Empire of the Damned (Empire of the Vampire, #2)

by Jay Kristoff

I’d take a leap of faith, But I’d lose my nerve. In the end, I’ll get the hell that I deserve. —TOM SEARLE

From holy cup comes holy light; The faithful hand sets world aright. And in the Seven Martyrs’ sight, Mere man shall end this endless night.

THE DEAD BOY opened his eyes.

‘By the Blood, I vow it. I know not where this road will lead us, girl. But I’ll walk it with you, to whatever fate awaits. And if God Himself should tear us asunder, if all the Endless Legion stood in my path, I would find my way back from the shores of the abyss to fight at your side. I’ll not leave you, Dior.’

The road is black ahead,’ I told her. ‘And it’s hard to keep walking when you can’t see the ground beneath your feet. But that’s what courage is. The will to keep walking in the darkness. To believe the end is just beyond your outstretched hand, rather than a million miles away. And while some might falter, some might fail, some might curl up like babes rather than walk on through that lonely night, you are not that girl.’

“Sleep now, my lovely, s-sleep now, my dear, “Dark dreams will fade now your papa is near. “Fear not the m-monsters, fear not the night, “Papa is here now and all shall be right. “Close your eyes, darling, and know this b-be true, “Morning will come, and your papa loves you.

I heard ye were dead, de León.’ “‘Heaven was full. And the devil was afraid to open the door.’ “‘Then the devil is a coward.’

Dead shall rise, and stars shall fall; “‘Weald shall rot to ruin of all. “‘Lions roar and angels weep; “‘Sinners’ hands our secrets keep. “‘’Til Godling’s heart brights hea’en’s eye, “‘From reddest blood comes bluest sky.’

There’s a time and place for tears, Flower. An’ there’s a solace to be found in sadness. It’s easier fallin’ downhill than climbin’ up. It hurts to punch on with broken hands. But it’s when darkness falls around us that we find the fire within.

When your whole world is going to hell, sometimes all you need is someone who sounds like he knows the way.

I give no fucks for the souls under heaven. I ask nothing of its sovereign, save the chance to spit in his face before he sends me below. I shit on your Redeemer, sister. Upon his wheel. Upon the cartwright who carved it and the woodsman who felled it and the son of a whore who planted its seed.

‘The right book is worth a hundred blades.’

There’s none more terrified of dying than those who live forever.’

“Better to be a bastard than a fool.” Jean-François smiled. “You are not a bastard, de León. You are a cunt.” “Well. You are what you eat, vampire.” “Charming.” “My wife certainly thought so.”

“Truth is the sharpest knife,”

‘I did not know back then, what an awful word forever could be.’

“You may have finer tailors, but you and your kin are cut from the same cloth exact.”

“You’re not sporting with the puppies anymore, you’re running with the wolves.”

‘BEFORE HE BURNS his bridges, a man should learn to swim.’

‘It is no mortal love, chérie. That corruption in their veins. It is a dark counterfeit, bereft of truth, but no less potent for its lack. It is a cruel love they bestow, Dior. An envious, possessive love, dragging all sweetness and honesty beneath its undertow. I have seen it make wives kill their husbands with a smile. Parents butcher their children in defiance of all God and nature’s law. It is a love hellborn.’

Silk will prove stronger than steel on the right battleground. Beauty can be a kind of weapon, and bestow a rare power.

“When a man lies, he kills a part of this world, and a part of his soul besides.”

“Everybody lies, sinner. But we did it only for the good.” “Ah, oui,” the Marquis smiled. “The greatest wickedness is always done for the good, is it not? But what a relief it is, to learn that the Almighty’s soldiers are just as hypocritical as the rest of us.”

A wise woman once said there is no hell so cruel as powerlessness, sinner,

Those hurt will hurt in kind. Cruelty is an infection, spread from one victim to the next; an avalanche rolling ever downhill and crashing worst upon those at the bottom of the pile.

“Before the Five, come unto one, “With sainted blade, ’neath virgin sun, “By sacred blood, or else by none; “This blackened veil shall be undone.”

To hate the thing that is completing you. To love the thing that is destroying you. What perfect suffering. What hell divine.

“The folk I held dearest were always the ones I quarreled with hardest. Folk who weren’t afraid to slap me out of my bullshit, or tell me I was being an arse. There’s no friend under heaven like an honest one.”

The wise man learns more from his enemies than the fool from his friends, but even the fool can learn if his friends are willing to call him one. Surround yourself with folk who confront you. If you’re not being challenged, you’re not learning anything. If you’re the smartest man in the room, you’re in the wrong fucking room.

We don’t get broken. We’re made broken. We are not whole alone. But if we’re blessed, if we’re brave, we might find those few whose edges fit against our own. Like pieces of the same puzzle, or shards of the same shattered blade. Those people who, in their own broken way, make our broken edge complete.’

I’d nothing to fight with save my bare hands. But bare hands have killed kings, coldblood. Bare hands have built empires. A man and his sword can carve a legend. A man and his army can conquer a nation. A man and his god can remake the world. But swords shatter. Armies falter. Gods betray. “A man’s hands are ever his own.

Folk who cannot trust each other are doomed to destroy each other. And Moons and Earth know, these nights are filled with enemies enough.’

“It’s a strange thing, to explain death to a child. The question they inevitably ask is why, and in truth, there’s no good answer. We settle for telling them about the God who loves them. The good place we go afterward, where there’s no hurt. No death. We raise our children to believe in that lie; that all will be wonderful once they die.

D’ye pray to yer One God, se’yersan?’ “‘Not anymore. He never listens, madame.’ “She met my eyes then, her voice hard and cold as stone. “‘If ye never pray to him, boy, what exactly is he supposed to listen to?’”

‘Old feuds. Fresh woes. And always, snows runnin’ red.’

There’s no love so deep as that of family. But no hate so bitter either. Who can wound you deeper than your kin?

Fuck my face,’ I snarled. “‘Nae in the mood,’ she sighed.

We only die if we are forgotten, Gabriel de León. Burn bright. Burn brief. But burn.’

“I war with my sister, until, “We war with our kinfolk, until, “We war with the Highlands, until, “We war with the world.

“Hope is for fools, Historian.” Gabriel met the vampire’s eyes. “Hope gets you killed. Hope walks into the fire. Faith leaps over it. I didn’t hope Dior was alive. I believed it.”

“I’d rather die for something that matters than live for nothing at all. And because a man survived long enough to have a grey beard and wrinkles means not that he’s actually lived. To live is to risk. To fear and to fail. A man must dance on the dragon’s teeth to steal the fire from its tongue. Most are burned alive in the attempt. But better to dance and fall than to never have danced at all. Pity not the man who dies too soon, but the one who lingers too long. For those men who pass peaceful in their beds, who slip one night soft into sleep and wake nevermore … can they be said to have been awake at all?”

If everyone was exceptional, mademoiselle, then no one would be.’

I’m not a leader! I’ve no fucking idea what I’m doing!’ “‘That is the best way to do something that’s never been done.’

Hold no fear for what is coming, Dior. It is coming anyway.’

“If I cannot trust my fate to the Almighty’s hands, can I say I hold faith in him? “And if I did not hold faith in him, why would he hold it in me?

But you told me yourself, Highness. We’re not where we’re born, or who we’re born from. That’s doubly true for you. The folk who follow you tonight don’t do so because you were born Niamh’s daughter. They do it because the fire in you warms all the folk around you. Because nothing feels quite as impossible when you’re near.’

Steel rusts. Ice melts. Even your papa’s beloved stone becomes sand in time. But famille … “‘She squeezed my hand then, so tight it hurt. “‘Famille is forever.

“Some join willingly. Out of lust for power, or darkness of heart. “Others are just fools who think they’ll live forever.

Everyone’s a priest when the arrows start flying. When all that stands between you and death is a few rings of chainmail, or a couple of feet of stone, it’s hard not to give yourself over to God. Everyone in battle has a prayer, Chastain. Problem is, the one they pray to seldom listens.”

“There are none more afraid of dying…” “Than those who live forever,”