Lamia Prior: Baptised In Blood

Chapter Thirty-Three

The vampiress stood in the plains before the castle and the stars dotted the blanket black of the night sky. All was lost. Salem stood as the head of the Order of the Lamia Prior and had begun to see his plans come to fruition. Orders all across America had begun to fall, one by one the assassins rose up from their ranks and  killed their way to the top. Some had recruited others and they stood alongside them, searching for glory in their new cause. Others had resisted and fought and fallen alongside their brethren. Tomorrow morning would bring a new age in the history of the vampire and by nightfall, they would be rallying in celebration, in the glory of centuries of tradition, banished to the books of the past they belonged in. They would tell their children, and their children’s children of the silent revolution of the uprising by night, and the spilling of a thousand drops of blood by one thousand different knives. 

Amberlyn looked down at the hole in the ground. News of the Boston Order falling had spread quickly, Vampyra had taken to the street, convinced the revolution had, failed and they were massacred at the gates of the church. Amberlyn had seen it all from the window of Abraham’s old house. She stood alone, on the frontier of a new world and the chill in the wind made her long for the arms of her lover. She’d folded Abraham’s clothes and placed them in the bottom of the hole. They’d never spoken of a funeral, only of a contingency plan. 

“I hope you don’t mind, a human’s funeral. I know how you pitied us…them, I know how you pitied them.” 

She wept. 

“Abraham, you were one of the few truly great men, turned at a young age, when you finally took control of the Order, you could have led it in a new direction. Not one of war and of bloodshed, but you could have led the vampire out of hiding, restored honour and fear to the word vampire. Now, under Salem’s control, they are going to rise again, they are going to rebuild the vampire breed and rebuild it over night. Boston, your city, will be stripped of its glory in a matter of weeks. And nothing, will come of it. The humans will be slaughtered, some will be turned. But fear, honour, they will not be returned. One cannot fear something if they are already dead. Salem wants control, he speaks of  a world where humans are slaves as he walks through the streets, but will only breed resistance. 

“We have great need for you now, Abraham, the people of Boston need you, the vampire need you, but most of all, I need you.” 

She tightly held onto the watch she’d taken from his pocket. 

“You will not be forgotten, myself and Salem may be all that remain here in Boston. But you will not be forgotten. I will spread your memory amongst the other vampire across the country, across the world if I have to. You have earned your place in the books of history and I will make sure, when they sit down to write them, your name is written, many, many times. 

“And thank you, for all that you’ve done for me, for all of the nights, for the protection and for the lessons. I have learnt much from you, not least of all, those that live forever, can love like they’ve never loved before. My heart, dearest Abraham, is yours until I meet my own death and then yours, forever more.” 

Amberlyn knelt down and began to fill the hole. Slowly, she covered the bloodstained white shirt and the black trousers. She’d wrapped his remains as carefully as possible. As she buried all that was left of her lover and her mentor, she decided, in all her youth, that she would take up arms against Salem and his tyranny. She would not need to save this generation of humans, because humans there would always be. She would leave Boston and seek out a teacher, a new mentor. And she would begin by avenging Abraham’s death. Then she would begin on the traitors that had destroyed the Order. She smiled as she pushed the last of the dirt into the shallow grave and smoothed it down. Behind her  was the castle that held her captive, the lair of the vampire that had lead her love to his death. But they could wait, they could wait until she was strong enough, because even if they forgot, she would always remember. 

She stood up and stepped back from Abraham’s grave. The view of the woods on a clear night was beautiful and beyond the woods, smoke from the fires of Boston rose high into the air. It was peaceful here, a purgatory, between madness and destruction, Abraham would rest. Arlo stepped out of the shadows and stood behind Amberlyn. 

“I love you.” She said.