A Taste of Crimson

by E. M. Knight

  “So why did you send him?” I wonder.

  “Because I knew you would fall in love. Not real love, of course. It was just puppy love. Love that’s already run its course, now that you’ve grown and matured in your own skin.”

  “How could you know that?” I ask.

  “Because, Eleira,” she sighs, “you are so much like me.”

  “I am nothing like you,” I burst out.

  Morgan looks at me flatly. “Oh, please. Don’t delude yourself. You are more like me than any vampire I’ve ever met. And you have followed exactly the same trajectory of progression. You think yourself so noble, so good, so idealistic. Don’t you? Don’t answer—I can see it in your eyes. But slowly, over the years, those childhood fantasies will fade. Do you know why?” She lowers her tone. Her eyes become dark. “Because there is no room for romantic, quixotic fantasies in our world. Reality is harsh, it is bleak, and it will soon drive all those delusions out of you. Already you’re on the right path. You cast off Raul. You accepted the secret forces the Sisters granted you that come from the Demon Realm.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles. “Remind me, please, where you most recently sent Phillip? He’s not in The Haven right now, is he?”

  “Enough,” I snap, cutting her thinly-veiled taunts off. “I am not like you, I have never been like you, and I will never become like you. This I swear.”

  “Careful with such oaths,” she murmurs. “My Queen.”

  “I think we’ve given you free rein to speak for long enough,” I say. I look at Allura, Sute, and Lorne. “Bind her. Take her down to the silver cells. Block her magic. My guards will show you the way.”

  “So hasty,” Morgan says. “Don’t you even want to know all that you’ve inherited, as Queen?”

  I turn back to her and eye her with suspicion. “What are you talking about?”

  She smiles. “Come now. Do you think you’ve already discovered all the secrets of The Haven?”

  She stands up and smoothly glides over to one wall. The Sisters make as if to stop her, but I tell them to stand down with an easy hand gesture.

  Morgan examines the wall of her one-time apartment. “Let’s see…” she says to herself. “It’s been so long since I’ve attempted this…”

  She touches two fingers to a series of five special points. I am surprised to see that when she removes her fingers, the spots retain a soft blue glow.

  She is not channeling magic to do it.

  Then, in a few quick slashes, she connects each of the points. The space between them adopts the same blue glow, and then an opening expands, like a perfect mirage being parted.

  With a start, I realize that’s exactly what’s happening. The wall that I always saw was simply a camouflage painted by a set of very subtle, inverted weaves.

  On the other side is a set of heavy steel doors. I approach Morgan slowly.

  “Where do these go?” I ask.

  “The trunk of the great evergreen this apartment is situated upon,” she tells me, “was hollowed out ages ago. Past these doors is a descent deep, deep into the ground, where I kept my most precious possessions. I suspect—” she looks at me wryly, “that it goes even deeper than the edge of your all-encompassing wards.”

  “Open the doors,” I command her.

  “With pleasure. It’s easy.”

  She takes one of them and simply pulls it aside.

  I peer through. All I see is a narrow black shaft, going down, down, down, into the earth, farther than my eyes can see.

  “Your treasure awaits, my Queen,” she tells me, giving me a bow and gesturing inside.

  “If you think I’m going in there blind, you’re out of your mind,” I tell her.

  “I could go first,” she offers.

  “And have time to set yet another trap? No thanks.”

  “So distrustful,” Morgan mutters. “You will have to understand we’re on the same side one day.”

  “Yeah, well, that day is very far off,” I counter. “Allura,” I turn to the strongest of the Sisters. “Can you probe the way down, ensure it’s safe?”

  “Yes,” she comes forward. “I can do either a quick sweep or a thorough search. The longer will take hours. I suspect you won’t be satisfied with anything else.”

  I step back to give her room. “I can think of nothing better for us to do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  April

  On the Ground

  We’re sitting in a tight circle on the ground, speaking in hushed tones.

  Everybody is frightened. I do not think they would admit it—vampires aren’t supposed to be afraid—but the incident on the plane has left us shaken.

  At least Smithson isn’t too badly hurt.

  The wound the silver blade made in his side took a long time to stop gushing blood. It still hasn’t closed over, and he has to keep a cloth tight over it.

  But otherwise, he is all right.

  Selene must be most scared of all. Here she was, imagining us as such magnificent, amazing beings… and we got bested by something we couldn’t even see.

  “Explain to us again what happened,” I request of Smithson.

  He grunts. “Why? You know the story.”

  “I can’t help but feel we’re missing something.”

  “We’re not,” he snaps. “The Slender Man hid on the plane. He disguised himself and made himself invisible. He put the same illusion in everyone’s mind. We were under his influence. We saw things that were not real.”

  “But why?” I say. “Why would he go through all that trouble?”

  “He got away with a planeload of obsidian,” Paolo mutters in disdain. “For someone who knows magic, wouldn’t that be enough?”

  “He was the one who had the obsidian moved to this storage facility in the first place,” I say. “Why wouldn’t he have just taken it then?”

  “It would have been too obvious,” Smithson says. “If he posed as me and gave the order to move it, he would have aroused suspicion, if, at the same time, he made off with some. The officers of The Order would have questioned him. I would bet he was afraid his story wouldn’t hold up. It’s one thing to give a relatively standard order from afar. Quite another to take off with a haul of obsidian.”

  “So, what, he waited for you to come? How could he possibly know you would?”

  “That’s the part I don’t like,” Smithson says.

  “And why stab you?” I continue. “He got you in the side. It wasn’t meant as a killing blow.”

  “Then why use a silver blade?” Paolo asks.

  “What if he just wants to show off?” Selene offers, breaking from her trance of silence.

  We all turn to her. She looks at us each in turn but doesn’t say any more.

  “Why would he want to show off?” Paolo asks slowly, his disdain for the fledgling clear in his voice.

  “To flaunt his power,” she says simply. “Getting the better of such strong vampires—” I can’t tell if she’s mocking us with that or not, “—is no small tasks. If I were him, I would want my work known.”

  Smithson narrows his eyes. “You may have a point,” he admits. He grunts. “There is something I haven’t told any of you yet.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “When he stabbed me, I lost consciousness for a few seconds. I blacked out. It couldn’t have been from the blade. Even if it is silver, that’s not enough to knock a vampire of my strength out. Not even close… What I suspect is that—”

  “—that he made you believe you passed out,” Selene finishes for him.

  He looks at her in a peculiar way. At first, I think he’s going to reprimand her for interrupting him.

  But he does not. Instead, he tilts his head to one side and says, “Quite right.”

  “Why would he do that?” I wonder.

  “I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since,” Smithson admits. “I can only come up with one answer, and it’s an answer I don’t like. It would also explain why this d
amn wound is taking so long to heal.”

  “Why?” I say.

  “I think he used the opportunity to take my blood,” Smithson says solemnly.

  A silence falls over our group.

  “You all know what vampire blood is capable of,” Smithson continues. “However, it loses its potency very quickly when out in the open. Half a minute, that’s all it takes, and then it’s completely inert. However,” he raises a hand, “—it is possible he found a way of storing it so that it maintains its potency. We can’t put the possibility past him, at any rate.”

  “And what if he just drank it, then and there?” Paolo asks. “In that case, he’d trigger the transformation. Without the serum his odds of surviving would be low.”

  “I know what he’s like,” Smithson says. “He wouldn’t risk it unless he was certain.”

  “So, you’re saying we might have another fledgling on our hands,” Paolo mumbles. “Fine. In that case, the hierarchy will give us dominion over him.”

  “And what if he knows how to shield himself?” Smithson asks. “In that case, he’s basically invisible. I fear we haven’t just lost a large amount of obsidian. We’ve also given a very crafty sorcerer access to strong vampire blood.”

  “You have,” Selene corrects.

  “Don’t tempt me,” Smithson growls. “Know your place, girl.”

  “I know my place just fine,” she says, standing up. “I am a vampire far below you on the hierarchy. You think that strength is the only thing that matters. Well, I think that in order to catch a thief… you have to think like a thief. And,” she flashes a grin, “—a human one, at that. Who does not have the benefit of all your supernatural gifts.”

  “Selene,” I say. “Sit down.”

  I direct a tiny flow of influence at her—and am caught by surprise when the bond between us triples its effects on her.

  Selene’s knees give out almost instantly. She has to catch herself so she doesn’t fall.

  She shoots me a look of… not anger, nothing like anger, but maybe a bit of… understanding?

  Does she know I didn’t mean to direct so much influence at her through the emotional link of our bond?

  “You’re thinking is fine,” I tell her. “But we cannot afford to go after the Slender Man now. We have to get back to James. He needs us. And he needs the obsidian we promised to get him. Otherwise, we won’t even get an opportunity to go after the Slender Man. Not if the Black Sorceress does away with us.”

  “April is right,” Paolo says. He looks up through the foliage at the sky. “It’s nearly day. You and I, Smithson, can fight off the slumber that comes with the sun. Selene cannot. Unless we mean to split up, we’ll have to dig into the earth and take refuge from the rays.”

  “You three do it,” Smithson says. “I need to get in touch with The Order and tell them what happened. They’ll be able to track the jet for us.”

  “Forget the jet!” I exclaim. “We should go back to the storage facility, and get the leftovers on another plane to James. There was some obsidian left. We didn’t take it all.”

  Smithson shakes his head. “We should not be the ones to do it ourselves. I’ll get a team from The Order to clear out the storage facility during the day. While you sleep. By the time you wake, it’ll be halfway to James. We’ve wasted much time on unimportant things. Too many distractions. The Order and The Crusaders will soon join forces. Let this be the introduction of one to the other.”

  “I thought the whole reason for doing it ourselves was to avoid attracting the wrong sort of attention,” I say.

  Smithson scoffs. “We’re long past that point. As soon as I tell my colleagues what happened, all sorts of safety procedures will kick in. Remember, The Order is still mostly on lockdown after Cierra’s escape. That gives us a small advantage in that the Slender Man won’t have many opportunities to strike again.”

  “You think he’s an enemy,” Paolo says.

  Smithson spins on him. “What else would you call him? An ally? He took advantage of all of us, he stole property from The Order, he stabbed me and—I suspect—took my blood. If he was simply a nuisance, an annoyance, before… now he’s made an enemy of us, yes.”

  Smithson stands. “Burrow down,” he says. “The sun is almost up. You all need the rest. I’ll be here when you wake up, with what should be good news.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dagan

  In the Woods

  I follow Beth through the densely-wooded forest, pushing away all the wayward branches and vegetation that get in my face.

  The nimble vampire in front of me easily finds the path of least resistance through the shrubbery. I’ve long-since given up attempting any sort of grace in passage. There’s no reason for stealth, and it’s much easier to just barrel my way through.

  Easier, but not much more pleasant.

  Beth stops by the trunk of a tree. I see a soft blue glow come around her. I get goosebumps—still I’m uncomfortable by the use of magic.

  The glow fades after a mere moment. She turns to me and whispers, “We’re getting close.”

  “How close?” I ask, stepping up to her. Even though I tower over her, I do not feel like I am domineering with just my presence.

  She is one of the first vampires who gives me that feeling.

  Of course, part of it is her immediate strength… but the larger part must be the bit of respect I feel for her. After all, she’s proven herself capable many times.

  No shame admitting that.

  “See the top of that hill?” she nods forward. “There’s a mountain on the other side. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the peak through all the trees.”

  “I have.”

  “Well, I think she’s hiding away somewhere in there,” Beth says.

  My hands clench into fists of their own accord. Beatrice. I hate what she did to Logan, the things she drove him to. If it weren’t for her, the man I first knew as King would still be there—not the angry, fraudulent caricature who resides in his body now.

  Beatrice corrupted him. I know she did. If not for her, Logan would have never reached for Blood Magic.

  And Blood Magic is where it all went wrong.

  So, I was very satisfied when Logan gave me the order to kill her, what seems like ages ago, now. So many things have changed since then—but my hatred for Beatrice has remained.

  Truth be told, I was astounded when Logan allowed me to see this task to completion. But very, very, glad. Kill Beatrice. Destroy whatever vampire hybrids she is making. Then, the world will be right again.

  “Dagan? Dagan. Dagan!”

  I blink. Somehow, for some reason, I’m slumped over on the forest floor. Beth is looking at me with great concern.

  I bring a hand to my forehead. “What—happened?” I ask.

  “You just toppled over,” she says. “You were muttering something about killing Beatrice.”

  I force a chuckle. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  “It didn’t sound like you.”

  I realize she’s right. And I realize, at the same time, that those vengeful thoughts were not my own.

  I’ve never killed in vengeance. Every death at my hands has been one unmarked by emotion. Only marked by cold, efficient competence.

  “The influence,” I grunt. I push myself up. “The influence is affecting my thoughts. From the ancient ones.”

  “We have come to destroy her,” Beth says.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “But you are not yourself. That is dangerous for us.”

  “I’ll manage,” I say, then lumber forward through the damn forest.

  Beth catches up to me. “I don’t think you should go into the mountain,” she says.

  I stare at her. “What?”

  “What did Vasile do to you?”

  “Just used his influence. That’s all.”

  She shakes her head. “It should not affect you so badly.”

  I grunt. “Imagine going your whole vampire
life without being subject to it once, then coming across vampires orders of magnitude stronger than you, and falling under their gifts,” I shake my head. “I am just unused to it.”

  “I think your body is rebelling,” she says. “I think you want to keep Beatrice alive.”

  I stop.

  “What?” I say coldly.

  “The entire journey here you’ve been dragging your feet. I know, I can tell, you weren’t once operating at full capacity. These last few days I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

  “Dragging my feet?” I demand, anger flaring. “That is the most ludicrous thing you’ve yet accused me of.”

  “It’s been subtle,” she defends. “But enough instances give sufficient tells to identify a pattern. I think your subconscious is fighting you.”

  “Nonsense,” I grumble and pick up my speed.

  Beth stays right at my side.

  “I don’t want you to jeopardize our mission,” she continues. “If you can’t control yourself—”

  I grab her by the throat and smash her into the trunk of a tree.

  “I suggest you be very, very careful with your accusations,” I whisper, bringing my face close to hers. “I don’t like my women showing disrespect.”

  She looks me right in the eyes, completely unfazed… and then spins out of my grip, sidesteps behind me, and twists my arm into an extremely painful position behind my back.

  “You listen,” she hisses in my ear, amplifying the pressure, “you great buffoon. I’m trying to keep you alive. This feels like—”

  With a burst of strength and a guttural roar, I rip out of her grip. I ram her to the ground, this time using my weight to my advantage.

  “You like riling me up,” I tell her. “You know what happens when you do.”

  I swoop my head down and force my lips against hers, kissing her hard.

  She struggles a bit, just to put on a show, but then gives in to the kiss completely. My grip on her body loosens, and anger turns to passion quite quickly.

  That’s when the sound of an approaching plane makes me break away and look up.

  “What the hell…” I murmur. The plane is flying low, headed directly at the mountain.