Chapelwaite led us through the capital in the dead of the night. I preferred it without all the hubbub. Squint your eyes, and you could almost pretend the buildings were rock formations, and the few folks still out and about were tumbleweeds. Just like home.

  No coyotes howling, though. Or dust and sand peppering your cheeks. No sense of danger at every turn. I pitied the back-alley thief in a civilized city who’d think they could get one over on hardened frontiersmen like us.

  “You doing alright?” I asked Rosa.

  “Fine,” Rosa said. The whole walk, she’d been in her own little brown study, lost in her thoughts, looking straight ahead. All business.

  “You don’t sound it.”

  “It’s better knowing, right?”

  Sometimes, when people frame a question like that, it’s more a statement. However, from her, it sounded genuine, like she wanted me to answer. I wanted to hear her heart on the matter.

  “You tell me.”

  She bit her lip, thoughts no doubt moving overtime now. “I don’t know… It’s liberating, I guess. I just…”

  Only after she let the words linger in the air an overly long moment did I pipe in, wondering if I had her number. “Wish you were back with Willy in that little apartment above his shop in Dead Acre? Safe. Normal.”

  “Safe. Normal.” She repeated the words, and I picked up on the tone. Nothing about Dead Acre was safe or normal in retrospect. “Bored, more like it.”

  A frown flashed across her features as she said it. I understood. She cared for her late husband, I knew she did, but Rosa wasn’t the living-in-one-place-for-her-whole-life type. Maybe that need to move was in her blood, but it was her nonetheless.

  “Boredom has its comforts,” I said, though I’d never known them.

  “Used to make me want to drink. Now?” She didn’t need to finish. Her sigh told the rest.

  “Not much further,” Chapelwaite called from up ahead, still moving with the urgency of a guttersnipe who got the whiff of food.

  “No idea how you live in this place,” I replied. “So damn quiet.”

  “We make up for it in the day, I’ll tell you that. You think Nephilim are scary? Try a senate hearing. There are more snakes in those seats than on Medusa’s head.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots.”

  “The price of order is high, Crowley. Trust me.”

  “What the hell does a vampire-lover know about ‘order’?”

  “Too much.”

  His pace quickened even still. I took Rosa’s arm to help her keep up. She may not have been complaining, but I could tell exhaustion still had its hold on her. Better not to let her expend more energy than necessary.

  We made our way out of the clustered buildings and onto a grassy field dotted with lush trees. I could even hear water babbling from a nearby river.

  And while it seemed like we were back in the heart of nature, it was anything but. The grass was pristine like I’d never seen. So neat and manicured, it didn’t seem real. Even in the moonlight, I could tell how purely green it was. All as artificial as the order Chapelwaite appeared so fond of.

  That same gnarly black cat from earlier strode past a nearby tree. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

  “Dios mio…” Rosa whispered.

  At first, I didn’t notice what she was referring to, then I followed her gaze up the grassy knoll to see what prompted such a reaction. A giant tower soared into the sky, high as a mountain, eclipsing even the moon. I’d never seen a church spire so tall.

  “I didn’t think man could build something so high,” Rosa marveled.

  “Never underestimate what men will do to feel closer to God,” I replied.

  A quick glance back revealed the cat to be gone.

  “Not for God,” Chapelwaite clarified. “The obelisk was built in honor of this nation’s founding father, George Washington.”

  “All this for a man?” Rosa said.

  “Some are worth remembering.”

  The path led us to an entryway popping through thick stonework at the base of the massive structure. Could have fit all of Dead Acre inside the thing.

  “Wait here,” Chapelwaite instructed, leaving us to approach two soldiers posted outside. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but he flashed a badge and after some more courtesies, the soldiers didn’t just move aside, they completely abandoned their posts.

  “What are you both waiting for?” Chapelwaite called. “Time’s ticking.”

  I looked at Rosa and she to me. There was something unnerving about entering such a stark, overbearing monument. I was too simple a man for this.

  “You’re worried it’s a trap,” Rosa said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Worried in general,” I replied.

  “Chapelwaite told us everything. Why do that only to trick us?”

  “To get us here. Could be Ace and his whole crew in there. Could be the demon’s Horsemen lying in wait, Death included this time.”

  “Well then, ready to meet Death?”

  “I bet he’s a hoot.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Who said Death is a he?” Rosa smiled thinly. “Alright, let’s go talk to Judas Iscariot, the man who betrayed Jesus Christ, who is now one of the good guys, and apparently father to all vampires. That about cover it?”

  “Just about. Good guy’s a stretch, though.”

  Rosa shook her head. “What is your world, James Crowley?”

  “Our world now.” I tipped my hat.

  Rosa was the first to go this time. Eager to see things through, I reckon. Couldn’t say I blamed her. Either way, this was the end of life as we knew it. Through those doors could be only two things: An enemy or a friend.

  As cold and solid as the outside appeared, the interior of the monument was hollow. There’s a metaphor there, I’m sure. Stairs wound around the outer walls all the way up into the blackness above, circling around grated walls with some sort of metal freight lift in the center. What I didn’t see was any space for men to work the pulleys to get it rising.

  Chapelwaite removed an oil lamp from the wall and gave it a strike. Guess those fancy streetlamps don’t come in travel-size. He led us through bifold doors onto a herringbone-patterned wood floor that in no way matched how workaday the rest of the place was.

  “Watch your step.” He offered Rosa a hand onto the lift. I was given no such courtesy. Once we were all three aboard, he rolled the doors closed.

  “Don’t tell me Judas sits on top of this thing all night,” I said.

  “Up is for tourists.”

  Chapelwaite brushed past me to a small lever board beside the doors. It boasted a few buttons which did who knows what, but he didn’t use them. Instead, he leaned over, stretched his upside-down cross necklace out, and placed it in a socket like a key.

  Metal groaned almost as loud as my soul did—assuming I had one. Something about this trip felt wrong, though I couldn’t put my finger on what.

  The racket of churning gears reverberated. The floor beneath the lift slid open, causing the platform to lurch. Rosa gripped me out of instinct, like I knew what in the Devil’s asshole was going on. For my part, I grabbed the grates like they owed me money. The lift hummed, descending all on its own.

  “It’s new. Works with electricity,” Chapelwaite said. “Astounding, isn’t it? Soon, even Heaven and Hell will fear man’s inventions.”

  I searched the platform, trying to understand it. There had to be someone hiding somewhere, creating the illusion. ’Cept it was all open, just cables.

  “With what I’ve seen, I ain’t sure I trust our kind any more than them,” I said.

  “Trust or not, Judas believes the day is coming. Their control wanes. Instead of cathedrals and monuments, we will have weapons that could shatter the Earth itself.”

  “Maybe then they won’t need me,” Rosa said.

  Her grim joke inspired silence for the rest of the ride, and as nifty as this bit of engineering proved to be, it was slow going. After an agonizing couple of minutes, dust kicked up, and we cranked to a stop. Gone were any modern trappings, replaced by torches and stone block walls which were almost medieval in nature.

  And just like that, we stepped out into another world, another time. Chapelwaite beckoned us along with unsettling calm. Men leading you into a trap usually had a tell, but he had a poker face, for sure. It could go either way.

  I kept Rosa in front of me, right where I could see her as we delved through the low, vaulted passage. My hands were ready to draw canisters and start shooting at whatever lurked in the dark.

  The passage opened into an underground rotunda of sorts—all stone. It took me a second to realize why it seemed so familiar. The size and layout were nearly identical to Judas’ hidden mausoleum sanctuary back in Crescent City. I’m not sure why I should be surprised. Chapelwaite had told me the ancient vampire had more hideouts spread throughout the country. Probably the world.

  The main difference was that these walls weren’t festooned with art and relics from antiquity, but instead from early America. Various versions of the American flag hung in intervals—even the unofficial old thirteen-starred one. Many were in tatters, as if they themselves had seen war. There were uniforms, weapons, trinkets, and paintings from early colonial days to Washington and his men crossing some river in his uniform at night, to an unknown battle and a fleet.

  My knowledge of history was fuzzy at best. Never was much for paying attention to teachers, and my parents weren’t sticklers for education. Still, I recognized a fair bit.

  As we entered, more torch-sconces around the perimeter bloomed to life as if by magic. That revealed another deviation from Judas’ Crescent City hideaway. Instead of a plinth in the center of the room, there was a shallow pool. Thick, reddish liquid shimmered from the firelight within, still and undisturbed.

  Rosa gulped. “Is that—”

  “Blood,” I finished for her. Couldn’t smell the iron tang, but I knew the sight when I saw it.

  Chapelwaite stopped at its rim and held out his arms for us to do the same. He cleared his throat. Then again, but louder.

  Bubbles frothed in the pool of blood. My hands fell to my grips, purely out of instinct. Then, they came half out of their holsters as a man rose from the liquid.

  It was most definitely not Judas.

  His clothing was wholly stained with red and grime, and nothing about it looked contemporary. A jacket—whose color I could not tell—had oversized buttons like he was going to a dress ball or maybe a war meeting, judging by the golden frills donning his shoulders. A thick bandolier hung across his torso over a puffy undershirt.

  It was his face that struck me the oddest. He had an almost fatherly mien. Frayed hair rose back from a soaring forehead, rolling outward at the sides in a deliberate manner. Reminded me of some high falootin’ judge. His long, stern nose, discerning eyes, and flat mouth made it impossible to tell if he was pleased or upset. Not unlike my old man.

  With the flat of his hand, he wiped blood up his face and back through his hair, then lowered himself to sit on the edge of the pool, feet still plunged. Feller was acting like this was just some day at the local watering hole. If we were any danger to him, it didn’t show. More like we were flies disturbing his lunch.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Your Highness,” Chapelwaite said, bowing at the waist.

  The stranger grunted in response and dismissively flicked his wrist. Then he patted the stone outside the pool for something. Next thing I knew, his mouth opened to reveal all gums and no teeth before he popped a set of stained dentures inside. With a loud crack, he flexed his jaw.

  When he spoke, it was with a sibilant hiss. “What is so momentous that you would plague me thusly without notice, underling?” Unlike Judas, his accent wasn’t exotic. More refined American. A hint of the old country with all the pomp of a man who’d known wealth and power for a long time.

  “I am deeply sorry to disturb you,” Chapelwaite said.

  “The time has passed for such regrets.” He reset his jaw again and his lisp faded. “State your business, but first, who are these guests, and why have they been brought before me?”

  I cleared my throat—an action without purpose for one such as me; still, it had a certain effect in circumstances like this. “We are here on Judas’ behalf.”

  As intended, that got the stranger’s attention. His back straightened, and for the first time, his narrow eyes betrayed a hint of emotion.

  “Out with it, then,” the stranger said, a command in his tone.

  Chapelwaite hesitated like a man who knew where he stood in the pecking order. “Your Highness, I beg you to pardon the intrusion. However, we must consult with your Creator… through you.” He waited again. Once it was clear the blood-soaked man wasn’t planning to offer a response, he continued, “They are of great importance to Him and His Vision, especially the woman. She is—”

  The stranger raised a single finger to silence him. Then he sniffed the air. “Yes, I can smell the power in her. The blood in her veins is rich. Ancient.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I cut in.

  “And you.” His gaze turned to me. I instantly felt small. Insignificant. “Do you fancy yourself her protector?” He whiffed the air again. “I find nothing inside you. But I know your kind. Another prospect for the family, perhaps?”

  Chapelwaite stepped forward. “Your Highness, if I may—” Another stern finger hushed him.

  “You will speak only when addressed, underling. You may be my Maker’s pawn, but I am of His blood.”

  That answered a bit of my confusion. The dentures… odd to see when men of a certain stature had been used to porcelain for so long now. I suspected it immediately—what with all the blood—but this was, indeed, a defanged elder vampire. Why?

  “That’s you, isn’t it?” Rosa chimed in. She pointed at the painting of General Washington leading troops across a freezing cold river, as if crossing Hell itself.

  I looked between her and the artwork. Something wasn’t registering.

  A thin smile spread across his wrinkled face. “Ahhh. Power in your veins, and a mind to equal.”