THE QUESTERS, PART XV
"Be careful, Rahne," Faye growled at me. I could barely hear her over the rush of water against the ship's hull and the grumbling of our strange engines. Faye knew that I was poised midway between our world and the next and that has always frightened her.
I was crouched near the prow of the strange vampire ship, staring off into the distance. Faye was standing right behind me, with her hands on my shoulders. That was mostly to make sure that a stray wave didn't drag me overboard, but it was also for Faye's benefit. She was injured during our boarding action and needed help in keeping her balance.
Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath. Then, after a long moment, I opened my eyes again.
My mortal surroundings were now entangled with the world beyond.
The moon was up, but it was still low on the horizon. Behind us loomed the vast and empty expanse of the open ocean. Off to the west was land - I could smell it.
Deep in the bowels of the mastless ship, I could hear Alexander performing the rituals required to keep our captured vessel moving. They seemed to involve a lot of cursing.
Foam-flecked spray was being kicked up as the mastless ship cut through the water. It was cold and Beck took off her uniform jacket and carefully draped it around me. That was unnecessary but I appreciated the gesture. Beck and Smit had found their place in my pack and I took a moment to thank the Old One for sending them to me. I hoped they wouldn't die in my service. I particularly hoped that I wouldn't have to kill Smit. The demon in his Creed blood was strong and it was increasingly calling to him. When we first met, Smit was bizarrely talkative. Now he was becoming silent and withdrawn.
Behind us, sitting in a dazed mob, were the ex-prisoners of the vampires. I could tell that one of them was transforming into a vampire. Jonah and a female prisoner were sitting next to the near-vampire's unconscious form. Jonah was gently interrogating the woman. Hovering well overhead, Rose was watching carefully. Smit also watched the half-vampire - his hooded eyes filled with deadly focus.
When the moment of the final transformation came, I knew the vampire wouldn't survive very long. It was interesting that nobody moved to kill him while he was helpless. I suppose that was because he was still mostly a human boy, so killing him would be murder. But after he changed, his destruction would become an act that did honor to the natural order of our world.
The ghost of a dead girl, her naked form torn by vampire attacks, sat cross-legged by my side. She was all but insubstantial and I could barely feel her presence, even when she leaned against me. So far, she had said nothing but I knew that she had a role to play. There was something she wanted me to do, or perhaps something she wanted me to see.
Behind us, there was a scuffle of quick movement, followed by the scrape of metal on metal. A woman's voice cried out in despair, while other voices yelped in alarm. Rose cursed. Smit's claws snikted open.
The vampire had risen, but against the fury of my pack, it only lasted for a few seconds.
The woman next to Jonah was sobbing. Apparently the human form of the destroyed vampire had meant something to her. Smit prowled angrily around the dismembered corpse of the vampire, searching for some remnant that could be killed again. Eventually, he gave up and began kicking the body parts overboard.
Prayers were whispered.
Gods and spirits took notice.
A pair of Orcas were following our strange vessel. The orcas knew that something odd was happening and were apparently curious. But there was more to them than mere curiosity. I could feel a ripple of power around them. Some higher force had sent them to us.
Beside me, Beck was trembling. As a psychic, she could sense the strangeness all around us, but she didn't understand what it was. She just knew that it was vast and terrible.
Around us, there was a tumult of spirits. The ghosts were fighting the fading essence of the vampire. They were trying to save the boy's soul.
*Please!* I called out, shouting to the wind and the sea, where the Storm always waits.
I hoped we could save the boy's spirit, but we would need help.
Off to the north, there was a faint flash of lightning - a single white stroke within a distant squall. The iron-grey clouds of that far downpour were momentarily illuminated, but they quickly faded back into the darkness.
A goddess had answered my plea. And a restless hunter - a very old friend - was with her.
Behind us, the Orcas increased their speed, overtaking our ship and drawing alongside. I could feel their sudden eagerness. They were in the service of a great hunting power.
My spirit took to the night sky. I could see the boy, struggling pitifully against the clawed and fanged monstrosity that had taken him. A mob of ghosts surrounded them both, trying to drag the boy away from the vampire. The ghosts were trying their best, but they were losing the struggle.
With a howl of anger, I dove into the fight. My insubstantial claws dug deep into the vampire, making it scream in shock and pain. Locked in battle, clawing at each other, we fell away from the boy. But as we tumbled through the swarm of ghosts, we were suddenly separated from each other. It felt as if something awesomely powerful had yanked us apart.
Suddenly, there was a feral and powerful movement in black and white. One of the orcas leaped out of the ocean and somehow caught the vampire-spirit in its jaws. The other followed close behind, and as they re-entered the water, they ripped the spirit in two. I heard the beginning of the vampire's shriek of agony, but then its voice was choked off as the orcas gleefully took their new plaything with them into the deep.
Off in the distance, I could hear the masculine chuckle of the Old One. Lady Ororo's laugh was like the peal of a bell. As was only right, the Lady found joy in saving the boy's spirit, while the Old One appreciated the destruction of the vampire.
I managed to gasp out some barely coherent words of thanks.
Then I fell back into my body, shuddering as I was jerked back to the mortal world. Faye and Beck held me tight, keeping me from falling.
Around us, the ghosts quieted. They seemed relieved and grateful.
The boy's spirit had been saved. I felt it move on from our world. One-by-one, the ghosts began to vanish, following the path lit by the boy.
"Thank you," I whispered to the goddess and the great spirit as they left us.
The girl-ghost next to me lifted her head and made a sound that wasn't even a whisper. Then, out of the dwindling mass of ghosts, a figure materialized. He appeared as a man in his later years - and that was very different from the other ghosts who'd haunted the mastless ship.
My physical body stayed where it was, still guarded by Faye and Beck, but my spirit stood and walked over to the older ghost. The girl-ghost was next to me, her hand in mine. She now felt solid and I could even feel the warmth of her blood trickling down her arm and onto my hand.
"My name is Rahne," I told the male ghost. He was Folk, handsome in a distinguished manner, with closely-cropped and iron-grey hair. His clothes - like all the ghosts who still had them - were haggard and torn. The wound that had killed him was visible. It was a bite mark on the great vein of his neck.
The ghost politely half-bowed to me in a way that suggested he had been a man of manners and breeding.
Then we went elsewhere.
We reappeared in a well-appointed room. The walls were polished gray stone, partially covered by finely-woven hangings that depicted circular patterns edged with odd angular symbols. Expensive-looking rugs covered the floor. The furnishings consisted of a desk, a table, some sturdy chairs, and several book-shelves. There must have been well over three hundred books in the shelves and scattered across the desk and table. The only place I'd ever seen that many books before was in Illyana's Sanctum.
"My name is Morgan," the male ghost said to me. Interestingly, his clothes were now clean and in good repair. He was sitting behind the desk. Behind him, on a simple wooden rack, hung the red-trimmed robe of a master mage of House Strange.
The girl-ghost was still naked and bleeding. She sat in one of the chairs, with her legs neatly crossed before her and her eyes still staring blankly off into space. Somehow, the sight of her seemed even more disturbing than ever. Was it her fate to spend eternity appearing as nothing more than freshly slaughtered livestock?
"Her name is Patricia," Morgan added.
"Hello," I said quietly. Then I removed Beck's jacket - an aspect of it was still around my shoulders - and carried it over to the girl. She became at least partially aware and smiled at me as I tucked the jacket around her body. She wasn't a large girl, and the jacket was more than big enough to grant her a reasonable amount of modesty.
Her lips moved but there was no sound. Breath and bubbles of blood escaped through her torn-open throat. I think she was trying to say, "Thank you."
There was a chair next to the girl, I sat in it.
"What do you want?" I asked Morgan.
He didn't hesitate to reply. "There is a book. It's called the Darkhold - some call it the Book of Sins. Have you heard of it?"
I shook my head. "No," I replied.
"You must find it. It holds an important secret."
I cocked my head at Morgan. "Magister, you may not have noticed, but I'm in the middle of something."
He didn't object to the title that I'd granted him. So my guess was correct - in life, he had been a mage.
"That book is part of what's happening," he told me.
"How?" I asked bluntly. Getting information from a spirit is often a cryptic affair. It helps if you keep it simple.
Morgan smiled thinly. I had the feeling that he knew what I was thinking. "That book contains many mystical secrets. One of them is a means to destroy vampires."
I considered that. "My pack and I have destroyed about a dozen vampires in the last few hours. Anything that would help us with that is obviously welcome, but..."
"You don't understand," Morgan interrupted. "The book contains a great working. It can be used to destroy all vampires. You can rid the world of their curse. Perhaps forever."
I took a long and shocked breath. Suddenly, I knew what was happening.
"That's what Dracula is after," I said slowly. "That's why he came across the ocean. He somehow knows the book is here and he's after it."
Morgan nodded his head.
"Tell me everything," I heard myself say.
It was obvious that Morgan had once been a teacher. He easily settled into the role of tale-telling.
"The days after the Folk-Wilder war were desperate. The Wilder and Folk were decimated. The Mages and the Scatter were almost all gone. There were only a few Blood - a new race being born. Even the gods had turned their backs on our world. But the few remaining vampires were determined to survive. So they gathered together bands of helpless Folk and kept them as food animals."
"And that started a war," Morgan added.
I nodded. "The War of the Night. It's almost forgotten today. There are some obscure passages in the Traditions. I only know some of the details because my father told them to me."
Morgan shrugged. "Perhaps nobody wishes to remember. The Folk-Wilder War was horrible enough - it killed people in numbers that today seem incomprehensible. But the war against the Vampires reduced that number even further. At the time, it was commonly believed that humanity was doomed."
"But there were still heroes," I pointed out, "and they saved us."
A grim smile appeared across Morgan's face. "Yes, they did. And they were the last of the olden heroes. Your Old One was there - as well as his Wilder wife. So was the Sorcerer Supreme and the First Spider. Some say that Thor defied his father to once again come to Midgard's aid. There were others but many of them died. Some say the War of Night was the end of Avenging warband."
Morgan paused as something distant crept into his eyes. Then he shook it off.
"I had an ancestor there. She wasn't a hero, but she didn't want to see our world overrun by the Sanguine. So she reentered our world to help the last few heroes."
Then Morgan's eyes met mine. In them, I saw a man who had lived in defiance of his fate. He had rejected the darkness of power in order to be something better.
"The Darkhold fell into my ancestor's hands," Morgan continued. "She kept it away from the vampires, but she didn't give it to the last heroes. The temptation was simply too great for her. She wanted to eventually use the Darkhold's forbidden knowledge for her own purposes. But in the end, it was proved that even Morgana Le Fey was mortal. She died in the final battle. And even at the last, whatever good she did was stained by her lust for power."
"The book seemed to vanish. My ancestress concealed it so deeply that even the Sorcerer Supreme couldn't find it. Those who knew of the book hoped it was gone forever but we weren't so lucky."
Then Morgan smiled thinly. "My mother left a few clues for our family. Go to the ruins of Washington. You will find your way from the icons of that city. It will take you southwards, to where the book is hidden. But beware, for something like the Darkhold is always guarded."
Morgan got up and came around his desk. The girl sitting next to me rose to her bare feet. They took each other in their arms and kissed. It was such a simple thing, yet so intimate that I had to look away.
"I'm sorry," Morgan said to her as his voice began to choke. "I couldn't tell them. No matter what they did to you, I couldn't tell them."
The girl smiled and put a hand over her man's mouth. He buried his face in her blood-streaked hair. Then the girl looked at me.
After that, I returned to the mortal world.
On the deck of the mastless ship, I opened my eyes. Faye was still supporting me. Beck was rubbing my hands, trying to keep me warm.
"Well?" Faye asked disapprovingly. She's seen me in trances before and doesn't think they're a good thing.
I got to my feet and looked around. The ghosts were all gone. Off in the distance, the squall I'd seen earlier was growing in size and intensity. Lightning flared across the northern horizon, followed by rolling peals of thunder.
"We're heading south," I replied.