Barer of the Ghost Nation by Melange Books LLC

Author:Melange Books, LLC
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, horror, military, paranormal, religion, native american, indian, slayer, vampire slayer, vampirism, urban decay, john steiner, religious motivations, squad v

Chapter Twenty-One

~ Raven Steals the Sun ~

Uphill along a winding dirt road, Derik caught up with the van. With it appeared a small strikingly isolated town composed of mostly rundown homes and ramshackle cars. Some houses and other buildings appeared to be nothing more than glorified sheds minus the glory. Around here the van may as have been a chariot of a Caesar.

At night, with the town’s lack of most modern conveniences, it made Derik’s subtle walk around of the van safer from local eyes. Of course, empty, but that its occupants drove here meant they came to the end of their journey. Derik pondered how best to put finality to that.

Going through every house would be, at best, bothersome. Instead, Derik considered how to bring only those he wanted to him at a time and place most under his control. A quick survey didn’t reveal a church, somewhat to his surprise. However, the dirt road didn’t stop here.

Advancing further brought the ancient soldier to another clearing in the woods with a single structure standing. Its spire at the fore and steeper roof hit Derik with centuries-solidified recognition. From Rome to medieval Europe and now here across the ocean, architectural form proved to be one of few constants in Christian thinking.

Still shouldering the wooden chest, Derik ignored the front door entirely to come around and enter from the back. All too trusting, the proprietors had left it unlocked. His workman’s boot clopped less heavily than for most men on the hard floor, yet they carried loud in his own ears. Setting the chest down brought a harder thump that induced a drowsily fitful moan and a creak of bed springs from the floor above.

“The shepherd sleeps in the gathering place of his flock,” Derik whispered to the ceiling, as he slowly unsheathed his gladius. “Now comes a sacrificial ram to his god.”

Derik pulled his boots and socks off to take a narrow set of stairs barefoot. Picking footfalls to the far ends of each step reduced wooden groans, and nothing else resounded beyond that. Aside from shedding his footwear for surreal stealth and forgoing armor, Derik climbed to the second floor lacking one other thing.

His empty left hand tried the door of a room from which more adult sounds of slow breathing resonated. The gladius led Derik’s way into the room in deathly silence. He fully intended to feed, but there laid a dual purpose to this prowling hunt.

Recruitment.

A fleeting glint of moonlight danced off Derik’s lightning fast blade, and from the neck of the man rapidly pooled blood. Quickly, Derik knelt with a firm hand on the man’s mouth to sharply pivot his head back and away. His own mouth went straight to the viscous river flowing from a rather short and shallow cut. Just as shallow did he drink.

Warm blood mostly spilled out as Derik took a break to backwash what pooled up in his mouth. Not yet awake, the man’s thrashing started weakly and never built up to a level of resistance that disturbed his wife.

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