I saw dozens of large winged shapes flitting around the other hive. “Are those what build the hives?”
Arlonne nodded. “Jaspeths. They’re like giant versions of your world’s wasps. No need to worry about them, though. Any that get too close are usually just a little lost, smelling the pheromones.”
The thought of running into an enormous wasp lost in these passageways alarmed me more than facing down another Immortal ruler. I had rested my hand on the sill of the window, but I withdrew it. Was I rubbing giant wasp romance hormones all over myself?
Arlonne smirked. “Can you smell it? The vampires collect and spritz themselves with it,” she explained. “They did it to us, too. The jaspeths live in a new hive closer to the mouth of the cave, but they feel less threatened when we’re covered in pheromones. The odor prevents them from attacking us.”
I sniffed the air. “I have to admit the citrus and musk smells a lot better than the lake,” I said. “It’s almost nice enough that I’d wear it as perfume.”
“You think that, but wait until you see how they collect it,” the vampire said vaguely.
“What does that mean?” I looked at Roxy.
“Don’t ask,” Roxy told me with a raised eyebrow. “Trust me. Now come on, or we’ll be later than we already are.” We hurried on until we came to another chamber doorway, this one double the width of the others and covered by a set of thin white curtains. From the passing scenery through the windows, I was pretty sure we were now at the top of the hive. Ducking through the curtains, we entered as quietly as we could. The council meeting was already in session.
At least forty vampires filled the chamber. It was well lit, more so than the rest of the hive that I had seen so far. Dozens of large soul-light lanterns, some containing possibly four or five souls, created a circle of light that was almost theatrical in its arrangement. Outside the circle of lanterns, most of the vampires leaned against the walls or sat on simple rugs on the floor as spectators, hovering close enough to hear the discussion. They didn’t look too different from the vampires I knew from the Mortal Plane. I saw shades of copper, brown, and pale skin among the crowds, and a full rainbow of hair colors, although many wore their hair cut short. All of them wore thin cloaks made of some kind of rubbery, water-resistant material. That made sense, considering their proximity to the lake and connection with the aquatic wildlings.
In the center of the circular chamber, within the circle of lanterns and beneath where the ceiling rose into a point that likely marked one of the spots where the hive was attached to the roof of the cave, a panel of four elderly vampires sat on ornate woven rugs of greens, golds, and blues. Everything about their posture and how all eyes were on them told me that this was the council.
They all appeared to be at least in their sixties—though I knew they were likely far older—and had the lean, spry physique I’d come to expect of most vampires. The first elder gave me the vibe of a martial arts master. He stroked the bottom of his long white beard reflectively, sharp gold eyes focused. A woman sat beside him, one of her eyes closed by mangled scarring. The other was open, shining like a wet black stone. She had shaved the sides of her silver hair, the central section tied into a braid that reached the nape of her neck. A man whose long limbs reminded me of a spider rested to her right. He appeared to be the youngest of the three. Instead of a severe or overly focused expression, he smiled gently at nothing in particular. Eggplant-colored marks about the size of a penny dotted the tan skin of his face, neck, and exposed arms.
The last elder, likely the eldest of all of them, was a short woman who radiated a fierce intensity of personality. Seated, she didn’t reach the shoulder height of the rest of the council. If she stood, I was certain she wouldn’t be over three feet tall. She had short white hair and bright cerulean eyes that suggested she saw much more than people might expect.
“Mandola is the one with the beard, Pyma is the one missing her eye, and Glim is the one with the lanky legs,” Roxy supplied for me as she leaned in close to my ear. “The tiny woman is Mox.”
I nodded, only half listening because Dorian stepped forward through the ring of lanterns into the center of the room. He looked healthy and steady on his feet.
Roxy gestured for me to follow, and we moved to the back as far from Dorian as possible, leaning against an unclaimed patch of wall. The lichen here glowed amber, which combined with the warm light from the lanterns to give the whole chamber a sepia, honeyed feeling.
A few eyes flickered to our presence, many of them narrowing in suspicion or widening in curiosity, but they soon returned to the elders. There were a few mutters but not enough to cause a disruption. There were more important matters at hand than our presence.
A weight fell from my shoulders as I studied Dorian. He stood tall and relaxed in the center of the circle facing the elders. He bowed at the waist, the respectful motion fluid and natural. There was no sign that he was feeling weak or dizzy like I was. It seemed as though he’d regained his strength by resting and from his recent feed on the wildling. Still, I would keep as far from him as possible while he made his case—I didn’t want to cause him any discomfort during this crucial meeting.
Across the chamber, I spotted Sike sitting on the floor wrapped in a cloak several sizes too large for him that looked suspiciously like Kane’s. He leaned against Laini, weak but upright, his broken arm held protectively across his body by a sling. He looked terrible, one side of his face still swollen and bruised, but he’d apparently been determined to attend. I raised a hand subtly in greeting, but he missed the movement, entirely focused on Dorian as he began to speak.
“As you are aware, my companions and I have traveled a great distance from the Mortal Plane to find your colony, both to offer aid and request assistance,” he said, his voice rich and clear.
“Where in the Mortal Plane have you come from?” Mandola, the elder with the beard, asked.
“Scotland,” Dorian said slowly, pronouncing the word as if it were magical. “It is the northern part of an island in a politically significant region of the Mortal Plane.”
It was odd to hear human lands being described as though they were exotic. I noted the shimmer of interest in Glim’s eyes as he regarded Dorian carefully.
Dorian continued. “We were offered asylum there by human allies and have established a camp in the mountains. Members of my clan and other survivors of Vanim’s destruction are now living there safely under the protection of humans who believe in our cause to return balance to the planes. We’re attempting to establish a haven for vampires there, one that we are eager for you to come and join.”
There were a few murmurs and a sharp, disbelieving chuckle from somewhere in the chamber. Pyma snapped her fingers and made a harsh sound in the back of her throat. Silence immediately fell, but I’d caught the tone of the room. Arlonne’s dislike of the clan began to make more sense to me.
Dorian kept speaking, apparently unfazed. “We are preparing to make the Immortals answer for the devastation they have brought down upon us, regrouping and growing our numbers. In the meantime, we need more information regarding the immortals’ involvement in the attacks on the Mortal Plane. Monsters such as shrieking decays, soul-scourgers, and empty swarms are being sent through the tear to wreak havoc on the human world.”
“Forgive me if I sound callous,” Pyma interrupted, her voice pleasantly husky. “But what does the destruction of the Mortal Plane have to do with us? What have humans ever done for us that we should risk ourselves to help them? We are scraping out our survival here. Are you suggesting that we risk a massacre at the hands of the Immortals in order to help a species that is equally intent on our destruction?” Her hand hovered instinctually toward her ruined eye. “If they suffer now because of the tear, that is only justice. They are the ones who created it in the first place.”
I felt Arlonne shift beside me, the stump of her arm an unspoken acknowledgment of the point. A deep weariness washed over me. I now unde
rstood the uphill battle we faced, because Pyma was right about humans. My own uncle, sitting in his bare cell back in Scotland, was testament enough to that. But there was so much more to it than that. Look at Dorian and me, connected by deep affection and loyalty despite the literal pain our relationship brought. Or that we three humans had come to this plane, a place not meant for human life, to try to help these vampires fix the problems plaguing both of our planes.
Dorian took a moment to think, then respectfully inclined his head to Pyma. “I understand your caution, Master Pyma. But the danger posed by the tear threatens more than just the Mortal Plane. The tear is ever-widening and starting to blur the boundaries of our two worlds.” He briefly addressed the room, focusing on the vampires. “The very purpose of our existence is to maintain balance, both here and in the Mortal Plane. Right now, everything is out of balance. Immortals brutally kill the wildlings at whim. Monstrosities that belong deep in the bowels of the Immortal Plane are being driven to the surface to be used as mounts for the Immortals and to attack the Mortal Plane. The redwoods are crying louder than ever before as too much darkness saturates the ground.” He pivoted, appealing to the other side of the room, his eyes briefly passing over me with a spark of recognition, despite my face being masked by shadow. “If we want to prevent more tragedy in both the Mortal and Immortal Planes, we need to find a way to halt the growth of the tear and then close it. That is part of the reason my team of humans and vampires came to this plane—to gather information on how to fix the breach in the barrier between our worlds. Information I believe can be found in the Immortal capital, Itzarriol.”
A grumble ran through the gathered onlookers, their voices tight with fear.
Glim spoke, arranging his gangly legs so he could rest his elbows on his equally bony knees as he did so. “Our scouts risk their lives on every trip to Itzarriol, but it is a danger we accept out of necessity. If we do not feed, we die. You seem to think this mission you pose is of equal necessity?”
“I do, Master Glim,” Dorian replied.
“And you ask for aid from Hive members, despite the aforementioned high level of risk?”
I looked between the council and Dorian, knowing that this was the real question all these vampires wanted an answer to. This was where they needed to be convinced to risk their lives for us. As Dorian paused, I couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in my throat. Our trip to the Immortal Plane would all be for nothing if he couldn’t get the council on his side.
“I ask for your aid, Master Glim,” Dorian said, weighing every word as he said it. “But I assure you I do not make such a request lightly. I ask because inaction in the name of self-preservation will only protect you for so long. The Hive has scouts and resources that could significantly improve our chances of successfully gathering information about a possible remedy to the tear. The council and your people have important intelligence on the Immortals and how Itzarriol operates. If we work together, we could get to the heart of this conspiracy.”
A wave of pride came over me as I watched him work the crowd, using logic and charisma to overcome their resistance. My entire body grew hot with a deep surge of affection. We had come so far in our journey. I felt so lucky to have ended up with someone this impressive. I’d had the honor of witnessing his moments of laughter, joy, vulnerability… and the harder moments, when he’d put on a tough face for the world.
My pride dampened as I remembered how fragile our situation was in the present moment. Was he putting on a brave face right now? He might still feel weak and sore, like I did. Our proximity was now nothing but a liability. It was almost certain that if the Hive and the council agreed to work with us, only one of us would be able to go to Itzarriol unless we found a way to dampen the pain without Dorian starving himself. The coming days would be a test of strength and sacrifice like nothing we’d experienced so far.
“And then what?” Mandola asked, spreading his hands in query. “Even if you get the information you seek—which I doubt you will, knowing how secretive and intelligent the Immortal rulers are—what will you do then? Retreat back to the Mortal Plane with your team?”
I glanced at Arlonne with a slight grimace. They really weren’t making this easy. She raised an eyebrow in response as if to say, “I warned you.”
“Unless an immediate opportunity to strike at the Immortals presented itself, then yes, we would retreat,” Dorian acknowledged. “But we would not leave without finding a way to bring your clan with us to safety in Scotland. That I promise you.”
“Assuming we wish to go,” Pyma rumbled.
“Promises are no more than well-intentioned lies if you cannot guarantee them,” Mox said, her voice filled with a note of wise chastisement. “But we hear your earnest request. Give us some time to confer.”
Dorian inclined his head in acknowledgment. Nobody spoke. All eyes rested on the elders, who turned to one another after an agonizing pause and began talking inaudibly among themselves. Dorian still stood by, hands clasped formally in the small of his back, slight tension around his mouth the only indicator of his stress.
It was slightly disconcerting to me that some kind of decision was going to be made so quickly, with the discussion progressing in front of Dorian and all the gathered onlookers. Such transparency was so different from the Mortal Plane. Here, the elders didn’t hide behind boardroom doors or the walls of private offices. However, regardless of where the decision was made, the question still hung in the air like smoke.
Would they help us and let us help them?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The quiet discussion lasted around five minutes. While the council talked, I tried to read the tone of the room. Thanks to Vonn, I had learned the hard way to pay attention to individual vampires in a crowd. For the most part, I saw fear and indecision in the stormy faces and knitted brows. A few vampires stared at Roxy and me, and there was a noticeable space on either side of where we leaned against the wall. They furtively averted their gazes whenever they noticed me watching them in return, and there was a pinched look of weary defeat in many of their eyes. As discouraging as it was, maybe Arlonne was right. Perhaps the Hive wouldn’t be as helpful as Dorian had urgently hoped.
The only thing that held off my disappointment was the vampires scattered throughout the onlookers, many with fresh wounds or recent scars, who looked eager to accept Dorian’s suggestion. They whispered among themselves and looked toward Roxy and me with curious faces, their body language not overtly hostile. It wasn’t much, but it gave me hope that we might find a few allies in the Hive.
Across the room, a sour-faced Kane had tucked himself into a little alcove close to Sike and Laini. He kept stealing glances at the younger vampire, who now appeared to be dozing fitfully. However, the bulk of his attention was on the conferring vampire council.
All whispered conversation among the onlookers ceased as Mox stood slowly. Even with her perfect posture, at her fullest height she was only eye level with Dorian’s waist. Turning to address the chamber, her blue eyes were unflinching.
“The elders will consider this proposal, but we have a few misgivings that will need to be discussed privately in more detail,” she said calmly. Her voice filled the room, impressively loud and strong coming from such a small frame. “First among them is that the Hive is not a place of war. We are a refuge. We preserve our peace by avoiding bloodshed. Our concern is that sending scouts deeper into Itzarriol than usual will lead to vampires being captured. When Immortals capture our members, the likelihood of our location being discovered drastically increases. It would compromise our struggling community. We are not all warriors here.”
The effect of her firm words fell over the crowd. Many vampires nodded in agreement, while those I’d noted looking more supportive of Dorian’s idea watched in silence, their faces unreadable. Mox turned to Dorian, and he waited patiently for her to continue, though I could see he had clenched his jaw in silent frustration.
“The methods we have d
eveloped to travel to Itzarriol are specific, and the protective measures we exercise have been successful so far. However, we can never be too careful.” Her tone held possibility, but a warning hummed beneath her cool words. “The hunters we helped you escape from are aware that there are strange new creatures in the Immortal Plane. It will not take them long to realize that those creatures are humans. While the Immortals may not be able to sense our own auras, there is still the risk that the energy of living humans will be noticed, if one knows what to look for.”
Although she faced Dorian and had her back to us, her words were somehow targeted at Roxy and me.
“We’ll adjourn to discuss it further,” Mox announced. “This concludes our council meeting. Thank you for your time.”
Dorian lingered for a moment, and I could see the struggle on his face as he decided whether or not to say anything more. However, he swallowed whatever comment he’d intended to make and bowed his head to the elders once more. The elders bent their heads to him in return. Vampires shifted in the room, some standing to leave while others hung around to discuss among themselves.
“Let’s go talk to him,” Roxy suggested, heading toward Dorian.
A few nearby vampires shot her curious looks as she walked confidently by, still unsure about her presence even after three days. Arlonne followed. More stares were directed at me, but I trailed along behind. How close was too close for Dorian?
Dorian turned to talk to Kane, who had approached faster than we had, obviously eager to discuss the next step. That put his back to me. I stayed several feet away, afraid that at any moment he’d be hit with an unexpected wave of pain. Every second that passed made me understand Dorian’s struggle about wanting to be close to me but being terrified of causing pain in the one he cared about. Not to mention that it would look bad if we reacted to one another in front of the Hive vampires. They were already suspicious of humans, so if even a fraction of them held the same prejudices or fears as Halla, we’d make enough adversaries that convincing the council and the Hive to help us with our plan would become nearly impossible.
Darklight 3: Darkworld Page 24
