Solomon dark, p.23
Solomon Dark, page 23
Seeing these creatures, Irene became horrified. Once again, she was gripped by fear. She clutched Solomon’s hand tighter and shrieked. “Solomon! What are they?” she exclaimed in horror.
Akasha grinned Solomon’s way and uttered, “She still doesn’t know what you’ve become, Solomon.” Then he smiled at Irene and added, “Don’t be frightened by us. Do you believe he can protect you?”
Solomon glared at his maker, demanding, “Get away from her!” He became a barrier between Irene and Akasha.
“How did you find me?” Solomon asked him.
“So much for you to learn, my brethren. There’s a psychic connection between you and me, the creator and the subject. Where you go, I see,” Akasha explained. “But I’m disappointed in you, Solomon. You’re strong but still so weak and naïve. There’s still so much to do, cleansing this country.”
Knowing the backlash behind their bloody uprising, Solomon didn’t want any part of it anymore. However, he had blood on his hands too. He felt it was creating more harm than good. Their people were being slaughtered by the hundreds across the South. The only good thing about him becoming a vampire was that he could reunite with his wife.
“I told yuh, I don’t want any part of it. I just want freedom and peace,” Solomon protested.
“You are a fool if you believe there will ever be freedom and peace in this forsaken country. You might as well cut her throat and yours if you seek the two,” Akasha griped. “You will always be hunted by humans and by an adversary. Like I was hunted decades ago by a skilled hunter that weakened me. So, I fled to seek solace and strength in the darkness, then rose nearly a century later, fully revived but haunted by human memories. They will not rest until we are all dead.”
Still, Solomon was ready to take his chances. “That is my choice, our choice to make,” he rebuked.
Akasha was growing impatient with his protégé. Finally, he scowled and exclaimed, “Show her, Solomon. Show her what you have become, a monster of the night that tears men apart and drains them of their blood to survive.”
Solomon glanced at Irene, who was now becoming concerned and baffled. “What is he talkin’ ’bout Solomon?”
Solomon huffed.
“But if you seek harmony and peace, then I’ll give you and her the peace you desire . . . in the grave,” Akasha threatened.
The angry bond between them was evident. The other vampires circled the couple, but Akasha cautioned them back with a wave of his arm. He didn’t need their help to deal with Akasha. This was going to be his pleasure.
“Unapigana!” Akasha uttered in a foreign language, shouting, “You fight!”
Irene gasped as Solomon’s appearance turned demonic, matching Akasha’s. His pupils widened larger and blacker, his hands became sharp claws, and his teeth became fangs and unsettlingly feral.
“Ohmygod!” Irene shrieked.
Solomon felt uncomfortable in front of his wife, how she looked at him and suddenly feared him. He felt ashamed. But no matter what, he was going to protect her. Solomon charged forward at Akasha, trying to grab him with surprising speed. Instead, Akasha backhanded Solomon, sending him to the ground. Solomon rose quickly and was poised for a lengthy and fatal battle. Akasha lunged for Solomon, knocking him into the church. Akasha was strong, fast, and experienced at killing.
Irene was taken aback by the fight. The other vampires had her surrounded. She was an enslaved person, as they had been, but she was still considered prey. And if Solomon didn’t win this fight, she wondered what would happen to her.
Akasha snarled, then launched himself at Solomon and ripped at him repeatedly, battering his face and body mercilessly. Solomon desperately crawled and tried to get his feet under him. Akasha pulled Solomon by his nappy hair and thrashed him against the dirt. Solomon gasped for breath, fighting to suck in some strength. His mouth was bloody, staining the ground underneath him.
The other vampires watched closely and were, to some extent, impressed by Solomon’s ability to survive against Akasha this long.
Akasha beat Solomon, pummeling him with his fists, gripped by an uncontrollable rage. Then he flung Solomon against the church walls so hard that they cracked and left an indentation.
Akasha hissed vindictively. He reached down and encircled Solomon’s right hand in his clawlike fingers. He squeezed and squeezed relentlessly until Solomon’s bone snapped.
“Aaaaaaaahh!” Solomon screamed.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Akasha taunted.
Solomon wondered how much longer he could last. He fought not to feel the pain as his vision blurred. Akasha crowded him to finish him off, but Solomon summoned the strength to headbutt Akasha, knocking him to the ground. Akasha cursed and regained his balance, then charged like a wolf unwilling to give up its prey. Solomon was determined to keep the momentum on his side. With a brutal drive, he bolted toward Akasha, his right arm broken and limping but ready to strike again.
They traded blows, a brutal death match that seemed to defy gravity. Then Akasha dodged a punch and walloped Solomon into the ground again and again. The savage onslaught made Solomon’s skull tremble from the impact. He needed to recoup. He tried to crawl away, but Akasha pulled him back. He towered over Solomon, grabbed his throat with one hand, and lifted Solomon from the ground with a merciless grin.
“When I’m done with you, I’ll make your wife into my personal slave,” Akasha growled. “But first, she’s gonna watch you die.”
He tossed Solomon to the ground and kicked him viciously in the face. “Ouch.” It was painful, and Solomon struggled to remain conscious. How can I win? he thought. While he was facedown on the ground, in pain, dying, Solomon glanced at Irene. Her heart was breaking. Her eyes filled with grief and hope. He took it all in.
There was no way Solomon would give up and let his wife down. They’d been through too much for it to end like this. So, doing what he didn’t think he could do, Solomon reached into his inner depth and summoned a lion’s ferocity and strength. He wrenched himself off the ground and hurled himself at Akasha. They tumbled together, creating a chaos of fury and bloodlust. Finally, however, Akasha ended up on top and bared his fangs. This kill would be very satisfying. But Solomon wasn’t about to relent. He had too much to lose with his face a mass of marks and suffering.
Solomon’s eyes grew wide with rage. His black pupils intensely matched Akasha’s.
“Enough!” Solomon roared.
He angrily reached up and grabbed Akasha’s jaw with his broken arm and slammed his left hand into Akasha’s mouth in a berserker’s rage. And with velocity, Solomon decapitated Akasha with his bare hands. He then hurled his head, and it landed on the ground near the feet of his followers. Akasha’s eyes closed; he was gone.
The other vampires gaped in awe. Akasha had lost.
Solomon remained on his back, still shocked and astonished by it all. He was unable to comprehend that he’d won. He slowly pulled himself to his knees and stared at Irene. She was pleased but still confused. Solomon glanced at the night sky above.
While one battle was won, another fight was quickly coming their way.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Akasha was dead. His followers were still in shock, some angry and confused. What would happen to them now?
Solomon remained on his knees, wounded, and stared at Irene. For her, something was far worse to learn from his win and transformation. But she went to him and kneeled beside him on the ground. Eventually, he would heal back to health and full strength, but his fight with Akasha took so much out of him. Irene embraced him desperately, still overwhelmed by his transformation and sacrifice. Finally, Solomon fought his way to his feet.
The others circled them. With Akasha dead, their hope and purpose seemed futile. But should they avenge his death and finish off Solomon? Clenching his jaw, Solomon glared at them and was ready to put up another fight if needed.
“He’s gone,” Solomon growled.
The vampires looked to the sky warily, tense, knowing the night would be soon gone. Finally, they realized they had to face a decision. Then torches carried by an army illuminated the woods. Soldiers were coming their way.
Commander Rogers and hundreds of armed soldiers carrying rifles, guns, and torches barreled the vampires’ way like a swarm of ants on foot or horseback. They heatedly charged, and the vampires hissed their way, ready for a fight, although they were outnumbered. Their demonic form and strength didn’t deter or frighten the soldiers. They raced from the trees, weapons aimed at the creatures, and fired. Each man hurried toward the undead, discharging gunfire. They believed this was evil they were battling.
Quickly, the undead clashed with the cavalrymen. The strength of the vampires was overwhelming, but every soldier pushed on, aiming, then firing.
Solomon was still too weak to fight. Irene helped him retreat into the church while chaos raged outside. They both crumpled to the floor in the middle of the church. Solomon shivered in agony while Irene held him in her arms. Meanwhile, gunfire and death continued outside. Men were dying, but soon, the soldiers would have the advantage.
Dawn was approaching.
Solomon lay still with Irene at his side.
“Get out of here before it’s too late,” Solomon said.
“I’m not leaving without you,” Irene replied.
Solomon shook like an alcoholic going into delirium tremens. He needed blood, and he needed his strength to survive.
“You don’t understand. The thirst . . . I don’t want to harm you,” he groaned. He clutched his stomach, experiencing phenomenal pain. It was tearing him apart.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
Solomon didn’t want to surrender to his thirst, but they didn’t have long. He tried to sit up, gripping Irene’s wrist. He suppressed a shudder. Simply keeping himself from attacking her took every ounce of his tenacity.
“I need to drink blood to survive and find my strength,” he admitted.
This was new and horrifying to Irene. What are you? What have you become? What happened to my husband? A million thoughts flooded her mind.
“Blood . . . ?” she stammered.
When she saw his fangs up close, she became frightened but faithful and remained by her husband’s side.
“Is it my blood you need?” she asked.
He nodded. Yes.
“But I don’t want to hurt you,” he uttered.
Irene matched his gaze, steeling herself. But she was terrified. He’d sacrificed himself to save her; she knew she needed to return the favor.
“Take it, my blood,” she said.
Solomon stared at her. He wanted what she was offering more than anything he’d ever desired. But he was afraid that once he began, it would kill her. However, he rose. He needed it.
“You saved my life; now I want to save yours,” she said. “Where . . . ?”
He gaped at her neck. She nodded. So be it. She turned her head to the side, baring her neck, offering herself to her husband. The blood would taste so good, but Solomon hesitated. How could he trust himself not to drain her life completely?
“Do it, Solomon. Now!” she hollered.
He opened his mouth, and his fangs elongated. Then Solomon lowered his head and started feeding on his wife. Irene involuntarily stiffened as Solomon’s teeth punctured her skin. He moaned, sinking his teeth deeper into her flesh. Irene’s head rolled back. Her eyes were open and glassy, unseeing as a wave of ecstasy overtook her.
Solomon groaned as he fed on her.
Irene shuddered, her breath quickening. Her fingers dug deep into his back, clawing downward, tearing into him as tears streamed down her cheeks. To Solomon, she wasn’t his wife anymore but blood nourishment. Before it was too late, he pulled himself from Irene with his pulse racing. She stared at him, wide-eyed as if waking from a trance. She touched the raw wound on her neck and was a bit shaken.
What happened?
Solomon rose to his full height. His strength had more than returned. He nearly felt like a god by the infusion of her blood. Yet, there was something dangerous in his gaze, an animal fury ready to compel him into darkness. He flexed his hands with his nails sharpened. Solomon locked eyes with the love of his life for a moment. Irene stepped closer to him and placed her hand on the side of his face. It was a tender moment between them—beauty and the beast. However, the moment ended when a soldier burst into the church. Solomon pivoted as the man hurriedly aimed at them.
Solomon pivoted and attacked him with speed and ferocity, tearing chunks of flesh from his neck, causing Irene to cringe.
“I’ll come back for you,” he said.
Solomon charged into battle with his fellow vampires. They were against him a moment ago, but now, an entire regiment was attacking them, and their survival looked bleak. Solomon tossed men left and right like they were toys. But he looked to the sky, and sunrise would be soon on the horizon. There wasn’t much time. Solomon needed to retreat. No matter how many men he killed, there were too many soldiers to combat.
He spun toward the church, but to his horror, he saw vampires being chased into the church by soldiers with torches. They were being set on fire and burning. One of the soldiers shut the door to the church, and right away, they set it afire—with Irene still inside.
“Nooooo!” Solomon shrieked.
He raced toward the church and killed Rip and his men as they tried to stop him. But he was too late. The church had become fully engulfed in flames. Anyone inside quickly perished. Solomon’s face darkened, and he became filled with thundering rage. All was lost.
Hundreds of soldiers died, along with a few vampires burned by men’s hands. However, Solomon yearned to kill every last one of them in the small window of time he had before daylight. He raged on with insanity until he came face-to-face with Commander Rogers.
“Whatever you are, I’m going to send you back to hell,” Commander Roger exclaimed.
Seeing bloodred, Solomon heatedly charged at the commander with such fierce intent that the commander was thrown off his horse into the air and crashed against his side. Solomon was on top of him when he tried to draw his sidearm, ripping out his throat. His blood spewed wildly. But killing him didn’t satisfy Solomon. Irene was dead, and there was no bringing her back.
Solomon grieved and mourned on his knees. What was left of Akasha’s legion began to scatter before dawn came. Solomon remained on his knees near the commander’s contorted body. He wanted to perish along with Irene. There was no other reason for him to live. Then the faintest glimmer of predawn light started to brighten the sky. He hadn’t seen the sun in months. Unfortunately for him, this would become his final sunrise.
The twinkle of light continued to emerge over the earth’s curvature, spreading its dazzling radiance across the skyline. Akasha’s flock began to ignite and burn toward the rising sun. Their skin was charring black as the sun stared down at them. It was beautiful and deadly, searing them with lethal radiance.
Solomon winced and gasped in pain. He fought back the tears. He could have lived forever, but he didn’t want to breathe another second if he couldn’t have Irene in his life. His eyes widened in expectation of the rising sun, his breath catching. Yet, he managed to smile and was prepared to die. His skin began to char as the sun reflected in his eyes.
“I will always love you, Irene,” Solomon wholeheartedly proclaimed.
He figured the end would be divinely quick—not a slow burn of blazing agony, but a nearly seamless transition from life.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chaos and carnage were strewn everywhere. The bodies of soldiers seemed endless. They had been torn apart. Their bodies were contorted from violence. And the bodies of the undead were crooked and completely charred as the sunlight became acid to their skin. The church had been scorched too. The flames had burned deep red and reduced most of the church to ashes, and everyone inside had perished.
Kaiser and Noah arrived in the one-horse carriage. The smell of the dead was thick, putrid, horrid. It became nauseating. He and Kaiser climbed from the carriage to inspect the scene.
“What happened here?” asked Noah. “They’re all dead.”
Words couldn’t describe what they witnessed: an epic battle between men and creatures that lasted until dawn. Kaiser deduced that the vampires succumbed to the sunlight while fighting the soldiers. He’d seen it before: contorted, rotten, and blackened flesh. The sunlight was man’s best weapon against them.
“Is he here among the dead, their maker?” Noah asked Kaiser.
Kaiser carefully walked through the bodies and inspected each one. Finally, he came across a charred body that had been decapitated. Kaiser kneeled closer to it and gawked at the remains of this creature.
“What happened to its head?” asked Noah.
Kaiser touched the scorched figure and closed his eyes. Even in death, he could sense how angry, determined, and strong this presence once was.
“There was a fight before the soldiers attacked,” Kaiser deduced.
“A fight . . . ? And what happened to his head?”
Akasha’s head was close by. Kaiser rose and walked toward it. He picked up the head and stared at Akasha’s closed eyes.
“This is their maker,” he uttered.
“Is this the end?”
There would be no epic battle between Akasha and Kaiser. Someone had beaten him to it, but who? Kaiser and Noah walked toward the burnt church and moved through the rubble. Were they all dead?
While Kaiser and Noah wandered through the wreckage of the church, several armed white men on horseback came from the woods into their area. Right away, both men became alert and wary.
