Chapter 25
I knelt on the cold stone floor of the abbey’s chapel, the olive-wood rosary slipping through my fingers.
Beside me, prayed Desiderius and Catherine.
The only two in my flock who remained dedicated to our path.
From what I’d seen in Gallow’s notes, Catherine was resistant to the treatments.
So were James and Michael. However, unlike the others, she’d been open to my message of redemption path from the start.
“Lord who walks with us in darkness,” I whispered. “Guide our steps when we cannot see the path before us.”
Catherine’s lips moved in silent echo, her face contorted on account of the pain that prayer still caused her, being so new to our path.
Desiderius remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the battered crucifix above the altar, his expression betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.
The familiar rhythms of devotion continued between us, yet I could not stop my eyes from darting toward the chapel entrance each time the wind rattled the damaged doors.
I expected Lieutenant Dupont would show, but he never did. Had he been discovered? Given how soon we were to embark on our mission, why would he disappear now?
The absence of the others weighed on me more heavily than the mission itself. Especially Ruth and Rebecca, my progenies, who’d been with me since nearly the beginning. Even my sire bond, it seemed, wasn’t enough to counteract the influence of Dr. Gallow’s “treatments.”
My mind drifted to the bishop. I’d agreed to this to protect him. I owed him that. But had it come at the expense of the majority of those souls I’d sworn to guide and protect? At least most of those who’d volunteered to join this team in an effort to spare the Bishop public exposure?
“Haven’t seen him in several hours,” Desiderius observed softly, his eyes never leaving the crucifix. “The Frenchman.”
I lowered my gaze back to my rosary. “He knows things about us, about the Order. Things that could help us survive what’s coming.”
“If he knows such things, then he is not what he appears to be,” Desiderius replied. “And that makes him dangerous, regardless of whose side he claims.”
Catherine shifted beside me, her eyes finally opening. “I can feel them coming,” she whispered. “The others. They... they don’t feel like themselves anymore.”
Before I could respond, the chapel doors swung open with a force that sent dust cascading from the damaged ceiling.
Captain Mercer stood framed in the entrance.
Behind him, like shadows of themselves, stood the remainder of my flock—Ruth and Rebecca at the front, their postures identical and unnaturally still, Thomas and the others arranged behind them like soldiers on a march.
“Prayer time is over,” Mercer announced. “It’s ten minutes past Moonrise. Final inspection in the courtyard. Now.”
I rose slowly, keeping my movements measured despite the anger burning within me. “We’ll be there shortly, Captain.”
“You’ll be there now,” he demanded. “Dr. Gallow needs to administer final treatments to those who haven’t yet received them.”
Catherine tensed beside me. “I won’t take it,” she whispered. “I can’t. It makes everything... empty.”
Mercer’s hearing was as acute as mine. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on Catherine. “The treatments aren’t optional, Sister Catherine. They’re necessary for the mission’s success.”
“They’re necessary for control,” I countered. “Not for the mission’s success.”
Something dangerous flashed across Mercer’s face—a momentary crack in his disciplined facade that revealed centuries of predatory instinct barely contained beneath his military bearing.
“We had an agreement, Alice,” he reminded me. “No theological objections. No debate. The mission proceeds as ordered.”
I met his gaze steadily, though everything within me wanted to scream defiance. “And I will honor that agreement. But forcing treatments on those who haven’t consented isn’t part of our arrangement.”
The vampires behind him stood unnaturally still, their eyes fixed forward, their expressions vacant. Only in Rebecca’s face did I catch a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps, or the ghost of regret buried beneath a chemically induced haze.
“Courtyard,” Mercer repeated. “Now.” He turned sharply and stomped away, the rest following in a march.
Desiderius placed a steadying hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “Be strong, sister. You are making the right choice.”
We followed at a distance, entering the courtyard where the full moon painted everything in shades of silver and shadow.
Dr. Gallow stood beside a field table laden with syringes containing amber liquid.
His spectacles caught the moonlight as he adjusted them with one finger, his clipboard tucked beneath his arm as always.
“Ah, the holdouts,” he observed with clinical detachment. “I’ve prepared special doses for you three—adjusted for your particular... resistance.”
“Save your poisons,” I hissed. “We don’t require chemical assistance to complete this mission.”
Mercer stepped forward before Gallow could respond. “Formation!” he barked, and the treated vampires arranged themselves in perfect rows. I took my place at the front with Desiderius and Catherine flanking me.
“Tonight’s objective is simple.” Mercer paced before us. “Infiltrate the German ammunition depot at Messines. Neutralize all personnel. Destroy the facility. No witnesses. No survivors. Complete destruction.”
I kept my face composed while my mind raced with conflict.
This was the mission I had agreed to—the price I had accepted.
At least he hadn’t pressed the point about the injections.
Minor victories. It didn’t change the fact we’d have to carry out this mission—somehow—without losing our souls in the process.
All I could do was pray for divine intervention, for some path that would allow us to complete our objective without becoming monsters.
“Move out,” Mercer commanded.
We departed the abbey grounds as one unit, our supernatural speed turning the rhythm of a march into something more like the buzz of a swarm of yellow jackets.
The war-torn landscape over which we traveled was a nightmare of shell craters, broken trees, and tangled barbed wire that might have slowed human soldiers but presented no obstacle to creatures like us.
As we ran, I glanced back once at the abbey’s silhouette against the night sky.
The chapel where I had prayed for guidance seemed small and fragile against the vastness of war.
Ahead lay Messines, and whatever fate awaited us there.
Whatever machinations of the Order would be revealed.
Whatever price my soul would pay for the choices I had made.
The German ammunition depot appeared in the darkness ahead of us, a sprawling complex of low concrete buildings surrounded by an array defenses—barbed wire, machine-gun nests, and patrol trenches carved into the earth.
I crouched at the edge of a blasted forest that provided our final cover, the scents of gunpowder and dead men’s blood reaching my heightened senses.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, had died on this battlefield already.
No wonder the General had resorted to sending us to accomplish an objective that human armies had apparently failed to achieve—at the cost of innumerable lives.
Moonlight spilled across the clearing between our position and the depot’s outer perimeter, illuminating the faces of patrolling German soldiers, unaware of the predators watching from the shadows.
Their heartbeats pulsed in my ears—a concert of life that once would have driven me to madness with hunger but now served only as a tactical assessment.
Twenty-eight men visible. Hundreds more inside.
“Perfect,” Mercer whispered on one knee. “They’ve increased security since our intelligence was gathered. More targets, but nothing we can’t handle.”
I watched a young sentry light a cigarette, the brief flare casting his boyish features in sharp relief.
He couldn’t have been more than seventeen—the same age Thomas had been when turned.
I looked away, focusing instead on the depot’s layout.
If we could frighten them, perhaps, and force their retreat, we might limit bloodshed.
Our orders only required we eliminate those within the facility.
Mercer rose to his feet, gathering us closer with a sharp gesture. “We divide here. I’ll lead the main assault force—Ruth, Rebecca, Thomas, James, and Michael—through the northern approach. We’ll eliminate the outer guard posts and create a diversion at the main entrance.”
His eyes moved over each vampire as he spoke their names, lingering briefly on Ruth and Rebecca.
They stood unnaturally still beside him, their postures identical, their expressions blank masks of compliance.
Ruth’s fiery temperament had been reduced to cold apathy.
Rebecca’s countenance had gone flat and lifeless.
“Alice,” Mercer continued, turning to me. “You’ll take Desiderius and Catherine through the eastern perimeter. Find the main storage facilities. Plant the charges. Meet at the rendezvous point one kilometer south after detonation.”
I nodded, accepting the explosive devices he handed me. The weight felt wrong in my hands—not physically heavy, but morally burdensome. I had agreed to this mission, had given my word to follow orders. But I was determined to find a way to minimize casualties.
I know why Mercer had charged us with this task.
It meant a lower likelihood of face-to-face, or fang-to-neck confrontations with German soldiers.
It allowed us to kill while maintaining the illusion that all we were doing was setting a fuse.
Even pulling a trigger at a distance is removed to some degree from killing a human being up close.
The end result was the same, perhaps even more deadly, which was precisely the horror of this new kind of war.