by F. E. Arliss
Some she recognized immediately. Walking forward as though she had not a care in the world, she took Bai Ling’s hand and air-kissed each side of the tall, homely Chinese queen’s face. “Welcome Queen of the Shu Han,” Remi said, as though she was the one running the entire meeting. Might as well start on the right foot she thought to herself.
She could feel the approval radiating off the elder Colchi behind her and sensed Saulaces at her right. “We are most pleased with the services your clan have provided us,” she said to the Shu Han queen, bowing slightly in deference of their skills.
Bai Ling seemed to swell with pride and her homely face took on a glow that made her almost pretty. Bowing deeply to Remi she stepped back into her clansmen and smiled beatifically, beaming at the other clans with pride and delight.
Turning, Remi glided to the queen of the Empusa. “I believe we’ve already met,” she murmured, simply inclining her head slightly to the red-headed woman dripping snakes from her parure. She was easily recognizable to Remi, even if the lighting had been poor that night.
The Empusa queen laughed and smirked, “Yes, I believe we have. Now I see you are the Queen of the sewer rats.” A silence so still it echoed reigned over the chamber. “I am Emanuela Rossi,” the woman said, her eyes now glinting maliciously in the flickering light. “We met when our clan took the head of Kandake Impundula. Our origins are of Italy. We deal in clothing and food products.”
“Yes, that is when we met. I believe the evening's point was delayed when Kandake allowed herself to resign as Queen of the Colchi,” Remi stated this calmly, with an emphasis on the word allowed. “The point of the evening will be delayed no longer. You will improve the conditions in your workshops and prevent any further deaths in your workforce.”
Emanuela Rossi waved one hand dramatically and said, “And how do you intend to enforce that demand?” She held one hand out in front of her, waving it around the room in a questioning gesture.
Perhaps it was because after a lifetime of being lauded and sucked up to by almost everyone she’d ever met, the insult stung. People hadn’t sucked up to her because they respected her, of course. They’d done it to use her, to get close to power, to see what they could get out of it.
This insult to her and the clan she’d chosen to represent didn’t just sting, to be honest. It burned. Deep down. Now that Remi had grown sick and tired of her family’s use of her, which was a deep and wounding type of disrespect all its own, she really didn’t want to put up with demeaning bullshit from anyone.
Remi simply reached out and grasped the woman’s wrist and arrested its movement mid air. A split second later smoke poured from the connection and the woman screamed and tried to grab her hand away.
Remi’s body was immobile, “I am the Queen of the Colchi and as such, I demand respect for myself and my clan. We are the oldest, the purest, and the most powerful,” Remi said this in a low commanding voice that echoed into the dead silence of the underground vault. “You can tell yourselves all you want that the Colchi are sewer rats, deformed, savages, or anything else that you’ve been degrading our clan with. But the truth is we are the first. We are the diamonds of the first waters.” The only background noise was the gasping, whimpering pain emitting from the Empusa queen as Remi continued to pour her will into the hold she had on the other queen’s writhing body.
“The Empusa may have reigned above, but the Colchi have reigned below. That too will change. The Colchi will still hold reign below. We will still enforce clan law. Now we will also participate in the world above.” Remi’s voice rang with steel.
“Should anyone want to challenge that now, please step forward and do so. Don’t worry, Saulaces will not intervene,” Remi said this in a laughing growl. “I’m just a human woman, nothing to fear.” By now, the skin and tendons of the Empusa queen’s hand had melted onto the floor and Remi grasped nothing but skeletonized bone. She dropped the offending wrist as though she were dropping foul-smelling trash. The Empusa queen scuttled backwards into the small knot of her kindred.
To Remi’s shock, though she managed to maintain an even heart rate and calm face, the intaglio skulls in her parure set began to emit audible laughter. It was disconcerting as the snickering, giggling chorus that rose from the six intaglios dripping from her ears, neck, wrists and finger, laughed audibly into the stunned silence of the chamber. It was eerie beyond belief.
Several clans scooted further back into the shadows. All continued to eye the flesh that had dripped from the Empusa queen’s hand onto the floor. She was no longer mewling in pain, but a new fear had entered the red-headed woman’s eyes as she cradled the mangled hand, sucking furiously at the healing blood being leached into her mouth from one of her kinsmen’s wrists.
“I see you even take blood the easy way,” Remi added contemptuously. Seriously, she was just on a roll rubbing it in, she chided herself for such temper. On the other hand, it felt good to be spiteful towards them. As D.H. Lawrence had once written, “Being spiteful when in a foul temper was like having a good sneeze. It cleared the sinuses.” Well it hadn’t been that exact verbiage, but something of the sort.
Many of the groups stared mesmerized at the laughing skulls of Remi’s parure set. Suddenly, having enough of the moment, she waved a chopping motion across her chest and the intaglios silenced themselves instantly. She hadn’t known if it would work, but it had, thank Nefertiti!
A dark-haired woman stepped forwards from a knot of colorfully robed women. She approached without a smile, but curtsied slightly and said in heavily accented English, “I am Elaheh Faraz, queen of the Lilitu. Our origin is Persia. We specialize in equipment for pregnancy and pediatric care. Welcome.”
A parure made of what looked like ancient bronze adorned the woman’s neck. Remi identified its carved surfaces as depicting a motif of the Cedars of Lebanon. Not the prettiest parure she’d ever seen. But beauty was not what the sets were all about.
Remi managed to show no reaction and keep her heart rate steady, but was shocked at the woman’s statement. Her lessons had said that the Lilitu hated pregnant women and babies at a gut level, yet they manufactured items for that specific market. Creepy. Maybe it was one of those things like, “keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Super weird. She’d ask Saulaces later.
A tall blond man stepped forward and grasped her hand in a hard grip. “I am Lord Vasili Lamai of Russia. We have interests in oil and mining around the world. His blue eyes glinted with appreciation as he ran them over her figure. When he released his hold on her fingers, he allowed them to slip caressingly over her hand. Remi could hear Saulaces’s audible growl. The blond stepped back quickly.
Turning to a group that was barely visible in the dim light, Remi advanced a few steps and was met in the light of a lantern by a short, extremely beautiful, young black, African woman. She held out a tiny hand and giggled coquettishly, “I am Enitan Ekachi. Queen of the Adze. We are based mostly in Nigeria and deal in everything. Although we reign supreme over the kingdom of the internet and marketing.”
Remi practically rolled her eyes. The Adze were known as vicious scammers who showed no mercy to anyone. They spread corruption and preyed on the old, infirm, or easily led. They were a scourge. The dark queen’s parure portrayed an inlay of ivory in the shape of a swan on an ebony background. Very appropriate, Remi thought. Like a portrait of what they were - casting beautiful lures out into the world only to entangle their victims in blackness and ruin. Internally, she thought the icon should have been a spider.
A duskily-handsome, and very muscular man of indeterminate age stepped forward next. When he took her hand, Remi could feel his intent to compel her. She simply shook his hand and let him try. Nothing happened. The smarmy smile slipped on his well-chiseled mouth.
When he spoke it was to try to compel once more. “I am Joao Antunes of the Lobishoman. We control Brazil and much of South America. Our trade is the perveyance of pleasure.” Joao winked at her and sent a
nother wave of compulsion. What he really meant was huge networks of hookers and drugs.
Remi simply smiled at him and said, “I am familiar with your portfolio of pleasures.” She dropped his hand and sent her own wave of compulsion to push him back into the group from which he’d emerged. His eyes widened, and as though against his will, he toppled backwards into the waiting arms of his posse. A snicker surged through some of the groups, only to be squelched quickly by Remi’s stern stare.
The next two clans were of similar style. The Bruxas of Portugal ran widespread pick-pocketing networks throughout Europe and preyed mostly on women who were distracted by slickly handsome men in expensive suits. While the women were sneaking glances at the men, the men were busy stealing their wallets. Their queen had sported a parure made of absolutely beautiful Moroccan design in pinks, lavenders, and reds. No doubt stolen centuries ago while one of her clan woo-ed it off the neck of some visiting princess.
From Croatia came the Kozlak clan. They were run by a hugely fat Queen named Marina Dusaka. Her parure was almost as ugly as the one depicting the Cedars of Lebanon from the Persian clan. Hers was a series of glass ovals. Glass had been a specialty of that area for many, many centuries. The ovals did nothing for the fat woman’s looks, simply echoing the round shape of her face and figure in their different colored floral circles. A silver snake-like figure between each oval was curved into an eternity-sign that ate its own tail in the tradition of the Ouroboros.
The Kozlak were a largely female clan and Marina Dusaka seemed to approve of Remi and what she’d done so far. The fat woman had simply taken Remi’s hand, shaken it with one forceful pump, then stepped back. “If you have questions, call me,” the fat woman said, then winked one fleshy eye-lid. “We sinful women must stay together.”
It was a little bit of a misuse of the phrase, but Remi knew what she meant. She also remembered from the lessons that the Kozlak’s had taken up a far more powerful position after the Serbo-Croatian war. The rage from the mass rapes and war crimes against women driving them to expand their clan hugely, turning survivors who wanted revenge into rage driven clan members. They now ran all types of businesses that had only one thing in common - to punish men. If it was through taking their money in massage parlors or beating them at casinos, or in business - that was their pressing goal. Win over men. Remi had only nodded in reply.
It was, at least, a change of turn from the many clans that seemed to run hidden human trafficking and prostitution.
Two more small groups stepped forward. A tall blond woman wearing a solid lapis lazuli parure introduced herself as Inga Larsen of the strigoi of Norway. She didn’t even bother to give a different name for the clan - vampire, or strigoi, would do. They were bankers. Remi complimented her parure, saying, “The parure is lovely! Are they runes or constellations?” She waved one finger to indicate the small gold dots that were inlaid into the large chunks of lapis.
The woman smiled with genuine warmth. “They are constellations and runes. Many of the patterns of the stars form the basis of the ancient runes. I am glad you like it.” With that the two women smiled at each other and shook hands.
Another small knot moved forward together. A small, brown-haired, plump little woman wearing a Victorian-era parure of jet, pearl, and turquoise drops appeared to be the leader. She reminded Remi of photos she’d seen of Queen Victoria. Maybe she was Queen Victoria.
The woman simply stuck out her hand, took Remi’s hands warmly in her own and said, “We’re the strigoi of London. I am Alexandrina. We specialize in political analysis and strategy. I admire your ability to melt strigoi flesh. No one has ever been able to do that before in all the ages of strigoi history. It is impressive.” Then the wren-like woman stepped back and the pin-stripe-suited men and women accompanying her swallowed her from sight.
Remi glanced at Saulaces’s impassive face. He hadn’t mentioned that to her. Her gifts of intuition, strategy, and teleporting were all Colchi gifts. The fact that her touch was something new intrigued her.
There was one last group to meet and for some reason, they had been hovering back in the shadows during all of the introductions. When the leader of the group finally stepped forward, Remi almost gasped. Months of conditioning on Saulaces part paid off. Remi knew the leader of this group. He was a powerful New York politician and her family socialized with him.
“Hello, Remi,” the man said in a jovial tone. “Glad to see you aren’t as lost as your family believes.”
Remi simply shrugged and said evenly, “I was never lost. That said, my birth family is no concern of the Colchi. How are you, Isaac? I see the Motetz Dam have a very keen mind at the helm of their impressive endeavors.” Mutters ran through the groups at the knowledge that the new Colchi queen was acquainted with the Lord of the Motetz Dam of New York.
“I doubt they see it that way,” Isaac Frishkorn said, a stern reprimand sounding in his voice.
Saulaces stepped forward, but Remi, not needing him to stand up for her, simply shrugged again and said, “My family are the Colchi only. Any genetic connection I may have to the Hartsel family is severed and has no power over me. I trust you understand that.”
Isaac Frishkorn grinned and said, “I doubt the Hartsels see it that way, and I’m unsure what you can do to change who you are.” Then he mimicked her shrug and laughed softly in derision.
“I am Colchi now. That change has already been made,” Remi reaffirmed, her voice steady. “The Hartsels mean nothing to me.” Weirdly, Remi knew it was true. They’d never done anything but use her, scorn her, and twist her to their will. They really didn’t mean anything anymore.
“The only reason they would want anything from me is to control my shares. Those shares now belong to the Colchi, so unless they want to come up against the entire clan, they will forget about hunting me down to try to control those shares,” Remi stated this openly, making sure all the clans knew she’d ceded her familial wealth to her clan.
This statement sent a wave of shock around the room and wiped the smirk off Lord Motetz Dam’s face. He hadn’t thought she’d sign over her personal wealth to the clan. What he didn’t know was that her own trust fund was enough for anyone. She didn’t need the value of the shares. They were death. Only a clan as powerful as the Colchi should have control of those shares, so she’d signed them over.
“As I said, I am Colchi. My human family is irrelevant. You wouldn’t be so inept as to pierce the veil of the strigoi in order to expose me,” Remi continued. “Showing anyone through the veil is extremely dangerous and would bring about some very harsh repercussions, I believe.”
Another wind of sound echoed around the chamber. This time the sounds were all different versions of ascents. What the Queen of the Colchi said, was true. Her past life was over. She was Colchi. Just because the Motetz Dam knew her human family did not give them the right to pierce the veil. They all had a human family. They all were forbidden to pierce the veil.
Knowing he was overstepping, Isaac Frishkorn stepped back into the shadows and the conversation was dropped. From then on, the evening was simply social. The conclave was a place to mingle and get to know allies. Business deals were made. Invitations were accepted. The Colchi were now in the upper world. The elders were pleased. Saulaces felt Remi had been remarkable. Remi was tired and just wanted to go home.
So, Saulaces took her. In a flutter of moths, he scooped her close and swirled her away. The last thing Remi saw were the astonished looks of the other clans, mouths hanging open, as Saulaces - with his hugely tall form encompassing Remi’s small one in his arms, claws splayed around her torso - morphed her away. Georgie would tell her later that Saulaces had given an impressive display of six-inch long claws and three-inch long fangs when he’d teleported. If that hadn’t been a statement of protection and power, he didn’t know what was.
Georgie came a moment later, having witnessed the transport of Remi away and heard the swell of awe Saulaces’s display had wrought, Mr. Bemu
s, for the first time showing his true nature, teleported Six back into the Paris apartment.
Chapter Eighteen
Rage
For the first time in a long time, Remi woke up angry. Not just a little bit mad. Really, really mad. She was angry that Saulaces hadn’t told her she was the first one ever to have the whole skin-melting thing. She was angry that Emanuela Rossi, the Empusa queen, had insulted her and her clan - ok, so she’d melted the woman’s hand off and felt no sense of remorse while she did so - it still hurt.
Clearly, when she’d shoved mentally at the leader of the Lobishoman, Joao Antunes, the energy she’d sent had a physical effect. He’d fallen backwards. Why hadn’t Saulaces worked with her on that? Remi was angry that Isaac Frishkorn, the Lord of the Motetz Dam, had - more or less - threatened her with exposure to her family. Over all, she was just one pissed off piece of human/vampire queen.
Georgie took one look at her face as she stomped into the kitchen area and got out of her way. Over a couple of cups of black tea on the terrace, Remi ruminated - or more to the point, she fumed - over what she wanted to do.
First, Saulaces had better damn well tell her what other abilities she might have and help her discover them.
