The Call of A Lamb

Night draped over the dark city like a funeral shroud, cold and bleak. In the grim underbelly of Haven Street, two figures stalked through the trash-strewn alleys with purpose. Conquest moved with grace, silver hair gleaming in the barest slivers of light, her bow tucked along her left shoulder. Beside her, War's imposing frame walked with restrained strength, his hand resting on the pommel of a massive broadsword. They were on their own tonight, no sign of their siblings Famine and Death.

As they passed by a dingy diner, the sounds of shouts and clanking bottles spilled out into the night. A group of rowdy hillbillies harrassed a weary waitress, grabbing at her skirt as she tried to brush past them.

"Hey lay off, I'm trying to get home," the woman yelled out.

"C'mon darlin', why not have some fun with us tonight?" one leered, clutching her wrist. She shrieked as they pawed at her clothes.

Conquest's fingers drifted to the hunting knife on her belt, icy eyes narrowing with lethal intent. Seconds later, her knife flew and stuck into the wall, an inch away from one of the men.

"Who the hell are you!" The largest of the group grunted.

Sensing the impending violence, War placed a firm hand on her shoulder and stepped forward.

"Evening boys," he greeted, yellow eyes glowing as his resonant voice underlaid unnatural power. "I believe you've had too much to drink tonight. It's time to go home."

The hillbillies froze, their booze-addled brains struggling to process the words. Then as one they turned to leave. He walked towards them as they passed and whispered a sentence that was quickly swallowed by the night. At his sentence, the men walked five yards before turning on each other, throwing sloppy punches and cursing loudly. Fists flew and boots connected with ribs as they became a whirlwind of self-destructive fury.

War winked at the woman and smiled. "They won't bother you anymore." The waitress looked startled and confused, she mouthed a hasty 'thank you' to her mysterious saviors and scurried away.

Conquest snorted in annoyance. "We don't have time for distractions."

War shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying to do some good around here. I bet Joshua would've done the same."

"You need to stop listening to that guy."

"C'mon, I'm sure he means well."

Conquest scoffed and kept moving. "Whatever. Let's go. We have a cult to get rid of."

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The sounds of the ongoing brawl faded behind them as walked on. They continued on through a winding series of alleys until they reached the seedy underbelly of the docks. The air was thick with the stench of fish and salt as they picked their way past stacks of crates and coils of rope. The way opened into a wider loading area. Under the flickering glow of a failing streetlight stood a lone, hunched figure leaning against a stack of pallets. His features were obscured by the hood of a dark, grimy cloak.

War studied the man intensely as they approached. "You Nelson?"

The man looked up, his tattooed face creasing into a scowl. "Who wants to know?"

"Azrael told us to meet you here," Conquest replied evenly.

At the mention of Death's name, Nelson's posture changed. His shoulders slumped. His hooded head rose slowly to face them. "Yes. I'm Nelson. I've been waiting for you." Suddenly, the gruff man sank to his knees, bowing his head before them.

"Not by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood, he entered once for all into the most holy place, obtaining eternal redemption."

Nelson rasped. He rapidly recited biblical verses about atonement and redemption.

"Forgive me, o messengers, for I have sinned. I accept judgement for my blackened soul."

Conquest and War exchanged a bemused look. War cleared his throat. "You'll have your chance to redeem yourself. But first, you must help us. Azrael said you would provide...sacrifices."

At that, Nelson looked up with wild eyes. "Yes, yes! The lambs! I've gathered them!" He laughed then, a rasping, uncanny sound. "Praise be! The lambs are ready for the sacrifice, just as the Lord commanded." He gave a shuddering sob. "With this may I glimpse Paradise once more."

He rose unsteadily to his feet and beckoned for them to follow. War and Conquest traded uncertain glances but fell in step behind him.

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Nelson led them through the maze of alleys to a rundown bar on the edge of the slums. Conquest frowned in unease. The place stank of piss, booze and things better left unidentified. Nelson paused at the door, an unsettling grin twisting his scarred face. He threw open the door and strode inside.

The bar quieted as the motley patrons took note of the newcomers. Nelson sauntered up to the counter, where a bald man covered in prison tattoos was pouring drinks.

"Nelson! Where the hell did you? You find the next score you been talkin' about?" the bartender called out.

Nelson laughed, a brittle sound like shattering glass. "My friends, there'll be no more burnt churches and hanged priests! Our time in the darkness is at an end!" he proclaimed. "We will walk together into the light of redemption, hand in hand with the blessed messengers!"

"The hell you on about Nelson?"
"You lost your damn mind?"
"Who the hell are those two?"

Nelson's cold smile never wavered. He closed his eyes. He gasped as War's blade pierced his back and burst from his chest in a spray of crimson. Blood erupted in a crimson spray as Nelson let out a final maniacal cackle.

Chaos exploded in the bar. The criminals leapt up, overturning tables and pulling weapons from their coats. Cries of shock and outrage filled the room.

Conquest was already moving, loosing arrows with lethal speed. The projectiles punctured eyes and throats before the men could react. Those that drew weapons soon joined Nelson on the floor.

The remaining men opened fire with pistols and shotguns. Splinters flew as bullets peppered the wooden counter.

War leapt onto a table, deflecting bullets with his sword and dragonscale skin. Patrons screamed and scrambled for cover as his blade hummed through the air, trailing flames in its arc. Amidst the chaos, two men's faces distended into fanged maws. Hissing, the vampires blurred forward with preternatural speed. But they might as well have been statues to War's flaming sword as he bisected them in dual fountains of gore. At the doorway, Conquest fired arrow after arrow at a hulking figure raging towards them. She dodged a thrown table and fired into the creature, but the shafts shattered uselessly against its powerful hide.

"Troll!" Conquest spat in annoyance. Then War was there, his blazing blade carving into the monster's torso. No protection can stand against his fiery sword. The troll crashed to the ground, ichor bubbling from its burning wounds as it perished. Some of the men dropped their useless guns and came at them with knives and hammers. These attackers found only seconds to regret their foolishness before being cut down by War's whirring blade or impaled through the eye by one of Conquest's arrows.

The floor soon became slick with blood, the cloying iron tang mixing with the reek of death. Cries for mercy went unheeded as War and Conquest calmly executed any still drawing breath. Silence fell in the bar, interrupted only by the crackling of the spreading flames. War flicked the blood from his sword as he surveyed their work.

"I'll start preparing the ritual," he said briskly. "Can you do a final sweep to make sure we didn't miss any?"

Conquest rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Do I have to do everything myself? Make it quick. This whole place reeks."

As she scanned the room, stepping gingerly through the blood, War withdrew a piece of chalk and began drawing strange symbols surrounded by a cross on the floor. The blood pooling on the floor began running in trails toward War as he stood wreathed in holy fire. It swirled and churned, forming into arcane symbols that seared the wooden floorboards. He chanted under his breath in a guttural, ancient language as divine energy gathered in the air.

Conquest nudged a few corpses with her boot, ensuring no heartbeat remained. As she turned to leave, a faint sound caught her attention - a thin, reedy wailing. Frowning, she followed the noise to a darkened backroom.

Her gaze landed on an incongruous baby carriage shoved into a corner. "What kind of lowlife brings a kid to this pit?" she muttered under her breath. She reached down and cautiously moved the blanket aside.

It was empty. Huh?

She heard a faint noise above her, like something scratching. She looked up and saw it in the corner of the ceiling. It was no ordinary baby. It was naked and pale with wrinkled skin and glowing red eyes.

"What the fuck?"

SKKREEEEEEEE!!!

It leaped at her. Two tiny, pale hands shot out, followed by a fanged, twisted face. Conquest jerked back as the creature hissed and snapped at her throat.

"War! They made a vampire baby!" Conquest shouted as she grappled with the hissing, clawing creature and backed up into the main room.

"A little busy right now!" War called back, sweat beading on his brow as he maintained the ritual's energy flow.

Conquest struggled to get the snapping jaws away from her neck as the surprisingly strong baby clutched at her hair. "What the hell! Should I just kill it? Won't it fuck up the ritual if we kill a baby?"

"It's not a real baby, so no! Kill it! That thing's older than us!"

With a grunt of effort, Conquest pinned the creature's neck against the floor with her boot. As it writhed and gnashed its teeth, she grimaced. "Ugh, but it looks so...baby-like."

"Just pretend it's one of those clique girls you hate! The demon one!"

The baby vampire twisted and flailed, its wails rising to an agonized pitch. It projectile vomited a stream of blood directly onto Conquest's face and chest.

"Oh, goddammit!" she yelled, hurling creature into the wall and pinning it in place with an arrow. Wiping the viscous fluid from her eyes, she smashed a chair, grabbed one of its broken legs and stalked forward. With a disgusted scowl, she plunged the makeshift stake deep into the vampire baby's heart. One final shriek echoed through the bar before it went silent for good.

Conquest strode back to War, flicking gore from her leathers. "There, happy now? That was disgusting."

"I think I'm done." War finished the last words of the chant and steps back from the glowing sigils, nodding with satisfaction. "Now to see if They answer."

Raising his arms, he solemnly intoned, "Oh heavenly Father, Creator of All, we humbly beseech you. Accept this sacrifice, and grant us the gift of prophecy."

The blood tracing the ritual circles began flowing, gathering in rivulets that curved and joined into symbols. Conquest and War watched, as words slowly took shape, gleaming wetly in the firelight.

WHEN THE MOON BLEEDS TWICE THREE SCORE DAYS AND SIX

THEN SHALL BE THE HOUR OF THE ANOINTED ONE

WHO BEARS THE BLACKENED HAND

Conquest's eyes widened. "Sixty-six days? Then we have even less time than I thought."

War's face was grim, "This only confirms our worst fears. The signs have come to pass. I hope the others have more luck than us tonight."

Conquest turned away, stepping over the cooling corpses. "First, I'm finding a place to wash all this blood off. That baby ruined my favorite armor."

"Really? I think you look better like that," he replied wtih a weary grin as he followed her out into the cold night air.

"Fuck off! Next time you're doing the search and I'm doing the ritual," Conquest shot him a venomous glare and quickened her pace. As the doors swung shut behind them, the bar lay silent save for the voracious crackle of spreading flames.