The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions (38 page)

Chapter 45

Ruby raced up the steps in the tower, stumbling over her own feet in haste. She scolded herself for being so distraught over John’s selfless death. It had taken her too much time to decipher why Brian had been there one second, gone the next.  

It could only mean one thing: Barnaby was back. She quickened her pace, her heart jumping with each stride. Trembling, she patted the Ashmore tucked in the waistband of her sweatpants. 

 She rounded the final turn in the tower and came to a sudden halt. The door to the Keep’s crenellations was blocked by a lone figure. Long black hair fell around perfect hips.  

Stella turned, mouth pulled back into a gaping smile. “He’s back!” 

Ruby smiled nervously in return. 

Stella put a finger to her lips and then turned her attention back to the door. She opened it a crack. Ruby stepped forward, touching Stella’s back, straining her ears. 

They gasped in unison and jumped in shock as brilliant flashes of light rent the darkness. 

***

Brian dodged forward and rolled, clenching his teeth. Barnaby had almost succeeded in ripping his spine out through the back of his neck. He was lucky enough to have escaped with minor healable gashes. 

Coming out of his somersault, he roared and whirled around. A foot hit him on the chin. He reeled back, teetering on his heels. He levitated and rolled in midair to his left. A figure flew past and Brian stopped his water-log roll. He turned to meet the inevitable assault. Fists plowed into his midsection. He doubled over, losing control over his levitation. 

He plummeted to the stone rooftop. His surprised cry of alarm was cut short as he smashed into the stones. His limbs twisted in abnormal directions. Bones popped. Skin ripped. Tendons detached from muscles. 

Barnaby circled above him and then rocketed downward. Though his movement made him nothing more than a blur, his wide fang-bearing grin was unmistakable.  

Brian squeezed his eyes shut. Warmth spread from his chest, enveloping his limbs. He urged the powers to mend his broken body. The warmth dissipated and his fingers twitched.  

Realization dawned on him as the powers heeded his calls. He was in complete control of them even though he didn’t yet understand them. 

When he opened his eyes, Barnaby was inches away. With milliseconds to spare, Brian rolled to his right. The crash beside him was deafening. As fragments of weathered stone showered down on him, he blurred his vision. Winds heeded his command, standing him upright. 

Barnaby climbed out of the crater created by the impact and sneered. “Give up, Koltz. We already know how this ends.” 

Electricity crackled all over Brian’s body. With a guttural growl, he gnashed his teeth together and propelled forward. Barnaby squared away, chest out, black bolts lancing out of his eyeballs and skimming away down his angular cheeks. 

Brian threw two right jabs, then a left hook. As he’d predicted, Barnaby dodged the jabs but swallowed the hook. The Undead leader stumbled. Brian darted in and clobbered him on the top of the head with an overhand punch. Barnaby dipped in stature, and Brian called upon the winds of levitation, left thigh raised. His knee connected. Barnaby grunted and black blood sprayed out of his mouth in a fine mist. He crumpled to a heap at Brian’s feet. 

Brian restrained himself from cheering in triumph. It wasn’t over. Not yet. He stood above Barnaby, body ablaze. He reached down and grabbed the unmoving Undead by the collar of his ruffled shirt. “What about your people? What about your vampires? Are they all mad like you?” 

Barnaby’s eyes fluttered open, pitch-black. The ever-familiar smirk appeared. “You idiot. It is all about what 
I
 want. It is all about the future of 
my
 world.” 

“What about Hammers? The citizens of Haven? Father Stephenson?” 

“Fuck Hammers!” Barnaby snarled and locked his hands upon Brian’s wrists with vice-like power. “I killed his son! Do you think I give a shit about him? Do you think I give a shit about the sniveling citizens of Haven? The cowards and down-trodden who are too weak to carry out my deeds on the battlefield? And Father Stephenson is no more than dust to me! They are all as insignificant as you and the humans you continue to protect!”  

Barnaby levitated until he was standing again, hands gripping Brian’s wrists with iron-clad resolution. Their bodies crackled with their respective colors, and a hovering moon illuminated the contrast in their spitting energies. Brian dug his heels in as winds whipped about his face. He skidded backward, unable to mount an offense. 

“This is bigger than any of them, Koltz. Everyone is expendable. You have no idea what kind of power resides within you. You have no fucking clue what magic lurks out in this grand world of ours. You are too short-sighted and ignorant to ever understand my plans and what the future will indeed hold.” 

Brian narrowed his eyes, aghast. “Do you have no compassion whatsoever? Do you truly not care about anyone but yourself?” 

“No.”              

“Not even Stella?” 

Barnaby pulled Brian in close and spoke through gritted teeth. “She birthed a monstrosity, a reject. If she died tomorrow, I would not grieve.” 

Brian was about to retort, but a loud gasp broke the silence, followed by a mournful wail that rescinded into the bowels of the castle. 

***

Stella pushed past Ruby, moaning as if scorned. Ruby gawked, exasperated, as the voluptuous vampiress disappeared down the stairs. 

The dueling vampires had been embraced in a power struggle. Words were uttered but she hadn’t been able to hear them. 

But Stella surely had. 

Ruby knitted her brow. She needed to be on the battlement, if not to curb her own curiosity then to help Brian in whatever struggle was taking place. She inhaled, nervous. Then she yanked the door open and stepped out. Barnaby whirled around, face twisted in surprise. 

She caught Brian’s gaze and panic roiled through her, clutching at her throat. She could see it in his eyes. Just like when he’d been resurrected in the fountain, after his transformation. 

All reason was lost. 

***

Barnaby let go of Brian’s wrists and whirled around. “Stella?” he whispered.  

A woman stepped through the doorway, a mass of curvy, vivid blotches. Brian couldn’t make out her features; his sight had switched to infrared. He didn’t care to stare at the bright blotch anyway. The vile creature standing before him required his undivided attention. 

He focused anew on Barnaby’s dark silhouette. 
Lies. 
Barnaby was a whirlwind of smoke and mirrors, façade upon façade. He lied about wanting peace; he lied about not caring for Stella; he had lied to Brian about his intentions. He was a sinister creature, born from the mold of man, set forth upon the Earth with no other purpose than to destroy it. He was a wicked, selfish liar who killed friends and foes without remorse. 

He deserved to die. 

Frustration and anger burst forth through his moral dam. The inner warmth swirled like a mad cyclone, and his sight returned to normal. Without realizing what he was doing, he front-kicked with his right foot, using a combination of levitation winds and balance to deliver a crippling blow to the lower lumbar of Barnaby’s back. 

The Undead leader cried out. Brian lowered his left shoulder and charged, barreling into Barnaby’s shoulder-blades. Something popped. Whether it was his own shoulder or Barnaby’s bones, he didn’t know.  

He didn’t care. 

Barnaby doubled over, still on his feet. Brian folded his hands together and brought them up over his head. Warmth blasted through his gut, his chest, his shoulders, his elbows, into his forearms. As he came down with the over-handed hammer blow, nigh-invisible waves of indestructible force rippled out from his hands. They plowed into Barnaby first, bringing him to his knees. Brian’s hands then connected, cracking into the top of Barnaby’s skull. The shock rolled through Brian like vibrations from an earthquake. 

Barnaby swayed on his knees. Helpless. Pathetic. He was now on the verge of defeat, at the hands of his pupil, his creation. 

Brian laughed and raised both of his arms out wide. The warmth shot through his limbs again, into his fingers, leaving them tingling. He sliced in with both hands. Again, the ripples plowed into Barnaby first. His hands pushed through the ripples and slammed into the trapezius muscles at the base of Barnaby’s neck. The Undead leader’s head bobbled as if struck by cymbals. 

Still, the arrogant prick did not fall. 

The warmth grew into a white-hot fire, pulsating through every cell. Brian felt attuned to the magic, as if he’d always possessed and controlled it. And then his stomach lurched, and his confidence faltered, and his mind screamed at him in warning. 

Barnaby stumbled to his feet and spun around, face twisted in confusion. He spoke, yet Brian didn’t hear a word. 

He was too consumed with panic to hear anything. 

He tried to gasp, couldn’t draw air, realized breathing was for the living. The fire burned in his chest. He was afraid the energy was growing too strong to control. 

Too destructive even for him to command. 

Barnaby stretched out a hand. 

Brian stretched out his own arm and stepped back. 
No
, he mouthed. 
Stay away
. He couldn’t hear his own voice, nor Barnaby’s. Nothing but a horrid buzzing in his ears. 

The fire shot into Brian’s outstretched arm and blew through his hand. Power bellowed out. This time, though, it wasn’t a sonar-like ripple. A jagged one-dimensional nigh-invisible line formed between his fingertips and Barnaby’s chest. 

A bolt of blue lightning suddenly burst out of his fingertips, travelling the same path as the invisible line. 

The black energy which encased Barnaby’s chest sputtered, then died out altogether. The blue bolt of lightning scorched his shirt. The Undead leader cried out in anguish and flopped to the battlement floor. The lightning disappeared.  

Brian didn’t have time to gawk over the strange powers he’d just unleashed. The smell of burnt flesh tiptoed on the air, beckoning him like a dog to a steak.  

It was time to claim his victory. 

He stepped forth to deliver the final blow. Their visitor shouted. Words were indecipherable. He glanced in her direction only to acknowledge her presence. His vision slipped into infrared, an instinct to determine species. 

Human. 
He smiled. He didn’t just want to acknowledge her anymore.  

He wanted to taste her. 

But first, the entrée.
 

***

“Brian!” Ruby shouted again. His bright azure eyes found hers. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered. Did he recognize her? Or was he too far gone? 

He licked his lips and turned back to Barnaby. His steps were slow, calculated, like a cheetah stalking prey.  

No, he hadn’t seen her. He was lost to the animalistic nature that resided inside him. 

What could she do? Her very presence didn’t snap him back to reality. Her frenzied words fell on deaf ears. Should she allow him to destroy Barnaby? She wouldn’t mourn. But she’d already witnessed Brian destroy three vampires with reckless abandon. She couldn’t watch him succumb to the nature of all other Undead. She’d promised him she would be his conscience as he struggled with his new identity. Allowing him to kill Barnaby would make her a hypocrite. 

But what could she possibly do? 

She placed her hands on her hips and bumped the lump in her waistband. 

Then she pulled the mini-Ashmore out, aimed at Brian, and fired. 

***

The prey writhed in agony. Its smell was so intoxicating. His stomach churned. Never before had he felt so ravenous with hunger. Intent upon taking his victim, Brian didn’t notice the slight movements from the visitor. 

Click
. 
Thwip
. 
Schuck
.  

A painful burning fire blasted through his right shoulder. 

“Brian?” 

A female voice. Shouting. Calling him.  

Pleading? 

The warmth heeded his call to heal. Something delicate clanked at his feet. 

Click
. 
Thwip
. 
Schuck
.  

Just as the pain had dwindled to nothing, his left shoulder suddenly burned. 

“Brian! It’s me! Ru—” 

“—by,” Brian whispered in unison.  

The blue electricity spit and died out. He staggered, then yanked the arrow from his left shoulder. He let it fall next to the other arrow that had been buried in the opposite side seconds before. 

He shook his head. He’d been so intoxicated with the feelings, with the instincts, the heart-pounding thrill of it all. Barnaby had stated magic was theirs to command. But Brian wondered if it was there to command and control them instead.