Read Online Kardinal by Thomas Emson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas Emson
Tags: Fiction - Fantasy, Vampires
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conditions allowed you to bring such immortals back to life.
And he would bring Ereshkigal back to life.
He found a donkey and cart in the stables.
He loaded up the trunk, which carried the Spear of Abraham, on the cart. He kept the jar containing his mistress’s remains under his cloak.
Simeon rode out and began the dangerous journey to Bucharest.
CHAPTER 18. DEATH’S KISS.
Tălmaciu – March 1497
SIMEON enjoyed torturing people. He found he was good at it. It made him feel powerful. That was important for such a weak man. He spent half a day on inflicting pain, and that was after telling his victim what his or her fate would be. That always made their suffering much worse. That made his joy greater. It filled him with strength, as if he were feeding off the sufferer’s dread.
The man suspended above the cellar floor screamed.
“Please,” he begged. “I have gold – I have silver – I have a daughter – you can have her – she is ten – please don’t do this to me – I shall burn in hell – ”
Simeon dragged the coffin across the stone floor and placed it directly beneath the man, who screamed and bellowed when he saw its content. The noises he made did not sound human. His struggles increased. Simeon had tied him to a scaffold. Leather straps bound the man’s wrists and ankles. He was stretched in a star fashion, facing down. He was about five feet above the coffin.
He was shrieking now: “Please – No! – In the name of God – In the name of Jesus and his Holy Mother – ”
Simeon had found him at the inn down in the village. He was drunk and clearly a sodomite. He made lewd suggestions to Simeon, who had used the man’s lust to tempt him outside.
Once in the dark street, Simeon had clubbed him across the back of the head. He had hefted the man’s body onto the cart, and hen whipped the donkey along the narrow road that led from town, through the forest, to the ruins of the church where Simeon’s father had been captured and murdered by Vlad Tepes.
For months, he had lived in the bowels of the church. It had been where his father had tried to resurrect the vampire trinity. It was where he would resurrect Ereshkigal.
After he left Vlad’s fortress, he had travelled to Bucharest. He made it to Mehmed’s camp and gave him the spear.
Mehmed had promised to return it to Constantinople. He had offered to take Simeon with him. But he’d declined the offer, saying he had duties in Romania. And when he had told Mehmed what they were, the prince had baulked.
“Do not bring her back,” he had warned Simeon, his eyes wide with fear. “She is death.”
“She is beautiful, and she killed The Impaler.”
“Good,” said Mehmed. “She has been useful. But the brides of Nimrod, like Nimrod himself, cannot be controlled by men. They are not the trinity. Our duties, as Nebuchadnezzars, lie with Kea, Kakash, and Kasdeja. That is our pledge, Brother Simeon. Nimrod and his witch wives are better off dead. They are not beholden to us. Do not give this creature life again.”
Simeon promised he would heed Mehmed’s warning.
But he hadn’t. He wanted to see Ereshkigal again. He wanted to worship her. And he wanted, as Vlad had done, to make love to her undead flesh.
“What is that creature?” cried the man on the scaffold now. “What are you doing to me?”
Simeon looked into the casket and gazed at what had terrified the fellow.
Ereshkigal was coming to life.
She looked haggard and ancient. A cadaver. Her skin was like leather, wrinkled and thin. Her body was emaciated, her face gaunt. You would not say by looking at her that she was a beauty. But she would be when she had been nourished. And Simeon was sure that the blood of this man would be enough to give her life.
During the past few weeks, he had brought six victims here and bled them into Ereshkigal’s ashes – and with each sacrifice, she became more formed. Simeon felt like God, making life out of clay.
He was so
And he would bring Ereshkigal back to life.
He found a donkey and cart in the stables.
He loaded up the trunk, which carried the Spear of Abraham, on the cart. He kept the jar containing his mistress’s remains under his cloak.
Simeon rode out and began the dangerous journey to Bucharest.
CHAPTER 18. DEATH’S KISS.
Tălmaciu – March 1497
SIMEON enjoyed torturing people. He found he was good at it. It made him feel powerful. That was important for such a weak man. He spent half a day on inflicting pain, and that was after telling his victim what his or her fate would be. That always made their suffering much worse. That made his joy greater. It filled him with strength, as if he were feeding off the sufferer’s dread.
The man suspended above the cellar floor screamed.
“Please,” he begged. “I have gold – I have silver – I have a daughter – you can have her – she is ten – please don’t do this to me – I shall burn in hell – ”
Simeon dragged the coffin across the stone floor and placed it directly beneath the man, who screamed and bellowed when he saw its content. The noises he made did not sound human. His struggles increased. Simeon had tied him to a scaffold. Leather straps bound the man’s wrists and ankles. He was stretched in a star fashion, facing down. He was about five feet above the coffin.
He was shrieking now: “Please – No! – In the name of God – In the name of Jesus and his Holy Mother – ”
Simeon had found him at the inn down in the village. He was drunk and clearly a sodomite. He made lewd suggestions to Simeon, who had used the man’s lust to tempt him outside.
Once in the dark street, Simeon had clubbed him across the back of the head. He had hefted the man’s body onto the cart, and hen whipped the donkey along the narrow road that led from town, through the forest, to the ruins of the church where Simeon’s father had been captured and murdered by Vlad Tepes.
For months, he had lived in the bowels of the church. It had been where his father had tried to resurrect the vampire trinity. It was where he would resurrect Ereshkigal.
After he left Vlad’s fortress, he had travelled to Bucharest. He made it to Mehmed’s camp and gave him the spear.
Mehmed had promised to return it to Constantinople. He had offered to take Simeon with him. But he’d declined the offer, saying he had duties in Romania. And when he had told Mehmed what they were, the prince had baulked.
“Do not bring her back,” he had warned Simeon, his eyes wide with fear. “She is death.”
“She is beautiful, and she killed The Impaler.”
“Good,” said Mehmed. “She has been useful. But the brides of Nimrod, like Nimrod himself, cannot be controlled by men. They are not the trinity. Our duties, as Nebuchadnezzars, lie with Kea, Kakash, and Kasdeja. That is our pledge, Brother Simeon. Nimrod and his witch wives are better off dead. They are not beholden to us. Do not give this creature life again.”
Simeon promised he would heed Mehmed’s warning.
But he hadn’t. He wanted to see Ereshkigal again. He wanted to worship her. And he wanted, as Vlad had done, to make love to her undead flesh.
“What is that creature?” cried the man on the scaffold now. “What are you doing to me?”
Simeon looked into the casket and gazed at what had terrified the fellow.
Ereshkigal was coming to life.
She looked haggard and ancient. A cadaver. Her skin was like leather, wrinkled and thin. Her body was emaciated, her face gaunt. You would not say by looking at her that she was a beauty. But she would be when she had been nourished. And Simeon was sure that the blood of this man would be enough to give her life.
During the past few weeks, he had brought six victims here and bled them into Ereshkigal’s ashes – and with each sacrifice, she became more formed. Simeon felt like God, making life out of clay.
He was so
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