Tomb of Vampire

CONTENTS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Epilogue Keep Reading Copyright © 2023 by Derek Murphy All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America Urban Epics Portland, OR www.UrbanEpics.com 1 The screams of battle faded behind me, as the clouds of toxic ash whirled around us, kicked up by the invisible mechanism of our hovercrafts. Blood dried on my arms and face like ink blots that changed shape each time I dared lift my palm to try and rub the tears away from my eyes, but I felt like one of the fountains from Denvato, pulling up moisture from somewhere deep below. It seemed unfair that time should continue. That new landscapes should exist to fill in the blank spaces beyond my vision. My head was filled with macabre scenes. Rushing back and killing Farrah, storming the walls if I had to. Smashing open the wooden sanctuary that had become Damien’s prison. Blighting out the sun if I had to. The sun I’d released, by removing the veil of toxic skies. The wind rushed in my ears, but the hum of the fans beneath us were quieter than their vibrations suggested, and the ride was much smoother than the horse and carriage. We never had to slow down or go around rocks or debris, as the craft flew a few feet off the ground, scattering dust and leaves behind us. The landscape flashed around us like a moving picture. At first, I tried to keep my sense of direction, but the sun was spinning in circles above us and I gave up. I tried counting the signs I recognized, that Damien had pointed out earlier. Anything to block out the specter of Jazmine’s face, just before she got ripped apart. One moment she was standing there with a half-smile, her brown eyes expressive and full of emotion, then— My stomach twisted in knots. I fantasized about hunting down the slagpaw, cutting them open, pulling the pieces of Jazmine out of their bellies and dousing them with elixir until they begin to bind themselves together. I replayed our final moments a thousand times, seeking ways it could have gone differently. Finding fault with every decision since leaving Iklebot. I felt a buzzing in my ears, like a hive of bees. I thought it was mechanical at first, but then the world got deathly silent, as my heart pounded between my ears. It wasn’t the craft, it was me. I was broken. I jerked back a sob, causing the rider in front of me to flinch. “You good?” He shouted. “Fine,” I said. I forced a few slow, ragged breaths, but my whole body was trembling and my skin felt like it was on fire. My teeth chattered between my jaws and even my skull felt brittle. “Too much elixir,” our guide called back. “Ride it out.” I felt like I should be asking him questions, but my head was foggy. Who was he, where was he taking us? I couldn’t care enough about the answers to incite a conversation, shouting above the wind. After an hour, my arms felt so numb I had to concentrate on just holding on to the vehicle. The hovercraft cast thick plumes of dust behind us, without leaving tracks, and we moved too quickly and quietly for anyone to get in front of us. But that didn’t mean we were out of danger. I squinted through the wings of dust that spread to our sides, keeping an eye on the forests and ruined buildings for signs of hostile activity. I tried to, at least. It felt like a worthy distraction. Instead, through a pounding headache, I was thinking about hunting with my father. The anger in his eyes, and disappointment, whenever I was too loud, or too careless. Whenever I got distracted and put both our lives in danger. He knew. He’d warned me. The wild spaces between the compounds were a death trap. He’d trained me for this, my whole life. To move quickly. To be silent, and unseen. To always expect the unexpected. And I’d still let him down. I was so focused on the fight in front of me, I’d been blindsided twice: first by assuming that Bryce couldn’t abide the sunlight, and then by forgetting we were on the wrong side of the compound gates, where mutid predators always had the upper hand. And now Jazmine’s death was on me. Like Beatrice’s. How many more would die for my mission? Because of my carelessness? But what did he expect, I thought, suddenly defensive. You weren’t even my real father. “You never told me the truth,” I said, speaking directly to him in my head. “I took care of your kids after you were gone. And your wife. I didn’t ask to be chosen, or to be special. Even now, I could just drop everything, leave it all behind, and let Nigel and the elites drain the compounds—leaving Jamie and Loralie to fend for themselves in the citadel. Is that what you want?” My mother’s face interrupted, pushing him aside. I sensed her gripping my shoulder. “We loved you, we love you still. We’ve always believed that we were raising three children. We don’t expect you to risk your life, for theirs. However, there is a bigger issue at play. You’ve come too far now, seen too much. You know what’s at stake.” I shook my head, clearing these fantoms from my thoughts. I was bored, or restless, or going crazy. I felt a deep exhaustion seeping deep into my bones, the need to sleep overwhelming. But also a frantic sort of mental energy, as the last dregs of elixir