Evolution (Demon's Grail Book 2) (19 page)

Absalom

The house shudders as another wall collapses, and this time there's smoke too, as if the spiders are starting to set fire to parts of the building. Gothos is lost, that much is clear, but I refuse to give up all hope.

Ducking down as part of the corridor's ceiling collapses, I feel a sharp pain in my torso. I can't count the number of small injuries I've suffered over the course of the fight, but at least I've managed to kill one spider and severely injure another. Not bad for a few minutes' work, but not enough either.

If this comes down to a pure fight, we're doomed.

I lean back against the wall, trying to regain some strength ready for the next stage of the fight. I heard Abby leading our troops upstairs, but I haven't managed to follow yet. Instead I'm in the south wing, in a dark, unlit part of the house beyond the old consul room, in a section that the spiders passed through and have now largely abandoned. I need a moment to think in the midst of all this carnage, to come up with a plan, but as I look down at the sword in my hand I can't help but wonder if this third war might be the last I fight.

“What would you do?” I whisper, trying to imagine how Cerulesis would react.

Stumbling forward, I check both ways before hurrying along the corridor and finally reaching the door to the old strategy room. There's not much here, of course; after Cerulesis died all those years ago, the room was largely abandoned, partly because it was considered unnecessary but also because of a kind of superstition that arose. Vampires are not given to ghost stories, but there were those who felt this room was cursed or haunted by the spirit of the woman who lost her mind in here. Stepping over to the old stone table, I look down at the faded maps and realize that some of her scribbles have been left here.

“What would you
do
?” I whisper again. “How would you win this battle?”

I wait, hoping against hope that her ghost might come to me now, but all I hear is the sound of distant screams. If I hadn't given the Creolian petal to Abby, I'd be opening the box right now so that I could speak to Cerulesis one final time. If anyone could find a path through this madness, it would be her. She led us through so many battles that we should have lost, but I never learned to think like her or to understand how her mind worked. Even now, staring at the scribbles she left on the main table, I have no idea what to do next.

Suddenly I hear a noise nearby, and I turn to see a shadow in the doorway. Raising my sword, I'm fully prepared for a spider to attack, or for a wounded vampire to appear, but when a hooded figure steps into view I realize that it's neither of those; instead, it's a creature with dark, hollow eye-sockets.

“What the hell are you?” I whisper.

The creature turns, as if it can see despite the loss of its eyes, and slowly a smile forms on its lips. At the same time, a crackle of white energy sparks beneath its skin, and it's clear that some vast power is contained in its body.

Making my way around the table with my sword raised, I stop when I get close to the door. Whatever this thing is, it seems supremely confident in the heart of the chaos, as if it sees no threat to itself. At the same time, I can't shake the sense of pure evil that seems to be emanating from its body, something I've never experienced before, not even in the depths of three wars. Whatever this thing is, I've never encountered anything like it.

“Are you not going to strike at me, vampire?” the creature asks, tilting its head slightly. Its voice sounds tense, as if it's struggling to hold back. “Have you lost the will to fight?”

I take a step closer, determined to strike this thing down but still worried by its calm demeanor. In all the wars I have fought, never before have I encountered a creature such as this.

“You're with them,” I mutter finally. “What are you, some kind of mercenary?”

“Nothing so lowly,” he replies. “You are Absalom, are you not? I have heard the dying thoughts of many vampires tonight, and several of them believed until their final moments that you and Ms. Hart would find a way to save them. How does it feel to know that so many of your species maintained their faith in you, right up until the moment when spider venom burned the souls from their hearts? How does it feel to have been given a chance to save your species, and to have failed so miserably?”

“What are you?” I ask again, my mind racing as I try to think of something, anything, from the eight worlds that even comes close to resembling such a creature.

“My name is Skellig,” he continues. “As for the name of my species, well... We have been given names by others, but none have ever guessed our true nature.”

I adjust the grip on my sword, poised to attack but holding back while I try to work out what I'm facing. From his frail appearance, this creature looks as if he'd drop easily with just once swing of my blade, but I have no doubt that there's more to him, and that his supreme confidence stems from some deep, hidden strength that he would reveal as soon as I attacked. As if to prove that point, he takes a step closer and I realize I can hear the energy rippling through his flesh. It's almost as if the power of a thousand white-hot suns has been forced into his body and is now struggling to break out.

“The spiders are different this time,” I say cautiously. “I fought in the old war against them, and I noticed straight away that this time their tactics are new. It's almost as if something else is guiding them.”

“Did you like what they did to the children?” he asks with a grin. “That was
my
idea, I must confess. A touch melodramatic, perhaps, but I'm sure it had the desired effect. I instructed the drone spiders to work slowly, so as to cause the maximum level of pain to their young victims.” His grin grows, revealing rows of dark, sharp teeth. “They sealed the children's souls with their webs before they hurt them, so that their screams would never be able to get out.”

“The spiders of old were brutal,” I reply, “but even
they
would have resisted such cruelty.”

“And they would have lost the war,” he points out, “by repeating the same tired mistakes. Now, however, they are on the verge of victory.”

“Thanks to you,” I mutter darkly. “Whatever you are.”

“Come now,” he replies, broadening his grin, “you strike me as a cultured vampire, Absalom. You must have read the Book of Gothos, both testaments, a thousand times over.”

“And not once did I come across a description that matches you.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?”

“I've even read parts of the Book of Karakh,” I continue. “I studied at the Dynasty schools of Ebucalezzah, I was one of the few pupils permitted to read the Karakh fragments that he and the other elders had obtained. There is no creature in there that -”

Suddenly I stop as I feel a sense of cold, hard fear punching through my chest.

“Go on,” he continues. “What is it, Absalom? Are you starting to remember a few key passages?”

Shaking my head, I adjust my grip on the hilt of my sword.

“Think back,” he explains, “to the parts of the Book of Gothos that dealt with myth and fear. Think back to the parts that made only a passing reference to something so vast and so great, you could only contemplate its existence if you assured yourself that it never truly existed.” He takes a step toward me, and then another, his whole body creaking in the process. “Like children, you dealt with the bogeyman by pretending that he's not real. Vampires, spiders, werewolves... Constantly squabbling amongst yourselves, but also united by willful ignorance of that which you could not hope to understand.” He lowers his head slightly, allowing me to see the darkness in his empty eye-sockets. “That which came before you.”

“Nothing came before us,” I stammer. “Before the vampires and the spiders, and the werewolves, there was no life.”

He smiles. “Are you sure about that?”

Before I can react, a blast of burning white energy explodes from his eye-sockets, crashing into my body and sending me slamming into the stone wall with such force that I feel every bone shatter. Slumping down, I try to reach for my sword, but all I can feel now is my body furiously trying to repair the damage before I'm struck again.

“Did you really think you were the first?” Skellig asks, making his way around the stone table as he comes closer. “While the vampires and spiders were indulging in their petty wars, and while the werewolves ran and hid, did none of you ever stop to consider the older myths? The truth is right there in the Book of Gothos, and in the Book of Karakh too... There
are
mentions of an older species, one that rose and ruled the eight worlds long before the rest of you existed, one that fell through no fault of its own, one that became forgotten and left no traces. Just a footnote in your history books.”

Opening my mouth, I struggle to get any words out, but my body is starting to knit my shattered bones together.

“There was...” I gasp, before snatching a deep breath. I need to buy myself some time here until I'm strong enough to attack him. “There was a passage in the Book of Gothos,” I stammer. “Right at the beginning, it spoke of a myth... Some scholars claimed that vampires and spiders were not the first true empires, that there
was
something else before us, something dark and lost, a race of...”

“Go on,” he replies, towering above me, grinning with that eyeless smile.

“A race of demons,” I whisper, staring up at him.

“In the Book of Gothos,” he continues, “our very existence was afforded just one line. The idea of us was dismissed.”

“Our scholars...” Feeling a hint of strength in my chest, I realize I need just a few more seconds to finish healing. “Our scholars told us you never existed,” I stammer. “They told us that before our species rose, the eight worlds were a wasteland.”

“They were not a wasteland,” he replies. “A mighty empire ruled them once, millions of years ago. Before vampires, before spiders, before werewolves and humans, before all of recorded history... There was us.”

“What happened to you?”

“We fell, but some of us persisted. We were forced to hide ourselves, to wait and watch as other species rose and scrabbled about in the dirt and mud. Our goal was always to return one day, to reveal ourselves and crush the rest of you, but our fall had been so complete, we needed time to recover. Still, it amused us to watch you fight amongst yourselves, blind to the real danger that was preparing to emerge.”

“So you allied yourselves with the spiders?” Finally able to move my hands again, I realize that by some miracle I'm still holding my sword. Just a couple more seconds... “Why would the spiders work with a race of ancient demons? What could they possibly gain from -” Pausing, I realize the truth. “They don't know, do they? You're using them.”

“All empires must fade and die,” he replies. “All except one. The demons will now return and take their rightful place, and the rest of you...” He leans closer. “The rest of you will collapse back into dust.”

Lunging at him, I swing my sword toward his face but he's able to push me back and blast another flash of energy from his eye-sockets. This time I'm pinned to the wall as the energy crashes into my chest, and I'm powerless to get free as I feel my body being eaten away. Just as I think I'm about to slip into unconsciousness, however, Skellig uses the energy to throw me across the room, slamming me into the wall and then letting me drop down once again to the floor. As the blast subsides, I immediately try to get to my feet, even though my bones are shattered once again and my vision is filled with bursts of light.

“Now do you understand,” Skellig growls, “the inevitability of your extinction?”

I hear him stepping closer, but I can't even turn to look at him.

“I took the liberty of removing my own eyes for this battle,” he sneers. “I wanted nothing to hold back the energy I can deliver to you.”

A faint grinding, rattling sound emerges from his chest.

Suddenly he blasts me again, sending rippling currents of pure agony through my body, holding me up as I feel my body being torn apart atom by atom. The attack lasts only a fraction of a second, but this time as I slump down against the round stone table I can tell that the damage will take longer to heal. I try to call out, to warn the others, but all I can do is cling to the table as I hear Skellig stepping closer.

“Cerulesis,” I whisper, hoping against hope that I might be able to establish contact with her lost soul. “How can I stop this?”

“You can't,” a voice whispers in my ear.

Shocked, I try to lift my head. Was that Skellig's voice, or was it someone else, someone from the past? With my head still rippling and burning, I can't even tell anymore.

“There are some battles,” Cerulesis's voice continues, with a hint of sorrow, “that even I could never have won.”

“No,” I whisper, trying to haul myself to my feet. “You're wrong.”

Blinking furiously, I'm finally able to see again, and I find that Skellig is standing next to me, staring down into my face with the smile of one who thinks his enemy is finally defeated. Just as I'm certain he'll finish me off, however, he turns and looks past me.

“You have arrived just in time,” he sneers. “I will give you the privilege of ending this wretch's life.”