Hellfire

Chapter Eleven

June 1994

My heart was elated. My fire was rippling through me, alive and hot; Thorn in my hand, and cutting through some poor dead man's neck, rending his head free in an arc. The zombie made no noise - not a gurgle. Its throat and chest had decayed too much for it to. It just raked at me, clawing blindly. I didn't care. I was finally free and wild after weeks of being stifled. I was in my element.

Other zombies groaned about me though, shuffling through the dark. Ironically, we were beneath St Mary's Church on the outskirts of the city, an old thing out along the Avon river and full of old gravestones covered in green moss and worn away by weather. It was an incredibly tacky choice to haunt by a vampire bent on testing out his magical control over corpses, and I'd just buried my face in my hands when Oliver and I were led here.

'Have you got the vampire?' Oliver shouted out.

'No!'

'Then hurry up! I can't take control of so many!' He winced as the zombies around him remained frozen, strings of his blood slipping from his bitten hand and threading into the dead limbs.

My attention locked onto the vampire sitting lazily upon a tomb, his gaze distant as he puppeteered every zombie he'd made. I hated how the victims were kills of his and not just people who'd died recently and had been buried here. I knew they were people who'd be missed by their expensive clothes or distinct uniforms. Not the homeless, but the city service and community workers and the rich. It upset me enough when the homeless were targeted and treated like yesterday's garbage, but choosing those who'd be noticed dead just made me angrier on behalf of Lucius. It was going to be harder to keep our people safe from hunters because of this shithead's whims.

I cut through another and belted onwards, trying to ignore the severed hands trying to snatch at my ankles. It was difficult fighting twenty-odd zombies in a close space. They didn't drop dead when a head was cut free. No. I would've loved it if they did, but they were puppeteered by a vampire, so, even in pieces, there were a threat. They could mend themselves, bite and tear, even when in tiny bits. Which was why I was avoiding them now and just using my fire to force my way through - barrelling towards that murderous bastard.

I knew when he realised the danger I posed. His distant gaze began to sharpen, the zombies blocking me faltered and let me pass with only a pathetic tap of a hand. The vampire began to hiss, his eyes flaming red as his attempt to cut me was met by raging flames. He couldn't hurt me or command my head to twist off when I was shrouded by silver anger. He moved, his body melting in a swift attempt to flee as he always did. This bastard had fled from city to city, killing and harming humans and summoning their revenants to prey on the weak and cause trouble. So, Lucius had expected this and toughened the barrier about the church, forcing the vampire to pop back into existence.

He looked confused a moment, tapping the wall and forgetting about me for a second. A fatal mistake when Thorn cut through his neck and then ripped through his heart. He roared as my silver flames swallowed him, burning him as his heart spewed blood, until, in unison with his dead, collapsed where he stood. I prowled about the corpse, my fire flickering and crackling over my skin and blade, not letting my guard down at all until the vampire was little more than ash, bone cracking like logs full of ember.

'He wasn't so much of an issue.' Oliver commented as he rubbed his head, massaging the ache. 'But his control of his revenants was impressive.'

I flicked my eyes to him, my expression distant as my fire continued to rage, muscles tight with a desire to fight and trembling like a taut bow - until Lucius' control over my lock tightened. A few heartbeats later and I was cooler, my desire to run wild calming and allowing me to let my guard down. I was a woman again, not a raging pyre.