Bleed with Style. Part 3 (An original vampire short story.)

alienbutt (70)in #writing • 8 years ago

Eloim followed Polly down through the tunnels to his not so secret exit. He felt strangely naked being dressed in such normal clothes. He had pulled the hood up on his top to try to hide himself. As they reached the final tunnel that led to the exit, Polly stopped as their father stepped out of the shadows.
“What took so long, Polly?” he asked.
“Him,” she said, indicating Eloim. “He didn’t like the outfit I chose.”
“Eloim, when you leave the citadel you do as Polly says. What you have to do is vital for our clan and there may be some danger involved.”
“No one mentioned danger. Polly, you never said there was danger. I don’t do danger; danger is for elders,” Eloim started to blabber until Polly turned and kicked him on the shin.
“Shut up and let’s get going. He’ll be fine, Dad.” Polly headed off without another word.
Eloim stood rubbing his shin until his Dad spoke. “Well son, hurry up, you know she doesn’t like waiting. Last thing you want is her being mad with you again.”
“But what am I going to do?” he asked as he began to follow after Polly.
His dad gave a smile that was chilling to see in the near dark. “You’re going to break into the cathedral to steal a relic.”

Eloim stood looking over at the city’s cathedral, a mighty edifice of medieval architecture. Lights had been placed at the base of the building to give illumination during the night, giving it a terrifying aspect as it towered into the dark sky. Polly stood beside him absently playing with a small dagger, apparently not impressed by what she saw.
“So what do we do then? Just walk up and knock on the door? We can then ask them if we can come in and have a look around, and by the way have they got any relics laying around?” he said sarcastically.
“We’ll keep that idea for plan B. I was thinking more along the lines of using the old priest hole and entering through the crypt,” she said, as if it was the most obvious plan in the world.
Eloim looked away from the building and gazed down the street. Yet again it was raining, which was one of the two weather patterns you got in the city during winter. It either rained or it snowed. The odd pause in either of these weather types was just nature taking a deep breath before unleashing the next storm. The area was quiet apart from an occasional car that drove past, the drivers concentrating on the road, so none of them noticed the pair stood in the shadows of an alleyway.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Polly?” he asked. “Such as, we’re vampires and that building is holy ground. Now unless Amanda was making it up when we had the lesson about religious buildings, if we walk in there we’re smote with furious vengeance.”
Polly turned to him and winked. “The building is holy ground, but the crypt and catacombs below it, well, let’s just say the area beneath the cathedral has got a colourful history.” Polly turned and began to walk back up the alley they had come down. “There’s a drain cover just down here that’s our way in. It leads to the passage that takes us right into the crypt. Now stop worrying. Just think of it as an afterhours shopping trip and I know you’ve done plenty of them.”

Eloim shook his head, unconvinced. “We’re breaking into a house of worship, Polly.”
“You’ve said often enough that fashion is a religion, and you’re always breaking into clothes shops and stealing stuff, so quit whining.” Polly continued down the alley and stopped to look down at a manhole cover, removing a short crowbar from an inside pocket of her leather coat. “Now come and lift this up and let’s get going.”
“I’m not lifting that up. I’ll break a nail,” Eloim stated, coming to stand next to her. Polly looked at her brother in disbelief.
“It’s your choice, a broken nail or broken arms?” She smiled sweetly at her brother, who scowled back at her before pulling a pair of white leather gloves from his coat pocket. “What the hell are those, Eloim?” Polly demanded as her brother pulled on the gloves. As the faint light hit the back of his now gloved hand she caught a glimpse of a sparkle.
“Just a pair of gloves. Now move back so I can lift this cover.” Eloim grabbed the crowbar and bent down to lift the cover. Quickly he moved it aside before standing back up.
“You’re seriously going to break into the cathedral wearing Michael Jackson’s gloves?” Polly asked, still looking at the gloves as they twinkled in the faint light.
Eloim shrugged. “Yes I am. At least I’m wearing trousers, and don’t you think you’re a little old for leather hot pants?” He jumped down the hole before Polly could respond. With a growl of anger at the mention of her age, she followed him.

After a minute a figure detached itself from the deep shadows up the alley and walked down to the open manhole. As he approached, four other figures dropped from the roofs above to join him. When all stood around the hole he looked at each of them. “This will be easier than we thought. We follow them in and kill them. Once we have the relic we will have the power to confront this abomination of a clan and destroy them.”

Eloim crouched in the narrow tunnel. This tunnel was dry and the stonework around them was much older than the slime-covered walls of the sewers. Polly crouched in front of him as she slowly moved forward, a small torch illuminating the utter darkness before her, as even vampires needed a trace of light to see.
“Polly, what is this relic, and why is it suddenly so important to Dad?” he asked, Polly stopped for a moment to consider telling him, but then she continued her crawl.
“I thought you would have asked about it a lot sooner,” she said. Eloim waited for his sister to continue, but she didn’t.
“Well? Has it got anything to do with with Mum not coming back from Rome?” he pressed, not wanting to drop the matter.
Again Polly paused in her forward movement. “In part. I’ll explain when we find it. It’ll be easier for you to understand when you see it.”
There came a slight sound from behind them back down the tunnel and both froze, listening. When no other sound followed it, Polly relaxed. “Come on, let’s get a move on. I don’t much fancy spending all day sleeping in the sewers waiting to get back into the citadel if we don’t get out till daybreak.”
Eloim though, didn’t move. “Dad said it was dangerous. I think I should know what this danger is at least,” he demanded.
“He didn’t say it was dangerous, he said there may be some danger, that’s totally different. Now come on and stop being a baby.” The tunnel stopped suddenly and Polly was looking at a large stone slab. She quickly inspected it. “We’re here. I don’t want any noise till we know what’s on the other side.” Carefully she pushed the slab and with hardly a sound it began to move away from her, then as she watched in horror it toppled away from her and fell with a great crash, sending up clouds of dust.
“So is this us being quiet then, Polly?” Eloim whispered as the echo of the falling stone began to die down.
“Shut up and let’s go, and keep an eye out,” Polly hissed as she moved forward and climbed out of the tunnel.
Eloim quickly followed, grumbling. “It would help if I knew what to look out for.”
They stood and looked around the vaulted room as Polly shone the small torch around. Ancient coffins were set into recesses in the wall. Many had rotted and collapsed through age and the bleached white bones of the occupants were visible, while centuries of dust and cobwebs covered everything. At the far end of the room there was a heavy wooden door and Polly headed towards it. Pulling out his own torch Eloim followed. Polly put her ear to the door and listened for a moment then turned to Eloim and smiled. “Nothing’s on the other side,” she whispered. “There should be a stairway just down the corridor that leads up to the crypt.”
“I thought this was the crypt?” Eloim whispered, looking back around the room.
“No. These graves are about twelfth century from the original monastery. The cathedral crypt is still above us,” Polly answered as she began to pull open the door. The rusted hinges held for a couple of seconds before breaking. She almost fell backwards as the door came away from the frame and fell forward towards her. Righting herself, she grabbed the sides of the door and carefully placed it against the wall. Drawing her sword she grinned at Eloim before entering the tunnel that would lead to the crypt. After a moment Eloim followed.

They had quickly found the stone spiral stairs that led to the crypt and Polly had managed to open the door without a sound. The main crypt to the cathedral stretched away, faint light somehow finding its way down so the two no longer needed the torches, their vampiric eyesight enabling them to see clearly. Stone sarcophagi lined the sides, the final resting places of bishops and princes. As they silently moved down the chamber, a large wooden crate became visible. Polly headed towards it with a wave to her brother to follow. Eloim stopped, his patience finally gone.
“I think it’s time you told me what’s going on. That crate has been placed here recently, Polly. I want to know what we’re doing here. I’m not a child and you picked me to help, so I should be told.” Polly stopped and looked back at her brother impatiently.
“Well of course it’s only just arrived here, otherwise we would have stolen it ages ago. Don’t you pay attention in lore class?” Eloim looked blank at the mention of his lessons that he never paid attention to, so Polly continued. “What sort of relic are you expecting to find under a major Scandinavian cathedral? It’s a Vatican weapon for killing vampires. Three months ago it was in Milan; now there are no vampires in Milan. This is the reason why father returned early and ordered a lock down on the citadel. The new pope has declared war upon our kind, and the Vatican vaults are being opened and their weapons handed out to the priests. Now come on and let’s get this relic and go home.” With that she turned around and continued to head for the crate. Eloim was about to follow when something hit him from behind.

Eloim hit the ground and instantly hands grabbed his arms, forcing them behind him before someone grabbed his hair and forced him up into a kneeling position. Spitting blood from his mouth he tried to focus and saw Polly, sword already drawn, cut down a figure as it attacked her. The assailant, sliced from shoulder to hip, screamed as he exploded into flame and disappeared. Eloim tried to break free but was held firm, and then he felt a cold blade press against his throat.
“Back off, Polly, or I remove your brother’s head,” a voice shouted. Eloim stopped moving as the pressure on his throat increased.
Polly stood still, sword at the ready, a snarl on her face revealing her fangs. “Still hiding behind children I see, Franco,” she hissed at the owner of the voice.
“Move back behind the crate and let us retrieve the relic and then we will leave, and your brother lives.” The owner of the voice stepped forward into Eloim’s view. “You have my word.”
Polly spat on the ground. “Your word is worth nothing, and we both know it.” Still Polly began to edge back. Eloim was yanked to his feet by his hair, the knife blade never easing the pressure on his neck, but his arms were released and two more figures stepped forward to join the first he had seen.
“You’re good, Polly but do you really think you can kill three Elders before my friend there removes your brother’s head?” The other two figures drew their weapons and dropped into a crouch, ready for if Polly chose to attack. “We are here for the same reason you are, to remove this relic from church hands. Our clan needs protection if we are to survive this war the Vatican has declared.”
Polly looked to where Eloim stood, the knife pressed to his throat by the vampire that towered over him, and although he looked scared, he caught her eye and winked, giving a slight smile. He might have been surrounded by vampires centuries older than him, but he was a child of much more devious times.
“Please, Polly, do as they say,” he pleaded to her, then he made a fist of his left hand and opened his hand out quickly, fingers fully stretched. Tiny needles hidden within his glove fingertips sprang out, and he winked again at Polly, hoping she would realise he was ready to help.
“Listen to your brother, he actually makes sense,” Franco said to her. Polly gave the slightest of nods and began to inch to her left, giving Franco access to the crate.

Franco quickly moved towards the crate with one of his companions moving with him. The other stayed with his sword pointed towards Polly, ready should she choose to attack. Reaching the wooden crate he quickly and easily ripped off the wooden lid and leaned over to peer in. He looked in confusion at the contents of the box. A leathery cocoon, easily large enough to contain a person, lay within, pulsating slightly.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, throwing a murderous look at Polly. His Sire had told him he was coming for an ancient ring.
Polly shrugged. “No idea. I can’t see from over here.”
Franco returned his gaze to the contents of the box. “You have tricked me, Polly. What is this thing? Where is the Alexia ring?”
A new voice came out of the dark. “It was not her that tricked you, foul beast of the pit. I tricked you all, and now you will all die at the hands of the demon Alexia.”