The wolf made a sound—not a growl, but something almost like a whimper.Its eyes moved deliberately toward the north, then back to meet mine, the motion so human-like it sent a chill through me despite my inability to feel cold.
“We go north,” I decided, though I couldn’t have explained why I trusted this silent communication from a creature Desiderius insisted was our enemy.
“The wolf could be leading us into another trap,” Desiderius objected.
“Or to safety,” I countered, already moving in the direction the wolf had indicated.“We have little choice, regardless.”
We abandoned the injured wolf and fled northward, Catherine’s weakened condition forcing us to move slower than safety dictated.The eastern sky continued to lighten with alarming speed, each minute bringing us closer to destruction more certain than any human weapon.
After what seemed an eternity but could only have been ten minutes, we crested a small rise to discover what the wolf had silently directed us toward—an old cemetery, its weathered gravestones tilting at odd angles, overcome by decades of neglect.At its center stood a massive stone crypt, its door hanging slightly ajar, its interior promising the absolute darkness we required to survive the day.
“Perfect,” Desiderius breathed, his skepticism temporarily forgotten in the face of salvation.
We hurried across the overgrown cemetery, pushing aside tangled weeds and skirting toppled monuments.The crypt loomed before us, its stone façade carved with angels whose features had been eroded by time and weather until they resembled ghastly approximations of celestial beings.
The first ray of direct sunlight broke over the horizon as we reached the crypt’s entrance.Catherine cried out as it touched her skin, raising a wisp of smoke from her exposed hand.I pulled her forward into the blessed darkness of the mausoleum, Desiderius following close behind.
Together, we heaved the heavy stone door closed, sealing ourselves within just as true daylight flooded the cemetery outside.The interior was pitch black, but vampire sight quickly adjusted to reveal a space larger than its exterior suggested—a chamber containing stone sarcophagi arranged in solemn rows, their surfaces carved with the likenesses of those who had long ago returned to dust.
“Not the most pleasant of accommodations,” Desiderius observed, gesturing to the stone floor.“But it will preserve us until nightfall.”
I nodded, helping Catherine settle against one of the sarcophagi.Her trembling had intensified, her need for blood becoming critical after the night’s exertions.We would need to address that when darkness fell again—another problem to add to our growing collection of impossibilities.
As Catherine slipped into the torpor that claimed vampires during daylight hours, I found myself thinking of the wolf we had left pinned to the tree.Had he directed us here on purpose?Had he known we’d find shelter here?
“Rest,” Desiderius advised, his own body beginning to succumb to daylight’s irresistible call.“Tomorrow night we will assess the situation, figure out if there’s a way out of this situation.I doubt we’ve seen the last of the Order of the Morning Dawn.”
I settled onto the stone floor beside my remaining companions.All I could think about were those who were gone, who I hadn’t saved.Or had I?I wouldn’t know until my time arrived, until I beheld the glory of heaven—if I ever made it.
“Requiescat in pace,” I whispered to the darkness, the Latin prayer for the dead falling from my lips.“May they rest in peace.”
Chapter 28
Thedarknessinsidethecrypt wrapped around us like a shroud, comforting in its completeness despite the lack of other amenities.Clearly, humans weren’t thinking about vampires when they created mausoleums devoid of couches or mattresses.
I lay against the cold stone, replaying the night’s devastation in my mind.Ruth and Rebecca kneeling in prayer just before the explosion tore them apart.Thomas’s face contorted in silent agony as flames consumed him.The others simply gone—souls I had guided toward redemption now scattered like ashes in a firestorm.I clung to consciousness despite the sun’s invisible weight pressing down upon me, repeating their names in silent litany.All could do was pray, and offer up my present sufferings, that their earlier faith would be recognized, that they wouldn’t be judged on account of the influence of Gallow’s manipulative treatments, and that they’d be purified in the presence of our Lord and enter heavenly glory.
A sound penetrated my prayer—footsteps shuffling across overgrown grass, disturbing the cemetery’s morning stillness.Someone was moving among the graves outside.
“Listen,” Desiderius whispered, turning his ear toward the door.
Catherine stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open with effort.“Germans?”
I strained my senses, catching the rhythm of solitary footfalls.“One person,” I whispered.“Moving alone among the graves.”
Desiderius crept toward the crypt’s eastern wall.His fingertips traced the edge of a stone block where time had eaten away the mortar, leaving a spiderweb of cracks.“The centuries have not been kind to this masonry,” he murmured.“We could fashion a small window here—just enough to see without letting the sun’s deadly rays touch us.”
Desiderius pried at the loose stone.When the first sliver of daylight broke through, he went perfectly still.Only after confirming the beam touched nothing but dust dancing in its path did he resume, widening the gap to approximately two finger-widths.
He held up a warning hand.“Keep to the shadows.Look through from the side so the light doesn’t touch you.”
I moved cautiously toward the gap, positioning myself to observe without exposing any part of my flesh to daylight.For a moment, I saw nothing—the transition from our sanctuary’s perfect blackness to the cemetery’s harsh illumination seared my sensitive retinas, sending needles of pain through my skull.Then, the world outside slowly materialized through my watering eyes, and I spotted a figure moving among the headstones.
Lieutenant Dupont.
He favored his right side, his left arm hanging awkwardly as he navigated the uneven terrain.A hasty field dressing wrapped his left shoulder, dark crimson seeping through the white bandage—precisely where Desiderius had struck the werewolf with metal shrapnel the previous night.
“It’s Dupont,” I announced.
