I cross paths with the Sisters from time to time. Anymore, though, we are in different regions. I have been in the north, what was once Canada, in search of the Grigori. More precisely, the ones known as the First Born.
I have not been back near the Missions for twenty years. My search took me north, beyond the edges of land to the ice. There, I discovered an army far greater than anything Kalkolides could ever dream of. Angels. Heavenly warriors at the ready for war.
My message had been weighed with great scrutiny, their decision unanimous. They will fight for the salvation of mankind once more. But this time will be their final. once the war is over, man is on his own.
They have made it plain. Man has failed to learn, therefore, he will be on his own. Once the vampires are defeated and utterly destroyed, the Grigori will vanish from the earth. Man will have to live or die on his own merit, without the aid of his older siblings. The elder race is tired of watching the endless, mindless destruction and hate.
Faith has been blinded by human ambition and greed, destroying the pure message of those sent to “save” him. Jesus. Mohamed. Confucius. Buddha. Krishna. the list is endless.
Even Moses was relegated to the role of lawgiver, then forsaken. The prophets of old, ignored and executed…or worse, imprisoned as insane. Even in latter days, before the wars. Man has turned the faiths into religions, destroying their very reasons for being founded.
What good are self-help spiritual texts when you change it all into a reason to oppress all with your twisted views? What good is instructions for one’s life when they become a weapon to use on others? nothing make sense to me. nothing except what the Grigori had to say.
They seem so wise. So amazingly wise, yet so aloof. mankind is in for a shock. Politics or no, he is now going to watch as his allies are destroyed and wiped from the face of the earth. A war is coming, and evil is in for a surprise.
I am far from home still, but disturbing news has already reached me. In my absence, the south has fallen. At least Savanna and Mobile has fallen. No word from New Orleans, Baton Rouge, or other cities. I will have to investigate.
I am in Calgary right now. Still in the control of Hunters, it is a safe haven for me. So are most of these northern cities. Quebec City. Montreal. Ottawa. Yellow Knife. The rest.
Up here, it is somewhat peaceful. Vampires hate the cold. They hate anything cooler than 75 degrees. Makes them sluggish.
Most of the turmoil from what had been the States hasn’t engulfed most of Canada either. Political differences here weren’t as polarized. And fewer radicals shipped in with the refugees.
Europe had not been so lucky. They had been infiltrated by agents working for the vampires. Well, most of Europe, anyway. I guess the Nordic countries and Russia , at least the northern half that was tundra, escaped without too much problem.But, then, as I said, vampires hate the cold.
But I don’t. I think it is beautiful here. But, then, it was beautiful in the States once as well. Too long ago for me to remember.
My mind continues to wonder what might’ve happened to Truva and McCall, my mentors and teachers. What has happened to them? Where are they now? Did their worst fears come to pass? God, I miss them!
Someone is at the door. I must answer. But I must also remain ever vigilant. Kalkolides will continue to try and prevent me from my mission. He will likely try to send assassins to kill me. Or try to kill me. Not that they will be able to.
For sixty years, He has sent his assassins. And for sixty years, I have killed them all. Hell. I have killed all his allies and even most of his army. I have caused him to have to start all over on making and training one.
He is one of only a handful of Vampire lords left. His commanders are all dead. Their scions are all dead.
“Password.” I am abrupt, standing to one side of the door.
“Child,” comes the answer from a voice far more ancient than any who might be sent by Kalkolides, “I am far too old to waste time on password. Commander Kolbedides sent me with a message from the northern wastes.”
I draw my hand away from my sword, careful not to draw it from its scabbard. I open the door. “Come in.”
The ancient shape-shifter smiles. “You are wise, child.” He steps into my room. “Zoesus has commanded my small unit of shape-shifters to accompany you south. If you are uncomfortable with this, let us know and we will trail you. But we must go south with you no matter what.”
I shrug. “I do not feel uncomfortable with your presence near me. Why should I? The one who saved me from certain death was a werewolf named Grady. Hell. He was one of my teachers.”
The shape-shifter laughs. “And how was Grady the last time you saw him?”
My thoughts wonder back to the battle that had separated us. Sadness creeps into my eyes along with pain. “Last I saw him, he was well. We got separated.”
“Ah, yes.” He gives a grim smile and nods, perceiving my thoughts. “You were separated from him. And McCall and Truva.” He waves my sadness off. “Worry not, child. You will see them again. Only time separates you, not death.”
I nod, mystified. “Truva told me that your kind cannot die.”
He laughs. “My kind? Child, you and I are the same. We are your kind as well.”
I blink in surprise. “But I am a vampire. I cannot be one of you.”
He shakes his head. “No, child. You are one of us. Have you ever wondered about your wings? How about your ability to change shape? or the ability to control your thirst?”
I sit down in shock. “I-I–”
He smiled. “I see.”