Blogophilia 12.11 – Telith Part 2
It’s time for blogophilia, the fun blog group where Maritne gives participants prompts to use in their weekly blogs. This weeks prompts are:
A quick bit of Telith. I know, I should have added more, but finishing Jorick’s story took a lot out of me.
Telith drove through the night, finally stopping for a motel near sunrise. He’d had plans to stay with a coven at the half-way point, but there was no way he was going to make it.
The room was nice enough, and the window covered in two layers of sun-blocking curtains. Telith dropped into bed fully clothed and dialed Roger’s number. The phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail.
That doesn’t bode well.
He tried some of the other guards. With each voicemail hello, he got more and more concerned. He’d blown Roger off – who could really attack the citadel? – but maybe it was serious. Maybe they’d all been butchered.
Especially if it really was the Hand of Death.
Telith swore and tried the number for the guard’s office, but got a busy signal. It was the same for the Executioner’s office, the welcome office, and the staff check-in point. He didn’t have the number for the seed office on his phone, or any of the other contact points, but he suspected they’d be the same, anyway. Damn, was the citadel even standing? Or was it a smoldering wreck? He pictured a scene from The Towering Inferno, the actors replaced with his fellow vampires.
Even if that’s the case, there’s nothing I can do, he told himself. He was on his way, going as fast as he could.
I have to stop. If I keep going, I’ll end up burned to a crisp, too. Not by fire, but by the sun.
The most inconvenient part of immortality.
He rolled over and closed his eyes, but his brain kept playing imaginary scenes. He saw an army led by a faceless goliath. They swarmed across the rural location, knocking down the grain elevators, burning the seed office and other outbuildings, blowing up the train cars.
Except there aren’t train cars there, anymore, he reminded himself. The spur that had once brought grain the elevators, and vampires to the citadel, was closed now.
The small change in scenario did nothing to improve his mental landscape. The Hand of Death’s undead army continued their attack, bombs exploding. His imagination switched to the floors beneath the ground, where plaster rained down. Vampires screamed, crushed to death as the floors collapsed, leaving piles of rubble and twisted, broken limbs.
Stop thinking about it! He shouted at himself. There was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t get there until late tomorrow. Worrying didn’t help anyone.
But it doesn’t stop me from doing it.
Telith woke as the sun sank the next evening. He leapt from the bed, grabbed his stuff, and headed out without even changing. His meal was a snack at the side of the road; using his phantom powers to make himself invisible long enough to pounce on deer.
He wanted more blood, but he let the animal breakaway, and headed back for his car. He should have taken an airplane. That would have been faster. He never thought of planes, though, not right off. Hell, his first instinct was still a horse. Cars and planes hadn’t existed for the first two-thirds of his life, and for some reason his brain didn’t want to let go of that.
He was a good piece down the road when he decided to try Roger again. A great idea, but his phone was dead. The charger wasn’t plugged in – had he left it at Bray’s? – so he tossed the device in the passenger seat. What did it matter, anyway? It’s not like any of them can answer.
Because they’re dead.
He was sure of that, sure they’d all been slaughtered. Maybe the Hand of Death had swept through, killing them one by one in magnificent sprays of crimson. He imagined the floor wet with the blood of so many dead, and saw the monster-like man wading through the carnage, tearing his enemies apart with his bare hands.
continued next week
now for guesses:
- faster than the bear 2. run! 3. fly, you fools 4. dinner time 5. wildlife photography 6. a day in the country 7. get away