Vampire a Go-Go

TWENTY-ONE

A rough wooden table, two chairs, a bedroll in the corner. A window. Thin beams of daylight slicing through the thatched roof. Dirt floor. Edgar built a fire in the small, stone fireplace in spite of the fact that it was damn hot enough already. All in all, the shack was a pretty miserable affair. Kelley had gotten used to life at the castle.

But the brandy was good. Edgar refilled the wooden cups again, and Kelley sipped. Very good indeed, better than Kelley could usually afford. It warmed his belly, made his head feel pleasantly light.

“Your friend doesn’t want to join us?”

“He’s keeping watch,” Edgar said. “We should be safe here, but it pays to be careful.”

Kelley paused, the cup halfway to his lips. “It has always been my impression that the Freemasons were influential people with powerful friends, yet I get the impression that you’re hiding.”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain,” Edgar said. “Our Czech friend-never mind his name-is watching for Templars. The Society is, or was, a secret order of the Freemasons. We have broken from them, and now they hunt us. We have become an embarrassment to them, but they don’t realize that only we stand between chaos and order. So we have been shunned and driven underground, but we hold fast to our mission still.”

“How does your mission bring you to Prague?” Kelley gulped the brandy. The pleasure was almost sexual. The warmth spread to his limbs, the lingering remains of his hangover drifting away like smoke.

“Rudolph the Second.” Edgar sipped at his own brandy more slowly. “The Holy Roman Emperor is delving into the arcane. Astrologers and wizards from the four corners of the earth have descended upon the emperor’s court.”

“And alchemists,” Kelley hiccoughed.

“Indeed.” Edgar topped off Kelley’s cup. “Let me ask you this, Master Kelley. Can I call you Edward?”

“Please do.”

“Let me ask you this, Edward. Would you take immortality if it were offered to you? Would you choose to live forever?”

“I suppose that might be useful.”

“Would you trade your soul for this immortality?”

Kelley frowned, shook his head slowly. “No.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Edgar said. “But that’s what Rudolph would do. More than that, he’d trade the soul of the whole world. He thinks he can live forever, and he’s not stopping to consider the power he will unleash in his blind quest to achieve his goals. That’s why we of the Society must stand against such blind insanity. No one else can do it.”

Kelley sipped the brandy and recalled his brief meeting with the emperor. The man had not been raving, had not outwardly seemed crazy. Kelley had to ask himself what was more likely. Was it reasonable to think the leader of the empire a lunatic bent on using arcane powers to achieve immortality? Or was it more likely that the man sitting across from him, in a shabby shack in the woods, who believed that only he and his Society could change the world, was in fact the one who might not be in full possession of his faculties?

On the other hand, Kelley could not deny the influx of strange scholars and astrologers into the castle. Dr. Dee himself had hinted at odd happenings at court. Kelley thought it quite possible that he had madmen on all sides of him. Maybe it wasn’t too late for Sicily. Istanbul! Perhaps he could go east.

He saw that Edgar was awaiting some kind of response. He took one more sip of brandy to stall and gather himself. “What do you want from me?” The words were beginning to slur, but he didn’t care. He held out the cup for more brandy.

Edgar filled it. “Information. You’re on the inside. We need to know what’s happening. Something is coming from the north. I have foreseen this as well, but the picture is unclear. You must tell us when things change. We must know when to move.”

Kelley didn’t want any part of this. He calculated a high probability of getting his ass thrown into the dungeon or getting his head chopped off or worse. He had a little money stashed away. He could buy a horse. Well, probably not a very good horse, but some nag to get him downriver and then maybe he’d trade the nag for passage on one of the boats. If he could get to the Mediterranean, the world would be open to him.

In the meantime, Edgar was watching him expectantly. Turning down the big man’s request might have unfortunate consequences. Fanatics often seemed reasonable at first, but they could turn dangerous if thwarted. Best to play along.

“I suppose I can keep my ears and eyes open,” Kelley said.

“Then you’ll join our cause?”

“Yes.” And I’ll unjoin two seconds after I leave town.

A smile split Edgar’s wide face. “Let’s drink to it.”

He filled both cups, and they drank. Kelley could really feel it now. He might need a quick nap before walking back to the castle. No, he’d stumbled home drunk before. He wasn’t going to hang around with this man one second longer than necessary. He’d bandy a few friendly words, make Edgar think he was enthusiastic about the cause, and then he’d leave this shack and get back to the castle as fast as possible.

Edgar smacked his lips and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “This is a great day to welcome you into the Society, Edward Kelley. Now let us brand you to seal the deal and show your loyalty.”

One of Kelley’s eyebrows went up. “What?”

“I don’t have the materials for a proper tattoo, but a brand is perfectly acceptable. Some of the younger men actually see it as a right of manhood, so you’ll be able to brag about it to the ladies.”

“I don’t want a brand.”

“Well, as I’ve told you, I don’t have the ink for a tattoo. It’ll have to be a brand. Don’t worry-it only really hurts for a second.”

Kelley stood, knees watery, pushed away from the table. “Uh… I think I’m going to go now.”

“You’re a member of the Society, Kelley.” Edgar latched onto Kelley’s arm with a meaty hand. “You’ve got to show it.”

“No!”

Kelley tried to twist away, but Edgar pulled him across the table and turned him over. He pulled down Kelley’s pants.

“What are you doing?” Kelley squirmed, but the big man held him easily.

Edgar reached for an iron that had apparently been in the fire the whole time. He brought out the branding iron, the square and compass symbol with the pentagram in the center glowing white hot. Kelley glanced over his shoulder, eyes shooting wide.

“No, wait,” Kelley said. “Don’t! Let’s talk about-”

Edgar pressed the iron hard into Kelley’s ass cheek. It sizzled and hissed. Kelley screamed. The smell of scorched hair and flesh. Edgar pulled the iron away, tossed it back into the fire.

“There,” said the big man. “You’re one of us now officially.”

Kelley lay facedown on the table and groaned. “You son of a bitch.” His ass throbbed fire.

“Now don’t be that way,” Edgar said. “We’re brothers in the Society now.”

“Sweet merciful God, that hurts. Why did you have to do that?”

“We prepared the branding iron ahead of time,” Edgar admitted. “There is a spell binding you to the will of the Society. You cannot act against us now, and you will seek to keep our best interest at heart.”

“That’s some good crazy talk, but right now my ass is on fire. Hell and damnation.” Kelley reached for the bottle of brandy, drained the last drop.

“I have a salve,” Edgar said. “It’ll soothe you somewhat and prevent infection.”

A second later, Kelley felt Edgar smear something cool and greasy over his new brand. The hot sting subsided slightly. Kelley sighed. He slid off the table, pulled up his pants, not able to look Edgar in the eye.

“You should get back to the castle now,” Edgar said. “We’ll be in contact.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Kelley didn’t need to be told twice.

He left the shack, limped along the narrow game trail back toward the castle, feeling vaguely ashamed.