The Shroud of A'Ranka (Brimstone Network Trilogy) (17 page)

Vladek stood with a look of satisfaction on his face. “Now she will know how urgent this is,” he said. “The vampire species has been quelled too long. We have a world to conquer.”

Gideon watched as the vampire began to pace before the opening.

“What is taking so long?” he asked. “Surely she heard my request.”

“Have patience,” Gideon said, regretting his words as they left his mouth.

The vampire bared his fangs like a rabid wolf. “Patience,
magick user?” he yelled. “My patience was gone after the first thousand years I spent inside that stone box.” He looked into the mouth of the pit again. “A’Ranka!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Gideon was certain that the vampire was going to say more, but he never got the chance.

Something surged up from the darkness below.

Something large and powerful.

It moved with lightning speed, sending the remaining rocks that encircled the opening of the pit flying off in multiple directions and driving Gideon and the vampire back. The temple was filled with thick clouds of billowing dust, and as Gideon picked himself up from the ground, he saw something moving—writhing—within it.

“Is it she?” Vladek asked, charging into the cloud. “Has the goddess risen?”

Gideon wanted to tell the vampire to be careful, but the pain in his belly was too great, and he knew that his words would likely fall upon deaf ears. Vladek was going to do what Vladek wanted to do.

The vampire moved his hands through the thick, swirling dust, searching.

But what he was searching for found him instead.
A thick, muscular tail surged from the mist, wrapping around Vladek’s waist and yanking him up from the ground.

Using a spell of dispersal, Gideon cleared away the floating dust, gasping at the sight before him. She was everything he had remembered and more. She was larger than life, her upper body more beautiful than all the Yad’Zeen princesses combined, with a lower body of the most deadly and powerful of serpents.

It was her muscular tail that held Vladek’s flailing body.

“Who are these insects that have so rudely awakened me?” she demanded.

Gideon could sense that she was weak, her many millennia of imprisonment draining her of most of her godly might, but she was still strong enough to deal with the likes of them. She still had the power to make them regret having ever been born.

“Great goddess,” Gideon said, dropping to his knees before her. “We are but humble servants to your beauty and power.”

Vladek tried to fight her, sinking his claws into the scaled flesh that held him tight, but she would have none of it, giving him the most vicious of shakes.

“Power,” she stated, and Gideon could see her begin to remember.

“It was my exertion of power that put me here,” A’Ranka said, looking around the vast, underground chamber. “A prisoner in my own temple.”

Gideon kept his head bowed. “But we have come to return that power to you,” the sorcerer proclaimed. “A power that you will wield like the most deadly of weaponry, your heart’s desire finally within your grasp.”

“My heart’s desire?” she asked. “Explain yourself, insect.”

“I am but the first of your new worshippers,” Gideon said, placing a hand upon his chest. “The first of many who will call you their one and only.”

A’Ranka reared back upon her serpentine form. She raised Vladek’s broken body higher.

“And this one?” she asked. “Is this insolent wretch another who will worship me?”

Gideon nodded. “He is their prince,” the sorcerer explained. “And he helped to free you from your slumber.”

She brought Vladek closer to inspect. “Fascinating,” she said, flinging his body to the ground at Gideon’s feet.

“Borphagal spared my life, showed me mercy,” the goddess stated. “Why would I risk his wrath again?”

Gideon smiled as he helped Vladek to stand.

“Your new worshippers,” Vladek managed, as his crushed ribs began to heal. “Your new worshippers will make you stronger than him.”

“Stronger?” A’Ranka asked.

Vladek could stand on his own feet again and walked toward the goddess. “Our love and devotion will make you more powerful than ever before.”

The goddess considered his words. “How do I know you speak the truth?” she asked. “I see no worshippers.”

Gideon came to stand beside the vampire prince. “Soon, Goddess, they will be arriving soon. All I need do is weave the magick to open the portal and they will swarm this world, bringing their adoration of you.”

A’Ranka considered all of this, a bejeweled finger placed upon her beautiful lips. “Prove that your words are true,” she demanded. “Prove that you will love me most of all.”

Gideon smiled, watching as Vladek stepped closer. They had planned this, knowing that there was only one thing more than unbridled devotion that A’Ranka loved best, and that was gifts.

“You want proof?” Vladek asked her. “Then I will give it.”

The vampire prince fell to his knees beneath her. “I, Vladek, royal prince of the bloodspawn, swear my undying love to you, as well as the undying love and fidelity of all my people.”

A’Ranka swayed upon her taunt, muscular body, seemingly taken by the words of the prince. “Go on,” the goddess of the dust said.

“As a symbol of the bond that we will soon share I will give to you the most precious of gifts.

“A gift,” the goddess hissed, her beautiful eyes growing large in anticipation.

Vladek sank his claws into the thick, cross-shaped scar on his chest, pulling the flesh apart to reveal the black, empty cavity.

“I will give you my heart.”

The werewolf was about to jump from the hiding place.

Stitch saw the powerful muscles bunch beneath Emily’s thick coat of raven-black fur, and reached out to clamp his hand firmly upon her shoulder.

She spun around, fangs bared, and he saw that there was very little of Emily left, but he tried anyway.

“No,” he said in a firm, commanding voice. “We can’t fight all of them.”

He didn’t think that any of what he’d said had managed to permeate the fog of savagery that threatened to consume the girl’s humanity, but suddenly he saw the wolf’s expression change, softening just a bit.

“It’s right there,” Emily said, looking back to the stage.

The king had returned the black, beating heart to the special box as the crowd continued to roar.

“I know it’s frustrating, but we must be careful. Remember, we must be successful, if Bram and the others are to succeed as well.”

That seemed to calm the beast a bit more, and Stitch returned his attention to the activity on the stage. The other two priests had taken their place beside the king, and appeared to be conjuring a spell.

“Tell me that they’re not doing what I think they’re doing,” Stitch said, directing his question to Bogey.

“If you think they’re doing an interpretive dance, you’re completely off base,” the small, gray skinned creature stated. “But if you’re thinking they’re in the process of conjuring a passage to someplace, you’re right on the money.”

Stitch’s hand had remained on Emily’s shoulder, and he could feel the muscles like steel beneath the thick fur tense.

“Conjuring a passage?” she asked. “Conjuring a passage to where? We can’t let them take the heart away.” Her voice was growing more excited—more bestial.

The vampire priests raised their voices above the noise of the crowd and the spell of passage leaped from the ends of their long, bony fingers to puncture a hole in the air before them.

“She who will become our goddess has been imprisoned as well,” the vampire king proclaimed. “So we will bring her the heart of Vladek…. Using magicks long forbidden to us by our captors, we will travel to her place of confinement and show her the depths of our devotion.”

The passage opened with a sound like the cracking of a whip. The king of vampires turned to the pulsating rip in the fabric of reality and, without a moment’s hesitation, ducked within to begin his journey. One after the other, the royal family and their servants entered the passage, until only the priests remained.

The high priest again lifted the box to the crowd. “With this gift, we shall receive a world in return.”

And as the crowds howled and cheered, the priest carried
the box to the passage, and was gone, the other vampire holy men following on his tail.

“No!” the werewolf howled, tearing Stitch’s hand away.

The patchwork man immediately placed his hand on the pistol in the holster at his side.

The gun loaded with silver.

His eyes locked on Emily’s as he gripped the weapon, ready to stop the werewolf, but he couldn’t do it.

With a snarl, the wolf bounded from their hiding place, landing amongst the crowd of vampires with a roar.

“Something tells me this wasn’t part of the plan,” Bogey said.

He and Stitch watched as the werewolf waded into a sea of blood-drinkers, tossing their bodies around as if they were toys. She was making her way toward the stage … to the still-pulsing gateway.

“What are we gonna do?” Bogey asked.

Emily had cut a path through the crowd, and removing twin daggers from a bandolier across his chest, Stitch began to follow.

“We improvise,” he said, slaying vampire after vampire as they turned their attention to these new intruders.

What choice did they have?

* * *

The stairs up the front of the pyramid were treacherous and steep.

Bram stopped for a moment, turning back to check on Dez and his father. “You guys doing okay?”

“We’re all right,” Douglas answered, stepping carefully, carrying Dez piggyback. “How much farther?” he asked, looking up toward Bram.

One of the jaguar creatures had run its claws down the side of the man’s face, leaving deep, bloodless furrows. It wasn’t at all pretty to look at.

“Not sure,” Bram said, taking the compass from his pocket. He flipped the lid back and watched the delicate golden arrow rise up and search for signs of magick. “It says we’re on the right track. All we can do is keep climbing until we can find a way inside.”

Bram started up the stairs again.

“Can we stop for a second?” Dez asked weakly.

“We should really try to keep going,” Bram replied. “The longer it takes us to find Vladek, the less chance we have of stopping him.”

“Just for a second?” Dez asked. “Please?”

Bram begrudgingly agreed, and moved back down to join them.

Douglas lowered Dez to a step so that he could sit.

“I just need something in my bag,” the boy said weakly. He unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it. “I’m not going to be any good to you or anybody else feeling this way. I need a pick-me-up…. Here it is,” he announced, pulling out a can.

“Liquid Surge?” Bram asked, reading its bright green label.

“Yeah, it’s an energy drink. Bogey gave it to me before we left. Said it would put hair on my chest or make me feel like there were fifty-thousand volts going through me. Whatever I need most, I guess.”

Dez popped the lid, and an odd, strangely metallic yet fruity smell wafted up into the humid air. “Bogey says he drinks these all the time.”

“That explains a lot about Bogey,” Douglas muttered as he watched his son begin to drink.

“Well?” Bram asked.

Dez smacked his lips. “Strangely enough, it tastes like something that would be called Liquid Surge.” He looked down at his shirt. “No hair, but I am feeling a
little more awake.” He offered the can to Bram. “Sip?”

“No thanks,” Bram said with a shake of his head. “The thought of putting something inside my body that Bogey drinks kind of scares me.”

Dez shrugged and took another gulp. “Suit yourself. It’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

“Think you’ve got enough energy now to finish the climb?” Bram asked.

“Bring on the bad guys,” Dez said, finishing the drink and crushing the can in a show of strength.

The energy drink actually did seem to do some good. Dez was able to hobble along, needing only to lean on his father for support as they resumed their climb.

Maybe we should start packing Liquid Surge in all our bags
, Bram mused as he climbed the face of the pyramid.

He checked the compass again and saw that the arrow was now pointing around to the side of the pyramid. “It says we should head over here,” Bram said, moving horizontally across the stairs.

It wasn’t long before he found the opening. “We can get in through here.” He retrieved a flashlight from his pack and shone through the breach in the wall. The yellow beam only went so far before it was eaten by the darkness.

“You’re going to need your flashlights,” Bram called to his companions as he started to crawl through the broken opening into the pyramid. Immediately he noticed the change in temperature, as a sheen of goose bumps erupted across the flesh of his arms.

He could hear Douglas helping his son through the broken wall as he moved further down the corridor. The beam of his flashlight caught a glimpse of the faded imagery painted on the walls, and he was drawn to the story depicted there, following the tale of the goddess A’Ranka.

The memory of the poor residents of the village transformed by Vladek’s bite flashed through his mind, and he again experienced an uncomfortable chill. He wondered if the vampires could ever be capable of loving anything more than the taste of blood.

“Hey, Bram, where are you?” Dez called, interrupting Bram’s musings.

“I’m down here,” he called, realizing he had strayed away from his companions.

He could hear them making their way, the beams from their flashlights growing larger and brighter, like the eyes of some ghostly beast moving toward him.

Then something caught his eye on the wall across from
him and he shone his own light upon it. The pictures depicted A’Ranka in all her glory conjuring a great cloud.

What was it the Archivist had called her?
Bram tried to remember.
The goddess of the dust?

The cloud was encircling the planet, blocking the faded yellow sun, and he then knew the enormity of what Vladek and Gideon planned.

“What do they mean?” Dez asked, finally coming into view. He was shining his light upon the drawings.