Meaningless words meant to make
traitors to their race feel important.

A
directory near the stairs told him the Barcelona Archon would be found on the
fifth floor. Starting up the stairs, he soon met the guards as he reached the
second floor landing.

From
above, one yelled, "Hey you! Where's your badge?"

Each
step he took brought him closer to the men. "I forgot it at home. Sorry.
I'm just trying to get to work for the night," he said in his best middle
management voice.

"Stop
right there. We're going to have to call the desk. Don't move!"

He
wasn't going to be able to spare these two, and just before he reached the
third floor, he pulled his falchion from its holster. Nearly three feet of gleaming
steel jutted out in front of him ready for him to strike.

"Stop!
That isn't allowed in here!" the one guard said frantically as he pulled
his stake from his hip.

Terek
stood still as they moved toward him. There was no way he'd ever reach the
Archon if he left them alive. This was the unfortunate result of the wrong job
choice and fate.

With
a quick prayer to God, he asked forgiveness for what he was about to do, and
then he swung the falchion as one of the men hoarsely groaned,
"Please...no." He slashed the first man's chest and blood spurted
through his sliced shirt from a gash that went clear to the bone. Falling to
his knees, he collapsed on the cement floor in a growing pool of blood.

The
other guard watched in horror as his co-worker died. Begging for his life, he
pleaded for a reprieve, but Terek turned a deaf ear to his pleas. Turning his
weapon on him, he cut through the air until the weapon sliced into the man's
abdomen. For a moment, the man appeared stunned, but as the other man had just
moments before, he fell to the floor in a heap as blood poured from his wound.

Terek
watched as the life left him and with mercy staked each one, releasing them
from this world. As he began climbing the stairs again, his focus back on his
goal, he said under his breath, "Godspeed."

He
covered the final flights of stairs with his hand gripping his falchion still
dripping with blood. The thought that Serena may have begged for her life as
those two men had crossed his mind, but he angrily shook his head to expel the
idea. Serena had been kind and good every day of her life. For all he knew, the
two men had been as corrupt and evil as the Archons they sought to protect.

He
didn't care. This war didn't allow him the luxury of being merciful to
everyone.

As
he opened the stairway door to enter the fifth floor, he braced for attack.
Looking left and right down the hallway, he saw no one, except for one elderly
woman who sat at a receptionist desk. She looked like someone's grandmother.
Hiding his sword behind his back, he prayed to God she'd let him pass without
notice.

Terek
walked past her looking straight ahead to avoid making eye contact. Warrior or
not, he couldn't kill an old lady.

"Sir,
can I help you?"

Slowly,
he turned his head to see her peering at him through thick glasses. Pale blue
eyes stared at him, and he froze in fear she'd see the weapon behind his back.

"Are
you Mr. Jacobs' ten o'clock appointment? He's waiting for you, sir."

Terek
remained silent and listened to her thoughts. Purely innocent, they were of a
vacation she was to leave on the next night. He rarely used hypnosis on fellow
vampires not his own, but as he looked at her steel grey hair and bright pink
lipstick, he knew he had to.

In
a low and even voice, he said, "We believe there are intruders in the
building, ma'am. Please speak to no one and exit the building by the elevator
immediately."

She
stared blankly at him for a moment and then rose from her seat and left without
a word. He watched her follow his directions precisely, and with relief that he
hadn't been forced to kill an innocent old woman returned to his goal. Terek
focused on the door at the end of the hallway, sure he'd find what he came for
there.

As
he drew closer to room, he read the words "Archon Elijah Jacobs"
painted on the frosted glass and knew the one he sought was behind that door.
He turned the handle slowly and pushed the door open to see two men standing
behind a large metal desk. Dressed in suits, they looked like any other middle-aged
businessmen who might have found themselves working late at the office. Their
outer appearances betrayed none of the violence and treachery of their
positions.

By
the time they saw him standing there, he had his falchion in his hand ready to
strike.

"Excuse
me. Who are you? This is the office of the Archon of Barcelona and I am the
Second Archon."

Terek
didn't wait for the Archon himself to speak. There was nothing he could say
that would bring back the ones he loved who had died on either his order or one
of his fellow Archons'. Lightning fast, he appeared in front of the Second
Archon and sliced his weapon through the air. It slashed him in the chest,
running him through. Blood exploded out from him and covered the Archon, who
stood stunned. As the Second Archon fell to the floor crying out in agony,
Terek turned to face Jacobs.