The monthly medical treatment he took lessened the possibility of spreading Ithrim to others, but even a small chance was too much for his tastes. There were only two people who knew he was sick anyway; his on-site doctor, and Ardilon. So Stephan played things safe by keeping a distance—and not just from Kivsey, but everyone.
“I'm not seeing that name anywhere in our database,” Kivsey mentioned during his thoughts. “So Maddox is either a major player, a realm-hopper, or Ignacio is flat out lying.”
“Could she have been deleted from the system?” Stephan asked in suggestion. “Maybe reported missing or dead, or someone hacked us to keep her information from coming up.”
“Being hacked is doubtful, but even if we were, you have to consider that no one else has mentioned her,” Kivsey returned. “We've interrogated enough vampires and minions that she should've come up sometime, Steph.”
Stephan only barely checked his cringe, hating that nickname, and despite his attempts to steer her away from using it, it still seemed to slip out occasionally.
But he didn't comment, grabbing his brown suede jacket from the hanger near the door of the office, and countered Kivsey's claim by stating, “Not if Lillian was trying to protect a secret.”
Her secrecy was the one part of Ignacio's story Stephan believed wholeheartedly, and it seemed that if he wanted to learn the truth behind the rest of it, he was going to have to inspect Page South Cemetery for himself.
On his way to the door, Kivsey pushed her chair back and stood, asking, “You're not going to that cemetery, are you?”
Finding her concern grating, Stephan asked without stopping, “Where else would I go?”
With a loud sigh, Kivsey folded her arms over her chest. “It could be a trap, Stephan.”
Despite knowing that was a definite possibility, this lead was possibly the best he'd received, too good to pass up due to paranoia. So Stephan didn't stop, stating on the way, “Could be.”
“Stephan—,” she started, but was cut off by the door shutting behind him just hard enough to tell her that his mind was made up.
The hall outside the office was quiet as he walked to the elevator. Being late afternoon, most of the agents were probably down in the compound's rec room, getting a much needed break from work—the Bastion could certainly dish it out, anyway.
After five years of working with them, Stephan had come to realize that their organization was best described as a group of humans with too much supernatural information working to keep the rest of the world blissfully ignorant of it.
Ordinary people were content to believe the supernatural didn't exist, and that belief was the very thing keeping them from seeing through the Shroud—a mystical phenomenon hiding the paranormal world from the average human eye. But most of The Bastion's personnel had encountered something supernatural at some point, causing the Shroud to lift so they regularly saw the things others couldn't, such as a fae's pointed ears, or a vampire's fangs.
It made them the perfect candidates for employees, and there were plenty of positions available, from custodians to engineers, and everywhere in between.
Their charter was rather simple as well—at least, in concept. As an arm of The Crucible, The Bastion handled supernatural problems on a mortal level, such as quelling rumors and making sure conspiracy theorists never gathered enough evidence to expose the truth.
In practice, however, the effort could get complicated.
Thankfully, they had bases all over the world and plenty of people to rely on. Stephan served as a field agent, but unlike the others, he'd been given a particularly useful edge—Ardilon had made Stephan his votary.
This meant taking vows to serve the divinian's cause, which granted him the ability to see clearly despite the condition of his left eye, as well as strength and speed beyond that of a normal mortal. Without it, he never would've taken out so many vampires. Even Ignacio, in his weakened state, would've been much harder to drag into the compound.
Not that being a votary had solved everything, but it offered enough to do what needed to be done.
Stephan's thoughts over it were soon interrupted when the elevator slowed, and its doors hesitantly opened to the desolate lobby of their underground medical facility.
Walking through the room, he stopped when a familiar voice sounded the words, “I see you've found a solid lead.”
Ardilon. Stephan would know that baritone timbre anywhere, and was actually surprised to hear it. It'd been over a year since he last saw the Dead God, but if his comment was any indication, he'd been at the compound for a while, listening in on Stephan's conversation with Kivsey—and perhaps even his interrogation of Ignacio.
Narrowing his brows, Stephan looked back to answer, “Yeah, no thanks to you.”
Ardilon stood not far from the elevator, a tall, fit man dressed in a spotlessly clean business suit with stark white hair neatly tied back at his nape. When Stephan first regained his vision after vowing to serve his cause, he'd learned that the divinian's visage matched his deep voice—imposing and rather austere.
But Ardilon's most remarkable feature were his striking, sky blue eyes which possessed a radiant halo around his pupils.
In response to the comment, Ardilon's lips drew into a thin line, but there were no visible changes in his stark demeanor otherwise as he pointed out, “Thanks to me, you were able to search at all.”
That was entirely true, and Stephan exhaled a breath over his sorry attitude. “Yeah I know, I'm just irritated right now, especially thinking about everything you have done. I've just spent too long searching.”
With a few steps forward, Ardilon reminded, “I told you when we first met that Lillian was slippery, and you're not the only person looking for her. She may be dead already.”
“If so, then I wanna know about it so I can put this to rest.”
The divinian was silent for only a brief moment following the declaration, then asked, “And after it's put to rest?”
Not this again. Stephan couldn't recall a conversation with Ardilon over his hunt where he wasn't asked about his time after it concluded, as if he had big plans like retiring to Hawaii to live out the rest of his life in peace.
But that simply wasn't the case. In truth, Stephan was tired, ready to throw in the towel, answering vaguely, “We'll see when it's done.”
Sadly, Ardilon was more discerning than the average person, and had no compunction about pointing out, “You still put so little value on your own life.”
Stephan rolled his eye over the comment. Not a day had passed since they'd met that he'd truly cared whether he lived or died, and that wasn't going to change regardless of the vows he'd taken to serve a greater purpose.
All that mattered was devoting the time he had left to gaining justice. It was just a stroke of luck that Ardilon wanted someone to hunt those vampires down enough so to appoint Stephan as a votary, and he was extremely grateful for the chance.
But it was also the last thing he needed to do.
After righting the wrongs done to his family, Stephan would have nothing left to look forward to—and he preferred it that way. His life was just a hollow shell now, and he was so sick and tired of feeling empty inside that his premature demise at the hands of Ithrim would be a welcome relief.
So the true answer to Ardilon's question of what's next?
That's all she wrote.
Yet, instead of pointlessly discussing the value of his life, he changed the subject entirely. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were busy hunting some demon in another realm.”
Ardilon didn't seem intent to let their previous topic go, but conceded with an answer. “I was, but as it's turned out, my chase has led me back here. So I came to check on your progress, and overheard your conversation upstairs.”
“Oh?”
Ardilon sounded particularly interested, adding, “The name Maddox caught my attention specifically, and I thought to provide you with more information than Miss Kivsey man
aged to locate.”
Quirking a brow, Stephan inquired, “You know Maddox?”
Ardilon waved a hand as if to say no. “I never knew her personally, but I did know someone she was associated with well enough to realize she's … not likely to be a typical vampire.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the vampires you normally encounter wouldn't compare, Stephan. So I wanted to ask what your plans were, because if it's the usual abduction-and-torment tactics, I'd have to advise against it.”
This wasn't what Stephan expected to hear, and he shook his head. “Then … what do you want me to do with her?”
Expression serious, the divinian answered, “Offer Maddox an alliance.”
Stephan nearly sputtered the word back. “An alliance? With a fucking vampire?”
“Yes, with a fucking vampire,” Ardilon repeated flatly. “I don't believe Ignacio was lying about where Maddox is located. But I do believe his claim that she knows where Lillian could be hiding is, as you'd say, all bullshit.”
“What makes you think that?”
“One simple fact; the last I heard the name Maddox was in 1945, two years following her disappearance,” he paused, then enunciated, “seventy years ago.”
Stephan couldn't help his stare. Seventy years? If that were the case, then Ignacio had definitely been snowing him, and there was no way that this Maddox would know anything about where Lillian was located, or any of her lairs.
But why would Ignacio lie about it? If he wanted her dead, he'd apparently had seventy years to do the job himself. Even more importantly, would it be worth Stephan's time to look her up?
As if knowing his thoughts, Ardilon went on, “Still, and despite Ignacio's lies, the odds are very good that Lillian is the one who entombed her, meaning Maddox will want her own retribution, and she'd be a powerful ally to have in your search. She'd have old friends, possibly even favors owed by immortals who wouldn't give you the time of day if asked. I'd wager your hunt could be over by next week if you sought her help with this.”
For as sound as Ardilon's argument was, Stephan had no idea if he could even consider working with a vampire, no matter how different she might be from the ordinary. But he was also running out of options—and time.
Even being a votary, it was becoming difficult to keep his search a secret. Resources had been exhausted, and for all he knew, Lillian could've been killed years ago, but he'd just keep hunting and die from Ithrim without knowing the truth of the matter.
The prospect was bleak indeed.
Still, he muttered, “I can't trust Maddox. She'd turn on me the minute she got the chance.”
“Not necessarily, not if she's been entombed for seventy years by the same vampire you want to take down. Don't forget the old saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Maybe,” Stephan allowed, “but who's to say she wouldn't try to find Lillian on her own?”
Sighing, Ardilon spoke evenly, “Stephan, you know that not all things are black and white. Not every human is weak despite how many supernaturals would say otherwise. So instead of trusting her to offer help, trust me. Go to that cemetery and check the grave. If you find her, protect yourself, but don't confine her to do so.”
“So what then? Take her home like a lost puppy?” Stephan asked sarcastically.
“No, you're to treat her as an equal, to allow a least a sliver of trust to form on her end. If you woke in a cage, would you trust or want to help the person who put you there?”
Grumbling, Stephan turned from Ardilon, taking a few steps away while shoving his fingers through his hair in agitation. He could certainly protect himself whether this vampire was confined or not, but did he really want to offer her freedom?
There was little good to the life of any vampire, and he'd killed so many it just felt wrong to let one go.
Still, Ardilon's point was valid. Stephan had survived captivity, and knew firsthand that no one would trust the person who'd taken advantage of their vulnerability. Of course, everything was subject to the vampire actually being in this tomb to begin with. But Ardilon believed it was possible, and his instincts were usually correct.
“There's one other thing, Stephan.”
Looking back quietly, he noticed the halos of light in Ardilon's eyes now seemed to be burning brightly when the Dead God added a stipulation that took away any choice Stephan might've had to begin with.
“I'm not simply suggesting this as a good idea, I'm ordering it. You'll offer Maddox an alliance, and you will not kill her. Am I understood?”
He certainly was. Stephan's failure to comply with any decree Ardilon issued would cause him to lose his status as a votary and all the abilities it granted. So if he truly wanted to finish this hunt, he had to dig up a vampire and play nice.
His stomach churned at the thought.
Ardilon's order also made it sound as if the divinian knew more than he was letting onto, and it wouldn't be the first time. But it was pointless to ask for details. Ardilon never offered more information than he felt was necessary, so Stephan merely accepted the order without complaint.
“Understood. Was there anything else?”
“No,” Ardilon started, then added thoughtfully, “except to say good luck.”
Stephan scoffed. It was going to take a bit more than luck to help him get along with a vampire. Let's try a goddamned miracle.
But instead of saying so, he turned to go, muttering on the way, “See ya around, Ardilon.”
Heading down the hall to make a pit stop in the clinic, Stephan exited the compound a short while later with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder containing three bags of blood, a crowbar, and a hammer. Walking through the parking lot outside to his jeep, he stored the bag of items in the backseat, then climbed behind the wheel where he sat quietly for several moments, thinking things over.
It was just after four o'clock, meaning he'd arrive at Page South Cemetery right at sundown, and wouldn't have to wait to pull this vampire safely out of the grave, and who knew? Maybe Ardilon was right and Maddox would want to help a mortal find Lillian out of her own need for vengeance.
Or maybe she'd try to kill him.
But did that really matter? Chances were she'd go after Lillian anyway, so digging Maddox up might just be one in the same with ensuring his target's demise.
It's not like I'm living for anything else anyway, he thought, catching sight of himself in the rear view mirror. The black leather patch covering his right eye was a bit worn, and the left eye, now a pale, silvery blue in place of his once forest green iris, looked just as dead as he felt inside.
Releasing a breath, Stephan turned from his stark reflection and started his jeep's engine. There were more important things to think about than his own miserable existence, and he focused on those issues while pulling out of the gated lot.
It was a long shot, but perhaps he could work with a vampire—saying Maddox wasn't actually a filthy, lying, murderous snake like all the rest.
Otherwise his immediate future was going to be hell.
4
♦ ♦ ♦
“Whitmore.”
Reading the name marking the mausoleum's tomb aloud, Stephan exhaled with a strange sense of both curiosity and loathing over what he was about to do.
Not that he could blame Ardilon for ordering him to work with Maddox instead of making a simple request. If she was of more use alive, Stephan wouldn't have trusted himself with her well-being either.
So he got started on his task by pulling his duffel bag from his shoulder to settle down nearby, and unzipped it. Lifting the crowbar and hammer in each hand, he stood and faced the burial chamber, wondering all the while if this would actually pay off. Only one way to find out. Sadly.
With a few hard taps of the hammer, the tip of the crowbar became wedged between the marble plaque and the wall. Like the rest of Page South Cemetery, which looked to have been abandoned, the cover was so old that it only took a few push-and-pulls on eac
h side before he pried it free.
It fell to the floor, thudding near Stephan's boots along with the tools used to remove it as he grasped the old casket within. It was a sturdy coffin to be sure, but weighed a lot less than he would've thought as he tugged it from its chamber with a grunt of effort.
Once the casket was half way out of the chamber, he left it jutting from the wall and stepped to its right side. Placing a hand on the cover, Stephan braced for whatever answer was about to be revealed.
“Hope I didn't drive all this way for nothin',” he muttered, then pushed the lid up and stared at the sight before him.
The light weight of the coffin had instilled a bit of doubt in his mind, but there was indeed a woman laid to rest inside, and she'd certainly been there for quite some time. Human or vampire, he couldn't tell from simply looking, but it seemed very likely to be something supernatural considering a seventy year old human corpse would've been nothing but bones where this decaying husk was still largely in tact.
Her navy blue dress was dirty, but in good condition, and though her black hair was messy, most of it was swept up into two victory rolls at the top of her head, a hairstyle most prominently seen in the 1940s—the same time period that Ardilon said Maddox had disappeared.
So this truly looked to be a dormant vampire, starved for blood and decaying until someone came along to free her.
Stephan wondered if Maddox even knew who'd sealed her inside the grave to begin with, but it was likely she'd been left in the dark both literally and figuratively. The mere idea of such a fate sent a chill up his spine. Certainly, vampires had the ability to hibernate, but to do so with no idea if a chance for revival would ever come? That had to be hell to endure.
Yet, as soon as the thought struck him, Stephan pushed it away. Not only was it unpleasant even to consider, but his reactions felt too much like sympathy for comfort. Maddox wasn't human, so being buried alive wouldn't injure her the same way … would it?
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