Judgment: Aeternus Book I

By David Scott

After saving a woman from a rogue pack of Once Dead, Adam, a juggernaut struggling to keep his wife happy and keep the rent paid, and Grace, a bounty hunter with more problems than she can slash her sword at, search for who’s trying to kill Adam, the partners discover the plot is only a cog in a machine built to resurrect an ancient destroyer capable of undoing the existence of every vampire, werebeast, and Spiral-touched creature on the planet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Scott
• Release date: Mar 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370493081

David Scott

Professor David Scott, PhD, MA, Adv DipEd, BA, PGCE, is Professor of Curriculum, Pedagogy and Assessment, Institute of Education, University of London. Previously, he served as Acting Dean of Teaching and Learning, Acting Head of the Centre for Higher Education Teaching and Learning, Director of the International Institute for Education Leadership and Professor of Educational Leadership and Learning, University of Lincoln.

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AETERNUS: Book I

Judgment

By

David Scott

Cover Art & Design: David Scott

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright 2016 David Scott

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

I want to express my gratitude to all the people who read a vast number of versions of this over the years and continually pointed out my mistakes (Hail Eris! Say hey to Goober). And a special thank you to Kim, who transcribed hand-written manuscripts beyond counting and harassed me for more.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page

Dedication

Your Arrow, Ma'am.

Only When I'm Angry

Even I Would Not Live Long Without A Head

But It Could Be Done

You're Scared Of Her

A Shirt That Fits

I Do Not Think I Have One

Call To Edo

The Ones With Blue Skin

I Did Warn You It Would Hurt

So Kind Of You To Join Us

Yip

Your Milk, Sir

In A Cab

Don't Step On It

I Just Made Cookies

Something Strange

They May Be Scared

Can He Do That?

Glamor Is My Thing

Things Got... Weird

Gimme

Belladonna

I Have An Answer

Mister Romantic

Boss'll Kill Us

But It Is Legal

The Techniques, Though, Are Outdated

You Went To College?

Cleaning Up Ghoul Gore

You Give Lessons?

I Have Something To Show You

Damn, I Need A Cigarette

Quite A Few Things

Kind Of, Sort Of, Maybe

An Utter Waste Of Resources

Ain't Had Breakfast

Turning Up Aces

Ain't Sure A Rainforest Is People

The First Step

The Things You Forget

Hello, Ladies

Forgot The Hangover

In The Old Days...

One Of You Is Staying A Corpse

Ya Won't Forget This

Good News, Boys

I Am Glad I Amuse You

Have It Your Way

Let Me Guess

I Hate Zombies

Bacon

Winged Helm Of Flying

I Will Join You Shortly

We Cam Fox Any Errors Later

Perhaps Some Champagne

Gather Round The Fire

Usatim Rabiatim Ina Muhhiya Tastakan

I Do Not Believe In Gods

Wine And Orgies

Start-Over Drastic

It Is A Good Start

Tempest Shielding

Dangly Bits

We Save The World

Frog Gigging

A Parking Lot Filled With Cars

The Disco-Ball

I Don't Think It Matters

Who Woulda Guessed

Epilogue

Author Note and Info

EXTRA: Immigration Problems

YOUR ARROW, MA'AM.

Scooping the four filled-to-the-brim grocery bags from the store counter with one hand, the big man deftly slides the change – two bills and a few coins – into the front pocket of his jeans.

Thanks for the help, the big man says, his voice like a millstone.

Fulfilling needs is part of the job, my son, Ski, the smiling, bald man behind the counter says as he closes the cash register drawer. By anyone’s guess Ski’s features mark him as Mediterranean and his wrinkles mark him as older than the dirt hiding beneath the store’s aisle shelves. Wrap him in a saffron robe and the old man could be arrested for impersonating a cliché. Thankfully his red, green and blue Hawaiian shirt and blue dungarees topped by an off-white apron saves him from any mistaken identity.

As the big man pushes through the exit door, he turns and gives a wave with his free hand. Ski returns with a warm smile, a head nod and a salute with a half-full wine glass, long since accustomed to his customer’s appearance – dark eyes, a broad nose and skin the color of wet cement, wearing a tan turtleneck and blue jeans over his seven-foot tall, wide-as-the-door body. To be honest, Ski’s never been much of one to put stock in physical appearance.

Stepping onto the rain-slicked sidewalk, the gray man looks down both sides. The late hour has replaced the crowds with stars and shadows. The old buildings add to the gloom, rough brick and stone seeming to absorb light. The apartments are dark, their inhabitants asleep or preferring the night. Even the stop lights have given up, blinking yellow endlessly into the night.

At the corner, the man turns left, and walks several blocks to an aging building on the verge of decrepit. Carved-stone steps lead to a recessed entrance and a wood double-door bound with black-iron fittings. Above the doors shines the only light on the street, a cross outlined in glowing blue cobalt above the words ‘Rhine Street Mission’. He slides open a small metal door marked ‘Donations’, places one of the sacks of groceries inside, closes the door and walks back the way he came.

Crossing an intersection, the giant picks up his pace, as much an effort to get home as it is to get across the street. Even though the roads are empty of everything but oily-black rain puddles and discarded candy wrappers, Mary’s waiting and the gray giant would rather face the Tiamat again than be late the second time this week.

He shifts the bags against the wind and begins across the bridge, an arched steel-and-wood artifact built in another time and now refurbished and repurposed. Stretching a half-mile across the city-dividing river, the span has been pedestrian-only for decades, a daytime gathering spot for families and downtown workers. In the evening, joggers and couples take over, followed later by the night-lovers, each group using the bridge as an oasis, the structure-mounted halogens burning bright until dawn.

Or rather the halogens should burn bright until dawn.

The man hesitates when he realizes the lights are out, turning the span into a vast, linear darkness. Grumbling at the city’s cost-cutting, he trudges forward. Darkness hasn’t been a fear for a long time.

When the bridge levels and extends over the water, the man moves away from the railing which shields bridge-goers from plummeting into the fast-moving river a dozen yards below. Ahead, the sounds of running and shouting burst through the night. At first the giant thinks it’s kids playing, then he remembers it’s 2:30 in the morning. Even with the full moon that’s past most kids’ bedtime.

The young, leather-clad woman twists left and right, her ebon-streaked red hair fanning in the wind as she pivots the crossbow side-to-side, her aim fending off the six human-creatures closing in around her. She steps back, banging into the steel railing, the barrier between her and the river. This is more than she bargained for and now she’s trapped and her tormentors know it. They can see her jerky movements. Hear her racing heart. Smell her adrenaline.

Wearing worn-thin camo fatigues, the six cackle, mouths wide full of razor-edge fangs, skin stretched onion-thin across their faces, greasy hair whipping in the wind. They taunt, darting like hyenas, swiping with dirt-caked inch-long talons then leaping away when the crossbow sweeps towards them. Jackals playing with their food.

The stupid one jumps forward, jerking the woman’s arm towards him. She turns the bow and pulls the trigger, launching the bolt into the thing’s heart.

His face contorts as he grabs the bolt. He flashes into blue flame as the hex binding its spirit unravels and the life-force separates violently from its body. Within a heartbeat he’s consumed, leaving behind ash and tatters of fabric.

The remaining five howl in rage as their friend scatters as dust in the night wind. Before she can recover two yank the woman down from behind, slamming her into the walkway. The impact knocks the breath out of her. The crossbow skitters away. Like a single-minded creature the attackers pin the woman to the ground. A claw clamps down on her face, stifling her scream. The woman’s vision goes liquid as her face flushes with pain and fear.

The large one crouches over the woman, sitting on her. She fights to breathe, crushed beneath his weight. A malicious smile breaks up the scars on his face, razor-edged teeth clicking together. He grabs the collar of the woman’s black leather coat with both hands and rips it apart, stripping the zipper to shreds. The thing runs its tongue over the points of shark-like fangs.

Aah, my favorite kind of white meat, he growls.

And just as suddenly, he’s not there. Flying backwards through the air he crushes into a steel pillar with a sickening thud and collapses.

The other four turn to find the gray-skinned giant towering over them. The big man wraps his massive hands around the nearest head and with a twist and snap, pops the head off. Before the body can fall it flashes to blue fire, reduced to ash in an instant.

The giant drops the head as one of the others latches onto his back. The Once Dead opens his mouth wider than human and sinks fangs into the gray man’s shoulder. Instantly the thing shrieks a high-pitched wail before being consumed in blue flame. The giant calmly dusts a film of ash off his shoulder.

Noise draws the man’s attention as the last two, less hungry, maybe smarter, leap away, running. He moves to chase but two crossbow bolts fly past, impaling their targets. Blue fire and ash.

The giant turns to find the woman, shaking, her crossbow aimed at his chest. He raises his hands, palms out.

I am on your side, remember? he says taking steps towards her. He lunges, grabbing the crossbow as she pulls the trigger. With a twist, the giant flicks the bow from her hands. He turns it over, inspecting it. Decent bow, considering it is mass production. Auto-feed repeater. Custom trigger.

The giant holds the crossbow out. Eyes wide, the woman accepts it, never taking her sight from the big man’s chest. He glances down to see the bolt sticking out of his chest. He pinches two fingers around the shaft and pulls it free with a soft plop, then holds it out to her.

Your arrow, ma’am.

Wha… what are you? the woman mumbles.

Everyone calls me Adam, the giant says, a big smile forming as he extends his hand. Who are you?

ONLY WHEN I'M ANGRY

Adam stands on the landing of a sixth-story walk-up, looking at the dark green door marked 6B. One hand holds the grocery bags. His other is a fist of which he’s biting the knuckle of his index finger. He doesn’t want to face what’s on the other side of the door but he can’t stand in the hallway all night. He knocks.

More quickly than he’d like, the click-clack of deadbolt locks sound from the other side. The door opens about six inches and the face of a short, attractive, dark-haired woman fills the gap. Her lips are a tight, hard line and she’s glaring up at the giant in the hall. Adam puts on his best smile.

Hey, dear, he stammers.

Don’t dear me. You’re late. Again.

Yes, I am, he says, nodding. And I have an excellent reason. May I come inside and tell you the story?

You always have a story and you always say it’ll never happen again. And it always does.

Yes, dear, he says, looking at his shoes. You are correct. May we discuss this inside?

Why didn’t you call? You’ve got a phone, you know.

It does not work.

It works fine. I programmed it myself.

Can we discuss this inside, please?

At least you’re not dripping ogre bits all over the floor this time. Mary pushes the door open enough for him to enter the apartment. As Adam steps in she closes the door and takes the groceries from him. Get cleaned up. I’ll fix dinner.

Adam walks down the hall, stripping off his clothes.

And use the dark towels, she yells after him.

Mary slams her fork on the kitchen table, staring at Adam over her half-eaten meal. Adam keeps his head down, spearing a forkful of broccoli and avoiding her gaze.

You brought them here? Mary says, steel in her voice.

Adam keeps staring at his broccoli and beef. It is the only choice I had, dear. They will not cause problems.

No problems? Two vampires and an unlicensed hunter are in the basement and you think that’s not a problem?

They are ghouls, not vampires, and it is only the heads.

Don’t get technical with me.

I am not, dear. Merely pointing out they are not as dangerous as you believe. After dinner I will take them to Dethanos to straighten this out.

Dethanos, huh? Got an appointment? Mary folds her arms over her chest. What happens if someone needs to do laundry? I’m pretty sure Once Dead heads in the laundry is grounds for cancelling our lease. And I really like this building.

They are not dangerous, Adam says, reassuring. He waits to see some of the tension leave Mary’s face before he continues. The girl is an excited amateur and the ghouls are bagged and gagged. Everything will be fine. I promise. I will call in every favor the City owes me if I need to but we will not lose our lease.

What’s the girl’s name?

Wilhemina Westenra. Mina for short.

You find a woman hunting vampires and she tells you her name is Wilhemina Westenra and you believe her?

I saw her driver’s license, he says, grinning.

Mary can’t help but laugh though she tries to hide it behind her hand. Does she even realize what that means?

Adam shrugs and resumes eating. Mary walks to the sink, washes her hands then pulls a plate from a cabinet, a knife, fork and spoon from a drawer and a roll of aluminum foil from under the sink. As Adam watches, she piles food on the plate, covers it with foil and lays the cutlery on top. She sets the plate on the table in front of Adam.

What’s this? he asks.

You’ve stuck the poor woman in a basement, alone, watching two ghouls. She has to be hungry. Finish up and deliver dinner.

Have I told you I love you? Adam says, a big smile on his face.

Only when I’m angry.

EVEN I WOULD NOT LIVE LONG WITHOUT A HEAD

A battered, blue Ford Taurus pulls up to the black-iron gates of a walled estate. The gates are ten-feet tall, same height as the stone wall extending left and right into the distance. In the car, Adam sits behind the steering wheel, the seat pushed so far back he’s nearly in the trunk. In the passenger seat, Mina gazes at the yard-thick walls topped by razor wire. On the other side, stygian darkness.

Is this a prison? she asks, anxiety tingeing her voice.

More of a gilded cage, Adam says, turning the hand-crank to lower the driver’s window. He reaches out to a small black metal box protruding from the wall and presses a red button. Dethanos has a bit of warranted paranoia.

A gravelly British accent answers through the speaker. Your business?

Tell Dethanos that Adam is here.

I don’t believe you have an appointment, Mister Grey. If you’d care to make one, I’m sure we can fit you into the Master’s schedule within the next few days.

The plastic of the steering wheel creaks as Adam squeezes it. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath.

Open the gates, Virgil. His voice flat but tinged with menace. I do not have time for protocol and I believe we remember when I was forced to open them myself.

Slowly the gates grind open. Adam guides the car up the unlit driveway towards the antebellum-style mansion.

I thought this guy was a friend? Mina asks.

Friend may be a strong word. Dethanos and I have history. We have grown to understand each other.

Sort of comrades-in-arms.

Yes, something similar.

Your comrade not believe in light? Mina asks struggling to see anything beyond the car windows. The best she can do is make out vague forms of trees lining the winding driveway and the occasional glimpse of light from the house peeking through the foliage.

There is no need. Vampires see well in the dark.

Mina jerks back from the window. There are vamps out there?

Dethanos employs several as security. They work the night shift, so I assume they are out there somewhere.

As the car nears the house, lights switch on, bathing the area in virtual daylight. A short Asian man in his forties, bald on top with a ring of dark hair, wearing a dark tuxedo with tails, steps out of the white-washed mansion’s double doors. He stops between two columns at the top of the steps.

In this light, you can see it, Mina says. You really need to wash this car.

Adam looks at her as if she’s insane.

What? she exclaims.

Adam hits the trunk release. Get the bag from the trunk. Leave the bow. Meet me at the front door. The car rocks as it’s relieved of Adam’s weight. He walks up the steps of the porch where he’s greeted by the tuxedo-clad man.

Welcome, Mister Grey, the man says, his British accent thick. The Master has been informed of your arrival.

He still insists on the accent? Adam asks.

Yes, sir, the man replies, resigned to his plight. The Master says it reminds him of his childhood.

Sucks to be you, Mina says from behind Adam, a dark blue duffel bag across her shoulder.

In a manner of speaking, Virgil smiles wide to reveal fangs. Shall I show you to the Master now?

After you, Adam replies.

The man nods then walks to the double doors, throwing them wide so Adam and Mina can follow. Once near the doors, Adam realizes Mina hasn’t moved. She’s still on the porch, both hands clutching the duffel’s strap. He turns and motions towards the house’s interior.

"We are going inside the house now.

I’m not going, she says shaking her head. Not in there. Not with a vamp.

Adam glances over his shoulder at the retreating man. Virgil would never harm a guest. Do not insult our hosts.

Mina’s only answer is to shake her head, no.

I am not going to force you, Adam says. Then the lights turn off. You may stay outside if you wish. In the dark. With the security force.

He turns and walks into the house, leaving Mina on the porch. She takes about half-a-second to hurry through the door.

The trio enter a large foyer with a white marble floor. Doors and halls lead to other parts of the house. A wide, rounding staircase ascends to second and third floor landings, each with their own doors and halls. A three-tiered, crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling thirty-five feet above, providing light from its flickering, electric candles. Spaced along the walls, between framed oil paintings of dark forests, are lit torches lending medieval flair.

Two large, dark-suited men, hands clasped in front of themselves, wait in the middle of the foyer. The one on the left is the size of a football lineman with neatly-combed dark hair. His boyish looks are marred only by the slightly haunted eyes that have seen too much too soon. The other, older, with hair cropped so short the blond can’t hide his scalp is even wider. Like his partner, he’s seen too much but experience and age have blunted the shock. Virgil stops short of the pair and turns to Adam and Mina.

Mister Grey, you know the procedure.

Adam steps forward and raises his arms to his side. Mina watches as the dark-haired man pulls a six-inch gold cylinder topped with a ruby from inside his jacket then moves it around Adam like a hand-held metal detector. When he finishes he nods to Virgil.

And you, ma’am, Virgil says.

Mina shrugs, sets the bag on the floor then raises her arms. The man follows the same procedure, running the wand over Mina then the bag. The ruby tip glows softly.

Virgil glances at the bag then looks to the man.

Two spirit-binding hexes, sir, the man says. Inside the bag.

Virgil, his expression bland, looks to Adam.

It is why we are here. They pose no threat in their current state, Adam says, slightly annoyed.

Thank you. Please follow me, Virgil turns and walks towards a hallway.

Mina leans into Adam. A magick detector?

Quite.

The pair follow Virgil through the house, each room opulent to the point of gaudy – acres of pink marble and gold leaf followed by crystal and granite. Paintings, sculptures, antique furniture, and carved plaster ceilings seem to cover every square foot. Each doorway they pass through gives rise to a new color scheme, a new design theme or some other visual assault of epic proportions.

This place is a museum, Mina says simply because she feels the need to say something while her eyes jump from sight to sight. Reminds me of Graceland.

The Master enjoys mementos, Virgil says as the trio ascend a wide granite stairway. The Master is on the back terrace, enjoying his recreation time.

Virgil throws open a set of ornate French doors and stands aside, sweeping his arm towards the outside balcony. As Adam and Mina step into the night air, soft lights reveal a wide terrace running the length of the house. Beyond, an expansive lawn bordered by a dense copse of trees is barely visible in the darkness.

A few feet away is a glass table surrounded by half a dozen cushioned, wrought iron chairs. A silver serving tray covered with rows of perfectly spaced identical cubes of cheese sits in the center of the table.

A little further a row of lounge chairs sit empty except for a woman in her early-twenties with chopped black hair and a black ‘Arch Enemy’ tee. Her shorts show off the blue tribal swirls running along one leg down to her googley-eyed Cookie Monster slippers.

She