Last I spoke of barbarianism, alas I AM barbaric! Gorgeous and a lady still, but barbaric. I cannot believe the things I have now done for my goddess, Yemanjá. I stand at the entrance to a room filled from wall to wall with the enemy, those who would release upon this world an unquenchable evil. We know that this is the place where the ancients built the Throne of Xy, a powerful runic structure crafted from hewned stone and laden with power from the sacrificed souls of nigh a thousand innocents. After all I have witnessed, I would not doubt that those sacrifices were children, ripe in youth and full of virtue. The despicable Old Ones would have nothing else.
Our plan is to prevent the advent of a being known as a Nightlord from returning to this world. We have come half way around the world to the bitter cold of Siberia to stop this from happening. And yet, I think about the atrocities that we have done to bring about our designs. Are we holier than these? Do we fulfill the greater design? Or are we as base as these? Mine own actions make me to question my path.
I bring you back two days. We had just been saved from a barrage attack orchestrated by a horde of Vampires, all Firstborn. Our benefactor was none other than the elusive Great Wraith, Alucard. We were taken through a portal. All but Raven and Willie were accounted for. The mercenary, Mr. McPhee, lay dying. His hybrids futily attended to his wounds. They had quite the tactical knowledge, but their skills as field medics were dire. McPhee’s face appeared as though touched by the finger of Thanatos. He did not have much longer.
Also appearing as dead was Harbaz. A Russian Vampire stood over his body. Harbaz was bleeding out from a head shot wound that took him out almost instantly.
In that moment of panic from losing two of our companions, Raven stepped through the portal badly wounded, yet alive. He carry on his shoulder Willie Dynamite. As gently as he could, he lay Willie on to the floor just as the portal closed behind them. Willie fell harded than Raven wished, and let out a rattling breathe. Willie was no longer in beast form. His perfect brown skin on his face and neck was torn and dangling. His ribs pulled in and out as he struggled to breathe. He wretched around, though remained unconscious. When he managed to take in a breathe his mouth produced a sound like a vacuum cleaner clogged with a sock. I could see shards of wood impaling his chest between multiple ribs on either side. The Firstborn had not shown much mercy.
Raven managed to pull all the wooden prongs from Willie. They lay tossed to his side in a bloody pile. There must have been 15 to 20. Willie began to shake profusely. It started first in his legs then spread to his whole body, until his whole frame shook like a dying pig on a butcher’s hook. Then he suddenly went limp, with only single quivers at intervals of 5 seconds. Raven went white. He began to quake. He fumbled at his belt until he produced a silver knife. With shaky hands he firmly grabbed the blade with his hand. He took one slow breath, then pulled the knife. A spray of blood fanned from of the blade in the direction he had pulled. A few drops pelted me on my horror struck face. Raven then squeazed as hard as he could over Willie’s mouth, shaking with rage. Blood ripped from his self inflicted wound, he roared in pain. Yet, I believe his pain was more of fear, not of physical hurt. Raven gave it a moment. Nothing happened. Willie still lay lifeless.
Raven picked up the blade again and placed it on the crook of his arm. He was about to cut into himself deep and hard. I pulled him back, taking the knife from his hand. I dragged him away from Willie’s body. Raven fought it. His legs were flailing and his arms tried to reach for the blade, which I had let drop to the ground. But he had no more strength to fight. My strength was fresh and his was waning.
“Raven, you’ll kill yourself! He’s gone.”
“Let me go! You don’t understand! I need to save him.”
“He’s gone, Raven.”
“He can’t be! They came for me, not him. I-I-I should have never went against Vlad. I was a fool, you see?! I need to save him. He was not the one who was supposed to die. First Niko, but not Willie!”
He tried one more time to escape my hold. But, I pulled him hard one more time. We both collapsed to the floor. Raven went limp in my arms, and wept. I pulled him close. He buried his head into my shoulder, ashamedly.
“Raven, it couldn’t be your fault. It could be your fault.”
“Course it be his fau’t. He french. But he still be my main man. Right on!” Willie mumbled just above the sound of a breath. Raven immediately was renewed of strength. He crawled back to his fallen companion, kneeling once again over him.
“Willie, sacra bleu! You are alive!”
“Ah is fo’ now. But ah’s got da most nastiest taste in my mouth like ah be suckin’ da measly scrap blood frud a wasted o’d ta’pon. Ack!”
“I gave you some of my blood.”
“Hell no! Willie doesn’t drink blood from no guy! Ah got ma princi’pose! Ah…” and with that Willie went unconscious again. But continued to improve.
I stood up. McPhee still needed help. I looked over at him and his team. A thought came to me. It was not my own. It must have been Yemanjá. She told me that we could save McPhee if we acted fast.
“I think I can save your master. I need you to get some things. There is a ritual that I need to perform.” With that command, the Alpha Team was back in there element carrying out orders. The Russian wanted to help too. He expressed that he felt bad that he was not able to take out Harbaz soon enough. He claimed that it was Harbaz who had taken McPhee out. I felt that the Russian was sincere, don’t ask me how I knew. It was just a feeling, much like how I knew that I might be able to save McPhee.
With this new knowledge of McPhee’s true killer, I ordered Harbaz’s blood to be collected in a challis, and then poured in a circle around McPhee’s body. We also placed black tallow candles around this circle. I gathered some of the blood of McPhee’s hybrids as well. With a simple spell I light the candles. I asked all those who supported McPhee to gather around his body. Raven carried Willie over too, though he was still unconscious.
I began to say a prayer to Yemanjá. As I prayed, the demonites who had been came with me through the portal surrounded the circle too. They began to sway back and forth from side to side and humming in low tones harmoniously. I prayed:
“Oh Mother Yemanjá. She who wakens life in us all. She who changes the day to night and night to day. She to whom all life pays tribute and homage. We beseech thee in this dire hour on behalf of our fallen. Oh Mother of all that changes, bring life back to this friend. Change his void to living breath. Change his frailty into strength. Restore the blood which has fallen from his veins. Change the poison into a healing balm. Change the Fates, oh Great Yemanjá. In all this do we beseech thee. Yatú E’uti!”
As I closed the prayer, life immediately flowed into McPhee. He took a deep long breath and rose to a sitting position. Then, collapsed back down. I also took in a deep sigh of relief. For a moment, I did not know that it would work.