Blood Moon (Vampire Vigilante 1)

The ghost of Uriah Everett stood at its center, pulling his eerie puppet strings, making his decayed corpse dance in a flopping, twitching circle. The seven faces, along with the Filigreed Masque, were arranged in a ring on the ground, around mounds upon mounds of fruit. It was a summoning circle. Just outside it, kneeling in the grass, was Olivia Everett, the blood-stained journal in her hands. She lifted her eyes to meet mine, then smiled sweetly.

“Gentlemen,” said Uriah Everett’s shade, beaming happily as he played with his marionette of rotten meat. “So kind of you to join us.”

Olivia clutched the journal to her breast, then rose to her feet. “Friends. It’s so good to see you again. Welcome to your doom.”

30

I slashed my sword through the air, sparks flying in the wake of its blade. I pointed it at Olivia’s throat.

“What the fucking shit is going on here, Olivia? I thought we were friends.”

“But we are, Sterling.”

“Friends don’t keep secrets about their dead face-collecting grandpappy who lives under the floorboards.” I tugged on Asher’s wrist, holding up his gore-spattered hand. “Friends don’t give each other boobytrapped books, for that matter. You’re a bad lady, Olivia, and I don’t like you.”

Asher pulled back his hand, rubbing lightly around his wrist. “For the record, Olivia, you’re kind of an asshole for that.”

“Don’t you see?” she said. “It was necessary. You helped bring the founder back, and now you can witness his true resurrection.”

I ran a hand under my nose, wiping the sweat off my top lip. “I liked him better when he was dead.”

Tabitha pushed past me, throwing her hand out accusingly at Uriah. “Your evil isn’t welcome in these forests, Uriah Everett. I should have sensed your foul hand in all this. Your stench corrupts the land itself.”

Uriah tilted his head, blinked, then sneered. “I recognize the fire of your spirit, woman. Are you of the Bridges clan? The true corruption in these lands started with the arrival of your ancestors, you know.”

“Lies,” Tabitha hissed. “We kept these lands safe long before the silver rush, long before you came and set up a town on the forest’s fringes. Which, thank you, I suppose. It makes it easier to get groceries, for sure. But you’re still a no-good bigoted supernatural-hating bastard.”

I looked between them, confused. Is that what this was all about? Was that what Uriah had meant when he mentioned cleansing? Wow, fuck this guy. Fuck this guy right in his ear.

And speaking of ears, Gil had a finger stuck in his. He wiggled it around, turning his head this way and that as he scanned the clearing. “Do you guys hear that? The drumming and the flutes? It’s like it’s coming from here, but it isn’t really.”

“It’s the circle,” Bastion muttered. “They’ve started a ritual of some kind to commune with something big and bad. What you’re hearing is its servants playing in celebration.”

Gil sniffed at the air, wrinkling his nose. “And that smell. It’s faint, but it’s there. Rotten eggs.” He sniffed again, then blinked. “No. Sulfur.”

“Fuck me,” I grumbled, getting a hint of the acrid smell myself. “Olivia, are you and your asshole grandfather really out here trying to summon demons?”

She shook her head, smiling earnestly. “No, no. Just the one. If it sends its servants to help us, well, we have no qualms with that, really.”

“You don’t know what you’re starting here,” Bastion said. “You’ve already killed enough innocents.”

The light of Uriah’s body flared brighter as he laughed. “Innocents? No. Those were our servants, recruited by my sweet Olivia. I sent our people to dismantle and destroy those insufferable bundles of twigs that litter the forest.”

Tabitha leaned in and whispered into my ear. “I fucking told you I was the good guy. Head witch in charge.”

“Not the time,” I whispered back. “And sorry I doubted you, damn.”

“The ultimate prize,” Uriah said, “would have been to claim the Bridges witch’s face and add it to my collection. I knew there was still one lingering in these woods. Her death alone – her face alone would have been enough to fuel my resurrection, to give me new life. The Bridges blood is cursed, but strong, after all.”

“Kiss my ass, Everett scum,” Tabitha said, baring her teeth. “Not my face. Not in a million years.”

Uriah laughed. “That is why Olivia sent our people to bring down the stick men, to dismantle the fetishes. To weaken the forest, to weaken the Bridges witch, and to leave her vulnerable. If they had succeeded, it would have been so simple for my hounds to penetrate her home and tear off her face. But our servants failed, and so my pets claimed their faces instead. Their punishment, and their tribute. Seven faces from inferior mortals, of inferior power.”

This piece of garbage had been pulling the strings from beyond the grave all along. “Well, your pets are gone now,” I said. “We’ve put them to rest.”

Uriah sent his hand out, his fingers curling over invisible lengths of chain, but this time they found nothing to hold. His eyes went wide with fury. “You killed my children. My babies.”

“No,” Gil shouted. “We released them from your hold, you monster.”