Blood (17 page)

If there was any fear left in them from the encounter with the spirit, they were masking it well. Chris was almost breezy as he said, “It's by foot from here, I'm afraid. But it shouldn't be far.”

Will turned to Eloise and said, “I'll say this one last time—I think I should do this alone. You should stay in the car.”

It was Rachel who answered. “Will, I don't think it's a good idea for Eloise to stay in the car on her own. You see, we're coming in with you, too.”

Will laughed. “I appreciate your support, even your recklessness, but this is my destiny, not yours.”

“You don't know that,” said Chris. “We all want to go into that church and, you know, I'm not entirely sure how can you stop us, but how do you know that it isn't our destiny, too? You suggested as much yourself. How do you know we weren't meant to film you and that you weren't meant to meet Eloise precisely so that we could walk into that church together?”

Will didn't answer and Rachel said, “There's an extra torch in the back. We'll take that, and Eloise, you take the lantern.”

“Okay,” said Will, admitting to himself that he could hardly stop them—at least, not in any way that he considered acceptable. “But please, try not to shine the torch or lantern near my eyes. And may God preserve all of you.”

“You mean, all of
us
,” said Eloise.

Will smiled and shook his head. “If there is a God, He abandoned me a long time ago.”

They got out of the car and Rachel pointed the direction uphill through the woods to the spot in the night sky that the church occupied. They started walking, but had only reached the far edge of the trees when the wind and rain grew fiercer, clattering the branches behind them and stinging their faces.

Even Will could feel it pummeling him as he pushed up the hill, but the others struggled to walk at all. Will reached out and took Eloise's hand and helped to pull her forwards.

They battled on like that, fighting the wind and rain for each step. Will was all too conscious that the ground they walked on had once been homes and roads, and that a community had thrived in this barren spot until the plague had claimed it.

Now it was home to only one resident, Asmund himself, but Will could feel the dead here—they were in the soil and the air and in the stones of the building in front of them. He could even hear them and thought at first it was only him, but then he heard Chris shout something.

“Oh my God, what's happening there!”

Will and Eloise turned to look back at Chris and Rachel. They'd ground to a halt and were looking at the grass in front of them, which appeared to be churning. A flash of lightning illuminated the small hill and now they could all see it—the earth was pulsating, the bones of the dead rising to the surface as if clawing their way out, before being sucked back under, their cries and moans coming with them on the wind.

“Just keep walking!” shouted Will. “Don't look at it!”

He didn't wait, but pulled at Eloise's hand again and set off, deafened by the wind and thunder and lashing rain, and by the cries of the dead. And when they finally reached the relative calm of the church porch, he was relieved to see Rachel and Chris just a few paces behind them.

The four of them looked a poor sight, rain-soaked and bedraggled, but Will didn't have time to worry about appearances—Asmund undoubtedly knew they were coming.

Will reached for the heavy black handle on the door and said, “Are we ready?”

They nodded and he stepped into the nave of the church, and only as he walked forwards did he notice that his arm was no longer aching, that the discomfort of the wound had cleared at some point between leaving the car and reaching the church. There was no more need for portents—he had waited more than seven hundred and fifty years for this, and now their meeting was finally at hand.

As was to be expected for a church that had been abandoned for more than six hundred years, it was bare inside, though its status as an ancient monument had also ensured that it had been well-maintained. It was also clear that it had once served a prosperous village.

There were broad aisles on either side of the nave, and because the chancel was distinguished now only by a small step, the inside of the church seemed cavernous. At first glance, there appeared no hiding place, but Will knew there could be many.

Eloise, Rachel, and Chris drifted towards the space where the altar had once stood at the chancel end, their lights dancing awkwardly against the pillars and the stained glass of the windows. Will took the other direction and stepped through the archway that led to the tower.

“Wait there, Will.” Eloise came back to join him. He thought Chris and Rachel would follow, but they were chasing their torch beam into what he guessed had been the vestry.

“Stay behind me,” said Will. He'd already seen the two sets of steps, one leading up into the tower, the other down into the crypt. The thunder cracked and rumbled above.

Will started down into the crypt. He was tempted to draw his sword now, knowing they had already lost any element of surprise, but he resisted, reminding himself that even if Asmund knew they were there, he could hardly know that Will wished him harm. After all, if the prophecies were right, Asmund probably saw himself merely as Will's guide on the next stage of the journey— assuming that Asmund
knew
about his part in the prophecies.

The steps spiraled down and finally opened out into a small empty chamber. Will stepped into the middle of it and though she tried to keep it away from him, the space was so small that he had to shield his eyes from the dancing of Eloise's lantern.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It's not your fault.” As an afterthought, he said, “Perhaps if you put it on the floor.”

She placed the lantern at her feet and he walked around the edges of the small crypt, running his hands along the walls, looking at the floor, searching for signs of an opening into another chamber or a deeper recess. But there was nothing, just this small square space, less than ten paces across. Yet if this crypt was not Asmund's lair— the thought hit home—there had to be another hiding place!

His nerves clawed up on themselves as Will realized he'd made an appalling mistake by allowing them all to come here, by leaving Chris and Rachel up in the church, by not stressing the dangers clearly enough.

As the dreadful truth crystallized in his mind, he said, “There's another crypt!”

He didn't even wait for Eloise, but leapt up the stairs and was only vaguely aware of Eloise running after him, the beam of her lantern chasing him up the spiral steps. Perhaps she was panicked at being left down there alone, but there was no danger behind them, he knew that.

He ran back out into the nave and saw Rachel and Chris, standing on the step of the chancel, facing him. He walked towards them, then stopped abruptly and made ready to draw his sword as he realized they'd been hypnotized.

A part of him was curious—he only ever seemed able to mesmerize people for as long as he remained in their presence. There was no sign of another being in the church, and yet they both looked lost in a deep trance. Their eyes were staring out across the nave as if they were still fixed upon the person who'd mesmerized them.

“Do you look for me, William of Mercia?” The voice was powerful and deep, with the hint of a distant accent.

Asmund was behind him. And so was Eloise. Her lantern clattered to the floor and rolled, sending out whirling spirals of light before coming to rest.

Will turned, realizing too late that Asmund had been hiding in the tower—he couldn't believe he'd been so careless. He saw Eloise first, looking apologetic, as if this was her fault and not his. Then he saw the man who stood directly behind her, his hands resting firmly on her shoulders.

He was perhaps younger than thirty in his person, with sandy blond hair pulled back behind his head, a close beard. He was dressed in the style of a Norse warrior, although his clothes looked as if they'd been acquired from slightly more recent victims.

Most alarmingly, he was large. Eloise was almost as tall as Will, but the top of her head barely reached her captor's chest and he looked twice as wide across the shoulders.

“You don't remember me,” said the man, and Will noticed that his canines were long. “My name is Asmund and I was an Earl, too, in another life.”

His face wasn't even familiar to Will, and he found it hard to imagine him walking unnoticed among the spectators of the burning all those years before. But walk among them he had because Will knew in his marrow that this was him, and above all, he had one vital question.

“Why did you do this to me?”

Asmund looked puzzled, even offended, and said, “Are you not pleased? I gave you immortality.”

“You gave me an eternal half-life.”

“A half-life?” He sounded outraged. “Did I not prepare your chambers in every regard? Did I not ensure that you would have an entire city at your disposal? And through the centuries of your
half-life
, I have waited here for this day, surviving on an unfortunate vagrant now and then. Think back over all those years you were active, Will Longshanks, and think on this—I was here, awaiting your arrival, waiting without distractions, with nothing!”

Calmly, Will asked, “Why did you choose me?”

“Choose you?” Asmund was bemused, but in a cruel, hard-edged way. “I didn't choose you. I was sent. You were chosen long before you were even born. I did my master's bidding in biting you and gave you what was rightly yours, just as for more than seven hundred years I have waited to help fulfill your destiny. Not mine—yours. So …” He lifted one large hand and stroked Eloise's hair as if patting a dog. “Could you not be even a little grateful?”

“Let her go,” said Will with calm authority.

“Oh, she can stay here for a little while.” His tone was playful, but concealed a threat. “I like the smell of her.”

Changing tactics, and trying to distract him from the thought of Eloise, Will said, “If you'd left me at least some knowledge of my condition, I might not have kept you waiting so long.”

Asmund shrugged and said, “That was not my choice to make. Besides, I'm only three hundred years older than you—what makes you believe I have so much more knowledge than you do? I know only what my master instructs me and what I've come to understand for myself.”

“And who is your master? Lorcan Labraid? Or Wyndham?”

Asmund laughed menacingly, and for the first time, Eloise looked afraid. Perhaps she'd been afraid from the start—Will found it hard to believe otherwise—but she could no longer conceal it.

“You are a scholar, it seems. The name Wyndham means nothing to me. I serve my master and my master serves Lorcan Labraid, as do we all, but I have never met him.”

“But you know who he is?”

Asmund looked down at Eloise and smiled in a way that made Will uneasy, but then he looked up again and said, “Before your people ruled here, before mine, all of this belonged to Lorcan Labraid, a great king, one of the four, and the only one who survives still.”

“Is he the Suspended King?”

Asmund shrugged and said, “I've heard it, but that does not matter. All that matters, William of Mercia, is that he calls to you, through me, through others—he calls to you.”

“Why?”

“It's not for me to know. All I am permitted to know, all that governs my existence, is that he needs you alive. For centuries I've helped you stay that way, always unseen, and after I tell you the things I must tell you here tonight, my task is finally done.”

“So tell me,” said Will. “We've both waited all this time—why should we wait any longer?”

Asmund nodded, as if giving the point some thought, but it was clear he had something else in mind. “That is so, it's why we're here, but in the lives of great men there are many tests, and the price for destiny is often high.” Will drew his sword in response, throwing the sheath to one side. Asmund looked mildly surprised and said, “You act rashly for someone who has lived so long. I wish merely to remind you that I arose when you did, several days ago.”

“What of it?”

“You know my meaning—we're the same, you and I. So have you fed, William?” Will didn't answer. “Exactly, but I haven't and I need blood. It's all I ask, from one of our kind to another: the knowledge I possess in exchange for her blood.” He lowered his eyes towards Eloise.

Will was sympathetic, knowing how it felt to need blood and not have it, but even if they were the same kind, and even if he had known Eloise for only a few days and she would most likely die in his lifetime, he couldn't offer up her life for any amount of knowledge. Would he sacrifice her, when the time came? The answer was no.

“Why didn't you feed on them?” He gestured towards Rachel and Chris. “They have plenty left in them. Why her?”

Asmund smiled, malevolent, making clear that it wasn't just about hunger, but about forcing Will to make the one sacrifice he was least prepared to make. “You know yourself, there's blood, and then there's
blood
.”

“You and I are not alike. And if this is meant to be a test, then I've failed because I won't let you take her.” Even as he said it, another voice in his head was yelling at him to accept the deal, gnawing away with the argument that her life was worth less than his future, but he wouldn't yield. He wouldn't surrender her.

“I can make her one of us,” said Asmund. “You don't have that power, but I do.”

Astonishingly, Eloise, who'd looked terrified until now, looked urgently hopeful and tried to catch Will's eyes with her plea, a silent repeat of her wish to be made like him. But he knew instinctively that Asmund was lying, that he had no more power than Will to transform people, and after all these centuries, he finally knew why.

“Asmund, you've just helped me understand something that's puzzled me across the ages. I see only now that you and I became like this because it was already within us.”

Asmund smiled and said, “It's taken you all this time to understand that, why you're drawn to some healthy people and not others? You thought it was a choice? Did it never occur to you that you
chose
not to feed off some people because, deep down, you knew their blood would give you nothing, that your bite would only awaken within them what mine awoke within you? Yes, it is in our blood from the beginning, and but for me you would have died a normal death without ever knowing it.”

Will was as amazed by this realization as he was embarrassed at having remained blind to it for so long. This had been in him from the start, just as it was in many others, most of whom would live and die in happy ignorance of their inherited “gift.” But one thing had not changed— Eloise was not one of those people.

“If you bite Eloise, she'll die, and I repeat, I won't allow you that life. I would sooner kill you and live in ignorance.”

“Then you will never know the truth. You'll be destined for nothing, condemned to this same existence across thousands of years.” As he spoke, his hand slid down Eloise's arm, and Will had the feeling that he would try to tear at the limb before Will could intervene, so determined was he, or so great had his craving become. “When all civilizations have perished and the land has become barren, you will remain, alone, dying inside for the lack of victims on which to feed.”

Asmund yanked at Eloise's arm, pulling it towards his mouth. Eloise screamed, but Will was ready and immediately lunged forwards, swinging the sword for Asmund's neck. It worked in as much as he let Eloise go, so suddenly that she fell to the floor and immediately scrambled away towards the nearest pillar. But to Will's amazement, Asmund caught the blade of the sword in mid-flight.

Will didn't hesitate. He quickly pulled the sword from Asmund's grasp and stepped back a couple of paces. Asmund's hand looked undamaged, even with the sharpness of the blade, but he looked furious.

His voice was full of contempt as he said, “You fool! You would discard your own future to save a girl!” He looked up at the roof then, taking a deep breath before saying, as if to someone unseen, “Enough! I refuse. A thousand years I have done your bidding, but no more, not for this ingrate!”

It was his master he was calling and his master apparently heard because Asmund's face instantly became racked with pain, and he held his head as if trying to prevent it from blowing apart. This was his punishment for his act of defiance, but the torture only seemed to increase his anger and his determination.

Will saw there would be only one outcome, and that one of them at least would perish here tonight. And even if fortune favored him, he knew now that vengeance wouldn't be enough, that killing Asmund would still leave him unsatisfied because he'd come here to learn something far greater than the fragments Asmund had given him.

It infuriated him to know that he'd been so close to finding the truth of what Lorcan Labraid wanted from him, his destiny, the answers he'd been yearning for all these centuries. He was giving up all of it for a girl he'd known only days, and ironically, it was a desire for the same girl's blood that had persuaded Asmund to turn his back on his part in that destiny.

“Hurt me as much as you will,” shouted Asmund to the heavens. “But when the boy is dead, you'll have no more hold over me!”

He took his hands away and inhaled deeply, breathing through the pain, then reached over his shoulder and drew an enormous broadsword that he was wearing on his back.

“The girl or you,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Me,” said Will, and lunged, the samurai sword immediately piercing Asmund's body.