Shining Fury: from the Tome of Bill Series Read online

  SHINING FURY

  A Tale From

  The Tome of Bill

  Rick Gualtieri

  Copyright © 2016 Rick Gualtieri

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is greatly appreciated.

  All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

  Edited by Megan Harris:

  www.mharriseditor.com

  Cover by Mallory Rock:

  www.malloryrock.com

  Proofread by Mallory Rock:

  www.malloryrock.com

  Published by Westmarch Publishing

  www.westmarchpub.com

  SHINING FURY

  HELL HATH NO FURY...

  At first glance, most see just a shy girl from New York, but to the denizens of the night – vampires, witches, and their ilk – I am a nightmare given flesh, born to raze their kind from this very Earth. I am the Icon, the Shining One, the last defender of humanity against the oncoming tide of darkness.

  They say my coming was foretold, that prophecies speak of a beacon of hope who will light the way during the end days. It is said I am destined to vanquish the last of the Magi, and face the Night Spawn in the final battle for the fate of mankind.

  If only things could be so easy.

  Despite all my power, I am afraid. And if I can’t conquer my fear, face my demons, and overcome the feelings I have for a man I must destroy, then I shall be utterly consumed ... and the world will know endless suffering for my failure.

  For those everyday heroes in my life, the ones who offer support, friendship, and a shoulder to lean on. You help reaffirm my faith in humanity.

  Special thanks to Ruby, Jenn, Lawrence, Don, Jacob, Scott my awesome and diligent beta readers. Though you didn’t agree on many things, your feedback helped me greatly in making this story what it is.

  INTRODUCTION

  Good day to you, dear reader. Welcome to Shining Fury, the 2nd in a series of companion pieces from The Tome of Bill. This story follows the adventures of Sheila O’Connell, the Icon of Faith and enemy of the vampire nation. It takes place concurrent with the events chronicled in The Wicked Dead (the Tome of Bill part 7) and contains spoilers for that story.

  If you’re new to the series, I would humbly suggest you start with Bill The Vampire, the Tome of Bill part 1 - albeit you are more than free to tell me to stuff it and do as you please. I am a humble storyteller, no more, and have no interest in dictating the course of your entertainment.

  For those familiar with the series, I, as always, am pleased to welcome you back. The following companion story, much like its predecessor Sunset Strip, represents a departure in tone from the rest of the series. It’s a darker, more somber take on a world sliding ever closer to Armageddon. However, I hope that in the end you’ll agree that it is a more than worthy addition to Bill’s universe.

  Regardless, it was a fun story for me to write, allowing me to shed some light on one of the more mysterious members of Bill’s extended family. I hope you’ll agree.

  Rick G.

  CHAPTER 1

  To some I am the last defender of humanity, a being of pure faith meant to stand as a shining beacon against the darkness. To others I am the embodiment of death itself, a harbinger of doom for their way of life. It has been prophesized that when the final bell of Armageddon tolls, I will be there to herald victory for the side of light.

  For all of those big words, though, I felt very small indeed.

  “Go away!” he screamed at me.

  “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

  The stench rising off the mulch pile assaulted my nostrils. The acrid smoke made my eyes water. Considering this was all my fault, though, it seemed a small price to pay. Deep down, I knew it could be far worse, that I deserved far worse.

  After all, I wasn’t the one on fire.

  All I’d wanted was to drop the charade of my existence, to be myself for a change, and end the impasse between us. I wanted to finally make a move to show that, despite everything, I believed we had a chance. That I, ironically enough, had faith in us. I’d tried to tap into the confidence that had made me what I am, the same confidence I was supposed to feel when facing every damned obstacle set before me, of which there were no shortage as of late.

  It hadn’t worked out quite like I’d planned.

  I quickly stepped forward to offer what aid I could. The flames were already dying down, thank goodness, helped by the damp ground upon which he lay. As I reached out, though, a white glow illuminated my outstretched hand, causing me to pull back quickly lest I make things even worse. I gritted my teeth, forcing the power back inside of me, willing it to not strike out again unbidden. At times like this it could be like a snake, struggling to be set free, lashing out at that which it deemed an enemy despite my conscious insistence to the contrary.

  “Please, let me make it right,” I said more to myself than anyone, but I knew he’d hear me nevertheless. His kind had senses far beyond that of a normal person.

  “Leave me alone!”

  I couldn’t blame him for being angry. Time and again this had happened. We’d come into close contact, some of our encounters closer than others, and the white fire inside of me would lash out.

  Each time it had happened in the past, he’d laughed it off, pretended it didn’t hurt despite the painful obviousness of it. I’d always known, though, that eventually even he would reach his limit. That the jokes would end and, with them, whatever he’d felt toward me. I’d hoped – prayed, even – that I would find the control I needed before that happened.

  I’d done it before, so I knew it was possible, but that had been before Remington.

  A growl, disturbingly inhuman in pitch, escaped from him, reminding me that he’d been affected by that incident, too, in many ways worse than I had. I didn’t know if the sound he made now was due to pain or fury, but it didn’t matter. He needed my help.

  I reached down and grabbed hold of his still-smoking shoulder to turn him over. I needed to know he was all right, and he needed to know how sorry I was.

  Under different circumstances, that first concern wouldn’t be a question – his kind healed at an exaggerated pace. Anything short of a fatal wound would be gone in minutes. There were exceptions, though, and I was one of them.

  I’d been told my power was a gift, the blessing of light, God’s way of balancing the scales against the darkness. I never really bought into that, despite how often such dogma was repeated. There was no denying, however, that the white hot fury inside me was capable of consuming his kind whole. Considering the vast majority of the undead hated me with a passion – wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me if given the opportunity – this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Most that I’d met had been little more than monsters given human form anyway; wolves in sheep’s clothing.

  He was different, though. He was kind where they were cruel, self-deprecating where they were arrogant. He’d told me he didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I believed him. That he was one of them, a vampire, wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t asked to be turned, to be dragged into their world. Despite our powers being polar opposites, we had that much in common. I hadn’t asked for any of this either.

  I pushed that thought away, although a bit
ter aftertaste remained as always. A part of me blamed him for that, and I hated that part of me for doing so. It was stupid and selfish of me to dwell upon it now, especially when I’d just hurt the man I...

  His eyes opened – inhuman black orbs that seemed to contain no trace of the gentle soul within. I knew better, though.

  “It’s okay, it’s me.” I dropped to one knee by his side. “I won’t hurt you again.”

  The promise was a lie. I had no way of knowing if I might lose control of the surging torrent of power inside of me. No matter how much I tried, it was almost as if it had a life all its own at times.

  He seemed to sense the untruth in my words, but where I expected scorn and rejection, he instead sprung from the ground and tackled me with savage strength. His fingernails became talons that dug into my arms, pinning me in place. He opened his mouth, revealing his fangs.

  With a snarl, Bill Ryder – a man I called friend and had hoped to call more – was upon me, forcing my head to the side and digging his teeth into my neck.

  I wanted to lash out, to call upon the power within me. It was what the Templar had trained me to do, told me was my destiny – to destroy the Night Spawn and, in doing so, save the world.

  But I instead forced it back down, took control of it at last, even as the life blood flowed from my wounds. This was what I had brought upon myself.

  It was what I deserved.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  No!

  The power inside of me, a thing of terrible strength, flared to life. I was the Icon, the Shining One. I was destined to be the last defender of humanity. I would not die like some whipped dog. No matter how much a part of me screamed that I deserved no less, I would not accept this fate.

  The person I once was, the weak girl from upstate New York who cowered before everything life confronted her with, quickly retreated into the background where she belonged.

  Instinct took over, too strong to be denied, and I fought back, feeling my flesh tear as I tried to pull away from his inhumanly strong grasp. I opened my mouth to plead with him to stop before it was too late. I didn’t want to kill this man, but if he’d chosen his path, let the beast inside of him win, then he was already dead. If anything, what came next would be a small mercy, a show of respect for the kind person Bill Ryder once was.

  And that’s when I realized we weren’t alone.

  As Bill fought to pull me in, I spied another over his shoulder. His skin was dark and his countenance without humor. Though bald, he wore a neatly trimmed beard upon his heavy jaw.

  His eyes were what caught my attention most, though. They were cold and cruel, the eyes of a killer – my killer.

  The power erupted forth from me, burning Bill’s flesh and setting his clothes on fire, but still he fought. All the while, the soulless eyes of the other continued to stare, to let me know that whatever strength I had would not be nearly enough.

  The newcomer raised his arm and pointed his weapon at me over Bill’s shoulder, the gun barrel cavernous this close up. A smile briefly crossed his face and he pulled the trigger.

  I screamed out as oblivion once more beckoned me into its crushing embrace only to hear another voice calling to me.

  “Jesus Christ, knock that off. You’re freaking blinding me!”

  CHAPTER 2

  I sat bolt upright, or tried to.

  The report of the weapon still rang in my ears, and I could feel Bill’s crushing strength as he held me down – the ground seeming to shudder with its power, the movement violent enough to send a wave of vertigo crashing through me.

  “Oh my God, that’s bright!”

  “No, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  The dream lingered for a moment more, the lines of reality and fantasy blurring until the former won out over the latter.

  I looked down, embarrassed to see that the only thing restraining me was a seatbelt.

  The shuddering continued, and I finally realized it wasn’t the ground, but the car itself veering as the driver struggled to keep us from flying off the road.

  “Any time you want to shut off the spotlight would be just goddamned peachy.”

  “Profane not the Lord’s name lest the Blessed One show thee the error of thine wicked ways.”

  Oh no!

  The reality of the situation slammed home, and a moment later I reined in the blinding power of faith which emanated from me, restoring the interior of the car to darkness. Meg, the witch in the driver’s seat, managed to guide us over to the side of the road.

  As the car eased to a stop on the shoulder, I took several hitched breaths. Though the dream had felt as real as the leather seat beneath me, all it had been was a perversion of the true events from… um. “How long was I asleep?” I asked groggily.

  Meg turned to me, her mane of jet black hair framing the annoyed look upon her face. “As soon as my retinas stop melting, I’ll let you know.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “You have nothing to apologize to these creatures for,” a husky voice from the back seat admonished, finally dispelling the hold the dream had over me. Sister Bernadette no doubt meant well, but she was beginning to grate upon my nerves nevertheless. A former regional commander for the Templar – an ancient order of knights of the Catholic faith – she’d come out of retirement once the signs of the so-called Apocalypse became too great to ignore. Though I’d briefly considered becoming an initiate to their order, I’d since soured upon their ideals. Now, they were simply a necessary evil, a means to an end – not that I’d ever voice that aloud in her presence.

  Meg spun in her seat to face the Templar. “You might be singing a different tune if I’d wrapped us around a tree.”

  “Ours is a mission sanctioned by God himself,” Bernadette shot back. “If you had faith in him and not in your dark arts, perhaps the beam in thine eye would be removed and you would see that a higher power is guiding our way.”

  “Last I checked, the Lord wasn’t my copilot. If so, I’d have let him drive instead.”

  Meg and Bernadette continued to bicker. I noticed headlights pulling in behind us, most likely more of the Templar stopping to check on us. That’s all we needed – for the entire caravan to stop on the side of the road. The way things were going, we’d devolve into a full-on fistfight among ourselves before we’d even reach the halfway point to our destination – Boston.

  My nerves were already frayed from earlier and this wasn’t helping. I was just about to turn around and tell Bernadette to cram it – she was easily the more obnoxious of the two – when Kelly, another of the passengers in the backseat, spoke up.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking, V?”

  “Number 6?” Veronica, a petite girl with shoulder-length auburn hair and the fifth and final member of our carpool, asked.

  “You got it.”

  Before I could ask what they were talking about, both raised a hand to opposite sides of Bernadette’s head. A yellowish flash of power enveloped the Templar and her body immediately went slack.

  What the hell?!

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Once more, the white fire ignited within me, but this time it was purposeful. I’d expected the arguing. It was almost a given considering the contrary belief systems present. What I hadn’t expected was for the witches to break the truce and attack. I’d been told they were friends. Their leader, Christy, assured us they could be trusted. I’d shaken off the Templar dogma and chosen to believe her. Had that been a mistake?

  Maybe so, but if it was a fatal one, I’d make sure it wasn’t on my end. My sword was locked away in the trunk, and though my power couldn’t burn them like it did the undead, it could counteract their own, rendering me impervious to any harm they might seek to do. Once on equal terms, I trusted my fists to make up for their numbers advantage.

  “Jesus Christ!” Meg cried. “Will you knock it off? My eyes were just clearing up. I’m gonna be seeing spots for days.”

  “What did you do?” I d
emanded of the two witches in the back, ignoring Meg, but ready in case she, too, decided to attack.

  Veronica raised her hands and cowered behind them, somehow managing to look even smaller than her already diminutive frame. Not quite what I was expecting.

  “Relax, Ms. Marvel,” Kelly said, her tone more one of annoyance. “We just knocked her out.”

  “What?”

  “It was just a sleep spell. Sorry, but she was really starting to get on my nerves.”

  “How do I know you’re...”

  “Look at her and see for yourself,” Meg said before turning away to rub her eyes.

  I pulled back on my power, leaving enough so that the car was still well lit. As I did so, the soft droning sound of snoring registered in my ears. A quick glance at Bernadette confirmed that it was coming from her, her ample bosom rising and falling regularly. If anything, she looked peaceful – far more so than anytime I’d seen her awake.

  I took a look around, taking especial note of the fear on Veronica’s face. It was raw and naked, speaking of actions far beyond the mere flash of power I’d put on display. I knew what was going through her mind. She was wondering if what she’d been told was true after all, that I was destined to be the destroyer of her kind.

  All of a sudden, I felt embarrassed. The paranoia of the day was affecting everyone, even me. I was supposed to be sure of myself, fearless, unflappable in my resolve – powerful words, but no more. The reality was even I wasn’t immune from being shaken.

  I pulled my power all the way back until the only illumination in the car was coming from the instrument panel and whatever light filtered in from outside. “Sorry.”