Night Kings: The Complete Anthology (13 page)

“Brothers and sisters,” bellowed the hot
tempered Bernhard, “the wolf inside brings me here as it does all
of you. A storm approaches, one unlike we’ve ever felt before. All
of us can sense its arrival. We have for some time. Still, we do
nothing to stop its spread. We let it fester. We let it grow beyond
the natural order.”

He looked out across the somber faces of his
pack mates. For decades Bernhard ruled over these men and women. He
saw them through skirmishes, border disputes, and the rare
possession, but not once had he seen them through a war. None would
admit to the fear and yet there wasn’t one Bernhard looked upon
that didn’t showcase that fear to him.

“Shall we hand Salem over to the vampires?”
he asked overtop a round of derision from the wolves below. “That’s
what we do now by not taking a stand. We hand the city over to them
on a silver platter. I say no more! I say we take back the grounds
that once belonged to us and we do it with the vampire queen’s
beating heart in hand! With the blood mark we shall see our oldest
foe banished from this world!”

The blood marking was an ancient ritual
amongst werewolves with roots back to the lycan years when they
were still more monster than man. Though they had shed their more
feral lycan instincts, werewolves were still bound to their
traditions, for those traditions were what separated them from
their undead counterparts. They were the monsters that understood
what it meant to be human.

That human part would hold no sway over them
on the next full moon. Through the moon’s grace they would lose
themselves to the monster and through the ritual’s temperance they
would channel the monster in proper direction.

A thumping hymn to the pack master broke out
amid the families of the Wendish dynasty. They beat on their chests
and stomped on the ground for Bernhard, for their pack, and for the
ill-fated lady in red they believed would soon depart from this
world.

A howl to the moon gods above saw Bernhard
raise a hand in the sky and then stab into the meat of his chest
with the claws of his wolf. Blood poured down to the oak below and
stirred the rest of the pack into frenzy. While their thoughts
lingered on the feast of a queen, Bernhard’s went to one of a less
lofted position.

The esteemed mayor of Salem, Victor Dukane,
had uncovered the truth of their kind and their presence within the
city. He knew Victor better than most. Bernhard knew that if he
didn’t act soon it would be him that fell to obscured blade. While
his mind loitered on the inevitable, another of Bernhard’s pack
seized the opportunity before them and took a authoritative
position over the pack’s dejected youth.

“I plan to kill a dozen with my own hands!”
Kaleb Ramsey barked next to his pack master. “How many wolves will
stand up and make the same claim as me—?”

A guttural rumble from the belly of Bernhard
Wendish saw the towering youth down from the overturned oak tree
and back to his family. Kaleb felt ashamed that he’d been scolded
in front of the entire pack, but beyond that shame there was anger
to gnaw at him.

“I’d like to see you attempt such foolishness
again,” chided his sister with a soft hand across his neck. “Maybe
then you’d get the swift kick in the butt you’ve been looking
for.”

Leanne Ramsey was the polar opposite of her
gargantuan brother. She was of fair complexion with strawberry
blonde hair that cascaded down her slender frame. She looked over
her shoulder to the back of pack. There, a roughed up Lukas Wendish
leaned against a shadow and a tree. Her heart went to the
disparaged heir and the troubles he’d yet to recover from. She
always cared for him and yet knew it could never be. Ever since
they were children his heart belonged to another.

“You mock me in public?” Kaleb asked, taken
aback and visibly wounded by his sister’s comments. He turned his
focus to what captured Leanne’s interest. When he came upon Lukas
Wendish, his nostrils flared and brow sunk low. The appeal of
public challenge filled him with spiteful thoughts, but the
indignity of such a lopsided victory kept him from the edge of open
warfare.

“I’d rather the heir have died,” he
growled.

Leanne looked back at her brother with
concerned eyes. “You mean no such thing.”

“You know, dear sister,” said Kaleb with eyes
still locked on Lukas, “that remains to be seen.”

Lukas stood apart from his brother and
sisters, but not by choice. To the proud werewolves some scars
could not so easily revealed. The scars Lukas bore were of the
darkest nature, so he kept others at bay in fear they would learn
of the inner turmoil that clawed at him still.

He overheard what was said of him, not just
from the Ramsey tribe, but of all the other families his father
oversaw. Their words cut through him as deep as the wounds his
mother inflicted the day earlier. He overheard every comment, but
he wasn’t the only one that did.

“You should be mindful of the brawny one up
front,” his mother said as approached from the rear. “If he senses
weakness he may try and sway others to his favor.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t be foolish,” whispered Aubrey into his
ear. “You’re a child no more. Others will test your authority as
the next leader. Your father won’t always be around to keep our
family at the head of this pack. That burden will rest upon your
shoulders one day. You must prove yourself worthy or face austerity
by those that wish to command power. That is the way of our people.
That is how it must be.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” said his mother, “for all our
sakes.”

To those of the Wendish clan, Bernhard was
husband and father, but to all werewolves in Salem he was known as
pack master. Tonight he would lead them and with a howl to the
sunken moon above he let all his wolves know where his intentions
lay. They would run and they would hunt. They would know what it
means to be free. For in only a few weeks, when the moon became
full, this was a pack that would be at war.

Soon all the werewolves of the pack began to
tear through what little clothing they had on. Flesh tore and blood
splattered across every inch of the ground of the were-grounds.
Amid the cries of agony from the men and women the monsters inside
each of them came out.

“Join us?” Aubrey asked.

Lukas shook his head disparagingly. “If only
I could, but I fear my wolf is in too rough a shape to keep
pace.”

Aubrey Wendish brushed the silvery strands
from her face and looked back at her only child with sadness in her
eyes.

“I never wanted this for you,” Aubrey said
with a soft kiss on his cheek. It wasn’t often she showed the
traits one considered weak among their pack, but she would do
whatever it took to see Lukas succeed in this world. No matter how
much it tore her apart.

“I know,” Lukas said. “Go on. You don’t want
to find yourself too far behind. I’ll wait for the two of you at
home.”

Aubrey took her son in hand and gave him one
final goodbye kiss on the cheek. She left him in the darkness and
moved towards the yellow light from dozens of turned werewolves.
With their pack master to lead them the wolves passed through the
veil of darkness that surrounded.

That left Lukas alone in the woods he once
coveted so much. It was in his newfound solitude Lukas that
realized that for the first time in days he was able to enjoy these
woods without friend or foe to force his hand. He returned home to
await his family in solace, where he could be neither bothered nor
scorned by any of his kind. Not until the black veins of the lady’s
possession finally relinquished their grip upon his body.

It would take days for Lukas to return to his
normal self. Days he would soon find that he didn’t have. The time
of the vampire queen was already at hand.

Chapter Twenty Four

Night Kings: Dayside

Gregory Blackman

Once Friendly Faces

It was the last stop for Remus Castalon.
Night’s End. It was off the beaten track and the only place in
Salem he could find solitude from the lady in red. A fresh supply
of bear blood and the hardest liquor this side of the globe didn’t
hurt matters, either.

It was common for Remus to sit down in the
furthest reaches of the Night’s End and enjoy the peace afforded to
a vampire as infamous as the man in black. That peace wasn’t born
of fear or hatred but of reverence. In a room full of cutthroats
and killers he was untouchable one. He was the one they feared even
in death.

Tonight wasn’t a common occurrence for the
man in black. Nor was it for the shadowy patrons of the Night’s
End. He would come in, speak to none, and back out before dawn
would rise overhead. For when the Night’s End saw its peak hours,
sunlight reigned, and Remus was nowhere to be found. He had better
things to do than rub elbows with monsters of lower caste.

Sunlight wasn’t the bane to kindred the world
was led to believe. For vampires the sun’s rays had a draining
effect powerful enough to nearly cripple all but the strongest of
kindred over an extended timeframe. Yet, for a race that never
slept it was those hours they would take to libations. The Night’s
End was that place for the monsters of Salem. That’s why Remus
chose it for last.

He went from vampire to vampire in search of
an ally to bear his cross one final time, but there was only one
response he received from all those in attendance. None dare
question the lady’s will.

“You’ve got to be out of your mind to go
after the bitch,” said the bronze-skinned vampire that sat across
from the man in black. “She’ll tear you to shreds; tear your
lineage to shreds and any that dared share a drop of blood with
you.”

“You give our queen too much credit, Akil,”
said Remus with a crooked smile. “She is flesh and blood. No
different than you or I.”

“Royal blood,” Akil said with a disgruntled
snort. “I know better than to tie myself to another of your kind.
One is plenty for this dusty footed traveler.”

“Don’t I know it,” Remus said.

The two of them met in the early
18
^th
century during a raid on one of the vampire queen’s
primary holdings in Alexandria. Reapers descended upon the fortress
from all sides and threatened not just the life of Remus Castalon,
but others of his royal bloodline. Many died in the assault. Many
more would’ve fallen in their wake had it not been for the actions
of the younger kindred in the surrounding city that came to aid
their monarchy in its time of need.

Akil Fayed was one of those vampires and it
was there he caught the affections of one Corina Petravic, second
life sister to the man in black, and dark daughter of the vampire
queen herself. It was a union born of hellfire and one that burned
hot with passion. Now that Remus looked upon the man’s wearied face
he saw it was a union that burned out long ago. He didn’t have the
monster needed to tame her heart left in him.

“What could be valuable enough to risk
certain death?” Akil asked. “I might not know the real you, but I
know you better than the rest of this lot. The crown doesn’t
concern you. It never has. Your sister, on the other hand, she
coveted that crown with an unholy obsession. I would expect this of
her. Not you.”

“What I want is of no concern to you,” Remus
said as he rose from his seat. “Not if I walk alone.”

“I hope she’s worth it,” Akil grumbled into
his collared shirt. It was barely audible to vampires, but Remus
wasn’t any normal vampire and picked up on it immediately. What
Remus failed to realize at the time was that Akil knew that better
than any other vampire just how precise his hearing was.

“What did you say?” Remus asked.

“Whatever your reason,” said Akil as he
sipped on his chalice, “I hope it’s worth such an assured
fate.”

After countless dens Remus Castalon figured
his odds in finding those eager to join ranks with him slim to
none. What he didn’t count on was that
she
had gotten to
them first. Akil knew far more than he would let on.

“Goodbye, my friend,” said Remus. “Pray that
we do not meet in the battle that’s to come.”

With those words Remus saw himself from the
shadowed corner of the Night’s End. The conversation had shaken
him, but it wasn’t until his eyes rose to those around that Remus
received the full understanding of the trap that had been laid for
him. In the dimly lit barroom there was a sea of red eyes and they
all rested upon the man in black. Friends were not likely to be
found at the Night’s End. Remus knew that before he entered. What
he didn’t expect to find were that the enemies were already at his
doorstep.

Chapter Twenty Five

Night Kings: Dayside

Gregory Blackman

Surrogate Mothers

Familiar woods never felt so foreign to the
young Gemma Kohl. She was far south of the city limits, so distant
that not even the shimmering light that was Collard Industries was
there to guide her path. It was a place that once brought joy to so
many, human and forest critter alike, now deserted of all life
except for that of the screeching crows above. There was darkness
here. Darkness that wasn’t here the last time she paid a visit to
these hallowed grounds.

The air that surrounded choked her a little
at a time until she could no more breathe than see beyond her shaky
hands. A disconcerted nervousness broke out within her that caused
her elbows to quiver and knees to buckle. She had come to this
place for the noblest of intentions. That’s what she believed, but
now that she came face to face with the devastation of her most
scared land it was a decision she now questioned.

Despite such reservations, Gemma pressed on
in fear of what loomed over her city, unseen, yet felt within every
crack, seam, and shadow. There were none that knew it better than
these trees. Something, or someone, had upset the balance of
nature. It corrupted outward from the stone structures of downtown
to the once untouched lands of oak she found herself now.