Page 88 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

It was like D-Day for vangels . . .

At last, at last! Zeb felt as if he’d been waiting for this day for centuries, perhaps since the day Jasper first made him a Lucipire almost two thousand years ago.

He’d been biding his time these past few days. At the castle in Transylvania, Pennsylvania, in Greece, in Nigeria, in Rome, and now here in the far northern Norselands, he’d done the work he’d been assigned and done it well, if he did say so himself. Now, he was about to reap his reward, and he didn’t mean becoming a vangel. Finally, he was to confront Jasper and put an end to the demon, who had started Zeb on his wicked path and kept his claws deep in Zeb’s soul all these years.

Vikar was the general in this assault on Horror Castle. He and about a dozen of his lieutenants were huddled in a crude hunting lodge going over last-minute plans. Zeb would join them in a moment; he was playing an important role in this final lap of the Lucipire/Vangel race, having more knowledge of the castle layout and who might be found where. But he’d gone over these details numerous times before, both back at the Transylvania castle days ago, and here this morning in the far north of the Norselands.

For now, Zeb stood with Regina, both of them viewing the battalions of vangels as they set up their posts outside of Horror. Because of the cold temperature, the vangels had changed to fur-lined hats and gloves and cloaks, which were outfitted for weapons and ammunition, like their regular capes were. Fire pits had been set up at different places for them to warm themselves when the cold got too much for them as they awaited the beginning of the battle.

But that wasn’t what had Zeb and Regina transfixed. And, frankly, amused. The engine of an aircraft could be heard as it droned overhead in a wide circle around the circumference of the Horror Castle grounds, about one hundred yards from any of the buildings. The fixed wing aircraft was actually an air tanker, piloted by one of their very own vangels, and it was water bombing the grounds with . . . what else? Holy water! It would ensure that the Lucipires inside the periphery would not be able to teletransport out.

The former Russian military plane had already made a previous trip the short distance back to Svalbard, an archipelago near the North Pole, actually the northernmost settlement in the entire world, where it refilled its retrofitted tanks by skimming the Arctic Ocean. At that point, the water was blessed by the same vangel priest who’d handled the water pistols back in Rome. The tanks only held several thousand gallons of liquid.

“From hot air balloons to water bombing,” Regina mused, recalling the last time she’d been here at Horror. It seemed like ages ago. Zeb had to wonder if Patience and Grimelda were inside, and whether he or Regina would be the ones to kill them. Not a job either of them would relish, but they would do it if it meant an end to Lucipiredom.

“I wonder whose idea this was?” Regina mused.

“Probably Cnut’s. A play on his holy water pistols,” Zeb answered.

“You’ve gotta give the vangels credit for having imagination,” Regina commented.

“And a sense of humor,” he added.

“There’s nothing funny about this, though, is there?” she said.

“War is never funny, and this is war.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Everything will be different after this, won’t it?”

He nodded. No matter the outcome today, vangels would face an uncertain future. No matter the outcome today, he and Regina would face an uncertain future. He knew she wanted assurances from him, but he couldn’t make any. Not yet. Maybe never. Squeezing her hand, he said, “We better head back into the meeting. We’ll talk later.”

When they entered the primitive hunting lodge where reindeer heads and polar bear skins adorned the log walls, he heard Vikar giving the group of leaders some final words. “We have an army of nine hundred vangels here today, counting the hundred more brought in from the two safe headquarters.”

“I’m still afraid that won’t be enough,” Svein said.

“It will have to be, but I think it’ll suffice.” Vikar glanced over to Cnut, their battle strategist, for confirmation.

“There could very well be more than three thousand Lucipires inside,” Cnut pointed out.

“They got to be packed arse to elbows, even in a castle this big,” Vikar added.

Cnut nodded and continued, “So, be prepared to be outnumbered. But remember, it’s not the numbers that matter here. A herd of sheep is no match for a sharp-toothed wolf. David beat Goliath, after all.”

“I’m fresh out of slingshots,” Jogeir called out.

Much nervous laughter followed.

“The numbers might be daunting, but keep in mind that many of them are imps and hordlings, who are practically useless without leaders,” Zeb inserted. “And—”

“And most of the leaders are gone,” Cnut finished for him.

“Right,” Zeb agreed. “All the members of the high council are gone, except for Jasper. And Beltane, who is no warrior. Residing in Hell at the moment are Yakov, Red Tess, Heinrich, Hector, and Ganbold.”

“And may they never rest,” Vikar said.

“Amen,” the others concurred.

“Also, many of those inside right now are demons sent by Satan, but not demon vampires,” Zeb told them.