Uprising

Chapter Eighty-One

Stone and his group led the Federation prisoners out into the night. The wind was howling and the snow lashed down as Alex, Harry Rumble and the remaining six Supremos were shoved down a flight of steps leading from the great hall and surrounding buildings to the upper courtyard that overlooked the castle grounds.

Through the curtain of swirling snowflakes, Alex could see the maze of lanes and streets down below, the tiny trucks parked up inside the gates in the distance.

At a gesture from Stone, the guards halted the prisoners. A few yards away, standing in the middle of the wide cobbled courtyard, was a tall oblong shape, some eight feet high, covered with a canvas sheet that crackled in the wind and was weighed down at the corners with bricks. Big Zachary stepped over, kicked away the bricks and pulled back the sheet to reveal the thing underneath.

It was a guillotine. Simple, but deadly — a rectangular vertical wooden frame with a heavy chopping blade suspended at the top by a crude pulley mechanism. Two steps led up to the horizontal platform on which the victim would be strapped to a plank and their neck secured between wooden stocks. A side lever released the blade, and a wicker basket was positioned underneath to catch the victim’s severed head as it fell.

‘Last used in the Place de la Revolution, Paris, 1793,’ Stone said proudly, running his hand down the side of the grim device. ‘I had to go to some trouble to obtain it after the mob had finished giving the chop to the French aristocracy. I always knew it would come in useful one day.’

Lillith pointed at Alex. ‘Let’s get this started. I want her to be first.’

Stone shook his head. ‘No, Lillith. This has to be done properly. The men first, in order of seniority.’ He scanned the five male Supremos. ‘You,’ he said, pointing at Hassan.

‘You animals,’ Olympia shouted. ‘You can’t do this!’

Stone arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? You would have preferred a Nosferol termination?’

The guards took Hassan’s arms and marched him to the guillotine. He was shaking badly and protesting as they tied his wrists behind his back and strapped his body tightly to the plank. Then it was slid into place and the wooden chocks positioned around his neck to stop his head thrashing about.

‘Something’s missing,’ Anastasia said. ‘We should have got a drummer.’

The blade was in position. Zachary pulled the retaining pin from the activation lever and looked to Stone.

Stone gave a nod.

And Zachary yanked the lever. The blade came whooshing down in the frame.

Its diagonal chopping edge impacted against Hassan’s neck with a sound like a knife hacking through a cabbage. His legs jerked against the restraining straps, then his body flopped and lay still as his head bounced into the wicker basket.

‘Quite clinical, isn’t it?’ Stone said. ‘Far quicker than, say, being left out to burn in the morning sunrise — which is what will happen to any of you who resist.’

Lillith gave a hoot of triumph, went striding over to the basket and snatched Hassan’s head up by a fistful of hair. His face was frozen into an expression of terror.

She spat in his sightless eye. ‘Here’s one Federation tyrant who won’t be bothering us any more.’

The guards busied themselves unstrapping the decapitated body and carrying it away to the side. Dark vampire blood was already soaking into the plank. Stone pointed at Goldmund, who began to bluster and panic.

‘Next.’