Chapter X. The Duty of the Damned
X
THE DUTY OF THE DAMNED
“‘WE DID NOT speak for almost half a year after that.
“‘Wulfric was a creature of ever-changing mood, as I said. When he was of good cheer, it seemed the moons came out from behind the clouds. But a fate even worse than having him angry with you was to simply be overlooked, and so he did me, for nearly six months after I’d mentioned his affair with my mama.
Instead, my master lavished attention upon his other servants, and left me in the cold.
Not abused. Not berated. Simply ignored.
“‘Truth told, this suited my fellow acolytes just fine. Big dull Aleks was never cruel to me as such, but nor was she particularly enamored of my company back then. She called me Uglygirl—mostly because she couldn’t remember my name, I suspect—and treated me less like a comrade and more an amusing, if unattractive, housepet.
“‘She was a strange creature, to be sure. Aleks’s blood was Dyvok, and she was as frightening strong as any fledgling of her kin. But decomposition had damaged her brain before she Became, her intellect little more than a child’s.
I’d asked Wulfric why he’d taken a creature so afflicted into his service, and he’d told me God loved all his children, that Aleks deserved a chance at salvation.
I admired him for that. But in hindsight, I think it was not charity that drove my master to bring Aleks into the Faith.
Truth is, Wulfric had a fondness for surrounding himself with hideous things, so he’d feel less hideous by contrast.
“‘Percival was a different fish entire. Sly and sharp as knives. He was younger than I when he Became. Six years spent living, and just two decades Dead. I thought we might find common ground in that—my own body trapped just shy of womanhood’s shore. But Percival treated me like an interloper, a competitor for Wulfric’s affections.
He called me Rattrap, mocking me for my refusal to feast upon mortals when I’d first arrived.
And though I’d now embraced the notion of being that which God made me, plunging face-first into the red river of murderers and rapists and thieves in San Yves, still he didn’t let me forget.
Squeaking like a mouse as I passed by and leaving dead vermin in my coffin as gifts. ’”
“Coffin?”
The historian looked up from his tome, one brow raised.
“You slept in a coffin? What on earth for?”
The Last Liathe shrugged, dragging one fingernail along oil-slick stone.
“A reminder from Wulfric. He’d cast us in the role of the righteous.
Stalking the San Yves streets, hunting for the evil, the impious, the cruel and corrupt.
It would’ve been easy to fall in love with the power we wielded and the terror we instilled, thinking ourselves chosen of God.
But crawling into those rough pine boxes every dawn—no cushions, no comforts—we were left with no illusions as to what we were. Not blessed, but damned.
“‘Yet even though Percival and I shared little kinship, I’d begun to glean there was more to all this—beyond the murder of evildoers, of God’s retribution in us.
Those travel-stained wanderers Wulfric trucked with.
The way he searched the night sky as if it held some hidden secret.
Percival dropped little crumbs to let me know he knew more than I; about some great war between vampires long past, some sacred trust of which we were all a part.
But it was not until my master gathered us in his great library one wintersdeep eve I truly understood the scope of it.
The terror and joy of it. For it was that eve he revealed the true purpose of the Esana, handed down from Illia to us.
The promise in those words I’d heard him so often say, but never explain.
“‘Judgment Comes.
“‘A great blow hath been dealt to the west, he told us. A great evil sent to dwell with the Fallen in hell. But Tolyev’s brood have scattered in the wake of his fall, and three have washed up here in the City of Spears. Brought to salvation by God’s own providence.
“‘Three Dyvok. Little Percival smiled then, mouth full of razors. Near enough for all.
“‘Aleks grinned, Dead eyes alight. Drink, Master?
“‘Aye, he said, smoothing back her hair. Thou shalt drink. Reward for faithful service.
“‘She ran a hand over her moldered skin. Aleks be better?
“‘Wulfric nodded, but his face remained stern. They seem young in the blood, my liathe. Hope not for much. But aye, if not whole, thou shalt at least be better.
“‘I frowned at that, not quite understanding his meaning. But Aleks turned me, unbridled joy in her eyes. Uglygirl, too? Be better? Be pretty?
“‘Nay.
“‘Wulfric fixed me with eyes cold as winter.
“‘Celene still hath much to learn.
“‘I bowed to his will, my gaze downturned. I played the role of dutiful servant as I’d done for months, hoping to regain his favor, to learn more of all this—what I was, and how my soul might be saved. But most, I avoided defying Wulfric for fear he might enter my mind, pry beyond my surface thoughts. For while I followed his teachings and repeated his prayers and called him Master, truth was, I’d been defying him for months.
“‘We are not their kind.
“‘I’d not meant to, I swear it. My intention to obey my master was pure. But returning from murdering a pair of fleshpeddlers with Percival and Aleks one eve, I’d heard it, drifting over the city skyline like perfume—that music again, digging like the sweetest hook into my flesh.
I’d begged off my comrades’ company and followed the sound, though my feet already knew the way.
Iron to starstone. Fated to fate. And in the snow beneath his balcony, I’d stood again and listened to Laurent Durand play.
“‘I wish I could describe it for you. But in truth I’ve neither words nor heart to. He played hymns mostly, and his music was a doorway from the blood-drenched nights in which I dwelled, back to an age of innocence. I was washed clean in it, borne beyond any earthly concern, any monstrous duty. Laurent’s music was proof that even in a world dark as ours, beauty still shone the brighter.
The miraculous happened every day. God had not turned his face from me.
“‘From that night forth, I’d stolen out twice a week to hear him practice. Standing beneath his window, cheeks anointed by bloody tears. Some nights I’d wait until he was done, walking out to his balcony, blind eyes upturned to the heavens he praised.
But most nights my heart simply wouldn’t take it, and I’d flee like a thief before I had to look at him.
“‘This was foolish, and I knew it.
“‘More, I knew the risk I took, disobeying my master. And so I kept my visits secret, all thoughts of them hidden, following obediently as Wulfric swept out into the night now, Percival and Aleks beside him. The former was attired in his frockcoat and finery as always, but Aleks had left her nun’s habit behind, dressed in leathers and a hooded cloak to cover her rot-mottled skin.
I knew not what was to come, only that my fellow acolytes were near euphoric, Aleks scruffing my hair like a puppy, Percival even going so far as to smile at me.
“‘The Dyvok were out on the hunt as we arrived at their lair—a storehouse once used for livestock, now cold and empty. Two thralled Ossian thugs stood guard outside the doors, slouching in the shadows of packing crates and pipe smoke.
“‘Have you seen my mama?
“‘The pair looked up as Percival approached, voice thick with tears.
“‘Please, messieurs, I’ve lost my mama …
“‘The larger thug scowled, growling for the “boy” to get gone. But the second—a rougher, crueler-looking gent—told his fellow to calm himself, approaching the lost waif with a smile. Mistress likes the little ones, mayhaps she—
“‘He got no further, neck snapped clean in Percival’s little hands.
Aleks slipped from the shadows, rising up behind the second thug and breaking his spine before he could cry out.
Bloodless deaths, you see—no murder on the wind to alert the Untamed.
And with a nod from Wulfric, we dragged the bodies inside and settled in to wait.
“‘Not long.
“‘I smelled them before I heard them, crouching in the rafters above. Aleks was beside me, rocking back and forth in the grip of some quiet elation I didn’t yet understand.
Percival was hid in the dark above the doors, Wulfric alongside him; a monster from some faerytale come to life, voice ringing in the halls of our minds.
“‘Strike swift. No cruelty. Always remember that communion is a sacred act. We spare these souls perdition this night. They should not suffer through salvation.
“‘His eyes fixed upon mine then, his thoughts in my own.
“‘Watch and learn, Petit Monstre.
“‘His gaze fell on the warehouse doorway as it creaked open. Three figures entered, drenched in the stink of cheap flesh and cheaper perfume. They’d been feasting upon the drunk, I could tell that in an instant—the intoxication within their victim’s blood passed on to them who’d stolen it, all three of them stumbling.
“‘A slender rake with a curled moustache, silvered with age.
A short woman, freckled skin and blue eyes, her laughter sharp as a broken bottle.
A brawny slab of beef armed with a heavy longblade, thick beard still stained with blood.
This last tripped and almost fell as he followed his comrades inside, growling as he peered about the warehouse.
“‘Remy? Told you to stand watch, if you and Mac’ve got whores in here again—
“‘Remy is indisposed.
“‘The trio whirled about as Wulfric dropped from overhead, standing now between them and the doorway. The slab of beef drew his blade, the rake a cleaver from his doublet.
“‘The bleeding fuck are you? Slab growled.
“‘We are deliverance. For thee and all our accursed kind.
“‘… We?
“‘The woman looked up, Aleks and Percival and I flocked in the rafters like crows at a funeral. And in that moment, Wulfric struck, so swift and silent I barely saw him move.