Prophecies of Light

by E. M. Knight

  I step back. “What lies?”

  “About his past. About the torrials and his collection of artifacts. The man can do magic, just like me! Do you think he ever revealed that to her?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  Phillip sneers. “You don’t know.” He looks up at the sky, notes the North Star, and starts in the direction. “Felix would have never dared tell Mother of his ability. She would have rightfully seen him as a threat.”

  “So you hold that one omission against him,” I say.

  “It’s more than just an omission!” Phillip exclaims. “It’s outright deceit. If Mother had known she had a male channeler of magic in her grasp, imagine the things she could have done!”

  “I’m not so well-versed in magic as you,” I say darkly. “You’ll have to explain what you mean.”

  “Male and female magic are two very different things,” he says. “They come from the same source, but they have no overlap. Eleira thinks—and I think, too—that working together, a man and a woman can do things with magic unfathomable to us. A synergy exists between the two sides, and it has never been exploited before. Mother could have had that with Felix.”

  “…and then she’d not have needed you,” I say. “Is that right? Is that the point you’re getting at?”

  “Absolutely not!” Phillip snarls. “I am grateful for the gifts Mother gave. I would never have known my potential, otherwise.”

  “Nor would you be bound by these oaths that you cannot stand,” I mutter.

  He glares at me. “I would never give up what I have now,” he says. “Not for anything in this world. You think I want to go back to that sniveling, pathetic coward doing yoga?” He laughs. “I have power now, Raul, true power, and you’d best respect that.”

  “It makes me wonder…” I begin. “Why you have to repeat that point so often? Is it because you don’t believe it’s true?”

  “I know it’s true,” he says. “Why do you think Eleira sent me on this task? She recognizes my strength.”

  “Yet you’re worried others do not. Are you really so insecure, Phillip? Is that magic poisoning your mind, truly, like Eleira fears?”

  He stops and turns to me. The miasma streaks across his eyes.

  “My mind is fine,” he says tersely. “The only one worried about it is you.”

  “Well, if I have to share the road with you for two weeks…” I begin.

  Phillip shakes his head. “It’s not going to take two weeks. We’re going to the airfield. You’re flying us.”

  I blink. “I thought this place was inaccessible by plane. You told me it’s somewhere high up in the mountains of the Yukon.”

  “You expect us to just walk there, brother? No. We’re taking the plane, we’re flying to the border, then we’re sneaking across.”

  “And when we’re on the other side?”

  “We steal a vehicle, or find another plane. I am not going to waste time trekking there by foot. Unless you have any objection…?”

  I shake my head. I am impressed with how quickly Phillip has taken command. Not that I will let him forget his place.

  I have to remember, for this trip, and for the future, just how much my younger brother has really changed.

  “To the airfield,” he tells me, sweeping an arm in its direction.

  “Yes,” I agree. “To the airfield.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  James

  The Crusaders’ facility

  “No!” Victoria hisses. “Are you crazy? It’s insanity! How can you even consider giving the Dark Gift to somebody who has been a sworn enemy of vampires his whole life?”

  “I agree with the girl,” Smithson says. “Paul is a dying man, desperate. A plea made in the final days of his life cannot be considered representative of his mindset or beliefs.”

  “Mindsets and beliefs can be changed,” I mutter dismissively. “That is not the point.”

  “Then what is?” Victoria questions.

  I look up, over her head, at the frail man lying on his deathbed. I can sense how little life he has left with him. A day, maybe two, if he’s lucky, and that’s with the best medicine money can buy.

  After Paul made his request he told us to go aside and discuss it. Without him overhearing. He did not want to influence our decision by being present.

  It would be, as he claimed, a fantastic gift.

  “I do not think the Crusaders can be led by a man not sound of mind,” I say. “If Paul dies, everything falls to Melvin. Would either of you, who fear so much the power of this group, want that to fall into Melvin’s hands?”

  “It’s not fear, it is respect,” Smithson snarls.

  “The same respect that made you so badly underestimate Cierra and myself, before you were sworn to me. Is that right?”

  Smithson glares at me with unbridled hatred.

  “What you two don’t seem to understand,” I tell my companions, “is that it’s always better to make a friend out of an enemy than to confront him head-on. It is a more profitable proposition in every way.”

  “You think the Crusaders can be your friends?” Smithson mocks. “You don’t know the organization as well as I do.”

  “Maybe that’s what allows me to see the opportunity presented more clearly,” I say. “You believe Cierra to be the biggest threat. Well, what if we had this entire army on our side?” My eyes shine with greed. “On my side. I give the serum to Paul, and he will eternally be indebted to me.”

  “You will turn him into one of us, and that will only give the organization fodder with which to hunt us down! Why do you presume that turning Paul will do away with a lifetime of deeply engulfed beliefs? Why do you assume that you will in any way be able to control him?”

  “Well, for one, because I will stand high above him in the hierarchy,” I say. “Two, because he will owe his life, and the organization’s continued existence, to me. If it falls into Melvin’s hands the entire structure will collapse.”

  “Then let it fall!” Victoria exclaims. “We will all be better off for it.”

  “You’re frightened,” I say.

  She stares daggers at me.

  “You are, aren’t you?” I probe. I look at Smithson with revulsion. “Nothing about this has anything to do with respect. It’s all fear; it’s all fright. I can see it on your faces.”

  “Well imagine what it’s like suddenly having your vampire powers taken away!” she explodes, thrusting her bound hands up at me.

  I smirk. “I know what it’s like. I’ve tried the ring on in secret, many years ago.”

  “Some bargaining chip that turned out to be,” Smithson mutters.

  I look at the decrepit Paul one more time. He is staring at the ceiling, those vile machines hooked up to him pumping him full of drugs and God-knows-what-else.

  I make up my mind.

  I break away from the group and stride to his side. I put my hands on the rail around his bed.

  Paul turns his head. Those eerily clear and sharp yet unseeing eyes pierce into me.

  “So?” he asks. There’s a certain resignation in his voice.

  He does not expect me to grant his request.

  “If this thing happens,” I say, “I want amnesty for all the vampires of my coven.”

  “Is that all?” Paul coughs and laughs. “Done.”

  “That’s the first bit. I do not want any vampire, anywhere, to ever be threatened by your men. Only those who are my enemies.”

  “Do you have many enemies, James Soren?”

  “Enough to satisfy your organization’s desire to fulfill its claimed purpose,” I promise him.

  Victoria and Smithson turn to me at the bed, both looking uncharacteristically sullen.

  “When I turn you,” I continue, “If I turn you, you must swear allegiance to me. You will stay in control of the Crusaders. But you yourself will answer to a higher power, and through you, the Crusaders will do my bidding.”

  Paul looks at me for an immeasu
rable moment. “You would have me give up my sovereignty,” he says in a rasping voice.

  “Not just your sovereignty,” I say, leaning over him and bringing my face close to his ear. “But your entire life.”

  “If those are the terms I might as well call for my death right now,” he says.

  I pull back. “So you refuse?”

  “I will not have my organization at the beck and call of some imprudent, rash vampire!” he snarls. “No. No deal. You can let me die now.”

  “Consider it carefully, Paul,” I whisper. “If Melvin comes to inherit it all, the Crusaders will crumble and cease to exist. You said so yourself.”

  “I know what my son will do to it, damn you!” Paul curses. “But I will not be some puppet pulled by invisible strings!”

  “Who ever said you’d be a puppet?” I ask sweetly. “You will continue to have full autonomy over your daily affairs. It’s just, when I need you, I will make the call. Trust me,” I lower my voice, “our interests will align with no coercion on my part… ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  “And the other one percent?” he demands.

  “Well.” I tap my fingers on the rail. “Small sacrifices must sometimes be made.”

  And before he can answer me, I plunge down and sink my fangs into his neck. His eyes go wide as he realizes what’s happening, realizes that the cuffs have no effect on me.

  My fangs tear through his brittle skin. Immediately his weak, pallid blood is in my mouth. I swallow the barest portion, the least amount I need to initiate the transformation.

  Any more than that would make me sick, the man’s body is so ruined.

  I take in that tiny amount and then inject the serum into him. He goes rigid. He gasps. The serum runs through his body, mixing with his blood, priming the cells for the transformation that is to come.

  I rip away. Quickly, I bite into my wrist, making a huge gash, and shove it against his lips. I pin his nose shut so that he’s forced to drink.

  My blood pours into his mouth. It’s mixed with what I’d taken from him, primed specifically for his body. He chokes the first bit down. He is truly in such a poor state that it takes almost a minute for my blood to enliven him and start the healing process throughout his whole system.

  But when it begins, the man’s greed knows no bounds. He sucks on my wrist with all he’s worth, clinging to my arm with all the strength I gave him.

  He draws so much that I feel myself weakening. I seal my mouth to his neck, again, and take more of his blood. The infusion of it strengthens me, and in turn my blood strengthens him. The swapping of it from body to body enhances the vampiric influence. It makes no sense, it’s like a perpetual motion machine, but that is how this perverse ceremony works.

  That is the power of vampiric blood.

  I suspect the strength of the vampire comes from the Elements, somehow, but I cannot be sure.

  I feel Paul strengthening. Up to this point all my blood did was repair the damage suffered by his body. Now that that part has been fulfilled, its attention turns to its true purpose: enhancing the physical body.

  I only let it continue for a few seconds before pulling away. I stagger back, light-headed.

  Victoria catches me. There is unfettered fear on her face.

  “What have you done?” she whispers.

  I don’t have a chance to answer as Paul leaps up out of the bed. He’s naked and emaciated, but as I look at him I can see the supernatural strength pooling into his very thin, very wiry muscles, accumulating in the brittle bones, and washing over his whole self.

  He blinks a few times, then reaches up and casts the contacts out of his eyes. His actual pupils absolutely shine, so much more intense than what they were like before.

  “I can see,” he mouths in wonder.

  I smile. “Yes,” I say. “You will benefit from all our supernatural gifts.”

  He looks around the room and lowers himself into an aggressive stance.

  “Blood,” he gasps. “I need… blood!”

  I stand to tower over him and flick the influence out. He flinches, not understanding where that sudden feeling of deference comes from.

  “Might I suggest,” I say softly, “calling Melvin back?”

  Paul’s eyes widen with greed. He grabs the telecom and shouts his son’s name into it. He turns to the computer and taps a sequence of keys…

  A moment later the far doors open. The sound of the wheelchair’s motor comes to my ears.

  Melvin bursts in from around the corner. “Father,” he begins—

  But when he sees the leader of the Crusaders standing naked and invigorated in the middle of the floor, he cuts off and gasps.

  He does not get to do much more than that. The old man pounces with unimaginable speed. He collides with his son, and the wheelchair topples over. Paul sinks his new fangs into the fat man’s neck. Melvin makes a sickly, gurgled protest, but he quickly succumbs.

  Beside them, the upturned wheelchair’s motorized wheels spin in a pathetic display of futility.

  I watch as father feeds upon son. Melvin has enough blood inside him to match four humans.

  I cannot imagine a better feast for a fledgling.

  Paul’s greed comes out on full display. He tears his fangs into Melvin’s neck time and time again. When the first fount runs dry, he pulls back and sinks them into a different spot. I watch, half-amazed, half-impressed, as Paul draws every last bit of blood from his son’s enormous body.

  Finally, it’s done. The newly-made vampire stands. He looks down at his hands, at his chest, at his legs. His entire front is painted red, coated in his kin’s blood.

  Suddenly, his knees give out. He staggers down. His hands hit the floor. He takes a series of deep, gasping breaths.

  Then he turns to one side and vomits out a portion of the blood.

  I approach him cautiously. I kneel down and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “The blood lust took you,” I confess. “You could not stop, even when your body had enough. You are fine. The sickness will pass.”

  I stand up and look back at Smithson and Victoria. They are staring at the grisly scene, as if they’ve never seen spilled blood before.

  “What is it with you two?” I ask. They both look like they’re about to be sick.

  “It’s… it has to be these,” Victoria exclaims, thrusting her hands out. “Make Paul take them off!”

  “They require a key,” I say, looking down at my own shackled hands.

  The leader of the Crusaders looks up. “But how?” he gasps, gesturing at me, my fangs. “Your powers are supposed to be contained!”

  “Lucky for you, they were not. Now let me and my friends out of these chains. I know you have a master key.”

  He stands up, shakes his head. “No key,” he says. He staggers over to the computer workstation, moving like a drunk.

  Too much blood at once will do that to a newly made vampire.

  He taps something out on the keyboard, and in unison, our three locks release.

  Smithson and Victoria instantly snap back to themselves. That subtle helplessness they were victim to before disappears. In its place comes the hunter’s sharpness.

  Victoria storms over to me. Before I can react, she swings her hands and slaps me across the face.

  “That’s for not listening to me,” she says.

  Then she grasps me by the hair, pulls my head down, and seals her lips over mine in a fiery kiss.

  “And that,” she says, when she lets go, nearly breathless, “is for not listening to me.”

  I look at her, trying to make sense of things. The damn kiss has my blood boiling, all my subdued feelings for Victoria have been reawakened, and I’m consumed by lust.

  “What?” I mutter.

  “You did what you had to do,” she says, gesturing at Paul. “Against our consensus. And you made the right choice.”

  She looks at the discarded cuffs on the ground and shudders. “Without the vampire inside
of me, it was impossible to think straight. All I knew was fear.”

  My mouth quirks up in a sideways smile. “I could tell.”

  She hits my arm, but playfully.

  “I hate to interrupt this very touching encounter,” Smithson deadpans, coming to our sides, “but we have to decide what to do with him.”

  His eyes go to the newest member of our coven with a hawkish gaze.

  “What about him?” I ask, stepping away from Victoria and approaching Paul.

  Paul stares at me like a cornered dog. His eyes are wide with something akin to fear, but not quite…

  Then I realize. He’s in awe.

  “I cannot feel you,” he mutters. “I can feel the others, those two, but not you.”

  I offer a devilish smile. “That’s because you are my fledgling,” I lie. I don’t presume to tell him that I am cloaked. “Such will be the relationship between us for quite some time.”

  “Hmph,” he grunts.

  I rip the sheet up off the bed and toss it at him. “Cover up. It won’t do to have those in your subservience see you nude.”

  He catches it and wraps it around his shoulders, taking care not to let the white fabric touch the blood.

  He stares at me as if I’m a god. “I don’t understand,” he whispers. “The cuffs take all vampiric powers away. And yet you were unaffected. How?”

  I give a casual shrug. “I suspect the device was faulty.”

  “No.” Paul shakes his head. The fine lines around his eyes, the deep ones on his forehead, are being cemented into permanence by the vampiric essence. Yet it beatifies them, somehow shifts them, accents them, oh-so-slightly, to make them into the defining marks of handsomeness on his face. “None of them were flawed. We have the highest level of precision in everything we do, in all that we make. Each of the devices is guaranteed perfect.”

  “Well, mine wasn’t,” I tell him. “Shall we move on? You’ll have to figure out what happens next. Will your men turn on you when they realize you’re a vampire, and that Melvin…” I grimace, glancing at the discarded shell of a body, “…has been killed?”

  “Truth be told,” Paul admits, “I have not thought that far. Your sudden appearance was an unexpected boon. A stroke of great fortune. You gave me my life, James, but I never expected it.”