Vlad closed several of the floating holograms in front of him and stood from his chair, an old throne of some French Noble who thought to ascend to King before he met the end of a spear. It was a nice chair, if a bit obnoxious looking. Too much gold inlay, not enough red upholstery but it was built to be comfortable. Something a throne should never be. Vlad walked to the right side of the cabin’s main floor, next to the elevator’s entrance. He raised his right hand in front of his chest, palm facing up and issued a command.
“Dezvălui.”
The tapestry hanging from the wall rolled itself up and a metal panel concealed behind it slid open to reveal a simple, red rotary phone. The rotary function itself was pointless as the phone dialed only one number and did that automatically. He picked up the phone’s wired handset and listened as it dialed, waiting for a random, ranking security officer to answer.
“Security code.” Said a voice that sounded alarmed to receive a call.
“Vlad, Omega one-four-two-eight.”
“Connecting now sir.” The security officer said with a trembling voice.
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Eighteen hundred miles to the southeast, a ringing phone was answered by a groggy and obviously aged voice. “This better be important, I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in two days.”
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“Remember your station, Ronnie. You are the President of the United States of America and should conduct yourself with more decorum. I would not lower myself to speak to you if it were not important. Now, listen carefully. Someone from my original alma mater has cast a spell of a colossal magnitude. It originated somewhere in South America but expanded to encircle the rest of the planet. I have Stefan looking into it now. I cannot be sure what the results of the spell were, but the country and its allies must be on high alert. Get your little spies’ eyes peeled and inform me of anything they find. You have my permission to contact me directly.”
“Understood, POTUS out.”
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Stefan fed a small black orb made from a porous stone some stored blood from sub-basement three. The orb was a gift from the Weathermaker to be used for communication. Like many artifacts of power, it required some form of sacrifice or another, this one being the blood of five humans. Fortunately, the Master had many devoted donators so their stores wouldn’t notice the loss. Feeding the orb, the last bag of blood, an image of a saddled young man sprung into Stefan’s mind. The young man, who appeared to be no more than fifteen years of age smiled wide, showing his teeth, his overly large eyes reflected his smile. The image of the Weathermaker waved enthusiastically, then pulled on the reigns in front of his saddle.
“Stefan! What a pleasure to be contacted by the Right Hand of The Impaler! Is this about Damerian’s spell? Quite a bit of magic that was, it even got away from him! Mistakes will be made, however!” The Weathermaker said in a childish voice tinted with amusement.
“I offer greetings to the mighty Weathermaker. Indeed, this is about the spell. You say it was Damerian Claudiere? We thought he had perished but it makes sense. I suppose he was also behind the spell in nineteen-fifty then. Can you tell me the results of the spell?” Stefan said as he gripped the orb and started to make his way to sub-basement six.
The Weathermaker’s eyes began to flash with crackling electricity as he panned his head from side to side.
“Aha! The spell he cast was one meant to sacrifice a gathering, but something must have gone terribly wrong. Instead of killing his little crowd in Chile, it went wild all over the world. Oh wooooow, he really messed up. The people the spell hit did die but they were also reanimated! I haven’t seen a zombie in ages!” The Weathermaker said, his voice sounding more and more amused with each word.
“Zombies? How bad is it?” Stefan asked while simultaneously texting Natalie Fintest with instructions to start mobilizing V Industries Security forces and to start opening all V Industries locations with fallout shelters.
The Weathermaker’s image placed his index finger and thumb on his chin, miming a pose of deep thought. “Well, it isn’t bad for me at all, in fact, it is just the right bit of entertainment for me! It’s been too long since I’ve had something interesting to watch since your Master leashed the world. I would wager it is VERY bad for all the little humans down there though! It seems these zombies are quite potent! A single bite kills and creates a new zombie in just a few seconds! OH, THE DRAMA!”
Stolen novel; please report.
Stefan gripped the orb tightly in anger. The Weathermaker was more than five centuries old but acted like a child. How he attained the position of Weathermaker was beyond Stefan, he wondered how the balaur the Weathermaker rode hadn’t eaten him yet.
“Thank you for the information Weathermaker, I will take it to my Master immediately. May your journeys bring you fortune.” Stefan said with perhaps a bit more heat in his voice than intended. He immediately released the orb which dispersed the image of the Weathermaker and caught it before it fell to the ground. He didn’t believe it could break, but better safe than sorry.
By the end of the conversation, he had made it to sub-basement six where he looked at a seven foot long, decorated casket made of a polished black stone with gold inlay along every edge in the form of winged serpents. It rested above the ground on two posts made of the same polished black stone. The top of the casket had his Master’s Coat of Arms and inside it was his Master’s Regalia and spear.
After pause for reverence, Stefan pocketed the Weathermaker’s orb and reached beneath the casket to grab a metal handle that was added after its initial creation. He lifted the casket with one arm and positioned it to rest on the back of his right shoulder. He made his way back to the elevator to inform his Master of what he learned.
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Natalie Fintest technically did not need to sleep but she enjoyed it from time to time. Normally she would be vexed by her rest being disturbed but any thoughts like that vanished when she heard the tone of Stefan’s voice. The texts she received after the call made her more than a little curious but also motivated to see her instructions carried out.
She became a storm of calls and texts to her many subordinates. Her orders to gather forces and open the thousands of V Industries fallout shelters were being followed by the most loyal people to the company and therefore her Master. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, she would wait for instruction. If her Master truly was as angry as Stefan thought, she would be called into action and any information she lacked would be presented then. She was shaking with anticipation. It had been too long since she got to let loose.
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Vlad, the owner and CEO of V Industries, the largest conglomerate in the world, stood in the middle of dozens of two-dimensional, floating holograms presenting the faces of some the world’s most powerful leadership. Each of them waited patiently as Vlad explained to them that their militaries, police forces and other first responders must be on high alert due to a spell being cast. None of them, be they Prime Ministers, Presidents, Kings, Queens, or Emperors asked him any questions, they simply began their work.
As Vlad closed the calls, the elevator door opened and Stefan exited, awkwardly carrying his casket like a bookbag slung over one arm. It would have normally amused him but even that visual could not begin to extinguish the fires of fury burning in his mind. The impudence of this necromancer! Humanity is mine. I did not go through the effort to create this utopia only for some fool with a bit of magical knowledge to end the lives of those I protect.
Stefan lowered the casket slowly, making sure to not scuff it, or damage the rug under it. Vlad noticed the expression of his valued servant. He looked determined but also reluctant. The news he carried must truly be dire. Vlad nodded to Stefan once, giving him permission to speak.
“Master, the one who cast the spell was Damerian Cladiere. According to the Weathermaker, the spell went wild. It was supposed to have sacrificed the people near Damerian at the time, instead, it cascaded across the world. The Weathermaker also stated that every person it touched, died, and was reanimated as a zombie. According to the Weathermaker, these zombies are not normal, as their bites are instantly fatal, and reanimation begins within seconds. Damerian was last seen by the Weathermaker somewhere in Chile. I apologize for not asking for a more specific location but speaking with him is... Difficult. I also did not believe he would elaborate.”
“Bah, think nothing of it. That is why I had you speak to him. He was always too enthusiastic. The news however is interesting. Damerian Claudiere should have died centuries ago. How is he still alive? Never mind, it matters not, he will join those he affected with his spell soon enough. Bring up satellite imaging of Chile, focus on small heat signatures between one hundred and six and one hundred- and ten-degrees Fahrenheit. No matter how wild his spell went, it should have hit someone in the group he planned to sacrifice.”
Stefan nodded in acknowledgement and moved to the left side of the room where his work desk was located, his expression dour. Vlad understood. Zombies weren’t something one of his ability would normally worry about. He was, after all, immune to all bloodcurses and couldn’t be threatened physically by them. Normal humans, however, could and were being threatened by them. Humans Vlad spent the last several hundred years molding into carriers of blood that neared perfection. They were healthier than they would have been without him. They were able to lead happier, more fulfilling lives with Vlad pulling the strings of the world’s puppet leaders.
One thing that gnawed on Vlad’s thoughts was how something like this could have escaped his Sight. He looked far into the future on four separate occasions and never once did anything like this present itself. He looked well beyond even the current year of nineteen eighty-seven, three visions ago. Something changed every future he saw, and it wasn’t Damerian Cladiere. Damerian could have sacrificed a billion people and that should not have affected the outcome of his Sight. Of course, the previous spell had also escaped his visions. Something powerful was lurking behind the actions of the feeble necromancer and Vlad would have to be prepared to stop it. He couldn’t risk losing humanity.