Lamia Prior: Baptised In Blood

Chapter Eighteen

Salem had watched as Abraham’s carriage had pulled out into the dusk and he’d made his way to Arlo’s den. He’d decided that he’d let the vampire go, he had ears amongst Abraham’s most trusted and he knew better than to get between him and Amberlyn. On horse back Salem had followed Cornwell and Augusten to the docks. He’d watched as Cornwell had staggered and collapsed onto the ground and the people gathered around the bloody and beaten bishop. He’d watched as they’d carried him away, and then he’d turned his back on him. Salem’s mind had returned to the events of the night before. Of the barman and his prize, of the whore and her hunger. Salem had kept them hidden too long, there were two more vampire on the streets and they waited patiently for their moment. Their allegiance was  to Salem, to his ideas and his vision, he did, after all, create them. Now Salem stood on the side of the road, it was night and the smoke from the mansion fire billowed up across the moon and plunged the world into temporary darkness. The Prior would be meeting tonight, as they always did to discuss the future. A discussion that Salem felt was now more of an occupation of time than something productive. Arlo had declared war on them and Abraham couldn’t lead them, he cared only about Amberlyn and while she was a relatively well kept secret, Salem knew, she would influence his every decision. They couldn’t have a human amongst the them. 

Salem turned away from the direction of the fire, which had now consumed the entire household, and then he continued away from Boston and back toward the port. He moved with ease, covered head to toe in black, the citizen’s of Boston hardly turned their heads. They were used to his type, they kept to themselves and they moved through the city without causing trouble. They were a welcome sight and seldom seen these days. Salem, however, watched them. The first of his shipments would be arriving tonight and all over a America, similar ships would be arriving and they would all be carrying the same contents. Tonight, as the Boston wing of the order fell, the others would be infiltrated at the same time. Once he commanded Boston, Salem could use his leverage to move his men to higher positions in the different states. Soon enough, he would hold power over the fragmented vampire and he’d pull them together again, into the force they deserved to be. 

He grinned like Cheshire as he moved through the streets  and towards the port. He’d been planning this for decades, and slowly, the help he’d needed from Europe had begun to arrive. Tonight, was the final shipment, then it would all begin. European vampire were of a different breed, they were prolific across the continent and they didn’t hide themselves from the public, instead, they had an agreement of sorts, the vampire took only what they needed and the people didn’t hunt them or try to stop it. Vampirism had spread almost like a plague, virgin turnings had become bloodsport and unlike America, the vampire hadn’t turned on each other after the great war. The reason the Europeans were so effective however, is that they held no alliance to the The Order of The Lamia Prior in America. These mercenaries simply wanted the money and the entertainment of a political crisis. 

When Salem arrived at the ports a large ship had anchored out in the harbour. There were only a few spaces in the port and none of them big enough to contain her. He stood for a moment and admired the St Bernard. Salem envisioned the ship and multi-levels beneath the deck that would house the dozens of coffins, each one on a mound of dirt from the vampire’s home town. Many of them had travelled far across Europe, excited by the prospect of visiting America. A small boat rowed toward Salem, away from the St Bernard. There were two men aboard, one of them rowed, while the other sat at the back and gazed up at the American sky. 

“Your sky, it’s very much the same as ours, the old world, it seems, isn’t quite so outdone by the new one.”