Vampyre: Desire Immortal

Chapter 6

The Raising of Hell

Remove the sorcerer's heart and spit upon it. Stake it to his eye and rid me of the pest that wants one thing – for me to die!

*****

"By God's nails, you have brought the bishop," Fye whispered.

"Of course," whispered Perdix. "He speaks the language of the angels, does he not? Besides, Wolfstan is an infidel. After he marries Her Highness, he will sweep the vestry clean.

The bishop will make a pact with Lucifer to retain his comfy place in the palace. Look at him. Fat. Finely dressed. You would do the same, Fye. Don't try to deny it. Besides, he has the Book of Spells. He has agreed to read it. But only once. I do hope once is enough, but it is the best I can do. Then, he'll leave the rest to us."

Perdix looked up into the clear night sky. The galaxies hung low. He felt the weight of the full moon bearing down upon him like the mountains of the Tetzel.

"My Lord," Fye said, bowing her head to the regally dressed man.

"The pit burns well," said Perdix. "Its light should last long enough."

Fye bowed her head again.

The bishop glanced her way, said nothing, and stared into the fire.

"And we have the dogs of the court," the alchemist said.

"Good. They will alert us to the scent of Dyryke 's ghost," she said.

"Remove the stone that covers the grave," the bishop said to Fye and Perdix.

"Yes, My Lord," Perdix said.

Both bent low and picked up the flat stone tablet. When they went to place it onto the grass, it began to jiggle and dance like the earth was shifting beneath it. There was a deafening cracking sound. They dropped it like a hot coal beside the hand-dug hole. Perdix and Fye jumped back.

The grass beside the stone glowed orange and yellow. A blinding flash of green-blue light and a roaring peal of thunder rent the silence of the graveyard. A huge cloud of dark, gray smoke billowed up, stinking with the burning smell of sulfur. Their eyes watered, and they hacked and coughed and tried in vain to expel the intense burning inside their throats.

The bishop screamed and turned as white as snow.

"Stand your ground," Perdix yelled to the bishop. "Fye!"

Fye lifted her head to the heavens and began chanting a magic spell. Lightening flashed. Thunder pealed. The winds picked up and blew with a mighty force. It seemed as if a war was being fought above their heads.

Fye's words echoed over the graveyard.

Once. Twice, she repeated her spell.

Then, silence.

The winds stilled. The stars twinkled. The three stood among the grave stones as blue shadows danced over the graveyard. The flames in the pit popped and crackled as Perdix threw another log onto the fire.

"It is finished," he said. "We may begin."

Dyryke 's stone memorial was no more. The blacken pieces of rubble smoked and trembled and jittered and dissolved into the dirt. The fire from the pit lit a jagged hole about three feet wide and five feet deep.

The ragged remains of a wrapped body lay inside with a few trinkets and a golden goblet, intricately decorated with jewels and precious stones that lay resting on the corpse's stomach. Here and there, a bone broke through jagged holes in the burial wrapping.

"Well," said the bishop, "I guess it's time for the witch to prove her metal. I can only hope she is as good as you say."

Perdix looked at Fye. He shook his head. Fye nodded once.

She moved closer to the open grave and peered down into the dark hole. She took a deep breath, spit into her hands, and rubbed them fiercely together. The dirt and grime melted into her saliva. She pressed her palms tightly against both temples.

She squatted down on the ground. Her long matted, greasy locks fell across her bosom. She lowered her chin onto her chest and began to chant in a strange, ancient language. The bishop had never heard anything like it.

"You were right," he said. "Her magic is strong. It is freezing out here. Look. I blow my breath. It becomes a frosty cloud, and my teeth are jumping in my gums. We will catch our death out here in this godforsaken winter blast. By God's cross, I should have worn my furs."

"Shh," said Perdix.

"By God's nails, I'm turning blue."

"Shh."

Fye was in a deep trance. Her head rolled from side to side. Strands of wildly frizzled hair went back and forth and round and round like leaves caught in whirlpools. Bits of foam formed at the edges of her lips. Her eyes lolled back into her head. She threw her face skyward and screamed.

The bishop jumped.

"Is she dying?"

"No. Now, please, Your Grace."

The bishop said no more. His tongue was stopped in his mouth.

Fingers of thick gray smoke suddenly begin to rise from the hole in serpentine coils toward the stars. There was a strange buzzing sound from deep inside the pit. A bright blue glow and then, a spear of light shown brilliantly from the center of the grave. A loud roar peeled from the earth, and the two men saw the silhouette of Dyryke's stiff, flat corpse floating in the air over the hole where he had lain.

The rotting strips of cloth that wrapped the body fluttered like dancing butterflies in the eerie light. Fye screeched out commands in her ancient tongue, and the cadaver began to move to one side. When it was safely floating above solid ground, Fye let go of her temples and spun around in a blur of motion seven times.

The remains dropped gently to the grass.

"Look at the chalice," said the bishop. "I had hoped he was buried with it. It is incredible. More beautiful than anything I have ever seen. So many jewels. So many wonderful stones. And solid gold, too. I must have it, Perdix. I must."

"But My Lord, we are not here to rob the dead but to restore unto him life."

"Nonsense," said the bishop. "I'm stuck in this cemetery in the middle of the night freezing my nuts off. I deserve something of great value for my misery. Give me the chalice," the bishop said.

Fye reached down and picked up the precious vessel. She felt the heat burn her dirt-encrusted fingers.

"It rages with fury, Perdix" Fye said, throwing the vessel onto the ground.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your senses?" the bishop said, grunting to bend over and pick up the cup. "Scite, you haggard fool."

Fye looked on as the fat man fingered the jeweled object without burning his hands. How odd, but she kept silent.

The bishop had obviously recovered. His fat, ruddy cheeks were rounded apples as his smile spread across the sides of his face. His eyes caressed the shining object.

A clap of thunder rumbled across the sky. The bishop jumped, almost dropping his precious find. He cleared his meaty throat.

"Unwrap the bones. We haven't got all night. I must be back before dawn for tomorrow is tax day."