Empire of the Vampire (Empire of the Vampire, #1)

by Jay Kristoff

Get back, leech,’ I spat. “‘Leech?’ she whispered, fangs glittering. ‘You holy men. You children of God. You bind us in silver and suck us dry and dare name me parasite!’

“Aaron de fucking Coste. “And I murmured again. Softer this time. “‘Tried to kill me…’”

“In other news, I am being pursued in matters amorous by the mason’s boy, Philippe. His enthusiasm is laudable, but I have decided to never wed. Instead, I think I shall become an adventuress, wandering the lands in search of fame and fortune and a conquest more interesting than a tradesman’s son.

It girl behavior

“‘I know I said recklessness is a more admirable quality than foolishness. But fighting three coldbloods armed only with a fucking shovel might be taking things a touch far?’ “‘Good to see you too, Majesty.’ “‘Oh, pack that schoolboy smile a lunch and send it walking,’ she scowled, stuffing another spoonful into my mouth. ‘It holds no weight with me, Gabriel de León.’

I’ll return,’ I nodded. ‘I’m a man of my word, Majesty.’ “‘Not quite a man yet.’ She mustered a small smile. ‘Sixteen next week, is it not?’ “Astrid handed me a sheaf of rough paper, and unfolding it, I felt my heart skip three beats. It was a page from her sketchblock, but it might well have been a mirror. Her artistry was flawless as always, but instead of Justice or Chloe, this time Astrid had drawn me.

“‘A weak and foolish girl would wish you fortune on your Hunt, Gabriel de León. A weak and foolish girl would pray God bring you blessings and guard you from all harm.’ “‘But you’re not a weak and foolish girl.’ “‘No. I’m a fucking queen.’ “And with that, she was gone.”

“‘Three coldbloods, unarmed and single-handed?’ Aaron looked at me sidelong. ‘You’ll have to tell me how you survived that one, Little Kitten.’ “I smiled at de Coste, wondering. ‘Cats have nine lives, Aaron. Lions too.’

“Thirsty?” Jean-François asked, sketching in his damnable book. “You know I am.” “More wine?” Chocolat eyes drifted up to meet Gabriel’s. “Or something stronger?” “Just get me a fucking drink, you unholy cunt.”

“You’re not frightened enough.” Gabriel tilted his head. “Tell me, when your dark mother and pale mistress, Margot Chastain, First and Last of Her Name, set you this task, did you think she was locking me in here with you, or you in here with me?” “I have nothing to fear from you, de León,” the vampire sneered. “You are a drunken wretch, descended from a house of dogs, who allowed the last hope for his species to slip through his fingers and shatter like glass upon the stone.”

The vampire looked Gabriel over, lips pursed. “What happened to the boy to whom deception sat like a rope around his neck? Who held life so dear he’d charge into a burning stable to save a handful of horses? Who would do anything to save one child, spare one mother the hell that his own mother had suffered?” Jean-François glanced at the sevenstar on Gabriel’s hand. “The boy whose faith in the Almighty shone bright as silver, and lit the dark like holy flame?” “The same thing that happens to all boys, coldblood.” The silversaint shrugged and finished his glass. “He grew up.”

It’s a self-important prat who believes his thoughts are worth putting to parchment, let alone writing a fucking ballad about.”

You know what most men don’t do enough of?” “Tell me, Silversaint.” “They don’t shut the fuck up. They don’t just sit and listen. It’s in silence we know ourselves, vampire. It’s in stillness we hear the questions that truly matter, scratching like baby birds on the eggshells of our eyes. Who am I? What do I want? What have I become? Truth is, the questions you hear in the quiet are always the most terrifying, because most people never take the time to listen to the answers. They dance. And they sing. And they fight. And they fuck. And they drown, filling their gullets with piss and their lungs with smoke and their heads with shit so they never have to learn the truth of who the fuck they are. Put a man in a room for a hundred years with a thousand books, and he’ll know a million truths. Put him in a room for a year with silence, and he’ll know himself.”

With the good sister’s advice, I searched the Library with fresh eyes. And within the pages of a timeworn tome, I unearthed a message. Written in a manner that I believe you are familiar with, Silversaint.’ “I met Chloe’s eyes, nodding slow. ‘What kind of message?’ “‘A poem. Penned in old Talhostic. 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.’ “‘It’s a prophecy, Gabe.’ Chloe’s eyes blazed with a familiar fervor. ‘A prophecy about the Grail, and ending daysdeath once and for all.’

“The Inquisition is a sorority of the One Faith,” Gabriel sighed. “Charged with rooting out heresy in the Church. Unlike most holy orders, the sisterhood don’t swear to God or Mothermaid or Martyrs, but to Naél, the Angel of Bliss. Which makes about as much sense as I do after my fourth bottle of wine.” “Meaning what, exactly?” the vampire asked. “Meaning they’re a pack of fucking sadists. They believe bliss can be appreciated only in the absence of pain, and the only prayer they partake in is torture.”

You know, someone once told me a man who names his blade is a man who dreams others will know his name one day.’ “‘Good thing I’m no’ a man, Silversaint.’

“‘I hear you, Chevalier. And the Almighty hears you too.’ “‘I’ve no doubt he does, old man. I just doubt he gives a shit.’

Gabriel took a long swallow of wine. “You don’t miss it?” “Miss what? The futility of building a life that must one day crumble to dust?” “The softness of a pillow after a hard day’s work? The smile in your daughter’s eyes as you step through the door? The joy of a lover in your arms?” “A lover who must grow old and wither, while I remain unchanged?” Jean-François smiled, cold and thin. “Unless I kill them, of course. Praying God and Angel Fortuna that my love rises whole and beautiful, rather than some rotten abomination? Or simply remains dead by my hand?” The vampire shook his head. “Romance is a mortal’s folly, Silversaint.”

But Need and Want are two different masters entire.

‘I’m not that little girl anymore, Gabe. I know what I’m doing. And if I can’t tell you all, then I beg you forgive me. But God above, truth told, it’s best you don’t know all.’ She squeezed my hand in her tiny fist. ‘I need your blade, mon ami. I need your strength. But most of all, I need your faith.’ “I reached down, slowly pulled my hand out of hers. “‘Faith’s a hard thing to come by these nights, Sister.’

You’re missing the point, old man. All on earth below and hea’en above is the work of my hand…’ “‘… And all the work of my hand is in accord with my plan.’ “‘You think those refugees we met on the road didn’t pray with everything they had to not lose their homes? You think Lachlunn á Cuinn didn’t pray for his wife and son to stay alive? See, that divine plan shite is what the pulpit-hucksters feed you when things start to go wrong. After they’ve passed around the collection plate, of course. When your crops fail or your cancer spreads or whatever else you’ve begged him for doesn’t come to pass. That’s the solace they’ll offer. It’s God’s will, they’ll tell you. Part of the divine plan. “‘What they don’t point out is, if he has a plan? There’s no sense praying for anything. If His will be done is the golden rule, then God’s going to do what he wants, regardless of how hard you beg him. And imagine, just for a second, the sense of entitlement it takes to ask him for anything in the first place. The fucking ego you’d need to think that this is somehow all for you. What if you ask for something that’s not his will? You want him to alter the course of the divine plan? For you? See, that’s the grift of it all. That’s the genius. You get what you pray for? Huzzah, God fucking loves you. But your prayers go unanswered?’ I snapped my fingers. ‘Just wasn’t part of the plan.’

“Dior’s arm was still bleeding, his neck too, and the boy smeared the blood from his own wounds onto his palm. And as I watched, he pressed that crimson hand to the gaping hole in Rafa’s throat, and my heart fell still. Because I swear by God and Mothermaid and Redeemer too, at his bloody touch, that wound stitched itself closed.

ooo did not see that coming.

But that falling star we saw? That star marked the moment of Dior’s birth. Rafa and I have searched for more than a year. Following tales of magik, witchcraft, sorcerie. We’d almost given up hope when we heard of a boy whose blood worked miracles. Even brought people back from the edge of death.’ “‘Great fucking Redeemer,’ I breathed. “‘Blasphemy,’ she smiled weakly. “‘You’re telling me this skinny little fuckstain…’ “‘… is the last-known scion of Esan’s line. Dior doesn’t know where the Grail is, Gabriel. He is the Grail. The cup of the Redeemer’s blood.’

“All that stood between us now were two words. Strange how so much power, so much peril and promise, resides in so tiny a thing. Two little words can carry weight enough to see empires rise and kingdoms fall. Two little words can begin the end of everything. How many hearts have been made complete by words so small as I do? How many more have been shattered with a breath as tiny as It’s over? Little sounds that reshape or unmake your entire world, like great spells of old to redraw the very lines by which you see yourself and all else about you. Two little words.

Giving you desires, then denying you the sating of them? Look, but don’t touch? Taste, but don’t swallow? Why make you want what you can’t have?’ “‘To test our faith, of course. To judge if we are worthy of the kingdom of heaven.’ “‘But he’s all-seeing, isn’t he? All-knowing? God knows whether you’re going to pass his test before he ever gives it to you. And if you succumb to your desire? He condemns you to burn. He sets you up to fail, then has the balls to question his own handiwork.’ “‘It is not for mortals to know the mind of God, Silversaint.’ “‘The wise man knows you don’t blame the blade, priest. You blame the blacksmith.’

My stepfather beat the shit out of me as a child, priest. And all it ever taught me was how to hate him.’ I fixed Rafa with a glower. ‘It’s the lowest kind of man who raises a fist to his child and calls it love. And it’s the worst kind of tyrant who demands you adore him above all others.’

“Grace three times the tongue of man or woman with the blood of the kith, and they will be a slave. But not some callow serf, with broken back and battered heart. Some measure of unholy strength will be gifted, master to thrall, making them more than a match for any man. Horses and hounds aren’t so different to humans, save the former tend to die with dignity and the latter with blubbery.

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

“I closed my eyes, saying nothing as she walked away. The beast in me crashed against its bars, howling for me to follow, to take, to swallow, just one mouthful, just one fucking drop. And the awful thing of it was, I knew deep down Chloe wasn’t a fool to offer what she had—that I was weak and starving, and I’d need all my strength if ever I hoped to make it through this night alive, let alone best a Prince of Forever. But I’d made a vow. A promise whispered in the dark, cold as tombs and black as hell. Never again. “Never. Again.” Jean-François ceased his writing, dipped his quill into the ink at his side. “A promise to whom, Silversaint?” But Gabriel only shook his head. “Patience, coldblood.”

“I looked to Rafa. ‘Do me a favor, Father?’ “‘Ask it, Silversaint.’ “‘If you should happen to meet our Maker tonight, kick him in the cock for me.’

“I used to wonder what it was that drove people like him to become the monsters they became. If it was a consequence of all that time, maybe—the need to indulge ever-darker desires, just to stave off the crushing boredom of forever. But you live long enough, you look into the mundane murk of people’s souls often enough, you see Danton didn’t really become anything. He’d just had the shackles of consequence removed. Give someone the power to do anything they want, and they’ll do exactly that. That’s the horrifying part—the only thing holding some folk back from the worst atrocities they can imagine is the fear they might not get away with it.

“The slayer glanced to me and sighed. ‘What worth all that pretty ink? What use a conduit for faith? If a man has no’ a drop of faith left inside him to give?’

“‘I like thy new nun. A little shorter than the last one. How does she taste?’ “His strike sent me skidding back across the boards, fangs bared. “‘No, tell me not,’ he smiled. ‘I shall learn for myself soon enough.’

“In a second, he’d have us. “In a second, it’d be over, everything for nothing. “And in that second, Chloe looked up into my eyes. Burning with familiar fire. “‘Dior is all that matters, Gabe.’ “And letting go of my hand, she plunged down into the dark.

“Whatever else, Dior Lachance was never a coward.

“And then, I saw it. “The one thing that would change everything. “Dior was coatless and shirtless. But not entirely naked. Chloe’s bandage was still around his throat, but another bandage was wrapped about his chest, many times over. At first, I thought the boy might have been wounded; the bandage some holdover from an older battle. But then, beneath the wrappings, I saw it. Saw them. Bound uncomfortably tight, but unmistakable.” Jean-François blinked, glancing up from his tome and snapping his fingers. “Breasts.”

“‘It seems your legend grows in the telling,’ I smiled. “‘Legends always do, Little Lion. And ever in the wrong direction. But a man who sings his own song is deaf to the music of heaven. How shall I hear the word of God, if I am in love with the sound of my own voice?’

“‘’Tis a heavy burden, Master,’ I smiled. ‘To be a hero.’ “‘Hero,’ he scoffed. ‘Mark my words, youngblood. You don’t want to be a hero. Heroes die unpleasant deaths, far from home and hearth.’

“‘I am never taken. I only take. Such is the province of a Prince of Forever.’ “My heart dropped in my chest as realization sank home. “‘Luncóit,’ I whispered. ‘Raven Child.’ “‘His child,’ Talon breathed. “I saw the seraph’s face growing paler, Aaron’s bloodied sword tremble in his hand. We’d known the monster we hunted was powerful. But we’d never imagined … “This thing had been old when the empire was young. The red sovereign of centuries of slaughter. And I whispered then, my voice quaking. The name of this beast we’d hunted since Skyefall. This vampire who now hunted us. “‘Laure Voss…’”

“‘I see her, frailblood,’ Laure whispered. ‘That sweet daughter of Lorson, floating beside thee like a shadow. I smell her, dripping like blood from thy guilty hands. If thou hadst but been there, ye might have protected her. If thou hadst but gone with her into the woods that day as she asked thee, thy sister Amélie might still be alive.’ “Laure’s eyes bored into mine, and her voice was a knife in my chest. “‘Instead, she met me.’ “My belly thrilled with rage. Fangs stirring in my gums. ‘You fucking lie.’ “Laure Voss tilted her head. ‘Do I?’

Astrid looked up from her book, dark eyes meeting mine. She smiled at me then. And God, the way she did so…” Gabriel leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling of his cell with shining eyes. “That girl had a thousand smiles,” he sighed. “A smile cruel as winter wind, that cut you down to shivering bone. A smile light as dove’s down, just the softest hint of it across her cheek to let you know she was listening as you spoke. A smile that could make you fear, and a smile that could make you cry, and a smile that made you feel like you were the only man alive. And the smile she gave me that night was the first time she’d ever done so, and I’ve not forgotten it, not through all the blood and fire, not through all the nights from that one to this. A smile that whispered, and made me smile in kind.” “What did it whisper?” Jean-François asked. “That she was happy. And the sight of me had made her so.

“Two skulls, facing each other upon an ornate shield. “‘Great Redeemer,’ I whispered. ‘What does it say?’ “‘Last, and verily, most contemptible of all Courts of the Blood,’ Chloe read. ‘A broken line of sorcerers and cannibals, damned even among the damned. Spit their name from thy tongue as thou wouldst the blood of pigs, and guard thine own blood lest they wrest it from thy veins.’ “Astrid pointed to a name scribed beneath the skulls. “‘Esani,’ she said. ‘The Faithless.’

And as I’d once told Astrid, other people’s business was ever my favorite kind. Curiosity had killed countless cats, I knew. But cats had nine lives, and lions too.

The Testaments name it a sin,’ I said softly. “‘The Testaments also say it is God’s place to judge. Not man’s.’ “‘You’re a brother of the Silver Order, Baptiste,’ I said, indignity rising. ‘You swore the Oath of San Michon. Obedience. Fidelity. Chastity.’ “‘I swore to love no woman save the Mother and Maid. And to that I hold.’ Baptiste took Aaron’s hand and squeezed it, defiant. ‘’Tis no woman I love.’ “‘Nor I,’ de Coste replied softly.

“All my life, I’d been raised to see the word of God as law. But I was a sinner myself, wasn’t I? I’d broken the rules of San Michon this very night. Astrid had broken the same in helping me, but through it, we’d found a way toward the truth of what I was. A meeting that, if Chloe were to be believed, was ordained by the Almighty Himself. “And I wondered then: Could goodness come of sin? “And if so, how could it be sin at all?

It doesn’t matter, Aaron. Whatever you did as a boy, you’re him no longer. Your past is stone, but your future is clay. And you decide the shape of the life you’ll make.’

“But sitting this close, all thought of bloodgifts and practice melted away. As I’ve said, not even God Himself can come between a girl and a boy truly in want of each other. And looking into Astrid’s eyes, I knew what she wanted. And God help me, I wanted it too.

How does a man pray?’ “‘I don’t know. I don—’ “‘He prays on his knees, Gabriel.’ “And then she pushed herself back up onto the table, slid her hands over my shoulders, pulling me closer, down. The taste of her blood crashed and burned upon my tongue, and her eyes looked deep into mine as she whispered the words that made me completely and finally fall. “‘Pray to me.’

She was mine then, not God’s, wholly and solely mine.

My chest ached at all of this. But I tried to take solace in the Faith, as I’d always done. Whatever became of Aaron and Baptiste, that was the Almighty’s will, was it not? They’d broken the law of God, hadn’t they?

Is this the best of thee? So feeble, thy final gasp? E’en the babes of thy beloved Lorson fought fiercer than this afore I bathed in them.’ “My heart froze in my chest. ‘… What?’ “Her lips curled, all the horror of hell in her eyes. ‘Vowed did I, that all thou hast I wouldst take, Gabriel de León. Thy home. Thy mother. Thy little Celene…’

OMG