Chapter 6: The ghosts of demons past

“What’s your name?” I asked the warlock.

“Steve”, he said. “Before you give the marching orders, may I give a suggestion?”

I considered knocking him out where he stood. But I didn’t want to destroy our relationship before it even began.

“Speak up”.

“We need time to heal, to organize the warlock guilds, and to try and bring as many people and races as we can. Let’s use these twenty four hours to do that and then march on”.

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. We had an opportunity to unite all of Veritom, and it would be a huge waste to stop half way.

“Very well”, I said. “Whom can you bring?”

“I am third chair of the Blue Leaf guild, and have high ranking friends in the other guilds”.

I nodded. Blue Leaf was a medium sized warlock guild, one of five notable ones in Veritom.

“I’ll leave the warlocks to you”, I said.

“Sorry boss, but Bright Cheer won’t listen to me”.

“Very well. I’ll take Bright Cheer”, I said.

I turned to the others.

“Since you approached me, I assume you are also representatives”, I said.

They nodded. Except for the dryad, whose leaves moved slightly, as if in a gentle wind.

“I can represent clan Dru”, said the vampire.

“I am the eldest of five”, said the demon.

“Orc”, said the orc.

The dryad’s leaves fluttered on her head.

“Good”, I said. “I’ll gather my own family, and talk to Bright Cheer. I’ll contact the wolves, too”.

Bright Cheer was a unique warlock guild. Mostly in the sense that it was more of a religion. Many warlocks in history made contracts with powerful beings from underside, but they mostly did it individually. Bright Cheer, on the other hand, made some collective deal with a strange undersider they call Euphrosyne, though its real name is unpronounceable by human mouths. They call it their goddess, and in return for their worship receive spells, mainly of healing and light. Their services are used by many warlocks, but they aren’t friendly with some guild leaders.

I was never very religious. Vampire family, remember? But I can’t judge religious people because, frankly, I don’t understand them. I understand the need to belong, to think one is loved by something divine, but personally, I can sum it all up as “weakness”. I don’t know if you have religious faith, and I don’t want to offend you. I’m just trying to explain to you the inner workings of Veritom. And of me, for that matter.

Warlocks are usually selfish and power hungry, which is why their choice of ceremony and community is often based on utility. So, when an undersider offers power in exchange for worship, there will always be warlocks to take the deal. Only this undersider, Euphrosyne, is surprisingly fitting for the role of a deity. I told you the underside is a wild place, but that doesn’t make it evil. Good and evil are human terms, as much as some humans try to deny it. But that doesn’t mean I trust this deity. Because unlike God, undersiders do not want what’s best for humanity – if they can even understand us at all.

The underside is full of magical energy, and most creatures there require it in order to live. That’s why most undersiders cannot (or will not) cross over to our world. And that’s why they try to influence us indirectly, with magical deals or with half-demons like the vampires.

“I’m off”, Steve said. “There’s the funerals, too”.

True. I killed people today. You probably don’t like that. What can I tell you, other than that we live in very different worlds? I know your stories are full of heroes who fight dangerous battles with no casualties, or that every death of an enemy comes from the lack of any other choice, but that’s not how my world works. The best I can do is tell you this: we do have rules. They are tribal rules and mob rules, yet they are still rules. Had I killed some of the warlocks running away from the pub, no one would have accepted me. But I challenged them, and some accepted. They even attacked first. That was a fair fight among warlocks and undersiders, similar to my duel with the alpha Fenori. My world is violent – and I accept it as such. And as I told you before, I am not a good guy.

Blank my face and blank my heart

I could feel my emotions settle. Not only did I kill, I’ve also hurt Jack. A human being might feel bad. But I was a vampire.

“Lets go, Frank”, I said as I went outside.

Frank came after me, and looking at him I noticed he seemed fully healed. Did they heal him too? Or was it his own ability? Another point to the troll hypothesis, since they are known to heal very fast.

I turned to him. “Go tell Cecile what happened here. Tell her all of Veritom marches on the Throne and on Council tomorrow night. Tell her that, then stay there for the night. Talk to Rachel, tell her you like her. She’ll do the rest.”

Frank looked at me. I could see a range of emotions on his face: excitement from the fight, sadness for the dead, desire for Rachel, resolve to stay by my side.

“You did good, Frank. Any blame is mine”, I said.

“Frank will stay with Day-walker”, he said.

I looked at him and smiled.

“Good to hear it. And I’ll need your help – tomorrow. Tonight, go have fun”.

We parted ways, temporarily, as I made my way to Bright Cheer. On the way I stopped at the werewolves, simply to inform Fenori, who agreed to join us the next night.

There were more people in Veritom I could try to recruit. There used to be a fairy in Veritom, but I didn’t remember any details. And there was another one: the grave digger. But that will have to wait.

The church of Bright Cheer was well-lit, in a manner that would annoy most undersiders, not just the vampires. I entered without issue. I assumed there would be countermeasures, but perhaps there were only ones against undersiders. No warlock would attack Bright Cheer – no warlock had a reason to. They were peaceful, helpful, and without territorial ambitions.

They clearly took design inspiration from Christian churches, which I assume you know something about. I could try to describe it in more detail, but as I told you, I’m not much of a storyteller.

There weren’t many people inside at night time. I could only spot five. One man came to me, wearing a healing talisman around his neck.

“Can I help you, brother?” he asked.

“Yes”, I said. “I come as a messenger. Tomorrow night, Veritom Marches on the Throne and on Council, demanding answers regarding the shooting at the Argaman and the kidnapping of Jane and Marcus.”

The man nodded, thinking.

“Thank you for the message, but if you wish for Bright Cheer to join you, then I’m afraid we cannot. We worship her holiness, and we heal the wounded and sick. We do not take part in protests.”

I nodded slowly, accepting his words.

“I understand. But I wish to inform you that this is not a mere protest: warlocks, vampires, demons, dryads, werewolves, and orcs, all are coming together. All recognize that the peace we all cherish is in danger. If noble vampires can be kidnapped without repercussions, how certain can you be that Bright Cheer will remain safe? Can you be certain peace will not be lost completely?”

He thought for a long moment.

“Your words disturb me greatly. I must consult the elder and her holiness. Please, wait here.”

I waited. A lot. Eventually the man returned, accompanied by an old man and a young woman with a faint scar on her face.

“Day-walker”, the old man said as he saw me. His eyes spoke of personal recognition.

The more interesting reaction was the woman’s. For a short moment, I could see terror on her face. But it was just for a moment. Did she know of me? But why fear? Looking at her, she did not seem familiar.

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I could feel the tension in the three people standing before me, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Adam?” the woman said finally.

“Yes. Do I know you?”

She stared at me for another moment.

“No”, she said. “But I know of you. Of Jane. I saw you several times, years ago, but we never spoke to each other”.

She was a terrible liar. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not fit her face, her voice, or her body to any memory.

“You bring us dark news”, the old man said. “But we have verified them. We wish to send a representative with you”.

The old man I recognized, though I didn’t know his name. He was the same old man who had been in charge of this Bright Cheer church when I was younger. That was why I came here. There were a couple of other Bright Cheer churches in Veritom, but since this was the closest it was the one I had the most history with. Not religious history, of course. They just healed me a lot.

“I am very happy to hear”, I said. “Unity is important, if we wish to pressure the Throne without starting a war.”

The old man nodded. “Precisely. This is why we have decided to join. A united front, demanding the same justice we have had for so long that we have come to take for granted.”

The old man then turned to the woman, who nodded to him.

“I will join you, Day-walker”, she said to me. “My name is Helen. I will go with you tomorrow night, as a representative of Bright Cheer. May her holiness stand with us.”

I gave them all a brief bow.

“Before I leave”, I said. “Do you know of anyone else who might be interested in this news?”

I listed our current allies. The old man considered it.

“Flintrose”, he said eventually. “She is very old, and does not show herself anymore, but she was instrumental in establishing peace in Veritom centuries ago. This might be the right cause to convince her to appear. Both the Throne and Council respect her greatly, so she would make an invaluable ally.”

I recognized the name as soon as the man spoke it. As you might have guessed, it was the fairy.

“Where can I find her?” I asked.

The old man hesitated.

“She lives in a small house at the edge of town. But I must warn you: no one has seen her in more than a century, and even before that she was a very private individual. And she dislikes vampires, so perhaps it would be best for you not to mention your family”.

“How old is she?” I asked.

Cecile was more than two hundred years old, I believed. Perhaps she knew her. Then again, a fairy who hated vampires and who didn’t leave her house probably wasn’t too close to a vampire. Maybe to mom. Mom had a way of making friends with anyone.

The old man shrugged. “She was alive during the founding of Veritom two thousand years ago. Beyond that, I do not know”.

Two thousand years??? holy shit.

The vampire king of Veritom was about a thousand years old, and that might have just been propaganda. The strength of vampires grew with age, so advertising one’s age could be used to legitimize their position. Conversely, vampires who were not in positions of power (meaning the vast majority) rarely shared their age with others. The common exception was to threaten a warlock or another undersider. No one wanted to face an old vampire in combat.

The vampire I killed today was perhaps a few decades old (the one with the rune blade. her human body looked around twenty. And vampire age is counted from the day one becomes a vampire, not from human birth). Cecile, judging by her strength and what little I knew of her history, was probably above two hundred. As for mom… she rarely relied on her strength to achieve her goals. Thinking about it, perhaps she never had. The same goes to magic. And of her history I knew very little – stories she’d told me as a child, only to admit to me years later that they were all lies. How old was she? Thinking about it seriously, perhaps for the first time in my life, I realized I had no idea. Being my mom, my instincts told me she was the most powerful vampire in the world. But those were a child’s instincts.

Then I remembered the magical shadow version of the attack at the club, the one I recreated with a spell. I remembered mom blindingly biting at the armored neck of a human mercenary, failing to even knock him to the ground. Mom was weak. Perhaps there was a reason for it – perhaps some magic, a curse, or old poison, making her weak despite being old. Or perhaps she was young in vampire terms, and my childish dreams of a powerful mother were merely the dreams of every human child born to a mother with a strong presence.

The old man gave me an address. Trying to remember where it was, I realized the cemetery was on the way.

There was a man in Veritom’s main cemetery who had mastered the ability of speaking with ghosts. He was a warlock, more precisely a necromancer. We just called him the grave digger. He was a strange fellow, and I never had direct business with him before, to the best of my memory. But he had knowledge and power, and most importantly, the Throne treated him with respect. To put things in perspective: the Throne never treated mom with respect, and she was a minor noble from the same clan as the king and a pillar of the vampire community in Veritom.

I decided to pay him a visit. Between him and the fairy, gaining the support of even just one of them would contribute greatly to our cause – to rescuing mom.

The cemetery looked beautiful at night. Quiet, yet alive with subtle magical energy. I used to admire it from the outside many times as a child. I rarely went in, because it was the domain of the grave digger, and vampires avoided the place.

Passing through the gate, I noticed the beautiful grave stones, each in its own unique shape and style. The grave digger was also an artist, it seemed. The man lived in a small house on the grounds, an old cabin made of roughly cut wood.

I knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a man perhaps sixty years old, rough looking, lean yet muscular.

“A live one” he said quietly, as if speaking to a friend standing close by. “Need a body buried?”

“No”, I said. “I come bearing news. Warlocks and undersiders uniting against the Throne and Council, demanding justice for the attack on the Argaman.”

“He wants help fighting a war”, the man whispered, as if to himself.

“Not a war. An enforcement of the peace. Those who want war have already made their move, and the lack of response is threatening to destroy Veritom itself”.

“Come in, live one”, he said.

I entered. The house looked exactly as you’d imagine an old house owned by an old crazy loner would look like: dirty, broken, and in complete disarray.

The man poured some liquid into a glass and offered me. I refused as politely as I could.

“The dead speak of your actions tonight”, said the man. “They say you are the one destroying the peace”.

I swallowed. Fighting the grave digger was something I really didn’t want to do.

“Veritom is rotting”, I said. “Peace is threatened, yet no one reacts. I came to induce change in the community, to make them see what is happening to them. Those who died tonight have challenged me in battle. They did not die in their beds, and not from poison”.

The man nodded. “Yes. The dead do not lie. They have told me of it all, except for the end”.

“After they died, the others have agreed to join me. People of all races, warlocks, vampires, orcs, dryads, demons, and werewolves.”

The man looked intrigued for the first time.

“All standing together? Interesting. The dead say it happened before, a long time ago, when a war from underside threatened to come to Veritom. The people stood together, fighting against underside. Since then, there was peace.”

“When was this?” I asked. “And who fought on the other side?”.

The man scratched his head. “The dead do not lie, but old memories are faded from them. And from me, as well. It was a long time ago, hundreds of years perhaps. There was a plot by a demon from underside to cross over into our world and take Veritom as his property. He failed, of course.”

This sounded very familiar. But demons tried to cross over since the dawn of time. There was probably no connection to the current war in underside, and yet…

“Do you know the name of the demon?” I asked.

The man seemed lost in thought.

“I do not remember, but I can ask the dead”, he said. “For a price”.

“Is peace in Veritom not price enough?” I asked.

The man chuckled. “Does a doctor not take money for saving a life? Does a general not take money for leading an army to defend his country?”

I doubted I could convince him. And even if I could, it was a waste of time.

“Name your price, and I’ll make sure you receive it.”

“Hmm… a thousand pieces of enchanted gold.”

That was a small fortune, but nothing a talented warlock hasn’t seen. I owned artifacts more expensive than that.

“I promise you’ll receive it”, I said.

The man shook his head. “In advance”, he said.

“Sorry, I forgot my life’s savings at home.”

I could go back to the Argaman and get a loan from Cecile, then tomorrow ask the people to help cover the cost. But going all the way back before returning here would take time, and I wanted to make it to the fairy and then home before dawn.

“No deal then”, I said. “I’ll get my information elsewhere.”

The man chuckled again. “You’ll be back, we both know it. How about insurance, then? Your ring of lightning should cover the price. Once you have the money, come back and reclaim it.”

The ring was worth about one thousand pieces of enchanted gold. I started to wonder if the man had named this price precisely because he was after my ring.

“Very well”, I said. “But I will be back for it. And should it not be available, I will treat you as a thief”.

The man nodded. I removed my ring of lightning and handed it to him.

“Follow me”, the man said as he exited the cabin.

We walked for a minute or two before we arrived at a small building – a mausoleum. Inside of it was a single coffin-looking piece of stone.

“Lord Cortok”, the grave digger said. “A powerful warlock. He lived in… I’m not sure when. But he was the one who told me of the old war, that much I remember. I shall call on him to refresh my memory further.”

I started to think the man remembered everything, and was only doing this magical ceremony as an excuse to get paid.

The man began to mumble. I couldn’t make out the words. But the magical energy around him was unmistakable. It was a strange feeling, like when dreaming of someone long dead. As he spoke, mist gathered around the coffin, forming into the shape of a man.

“Why have you called me here?” the ghost demanded. “Leave me be!”

“Forgive me, Lord Cortok, but I come with a question. Should you answer, I will provide your grave with food and libation every day for a year.”

I’ve never heard of anyone making a deal with a ghost, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“Speak”, the ghost spat at the grave digger.

“Tell us of the old war, when a demon from underside attempted to cross over into the human realm and conquer the great city of Veritom.”

“Is that all?” the ghost asked, clearly annoyed. “Very well. The city of Veritom was founded in 44 A.D. It was a place for humans and udersiders alike. Its first ruler was the vampire demon Carmilla, a first generation vampire created by the progenitor. While other vampires and undersiders worked against humanity, feeding and killing like animals would, Carmilla attempted something new: an alliance of undersiders, still feeding on humans but in a controlled manner. Coexisting, like non-lethal parasites on the neck of humanity. But she failed. Humans did not wish to be fed on, and undersiders did not wish to be tamed by laws. The first great war began in 106 A.D., threatening to destroy all of Veritom. Then the residents, both humans and undersiders, realized the truth: that a total war will destroy both sides. That was when peace began. The human warlocks established their Council, and Carmilla gave up total control in exchange for an equal standing for vampires. This new development was not missed by the demons of underside. This peace was of no benefit to them. Seeing ahead, they knew humanity will only grow more and more civilized, and undersiders living in the human world were likely to undergo a similar change. So the demons felt they had no choice but to attack. To cross over to the human world and destroy Veritom, as an example to humans and undersiders everywhere. They attacked in 863 A.D., with a demon named Abrakshas attempting to cross over in full force. He was stopped by Carmilla and Council, his army prevented from crossing. The demon himself was held in place by Carmilla, who lost her life while delaying his crossing until Council could block the passage into our world. I, Lord Cortok, had been alive from year 1011 to 1132. I did not witness the war, but have researched it extensively. At the time of my death, there was peace in Veritom. Now, leave me be!”

The grave digger murmured a few words, and the misty ghost faded away.

I knew most of the story, but not the details. As I told you, vampires aren’t much for sharing, and I didn’t have access to warlock libraries.

If the same demon was attempting to cross again, that would mean it’s this Abrakshas. But so far, I had no reason to think there was a connection. Since the demon attempted to cross before, it made sense he’ll take part in this current war. But that didn’t mean he was the one leading it, or the one attempting to cross. But it was a start. Having formed new connections in the community, I could ask the two demons I’ve fought at Jack’s if they knew any history, and I could ask a few warlocks to look Abrakshas in their records. It was more than a start – it was a strong lead. No matter who was leading the current war, this demon had to be a part of it, assuming he was still alive. No one would give up the chance to utilize the experience of the only demon in thousands of years who almost made it into the human world.

“I believe it will happen again”, I told the grave digger. “Will you join us, knowing a true demon might be on his way?”

The grave digger was silent for a moment. I knew what he was about to say.

“For the right price”.

“Then meet us tomorrow night. We will surely have a meeting before we march, and I’m certain all will agree to hire your services.”

“Then I will be there. But I will not march with you until my pay is settled”.

“You have deal”, I said. “And bring my ring with you. I’ll need it back”.

With that, I was off to see the fairy.