They began their descent together. In the message Marcos had managed to send them, he hadn’t been able to tell them what each floor housed, other than that the command center was located in one of the lower levels. Without the luxury of time, Erica, based on some old blueprints of other nuclear bunkers Travis had managed to locate on the internet, ignored the two first doors and went straight for the third. She barely managed to balance, despite her agility, on a small ledge on the inside of the door to the well. Grabbing hold of the edge of the sliding door, she quietly pulled it aside, opening it just a bit. She focused on her hearing, attempting to detect whether there was a guard standing behind the door and, since she heard nothing, she slid open the door enough to take a peek. An empty corridor stretched before her, leading to a dead end, as the ceiling had caved in, blocking the actual end of the corridor under several tons of bedrock. Disappointed, Erica returned to the elevator cable and continued her descent. This time she was luckier; she saw the corridor that Marcos had briefly described. Again, there was no guard there, while the door at the end of the corridor was closed, preventing her from seeing inside. Regardless, she gestured to the other two that she had found what she’d been looking for and helped them make the jump onto the corridor.
“Where’s everyone? I smell a trap”, murmured Lucas.
“He’s betrayed us, the fucking bastard!” exclaimed Travis. “Let’s split”, he added, this time whispering.
Determined not to leave empty-handed, Erica ignored him. She drew her weapons and moved towards the end of the corridor. The two vampires watched her walk away and, somewhat hesitantly, followed her. Their leader, throwing caution to the wind, approached the door and kicked it wide open.
She was standing before a dozen men, armed with shotguns trained at her, with Marcos kneeling next to them, gagged. James, a man she recognized from the time before she became a vampire, was standing over him, holding the sword of Saint Peter against his neck.
“Welcome, we have been expecting you”, he told her coldly. “I do so hate being the bearer of bad news, but we have cameras installed on the adjacent buildings as well, so your little detour was quite pointless. Anyway, I would recommend, in the interest of avoiding any further… unnecessary actions, that you dropped your weapons, right now. How does that sound to you?”
The young vampire looked at James, and then focused on Marcos, who was staring at her, frozen. Once again life was presenting her with a dilemma without a clear solution. She kept watching Marcos, who had risked everything for her by going in there, and James holding the sword, while a battle was raging inside her that would determine whether she would save or risk his life.
“I’m waiting…” said James, in that same cold voice.
The dice had been cast. Calmly now, having decided in her mind exactly what she was going to do, Erica closed her eyes, focused on her inner strength and… disappeared.
The night had descended on the Temple of Blood and Cheops was standing like a statue before the massive brazier, with his eyes closed; closed, but always trained on the flames. With his attention undividedly focused on the hearts burning for all eternity in those flames, he could sense the Dead ones in their travels, converging from around the world, coming to the Temple, responding to the silent summons of the magical structure. They were still far away, so far, far away, but already he was feeling the dark presence of the Creature, which had passed through the main entrance to the Temple and was quickly traversing the labyrinthine passages leading to the upper levels.
Around him, the magic runes inscribed on the pillars of the Temple, which had been glowing mystically were becoming extinguished in rapid succession, one after the other and, unconsciously, Cheops gripped the handles of his weapons. Only the very last rune flickered a little, in a vain effort to resist, before going out. Once this last protection was gone, the hatch leading to this level opened with a heavy thud, as the marble floor was sliding aside, revealing the passage that had been hidden up until a few moments ago, and the stairs beneath.
The Creature entered the room without a single sound. Its humanoid, tall body, with its sharp teeth and gnarled claws, made entirely of shadows, was blending with the dimply lit Temple, where only the giant brazier was burning. Its position was betrayed solely by its red eyes, which were trained on Cheops’ back.
Cheops, one of the Ancients, a pharaoh of the Old Kingdom of Egypt, the one who had built the Great Pyramid of Giza and had ruled openly for decades and for centuries from behind the scenes, was left for the first time in his long life bereft of thought, speech or emotion. Feeling the icy breath on his back, he drew his swords, crossing his arms magnificently, turned to the Creature and charged.
He recalls the last time they battled the Creature, thousands of years ago. He attempts an upward strike, aiming at the Creature’s head. It parries it with its claws, which were hardened like steel. The sword’s blade bounces off them but he’s already slashing his enemy’s belly with his second weapon. The Creature howls, attempts to strike him down, but Cheops crosses his swords, trapping its shadowy arm between them. With a satisfied smile, he severs it. He presses the attack; a blow to the lower part of its leg follows, then yet another to its torso, as he spins around the Creature at amazing speed. He will not be defeated, he senses it. Now he’s behind it, plunging both his swords deep inside the shadowy body of the Creature. Summoning his superhuman might, with a roar, he manages to lift the Creature up by his swords. It struggles to escape, in vain, as the silver blades, now protruding from its body, prevent it.
Cheops walks to the massive brazier at the center of the Temple and approaches the magical flames. He almost buckles under the weight of the Creature, but in his pumped veins flows the blood of a conqueror who will not accept defeat. He reaches the brazier and with one last, final heave, tosses the Creature in. Both his enemy and his swords are swallowed by a towering wave of flames and smoke emanating from the brazier, while the entire Temple of Blood begins to tremble. Inside Cheops’ mind the desperate screams of hundreds of Dead ones reverberate, as he collapses to the floor in pain. He is vaguely aware of the inscribed runes on the pillars of the Temple catching fire. He somehow senses the flames which, as if they were alive, surround him. He feels in some part of his consciousness the shadowy legs emerging from the smoke on the brazier. He raises his head and sees the Creature standing before him, its body intact, as if it never did battle with him, its eyes having been replaced by two leaping flames. The Creature, with a single gesture of its arm, commands the flames to wrap around his neck. Cheops’ skin is on fire, he feels his strength seeping away like running water. The flames multiply, lift him up in the air. He is now face to face with the Creature. He attempts to escape, strike at it with his bare hands. The flames stop him. In desperation, he turns to the magic he possesses. He feels the unholy energy flowing through his veins as it surfaces and, terrified, realizes that he no longer controls it. A thick darkness rises from within his mouth, almost choking him and heads straight for the open mouth of the Creature. Cheops’ superhuman strength is entirely gone, along with his speed. He feels his body heavy for the first time in centuries. The Creature lets him fall to the floor. The burns caused by the flames can no longer be healed.
“You truly thought you could defeat me by the magic I bestowed to you all?” the Creature asks mockingly, grabbing his head with its hooked claws, focusing its fiery stare on Cheops’ terrified eyes. “I forgot to mention…” it adds, almost whispering, “… I’ve been looking for a new host…”
The man does not even have the strength to scream as, in horror, watches the Creature disappear inside his throat.
Everything around her was rendered in shades of gray. Behind her stood Travis and Lucas, now unable to see her, as was also the case with the men standing opposite. The world of shadows was a parallel world to the material world and her powers allowed her to temporary enter it; she couldn’t remain there for long. Already she was feeling the magic of this world pu
shing her out.
Before her she had Marcos, on his knees, with the sword of Saint Peter pressed on his neck. The humans and the two vampires, unable to follow her movements, were staring awkwardly at each other, hesitant to spring into action.
“Erica… I’m warning you”, said James, glancing around him, attempting to locate her while he was drawing Marcos’ head closer to him.
Erica had no intention whatsoever of surrendering, nor risking the life of her friend. She came almost face to face with the man holding him hostage who, although Erica had been standing right in front of him, could not see her, and prepared to grab his arm with one hand and strike him down with the other.
Her mind, telepathically, was flooded by the screams of hundreds of Dead ones. Thousands of miles away, Cheops had just thrown the Creature into the magical brazier burning at the Temple of Blood. This made her lose her focus on the magic surrounding her and exit the world of shadows. Her head was hurting as if it was about to burst and she fell to her knees, clamping her hands on her ears, in a vain effort to shield herself from the screaming.
James looked at her, writhing in pain, with an expression approaching sadness. He returned the sword he had been holding to his belt and shoved Marcos away. He gestured to Lucas and Travis that he meant their companion no harm and then leaned towards Erica.
“Should I assume from your reaction that the Creature has reached the Temple of Blood?” he asked, though he was not looking for an answer.
Erica stared at him and, despite her suffering, she managed to whisper a stunned “What?” The man kept on looking at her with pity and did not respond, preferring to turn his attention to the two vampires standing at the door. From the other end of the corridor the elevator could be heard, groaning as it made its slow and trembling way down the old well.
“Do come in, make some room for the rest of our guests”, he asked them nicely, with a vague threat hanging in the air.
From within the elevator emerged a group of six women, dressed in white robes that covered them from head to toe, their faces hidden behind burkas. The women were flanking an aged man dressed in black, with the sole exception of a white headband, who was walking with evident difficulty, bend, painfully. The women were following the old man’s rhythm and, the second they saw Lucas and Travis at the entrance to the room, each drew a scimitar they had been concealing under their clothes.
“Stand back, demons!” shouted in Arabic the one walking ahead.
Travis, stunned, forgetting momentarily where he was, turned and asked Lucas:
“Did I just understand Arabic or what?”
The giant did not reply, fear dominated his expression and he pulled back his companion, making way for the women to enter the room. The two vampires went and stood next to Marcos, who had been helping Erica to get up.
“The Great Ayatollah greets each and every one of you and beseeches all of us, in great humility, to put aside our weapons”, announced the woman who had spoken earlier.
She was standing a couple of steps ahead of her team and she was the first one to return her sword to its scabbard.
Murmuring, Travis began to say:
“And what prevents the Great Ayatollah from telling us this himself?” but Lucas cut him off.
“He has sworn an oath of silence”, he hastily explained. “Just do what they told us”, he added at once.
Everyone in the room lowered their weapons and slowly the woman approached Erica. She remover her burka, revealing her youthful face which, although very pretty, bore several old scars and marks. Her emerald green eyes studied Erica from head to toe and then turned to James.
“How are the excavations proceeding?”
“We’re almost done, most of the temple can now be accessed”, answered the man.
“I shall personally escort the young vampire there. Please take my father somewhere comfortable”, she added.
She turned and looked at the other men, as well as Travis and Lucas. Her eyes lingered a little longer on the giant’s impressive stature, but only for a moment.
“Do try not to butcher each other. We have a war to fight”, she added in a strict voice, addressing them all.
Without waiting for an answer, she gestured at Erica to follow her and exited the room, heading for the lowest level of the bunker.
Behind a hidden door at the command center of the bunker stood a whole other level, comprising smaller rooms, most of which had been turned hastily into barracks. No one dared disarm Lucas or Travis, while they were being escorted along with Marcos deeper inside the bunker, although the guards around them were armed to the teeth. An unlikely truce had silently come into effect between the humans and the vampires.
James was walking ahead of this odd team. He led them to a door which appeared to be different to the others they had seen up to that point. All the rooms they had been able to observe, where spartanly furnished, even those that did not merely hold one bed next to another.
Pulling a key form his pocket, he unlocked the door and walked in, waiting for them to follow him. The man threw a switch next to the entrance and three fluorescent bulbs flickered to life. Lucas, who was the first to enter, was stunned to see a small room filled with cracked shelves and bookcases around its wall, teeming with dusty books. Piles of books could be found on each and every corner, while a few were even scattered on the floor. A rickety couch had been placed opposite a small metal desk and a couple of chairs, which were the only items in there that were not covered entirely in dust. The single book on the desk was open. James sat on the chair behind the desk and gestured to Lucas and the other to take a seat. The armed escorts took positions outside the room, while only one of them walked in and stood in a corner, his finger on the trigger of the rifle strapped across his chest.
Opening a drawer in his desk, James took out a small glass, along with a sealed bottle of water and an even smaller plastic bottle for medications, its label ripped, the plastic container filled with pills. He swallowed two with a little water and put the rest back in the drawer, keeping just the water. He looked at his “guests”, seemed to remember something, reopened the drawer, grabbed another bottle of water and tossed it to Marcos.
“I’ll have a coffee, thank you”, said Travis sarcastically, lounging on the rickety couch.
The vampire, seeing the frozen stare James directed towards him, switched targets and turned towards Marcos.
‘You, once we’re out of here, I’ll kill you for betraying us. And if they harm Erica, I’m going to do it slowly”, he added aggressively, making no effort to conceal or contain his anger.
“He did not betray us. He didn’t have to”, said Lucas, before Marcos had the chance to say anything. “That frail old man you saw before is one of the worthiest priests of the Muslim world and, trust me, I have met quite of a few of them over the centuries”, he began explaining but paused for a while, to consider how to proceed. “His God grants him visions; visions of events which have not yet come to pass, but that may occur. That old man is the only reason the Sand Warriors have not been wiped out yet. And for him to be here, this far from his home…”
“Sand Warriors?” asked Marcos.
It was James’ turn to explain.
“Apart from these unholy creatures”, he said, gesturing at the vampires in the room, “there are far more lurking in the darkness. The ruins of the ancient city of Babylon are now the lair of demons, which are drawn to that place by the remnants of the powerful magic that once existed in those parts of the world. The Sand Warriors are like the Order of the Silver Sun in that region. Very few are now left observing those traditions. The world has forgotten, but… we carry on. Always…” he said with a faraway look, already lost in bygone times.
“What else is lurking out there?” Marcos asked again, getting the attention of the giant who, however, made no comment.
James was slowly returning to the present and looked Marcos in the eyes.
“You mean, other than vampires, immor
tal Dead ones and demons? In the past, I know that there used to be werewolves as well, but they have been wiped out. Thank the Lord, for I’d hate to have to battle those beasts, too! I’ve enough on my plate as is”.
“So, what are we doing here? And where are you taking Erica?” asked Travis, who wanted to change subject as soon as possible.
“We are waiting for the daughter of the Great Ayatollah to show Erica to the temple. Now, before you ask, the temple was built centuries ago by a man who seemed to know a lot: the origins of the vampires, the demons and all those other creatures. Most importantly, however, he had prophesized how this whole situation would end or, to be more exact, who would put an end to this eternal struggle”, said James, pointing at the book he had before him.
Lucas approached his desk, while the man continued:
“The daughters of the Great Ayatollah contacted me some months ago, claiming that the prophecy was about to come true and that we had to prepare ourselves. Their father had seen in a vision a temple hidden deep below a shelter, where we would find ‘all that we needed’. So, I gathered my men, reunited with the remaining knights and together we set about reestablishing the Order of the Silver Sun and at the same time slowly excavating the temple we had discovered”.
Marcos asked James what he meant when he referred to “his men” and James began explaining that he had left the Order years ago and now he was a mercenary. Lucas did not hear a single word of all this. He was staring at the book, which was in very poor condition, like those he had discovered through the centuries. On the page before him was a short handwritten text and the writing was definitely that of Archytas, the Madman: