I Am the Wild (The Night Firm Book 1)

by Karpov Kinrade

  "When?"

  "Right now," he says.

  Dracula enters the library and pauses when he hears what we're discussing. "Lilith and I had a special bond," Dracula says, and it takes a moment for the name to register.

  "Lilith?" I ask. "The Lilith?"

  Dracula nods. "I was human when we met and fell in love. She, of course, was the first of our kind, created by the Night herself, when a moonbeam hit a rare black rose at just the right moment, and that rose turned into a beautiful woman, pale as moonlight, lips red as blood, hair black as the night herself, teeth sharp as thorns. The first vampire. And the first woman, before Eve. Adam's true love."

  He has us spellbound with his words, with his voice, so hypnotic and melodious. "But Adam betrayed her, and she left him in the garden alone while she roamed the earth in search of others like herself. When she found none, and as humans began to populate the world, she realized she would have to turn them herself, to create her own family. And so she did. First Able, when he was left for dead by his jealous brother. They were lovers for many centuries. Then many after. Until me. But alas, we wanted different things in life. I wanted children, and so we divorced, and I met Mary and gave her what was left of my cold, undead heart."

  So Lilith is the mother of all vampires. And I'm about to meet her.

  Once the decision is made to visit Lilith, we don't waste any time. Derek and I climb into the carriage and Lily gets us underway without a moment to lose.

  I stare out the window as we leave the lowlands behind and climb high into the mountains to the east. The road is narrow, with a staggeringly steep cliff falling away to one side as we make our way into the dark peaks ahead of us, and I'm suddenly thankful that our trusted steeds have an extra pair of legs each to keep their footing secure as Lily drives them onward.

  After what feels like forever – at least, to my height-addled nerves – we pass through a narrow canyon and emerge into a wind-swept valley high in the mountains. A Mediterranean-style villa sprawls across the lawn ahead of us, lights beckoning from its windows like a thousand sparkling fires. Dozens of servants work the grounds, tending to roses and lavender, trimming shrubbery into the shapes of dragons and horses. The tail end of a dark coat catches my eye, then disappears instantly behind a pillar of white stone. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re being watched. Our movements accounted for. After all, a manor like this must have security.

  Lily stops the carriage in front of a grand red door, and soon Derek and I are seated in a spacious gathering room inside the main building as Lilith's servants bring us drinks. Everything is gold-crusted or rimmed or framed, and I feel a bit like I've been transported inside an Oscar statue.

  Lilith herself is nothing short of divine. Her long black hair is worn in tight curls beaded with gold stretching down her back. Gold powder on her eyelids brings out the gold in her tiger-like eyes, and gold lipstick shines against her pale skin. Her gown is a matching gold, flowing down her slim frame like a waterfall of sunlight. To look upon her is to look upon something sacred.

  "He was a terrible husband," Lilith says frankly of Dracula, to the disappointment of Derek and myself. "He had an unparalleled thirst, which is my fault, really. I knew the kind of man he was in war, the blood of his enemies flowed in his veins. I just overestimated my ability to control him. He was violent, prone to flashes of temper that required me to use compulsion on him. He could never harm me, of course, but by the gods he tried." Lilith takes a delicate sip of blood from a gold-rimmed wine goblet before continuing. "I'm convinced he killed his wife and child."

  Derek sighs and looks at me. I shrug. We both know what this means. Not only is she not going to be a good witness for us, she'll be a great witness for them.

  Then she grins. "Is that what you fear I'll say, when the prosecution calls me to the stand?"

  Derek blinks and I narrow my eyes. She's playing with us.

  "I could say that," she says, leaning back gracefully and crossing one leg over the other. "There is truth in my words. We all carry within us shades of dark and light. What fun would this drab world be without it?" She glances at my fingers. "You know, my dear, do you not? An artist, more than anyone, appreciates the shades of gray."

  I glance at my fingers, but I can't see any visible charcoal smudges on them. "How—"

  "You have the eyes and the hands of an artist," she says, leaning forward. She reaches for a parchment and hands it to Derek. "The Van Helsings are out for blood. They want me to say what I just told you. With as much emotion and wringing of the hands as I can muster."

  I wondered when I'd see the corruption creeping in. You can't have a legal system without corruption. It's partly why I chose business over law. Both are corrupt, but at least business doesn't try to pretend it's upholding something sacred.

  "What did you tell them?" I ask.

  "I haven't decided," she says. "There are so many sides to the man you call Dracula. Who am I to say what's the truth?"

  "What's the other side?" I ask.

  She winks. "All in good time. First, tell me, what are you?" Her gaze is locked onto mine and I hold it, playing this game of wills with the oldest vampire in the world.

  Lilith smiles at me like a cat playing with a mouse and she walks over, sliding up against me in the couch, draping her arm around my shoulders. "You are a curious creature, are you not?" She slides a finger down my cheek so gently I almost don't feel it, then licks her finger, closing her eyes.

  "Curious. You are a tasty little mystery, aren't you, my dear? What I wouldn't give for just one true taste, to know for certain—"

  Derek stands and pulls me against him, leaving Lilith on the couch alone. "That's enough. You know the rules, Lilith."

  She licks her finger one more time and stands, sighing. "I wasn't going to hurt her, Derek. Not without consent. You Night brothers are all far too serious."

  "However," she continues, turning to us with another mischievous smile. "I will make a deal with you. Give me a taste of your blood willingly, my dear, and I will tell the court the story of a loyal and kind man who was the love of my life. But for his desire to have children I could not give him, we would have spent eternity together. But I loved him too much to tear him from his fate of fatherhood and so I set him free. He will make a strong and yet tender father, just as he did a husband. I will have the jury and judge alike eating out of my hands. What say you?"

  "Which story is the truth?" I ask. They are both entirely too compelling.

  She laughs. "The truth? Why, all of them. And none of them. We are each a truth unto ourselves."

  I realize I'm willing to say yes, despite the warning Liam gave me, despite my own revulsion to the idea, despite the fact that I don't know what game she's playing. I'm willing to do it, if it helps our case. Because her testimony could make or break us. And if it breaks us, the Night brothers will be forever tormented.

  Derek must see how close I am to offering myself up, because he stands between us once again and shakes his head. "No deal. You know I can't allow that."

  I tug at his sleeve. “But we need—"

  “No deal.” His eyes are hard.

  I nod.

  Lilith pouts and reclines back to the couch. "Pity. See you in court then."

  We sit in the carriage in silence. I'm breathing heavily. Everything feels surreal.

  "Why didn't you let me do it?" I ask.

  "It's too risky. You could have died. You could have become her obsession, in which case we couldn't protect you. She'd turn you and you'd have no say. Also, it's not ethical. It would be considered buying a testimony. We could be disbarred."

  "Those are a lot of good reasons," I say, breathlessly. And I'm an idiot, I add silently. I clearly have no self-preservation instincts. What the hell is wrong with me?

  When we get back to the castle, I excuse myself to my suite to collect my thoughts. And to sketch.

  I first draw Lilith, the way her neck curves in just such a way, and the way her l
arge cat-like eyes take everything in. She misses nothing in the going-ons around her, and I suspect she's always several steps ahead. Her and Dracula must have been quite the potent power couple.

  And then I draw Derek the way he looked when he was refusing Lilith to protect me. My hands fly across the page as I capture his stance, the strength in his frame as he stands between us, a living barrier to whatever mischief Lilith had planned for me should I have agreed to her offer. I don't think I could have imagined any of the Nights as white knights, but something in the way he holds himself brings that image to mind, and I know there is more to all of them than I have yet imagined. I know he gave the argument of being disbarred as a reason for turning down Lilith's offer, but their legal standing isn't going to matter much if they lose and become tormented until insanity by their sire. He was protecting me, at the cost of everything, possibly.

  The trial is starting soon and our case isn't yet strong enough to guarantee a win. We need more.

  When I finish Derek's drawing, I admire the determination in his eyes, the slope of his nose, the way his jaw tightens when he's serious.

  Pulling out of my self-induced trance I realize it's time to find Elijah and head to his contact to study the letters.

  I'm putting a lot of unearned hope that this will be the clue that breaks the case.

  And hopefully in our favor.

  The Graphologist

  She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire. ~ Charles Bukowski

  I find Elijah in his study, surrounded by books, which is not surprising.

  His pale blond head is bent over a large leather-bound tome, and he mumbles under his breath as he reads something in Latin.

  "Not summoning any demons, I hope?" I ask jokingly, and then I realize we are in a world that likely has demons and all manner of other creatures, and suddenly my little joke isn't so funny.

  "Not at the moment," he says, in all seriousness. "That requires more candles. And a virgin sacrifice."

  It takes me a beat to realize he's joking. He winks at me, and I exhale and then laugh awkwardly. "Ah, the classic virgin sacrifice joke. Good one!" I clumsily punch him in the arm, then step back and screw my mouth shut and plaster my arms to my side, because I am being entirely too weird.

  "It was a joke, yes?" I ask after a moment.

  "Yes," he says with a softer smile. "We don't use virgins anymore. Too hard to find." I frown at that, and he tugs at one of my braids. "Don't take it all so seriously or you'll make yourself crazy."

  "Right. So, where are we off to today?" I ask, as he grabs a cloak and drapes it over his shoulders.

  "I have a contact. She's a graphologist—of sorts—and will be able to tell us about the letters. When they were written. How old they are. Possibly who wrote them."

  "That reminds me," I say, pulling a piece of paper from my satchel. "Here is a writing sample from the butler. As far as we can tell, Dracula, Liam, and the butler, Leonard, were the only three men who came in contact with Mary in the months leading up to her death. But the author of the letters may not have seen her in person, so that might not be very helpful."

  "Any new information is helpful," he says, taking the paper from me. "It all gives us information with which to narrow down our defense."

  "And what is the defense going to be for Dracula?" I ask, as we walk through the castle and out the front door, into a cold evening still damp from rain.

  I shiver and pull my cloak more tightly around my shoulders when I realize we won't be taking a carriage this time but will be walking instead.

  "Lily is taking Derek and Sebastian to the courthouse tonight, so we will be on foot. I hope that's okay?"

  I nod. "I could use the exercise. Is it always so cold here though?" As I ask, flakes of snow form in the sky, landing on my skin and dissolving into tiny puddles. I can feel the cold in the back of my throat and I inhale a deep breath.

  "Winter is nearly upon us,” Elijah says, as we walk briskly down the cobbled path to town, tall trees lining each side and reaching towards each other above us form a living tunnel through which we walk. "It's only going to get colder. Soon we will have the Midwinter Festival. You'll enjoy that. There's all manner of food, live music, dancing and huge bonfires as we welcome winter. It's traditionally a gift-giving time in our world as well."

  "Sounds like Christmas," I say. "Without the dogma."

  We make it into town, and despite the snow, booths are set up and there are many townsfolk shopping and going about their evening. "Is the town this busy during daylight hours as well?" I ask.

  "There's no real distinction between night and day here, so we all keep whatever schedule suits us. Since most creatures don't have the same sleep needs as humans, the town is bustling at all times."

  I pay attention to the people as we walk. There are all manner of beings; some with horns, some with skin like dyed leather, some with body parts that aren't human.

  Elijah takes us through an alley and as we pass, someone throws out their bodily waste through the window, creating a trail of odor that has me gagging.

  Elijah sighs, and with a flick of his hand, the wind picks up, carrying the scent in the opposite direction and clearing the air for us. "We have more efficient sanitation systems in place now—and that took a lifetime to get the council to vote in—but some creatures are entirely too stubborn for their own good and refuse to leave the medieval era behind where it belongs. Thus we are forced to endure their filth as they cling to the old ways."

  "How unpleasant," I say, glancing back at the brown puddle left behind.

  "Indeed."

  I look at Elijah, wondering about him. "Can I ask you a question?"

  He nods. "Of course."

  "You're air, yes? That's the element that's part of your curse?"

  His lips tighten together. "Yes."

  "Well, I can see how Liam's fire makes him hot-headed. And Sebastian is stubborn as an old goat."

  Elijah snorts at that.

  "But what downside is there to air?"

  He frowns, considering. "I have always been more in my head than my brothers. More lost in ideas. In thoughts. In books. But it was always balanced by my love of people. By my desire to bring new ideas to the world. After the curse, and then once I was turned, I found it hard to…" He stops walking and turns to face me. "I found it hard to connect. To care. Ideas have become their own end goal. Books are a world unto themselves. I struggle to find the passion I once had to help others. It has made me cold. Vacant, if you ask my brothers. Aloof."

  "You seem very self-aware. That's a good step," I say, surprised by his honesty.

  He nods his head. "We have had many years to become such. Even Liam, were you to gain his trust, would admit to his own shortcomings. We all know, but we struggle to do anything about it. We are stuck in this inertia, unable to move forward. It's maddening, particularly when our Druidic Order focused on spiritual and personal growth in order to be of service to all. Our curse has put us in direct odds with our oath. Our purpose. It has left us rudderless at sea. At the whims of our egos, rather than guided by our higher nature."

  "Are there other Druids still around?" I ask.

  His face darkens. "We are the last of our kind. Our Order was killed."

  He turns sharply and continues walking, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation.

  When we reach a black door hidden in shadows in the crook of a winding alley, he stops. "We are here."

  The door is plain, with an eyehole in the shape of an actual eye in the center.

  Elijah knocks sharply three times, and to my astonishment, the eye opens, revealing an obsidian eyeball that flits between the two of us, taking our measure.

  "Tell Kana that Elijah Night is in need of her assistance."

  The eye blinks once, then closes.

  "Magic?" I ask.

  Elijah's lips curl up in a small smile. "Yes."

  The door opens a moment later revealing a beautiful woman in a r
ed kimono with a glowing ball around her neck as a pendant. Her glossy black hair is pulled up in an elaborate bun and her voice is soft and trickling, like tiny bells. "Elijah, so good to see you again. Please, come in. Both of you."

  We enter through a hall decorated with simple ink drawings of lotus flowers and into a spacious room. To the right is a desk with piles of scrolls covering it. In the center of the room are tatami mats for sitting, with a sunken hearth in the floor between the mats and a fire below that is meant to heat tea during a Japanese tea ceremony. I participated in one during a trip to San Francisco years ago for work and recognize some of the elements.

  Kana guides us to sit on the mats as she lowers herself onto one across from us. She places some aromatic wood on the fire and then begins to mix a green powder, creating the base for our tea.

  We sit in silence as she works with measured movements. Her body flows with such grace and elegance that I'm mesmerized by her. I've never seen anyone move like her, and I wonder at it, realizing she is likely not human, given where we are. She sits the cups before us, but Elijah places his hand over my cup before I can drink.

  "Pardon the interruption, Kana," Elijah says, "but will this be safe for my associate, who is thought to be mundane?"

  He removes his hand, and I frown at the tea as I realize something is moving within the delicate porcelain cup. A tiny sea creature of sorts, long and slim like a worm but with green scales and tiny black eyes. I shiver as it splashes in the green liquid.

  Kana sips her tea, swallowing deeply, then looks to me and with a wink says, "She may drink."

  That seems to be enough for Elijah, and he takes a long drink from his cup. His eyes encourage me to do the same. I have so many questions, but it's clear this is expected before we can do business, so I say a silent prayer to any gods that may be listening, and I drink.

  Whatever little creature was in my cup is now slithering down my throat, and I nearly gag and vomit it back up when Elijah's hand comes to rest gently on mine. The touch sends a cool breeze through me, calming my throat reflexes and allowing the tea—and mini sea creature—to stay put. For now, at least.