CHAPTER 35: BLOOD INHERITANCE
“The subject's regenerative properties do not match any known example. These properties activate once all signs of life have stopped and end shortly after the lethal injury is healed. Once the primary damage is addressed, other less serious wounds heal to a minor degree. Every toxin I have tried is flushed from the subject's system upon resurrection, and all observable forms of spiritual wounds are repaired. The rate of resurrection varies; the reason for this is still unknown. Extensive injuries take longer to heal than extreme injuries. Example: Decapitation healed in two minutes and six seconds. Organ Failure due to Phosphorus ingestion healed in thirty-five hours, fifteen minutes and two seconds”- Personal notes of Isabelle Gens Silva.
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Cole and Natalie followed Dietrich, leaving the oubliette and its horrors behind. After maybe a dozen steps into the passageway, the stone shifted behind them and sealed the entrance shut. True darkness blanketed the hallway. Forcing Cole to stick a hand out and guide himself using the nearest wall. Natalie, for her part, was unbothered by the darkness; while she couldn’t see, her other senses compensated so smoothly she didn’t even notice.
The clank and scrap of Dietrich’s armor was the only sound in the hallway for a time, telling Cole and Natalie where their rescuer was. The Vampire Knight made sure and let them catch up when needed but offered them no explanation for his actions. After maybe five minutes of walking, Natalie had enough and demanded answers.
“Where are you taking us?” she said. Then, hesitating a moment, she added, “Why did you rescue us?”
Dietrich was silent. Natalie could almost feel him debating how much information to share. “The situation is radically more dangerous than I’d feared. The Court’s members have all turned traitor or been murdered. I alone stand between that sniveling rat Petar and his goal. This is untenable; I need allies of convenience. You and the Rest-Bringer will make do in that role.”
Cole grit his teeth in annoyance; he did not like the idea of working with this Vampire. Scarlet Knights were some of the most dogmatic and dangerous Nobles to infest the Blood Duchies. Cole also knew he had few options. If he wanted to protect Natalie and complete his duty, he needed to know what exactly Dietrich intended.
“Is Glockmire dead?” asked Cole, hoping to find out exactly how much information Dietrich would share.
Surprisingly, Dietrich answered plainly. “He survives, but not for much longer. I will tell you more when we reach him.”
Looking around the pitch-black hallway pointlessly, Natalie pushed for more information. “So are there many of these passageways in the Castle?”
A flair of annoyance struck Natalie like a physical blow. Psychic pressure slammed against her mind in an overwhelming wave. Domineering spiteful rage came off Dietrich, forcing her to take a step back in sheer shock. Instincts not her own told Natalie to run or kneel. The Vampire inside her recognizing a superior monster. With a pained gasp, Natalie doubled over and raised her hands in surrender.
In a tight whisper, Dietrich growled. “There are many secrets to this Castle. Many only Lord Glockmire knows. His magic is woven into its very structure; it is how we knew to find you. Now do not speak again, or I will break your jaw.”
Cole stepped forward, a deep angry growl rising in his chest, hunting knife pointed at Dietrich. For his part, Dietrich looked at the cowed Fledgling and furious Rest-Bringer. His enhanced senses pierced the darkness and gave him insight into his new accomplices. He saw the look of rage and worry on Cole’s face. The Rest-Bringer cared for the Striga Girl, even after her transformation. A useful fact Dietrich filed away for later use.
Slicing his hand through the air in a sign of dismissal, Dietrich barked. “We don’t have time for this. We are not safe here. Follow me in silence and survive. Or pester me and be left to starve in these tunnels.”
Letting out a deep, shuddering breath, Cole nodded in assent before adding in a low dangerous tone. “Do not hurt her, Vampire. I’ve already killed three of your ilk this week. I don’t mind a third.”
Unbeknownst to Cole, Natalie flinched at his words. The sheer venom in the word “Vampire” conveyed all the bitter hate Cole had for the Nocturnal Nobles. A hate that she was exempt from, for now at least. Hoping to head off any conflict, Natalie stepped between Dietrich and Cole.
“I’m alright, Cole, let's just go with him. We don’t have any other options.”
Dietrich gave Natalie a curt nod of approval. A superior officer recognizing a disappointing subordinate’s attempts to fix the situation. Ignoring the contempt in his actions, Natalie followed Dietrich. The still-fresh shock of his mental attack ridding Natalie of any real desire to countermand him. She’d heard Vampires could use sheer force of personality as a weapon. Still, she’d assumed it was just some sort of magical hypnosis. Not the very real impact of Dietrich's mind clashing with hers.
Cole put a comforting hand on Natalie’s shoulder as they walked, whispering in her ear. “He is a Wyrmoi, blood of Drakovich. They are skilled at throwing their weight around like that. Don’t let it get to you.”
Natalie gripped Cole’s hand in a gentle squeeze and kept moving forward. They didn’t talk after that, returning to the previous rhythm of following Dietrich through the darkness. After another fifteen or so minutes, they reached the end of the tunnel. Dietrich pressed against the stone wall capping the passageway, and it started to move, sliding out with a low grinding noise. The sound of stone scraping against stone contrasted violently with the quiet of the tunnel. It sounded so loud that Natalie expected an entire army of Castle Guards to be on the other side of the hidden door. Thankfully there was not, just a maze of rough-hewn corridors that spread out in all directions.
Dietrich turned right and kept walking. As they exited the tight passageway, Natalie became more aware of her sharpened senses. She could hear their footsteps echoing off the stone, giving her a vague idea of distance. While her nose was assaulted with scents of stale air, decomposition, and old stone. Natalie covered her face with an ashen hand and was, for the first time, thankful she no longer needed to breathe. Dietrich paid her a dismissive look as Natalie adapted to her new senses. The old Vampire raised a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Cole and Natalie nodded in understanding as Dietrich moved into the stone maze.
They followed Dietrich, all without a word, as he took them on a maddening journey through the labyrinthian maze of tunnels. On some instinctive level, Natalie knew she was deep below the earth. Buried beneath a mountain of stone and hidden in a catacomb dug by corpses. Natalie felt like she should be shivering in dread, but the sensation never came. The power that animates a Vampire would never waste itself on such a simple gesture.
Cole, for his part, was unbothered by the claustrophobic depths they found themselves in. He’d spent enough time in tombs, caves, and odder places to burn through any anxiety about traversing the underground. That was not to say he wasn’t worried. Those same experiences navigating catacombs and haunted ruins had given him a good sense of direction. That sense of direction was telling him their route was nonsensical. They’d doubled back, gone in loops, zig-zagged, done everything but go at a steady heading. The only reason Cole hadn’t questioned Dietrich about this was because he knew only one reason for such behavior. The Vampire must think they were being followed. Still, that explanation made little sense. Tracking them through these tunnels would be easy for any predator worth the title. Making Cole consider if something else was in play.
After twenty or so minutes of walking, Cole felt faint pressure on his ear drums. Like he was rapidly descending a mountain or diving into a deep lake. Natalie also seemed to have noticed it; she was fidgeting, looking around, nervous energy emanating from her. Cole hated himself for it, but he couldn’t bear to look at Natalie right now. Her strange nervous twitches were that of a Vampire no longer pretending to be human. For Vampires, unless they focused, their body language fell into two categories. Deathly still or frantic spasms. The curse that animated them was either miserly or over-eager in its mimicry of life.
Right now, the newly turned Natalie was nervous and uncertain. She probably didn’t even notice the behavior. How her hands clenched and unclenched, how her head twitched slightly every few seconds. All the drive of an unnatural predator filtered through the mind of a human being, manifesting as a slight palsy that brought up terrible memories for Cole. Memories of when he’d spent six months in a dungeon on no official record. When he’d been fed upon by dozens of Vampires, his blood drained by hungry monsters with the same inhuman mannerisms Natalie now showed.
In those six months, Cole had learned he truly couldn’t die. Even when he hoped and prayed with his whole being, he hadn’t stayed dead. A development as much a blessing and curse as it was for him and his Vampire captors. They’d been tasked with destroying him, but they’d also grown to enjoy a never-ending font of blood. A feast they could indulge in as much as they liked. It had been a unique variety of Hell and one that still haunted Cole. It had inspired a deep abiding hate for Vampire in him. A fantastically paradoxical bit of hypocrisy for a man who had found love with one Vampire and was looking for it with another.
Something cold and soft pulled Cole from his memories. He looked down to see Natalie’s hand in his. A concerned look on her face. Cole had stopped walking and hadn’t even noticed. Dietrich was glaring at the two of them, his own hand reaching for his sword. Cole tried to give Natalie a reassuring grin, but judging by how her own look of worry only deepened, he failed.
They kept walking, and the pressure on Cole’s ears only increased, reaching a point where he felt mildly nauseous. By now, Cole was fairly certain the effect was magical. He’d heard of Spacial magic having this effect but had little personal experience with it. The only question was, what sort of spell had been woven into the tunnels? As Dietrich took them towards a dead end in the catacombs and showed no sign of slowing down, Cole realized he was about to find out. Dietrich barely paused to gesture for Cole and Natalie to follow him before he stepped through the solid stone.
Natalie looked at Cole with a questioning look at the shocking sight. Cole just shrugged, and the two of them stepped into the Stone. Holding hands as they did, neither wanting to face the danger alone. It felt like pushing through cold mud. A sticky feeling of resistance on them as they walked forward. Cole had gambled before stepping through and taking a deep breath. This was obviously something meant for Vampire use, and he’d worried it wouldn’t be breathable. Of course, he’d also worried that full lungs would somehow explode thanks to some magical side-effect on living flesh. Running out of air seemed more likely, so Cole went with that and was rewarded. His lungs started to burn when they reached the other end of the strange stone, but they had not popped.
Sucking in a breath of stale, metallic-tinged air, Cole looked around their destination. It was a tomb of some kind that was clear from the outset. An ancient circular chamber with a high dome roof and a polished granite floor. Intricate murals decorated the walls, and a central dais held a massive sarcophagus. A corpse lay next to the sarcophagus, a desiccated body mummified by the air-tight chamber. Dietrich stood a few steps away, looking at the Corpse. Cole stepped forward to join the Vampire but felt Natalie not move. He looked at her and saw a look of utter shock on her beautiful face. She was staring at the corpse, her eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.
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Dietrich addressed the room as a whole. “Lord Glockmire, I have brought the two you sensed.”
Cole spun his head around, looking for the hidden elder Vampire, only to realize his mistake when the withered corpse started to move. Even meters away, Cole could hear the creak of dried joints and brittle bones. The corpse, no, Lord Glockmire, slowly pulled itself to its feet. Black beads recessed deep in its skull peered out at Cole and Natalie. A thin, reedy voice came from the Vampires mouth.
“Good, disable the Rest-Bringer. We will need him later, but for now, he will do more harm than good.”
Cole already had his knife raised before Glockmire completed speaking, but it wasn’t enough. Dietrich shot towards Cole like a bolt of red-lightning. A steel-clad fist hammered into Cole’s gut, doubling him over. A second equally devastating blow hit his back and drove him to the floor. An armored boot came down on the back of Cole’s neck. The low but constant pressure on Cole’s spine was a clear warning. Cause problems, and the Vampire would snap his spine like kindling.
Cole grit his teeth and seethed in anger. This had been too good to be true, and now his limited options had turned to nothing. Dietrich had proved to Cole how dangerous he was in a split second. A trained soldier was already an intimidating prospect. A trained soldier with unnatural strength and the focus to use it correctly was another matter. From where Cole lay, he could see a startled Natalie trying to move back towards the stone wall they’d passed through. Her back bumped against solid stone. Whatever magic had made the rock permeable was no longer active. Cole and Natalie were trapped.
The unliving corpse of Glockmire shuffled towards Natalie and spoke in that same croaking, unnatural voice. “You truly are of my blood. I can smell it on you, child. Turned in some act of foolishness by Petar, I expect?”
Natalie felt like she was being crushed, as an insurmountable psychic weight pushed on her being. It had started the moment she stepped into the tomb and only gotten worse as Lord Glockmire turned his focus on her. This was another part of being a Vampire Natalie had not expected. A new sense for the power and will of her fellow monsters. The rational, analytical part of Natalie wondered if this was some sort of distorted animal instinct. The ability to access a rival predator and realize how dangerous it is; now warped by the curse of Vampirehood. Other, more base parts of Natalie’s mind were paralyzed by utter panic. She had caught the attention of a truly ancient monster, and its mere presence was enough to overwhelm her.
The silence dragged on as Glockmire waited for an answer. Realizing annoying the Lord, even in his decrepit state, was a terrible idea, Natalie forced out some words. “Y-y-yes. He attacked me, and I fought back. Some of his blood got into my wounds.”
A low, croaking noise came from the walking corpse, a parody of laughter. “Did he now?” The Lord shuffled closer to Natalie, his head cocking to the right like an inquisitive bird. “Oh, this is very interesting. It's fitting for my scion to doom himself in such a way.”
Glockmire finally reached Natalie and reached out a single withered hand to brush her face. Again, Natalie didn’t shiver, she wanted to, but such human reactions were no longer hers. Seeing her, Glockmire smiled. Taut skin stretched to reveal white fangs in a grin too wide to fit on a living face.
Half speaking to her, half musing to himself, the old Lord spoke. “Beautiful, brave, clever, and arrogant enough to involve yourself in the matters of Nobles and Gods. Petar couldn’t have picked a better scion if he tried. It is a shame your transformation was not under better circumstances, Grandscion.”
Turning away from her, Glockmire moved back towards the central dais and the massive sarcophagus. “Still, I will not waste this good fortune. Come along Grandscion, we have a world to save and a usurper to punish.”
Confused and not entirely in control of her own body, Natalie followed after her “Grandsire,” as she supposed the correct term was. The idea of this monster considering her family after a fashion was another disturbing twist to an already crooked story.
Mustering the will to ask a question, Natalie spoke. “Save the world? What do you mean?”
Glockmire placed a hand on the Sarcophagus, and Natalie instantly felt the room chill a few degrees. “I miscalculated. I assumed that when I died, the power I’ve stolen would die with me. But as that time draws nearer, I’ve realized that's not the case. The Alukah’s power cannot be destroyed by mundane means. I’d hoped the Rest-Bringer would be capable of helping me seal it away. That seems the sort of thing a chosen of Master Time would be helpful with. But then I found you, and other options became available.”
Cole’s voice then rang out through the tomb. “Do not harm her, Glockmire. I will personally ensure your soul is cast into the deepest Hell if you do anything to her.”
The old Lord looked at the trapped Rest-Bringer and seemed amused. It was hard to tell on his corpse-leather face. “I’m not going to harm her Rest-Bringer. In fact, I’m going to do the exact opposite. She will claim her rightful inheritance with my blessing and become something incredible. A true Queen of the Night, an existence greater than any she might have once hoped to have.”
A stray thought seemed to catch in Glockmire's mind, and he changed topics abruptly. “You have the Rest-Bringer wrapped around your fingers quite well, Granscion. How did you manage that? In fact, how did you manage to avoid killing him? When I sensed Petar’s toadies toss him into the cell, I assumed he was as good as dead.”
Even from where he lay, pinned to the ground under Dietrich’s boot, Natalie could see Cole’s eyes widen in surprise. Glockmire and his Knight didn’t know what Cole was. An advantage that Natalie desperately tried to keep.
A believable lie quickly came to Natalie. “It's one of his abilities as a Rest-Bringer. Cole can make his blood taste foul. It stopped me after I drank.
What she said wasn’t truly a lie. Cole could indeed make his blood taste bad, by dying. Natalie hoped the half-truth of the statement might make it more believable.
Glockmire seemed to accept her statement as fact and looked back at Cole. “Don’t kill him yet, Dietrich. He might still be useful in this situation. Having someone who is as devoted to my Granscion as he seems to be is useful.”
After a moment of hesitation, Glockmire added. “In fact, I feel I must thank you Rest, Bringer” he looked down at Cole and smiled sadly. “Your actions turned what might have become a calamity into a minor disaster. Thanks to your sniffing about, Petar was forced to move up his plans and abandon others. He didn’t have a true army of Undead to cripple me and was forced to rely on other traitors to aid him. Something that let paranoid Dietrich here survive the coup and rescue me. They stole my power and ruined me, but they haven’t claimed victory in part, thanks to you. Then as if that weren't enough, you helped deliver a perfect successor to me at my most dire hour. Truly, I owe you, Rest-Bringer Cole. You will make an excellent thrall for my Grandscion.”
The old monster's words had a disturbingly paternalistic air to them. He talked less like a Vampire Lord describing the schemes against him and more like a proud parent discussing their offspring's accomplishments.
Yet, in all of it, Natalie proved her cleverness by picking out the important bits. “Petar stole your power? And you want to give me what you have left so I can beat him? Is that what you are saying?”
Glockmire beamed at her, a rictus that had more in common with a starving wolf than a human smile. “Oh, you are a smart one. But on a point of technicality, the power was never really mine, to begin with. But it will be yours, Grandscion.”
Reaching out with a skeletal hand, Glockmire pulled Natalie towards the Sarcophagus, and the crack she now only noticed was in it. Something about the crack unnerved Natalie. The fissure summoned up some sort of alien dread. A sense that whatever was beyond it was not something she wanted to see.
Gesturing at the crack, Glockmire explained. “We stand in the tomb of an Alukah. One of the first Vampires. My secret treasure and my hidden curse. For centuries I have siphoned away the Ancient One’s power and hoped to consume its soul. Becoming a Demigod of our kind, just like it once was.”
Pointing at the basin of black blood at the foot of the sarcophagus, Glockmire let out a reedy sigh. “I was so close. A decade more, and it would have been mine. Then Petar forgot his place and sent us down this foolish path. I survived him and his minions stealing much of the power I had taken. But not for much longer. I will die, and I thought I could take the Alukah with me. But i’ve learned that isn’t the case. Weakened as it is, I’ve touched the Ancient’s mind and realized the truth. The Alukah’s power can survive even when it cannot. Even if I devour it and kill us both, all that will do is unleash its fury onto the world. The raging might of a monster not seen since the Book of Miracles was written, now without a mind to guide it. I cannot let that be my legacy. The Alukah needs a vessel, a mind to take that power and guide it. It needs you, Natalie.”
Understanding and utter horror started to fill both Cole and Natalie. Pieces fit together now. The immunity to Sunlight, the power of the Strigoi Cole fought, why a Scarlet Knight was assigned to Lord Glockmire, and why the old monster was so happy to have an heir.
Cole had only heard of an Alukah in reading historical and religious texts. This was not something he knew how to face. Even if he was a Paladin, he had gained that status more on the merit of being immortal than his skill. Nothing he could think of would let him stop such a monster if it were unleashed. The only semi-sane solution to this madness was what Lord Glockmire planned.
Except that wasn’t something, Cole could easily accept. He didn’t know what imbibing that sort of power might do to Natalie. Would there be anything left to her when the process was finished? Or just a true monster wearing her corpse? Duty and burgeoning love fought each other inside the failing Paladin.
In desperation, Cole begged his captor to intercede. “You can’t let this happen, Dietrich! Take the power for yourself; use it as Drakovich wishes.”
In response, the Scarlet Knight put his foot down harder on Cole’s neck. Glockmire had apparently heard Cole’s words and answered the question. “I’ve discussed this at great length with Sir Dietrich. I set this in all motion. Someone not of my blood will have little chance to succeed in absorbing the Alukah. And giving this power to a Fledgling is ideal. It would take an Elder Vampire years to unlock the full potential of the Alukah. My Grandscion is barely a day sired; it will take her centuries to master the power. Time for the Archduke to take her under his wing and keep her under his control. This is the best situation for all of us, including you, Rest-Bringer. I’m sure my Grandscion will have no qualms keeping you as hers once this is all over.”
Quietly, a soft voice cut off Glockmire. Hand atop the coffin, Natalie spoke. “My name is Natalie Striga. I had no choice in becoming a Vampire, and I will have no choice in this matter. So have the grace to call me by my own JAGGING NAME!”
Venom filled Natalie’s words as she finished, and she glared at Glockmire. The old monster looked momentarily surprised, then outraged, then finally amused. “Yesssss, I believe that much is owed Gran- Natalie.”
Nodding her head curtly, Natalie asked the elder Vampire. “If I take this power, will I be able to kill Petar?” Then, in a smaller, almost pleading voice, she added, “And will I be able to see the Sun again?”
Grandsire and Grandscion locked eyes for a long moment, neither hampered by the need to blink. In an almost purring tone, Glockmire answered. “Yes to both, dear Natalie. The night will be yours to rule, and the day will be yours to enjoy.”
Natalie sucked in a deep useless breath and made her decision. If she was to live as a monster, she would make the best of a bad decision. Never breaking her stare with Glockmire, refusing to look at Cole, Natalie agreed. “Alright, what do I need to do?”
Instead of responding, Glockmire raised his hands to his mouth and, in two quick gestures, cut open his wrists. Rivulets of black blood started to drip from the wounds. Glockmire thrust his right hand into the Sarcophagus’s crack. A low, pained moan escaped the elder Vampire as his blood intermingled with the darkness inside the stone coffin. The temperature dropped even lower, and Cole could see his breath puff out in icy clouds. Straining against some unseen force, the old Lord raised his left hand towards Natalie. The black, tar-like blood of the Vampire hadn’t traveled far and barely dribbled from Glockmires wrist.
Some terrible instinct told Natalie what she needed to do. The curse infesting her mind, body, and soul recognized what was being offered. The dreadful act of consuming another Vampire and the power that went with it. Looking at the dark blood and the desiccated flesh of Glockmire, Natalie hesitated. For a moment, she doubted if she could truly do this. That doubt died as a recent memory flashed through her mind. The sight of her father, his innards ripped apart by Petar, the Vampire standing above the good man he killed. Cold hate rose up Natalie’s still heart, and she took the plunge.