by Slay (epub)
“I won't ask again. Who are you? Why have you been following me?”
The male struggled for only a few seconds more before raising his hands in surrender. Yannara loosened her grip and retracted her claws but did not relinquish her perch on his chest.
“I-I am Striga, House Striga,” he said.
Yannara's eyes narrowed to slits so black they appeared hollow saying, “So, House Striga is sending spies to follow me?”
“No, no. I mean I don't know. I have not been acting on behalf of House Striga.”.
“Who then?!” She tightened her grip. “Is it one of the other Houses; the Kiang-Shi, the Impundulu? Who is it and what are they planning? Is Sebastian in danger? Are my children in peril?!”
“Eminent, most honorable Praefect, I have sought you out on my own,” he spluttered.
She shook him in a violent rage and crouched over him menacing, “Who are you to seek me out? You claim to be House Striga. You claim to be of our bloodline, but there is no indication of that. You refer to me as Praefect but show no allegiance. I have had enough of this. Show yourself!” She seethed. “Show yourself right now or pay with your blood.”
“Have mercy! Have mercy!” He shielded his face. “I-I am of the bloodline, but I bear neither fleams nor fangs.”
Yannara released the man as if he had suddenly transformed into hot coals. She stumbled back and away from where he lay cowering on the floor.
“How can that be? You are certainly of the hybrid line. I have caught your scent several times these past few weeks.”
“Yes... yes I am... but--”
Yannara recoiled gagging suppressing an involuntary gasp, “You've been castrated!”
“No. No, honorable Praefect. I have committed no crime nor any obscenity. I am not unclean. I have not been castrated.”
“Well,” was all she could manage to utter as she continued her backward motion, taking small steps away until the large bed impeded her retreat.
“Don't worry,” he said as he stumbled up to his feet. “I am not contagious. It was not a disease. It was a defect from birth. I was born without the means.”
“Oh-of course,” Yannara said through the strained half smile pasted across her face.
“Please,” he said indicating toward the room behind him, “if you would prefer, we can continue our discussion in the parlor.”
He retrieved the tray containing the tea as Yannara made her way into the adjoining living area. As she observed from the bedroom, the room was filled with books and trinkets. The wood paneling ran from floor to ceiling and the hardwood floors were only intermittently interrupted with the well-thought out positioning of small occasional rugs. However no more than five steps into the room, she noted that the room was oddly partitioned, not at all like she first perceived. There was an unusual turn into an alcove that couldn't possibly have been in the original plans.
“Yes. There to the right is the parlor.” He followed close by, and sat the tray on the cocktail table after directing Yannara to sit wherever she chose.
Once Yannara was seated he took a position across from her.
She nodded, her expression guarded. “So, you are--”
“--Yes Eminent, I am... a eunuch.”
Yannara squirmed and cleared her throat. “I was about to say 'unfleamed', but if you prefer eunuch--”
“No one would prefer eunuch!” He snapped, but then softened his tone. “You must understand my dilemma. Being 'unfleamed' as you refer to it, is an insuperable handicap in House Striga.”
“I am aware of their policies. In your condition any path to advancement would be very narrow indeed.”
“Narrow? You mean nonexistent. There is no path with regard to family or child-rearing, not with regard to ascension into the hierarchy. I am even unfit to be considered as a proper mate in a formal commitment circle.”
“Not even as an Anculus?” she asked taking a biscuit.
“Praefect, who would take into their marital circle an individual that is incapable of performing siphon? One who cannot siphon cannot produce seed nor carry a child to term. Who would want an individual who could not even teach a child of the commitment circle proper techniques for the use of their fangs or fleams? Yes. I might be an Anculus, a household manager somewhere, but in my condition, never in House Striga.”
Yannara nodded. “I see.”
“Eminent,” he added. “I have sought you out because House Ekimmou has a history of flexibility of which I was hoping to avail myself.”
“In what manner?” She ate another biscuit grateful that they soothed the digestion of the Paradoxan blood.
“When you were Regional Praefect of the districts by which the Revenants subdivided the Paradox, yours was the most profitable. They value that. Even though your Anculus Sebastian Forza is a thorn in their sides, they support you. You have brought great favor on House Ekimmou. For this reason, you have been transferred to London. Apparently, the Revenant Council was aware that once they announce your appointment as the new Praefect Praepositus that Paris... your home, which is also a House Striga stronghold, will become a very dangerous place for you.”
“Presuming this is true, what is it you want from me?”
“Once you are named Praefect Praepositus, you will be the most powerful individual in our clan. If you were to vouch for me, I would no longer be inhibited in my quest for the things others hold dear and that I am restricted from, now.”
“You are very astute and know quite a bit, brother...?” She asked waiting for his name.
“I am called RM,” he said.
“RM? Yes, but I meant your family name.”
“Praefect,” he replied dropping his head, “I am not permitted to use my family name. I am a mark of shame to them, a blot. I am not even permitted to fly House Striga’s colors.”
“Then how do you negotiate the world of our bloodline with no name?!”
“House Striga only permits my parents to restrict the use of my family name, not the name of our clan. In that I am still permitted to claim membership. This at least is my birthright.”
“May I ask then, how you survive with no familial support?”
“I am sometimes a liaison with the Paradoxan world. I am a solicitor. Due to my birth condition, I am uniquely suited to interact with them in business matters.”
“Of course, that could be beneficial. You certainly have a knack for aggregating information.” She nodded and took another sip of her tea.
The clock chimed and both Yannara and RM glanced toward the mantel.
“I have been away for quite a while. My staff will begin to worry,” she said.
RM stood, straightening his clothes. “If your mindspeak is still disabled and you are unable to link with your driver, I will gladly walk to the corner and call you a cab.”
“No, I am fine.” She waved him back to his seat. “The biscuits have worked wonders. I should be able to link with my staff within the hour. While we wait, I am curious as to what you are proposing in return for my vouchsafe.”
“If you take me into your confidence, I can tell you what House Striga may be planning.”
“Is that a fact?” She asked, impressed. “What is it that you know?”
RM took a deep breath then steadied himself before saying, “Despite their cordiality and protests to the contrary, House Striga will not cede power to House Ekimmou.”
Yannara bit her lip and knitted her brow. “So, it is true, then. I presumed that this was their reason for sending Sebastian to Morocco, to leave me vulnerable. I never thought House Striga had the means... not here in London.”
“House Striga is formidable, Praefect. We have many ties throughout the Paradox. I recall the last time we were challenged, our House's enemies met unfortunate ends. But you in particular have raised their ire, most notably from our Revenants.”
“How so?” She took a sip from her cup.
“Our lives are to be dedicated to the care and maintenance of the Revenan
ts. True there has been some brutality, some injuries. But that is to be expected.” He raised his cup but took no sip. “It is the only reason that they created us.”
“Pardon, but I was created from a deep love between my parents. On either side of my hybridized lineage, patrilineal and matrilineal, there have only been hybrids, for over three millennia, not one Revenant. Certainly, through them, we have gained supernatural abilities which we have utilized for our and their benefit. Our Clan, owes much to the Revenants, but we do not owe them our dignity nor our lives.”
“Most Praefects have said these same words. However, you were the first to act upon them.” He sipped. “No other Praefect has ever had the temerity to deny services to a Revenant. You have denied several.”
“We do not ask for much, only to be treated with respect when we manage their households and business interests. By and large most Revenants act within the proscribed guidelines. Only a handful have been excommunicated.”
“That is a harsh sentence,” he said.
“And maiming and murdering our people is not harsh?”
“It is, but there are some, especially in House Striga, that have taken profound offense, who believe we should act more humbly.”
“And I am supposed to care that these scoundrels are offended? They should all be more concerned that we are not offended. We manage every facet of their lives. They are the ones who should act with more humility.”
He sighed and rubbed his temples, and then whispered to himself. “I don't even know why I bothered with someone who apparently has a death wish, whose days are numbered.”
“Excuse me? What did you just say?” Yannara glared across the table.
“I-I said nothing, Most Eminent.”
“No, you said my days were numbered. What are you not telling me?”
Yannara rose and strolled to where RM sat. He dropped his head, holding the teacup rattling in his trembling hands.
“Look at me,” she said.
“I-I dare not, Eminence.”
“Tell me.” She leaned in, reached under his chin, and tipped his head upward until his gaze met hers.
His eyes grew large and limpid as she commanded just over a whisper, “Tell me.”
Her eyes were hypnotic, welcoming, conveying love and acceptance. No individual as lonely and unloved as he had any chance of resistance.
His voice was hushed as he spoke as one infatuated, “House Striga is sending a prime to London.”
Yannara's breath hitched but she maintained her gaze’s steadiness. “A prime?”
“Yes,” he said, “an ancient. It is rumored that he is one of the originals, an Abyssian.”
“Are you certain?” She smiled. “The preparations, and approvals to send a prime through deep transport are complex. As a Praefect in this region, I certainly would have been informed of it.”
His shoulders bowed and shuddered as he tried to disconnect from her, but she leaned in closer, “Come now. What would you want to keep from me?”
He ceased struggling and relaxed into her eyes and her touch.
“Praefect, for all the centuries I have lived, the Strigan Council has never spoken a word to me, not once. However, four months past I had a visitor, a messenger from the Council. They requested that I commission a solicitor for a real estate transaction here in London. When I told them I was quite capable of handling the transaction, the messenger, in no uncertain terms, stated that I was not to facilitate the transaction. I was only to provide the information to a capable Paradoxan solicitor.”
“And did you?”
“Certainly, a highly recommended gentleman named Harker. At first, I thought the request was being made due to their lack of faith in my capabilities. But just now, it occurred to me, that they requested a Paradoxan because they didn't want the transaction to appear in our records.”
Yannara breathed in, and then blew out a long noisy breath. “Is there anything else?”
“Well, during this period, the messenger asked that I arrange to have several pieces of cargo imported. Fifty-one crates.”
“Do you know what was in them?”
“At first, I did not. Then the dock master in Varna sent word inquiring as to when to send the fifty crates of soil.”
Yannara's eyes narrowed. “And when were these crates sent?”
“Two months ago, the ship set sail.”
Yannara dropped her hand and stepped away as RM shook his head as if waking from a dream.
“Do you have any idea who it is that you have invited to London?”
“I have invited no one. I have only done as I was told.”
She stared at him quietly fuming.
“The fiend who lives solitary with not one of our kind in his service, the animal in the Carpathians who famously gorged himself on the flesh of our brethren, now through your actions is on his way to London.”
“No, oh no, Eminence, I had no knowledge!”
He grabbed Yannara by the hand and pressed her palm to his forehead, “See! Look! I only did what I was told!”
Yannara held her hand to his forehead and connected with his consciousness. She saw no guile or deceit with regard to what he had reported, but there in the convoluted paths was so much loneliness, self-loathing, and degradation that she almost wept.
She pulled her hand away. “I know you have been truthful.” The sound of wheels alerted her. “My carriage is approaching.”
“You… you will leave now?” He asked, almost tearful.
“There is much to be done. I cannot yet do as you have asked, but I will not leave you without compensation.”
Yannara's nails sharpened and elongated curving into razor sharp talons. She nicked a spot on her forearm near her left wrist. As the blood began to flow, RM's face contorted into a grimace. She regarded him with a quirked brow.
“Is there a problem? I was under the impression that you partook.”
“Oh, yes Eminence it is just that it was rumored you have nursed a member of our House, that you have given siphon, given suck...” he grinned, fawning, “from your breast.”
Yannara's face tightened. “The information you provided was useful. But this... a claim on my body that only those most dear to me have earned? You presume far too much.”
“Pardon Eminence! I meant no offense!”
Then he dove upon the wound she created and for a full minute she watched him lapping, drinking, devouring at the font until she pressed against his shoulder signaling him to leave off.
She watched as he slouched back into his chair exhausted and out of breath. The words “presumptuous” and “obsequious” came to mind.
“Oh, Eminence that, it was... divine. I have never had occasion to drink from one of our own,” he murmured in the afterglow.
She watched him for a moment, her face set firm before she asked, “Why did you kill the harlot?
“What?” He shifted to sitting. He watched her with an odd expression.
“The streetwalker,” she asked, “Why did you kill her?”
“I-I didn't mean to.” He threw himself at her feet. “Y-you had just fed and collapsed, and she was there with the punctures still open. I just couldn't help myself! I am forced to live among them, always ravenous, but with no means to feed. Please tell me you understand, my Praefect!”
Yannara replied. “I do understand your needs, your thirst, but what I don't understand is why you mutilated her.”
“Wh-what?”he stammered, his tear-stained face tilted toward her with his gray eyes wide as saucers.
“You drank from her, mutilated her, ate parts of her.”
“N-no Praefect. I drank but drank too much. When I realized she had expired, I copied the method of the murders I saw in the news journals!” He rose to his feet. “It was only to mislead the authorities, to make it appear that their Whitechapel murderer had done it!”
Yannara took his hands and held them in her grasp. “RM, I understand your intentions, but this desecration is unseeml
y.”
“So, what are you saying; that I am unclean; that there is no place for me, not even in House Ekimmou? I have no life in House Striga. I am incapable of living like this, among the Paradoxans. What am I to do, Praefect?” He dropped to his knees. “Please tell me what I can do.”
Yannara took a deep breath, composing herself., “Right now there is nothing to be done. My carriage is arriving. Once we manage this current situation, you and I will speak again on this issue.”
“Thank you. Thank you Praefect.” He rose and followed her to the front door. “I acted in desperation. It was not something I enjoyed.”
Yannara crossed the threshold and into the night with pursed lips, dismayed that he had chosen that moment to tell such an obvious lie.
As she stepped into her coach and settled into the backseat, Yannara took one last look at her host, watching as he shrank back disappearing into the shadow of his doorway.
“That was reckless, Yannara,” a smooth male voice sounded from the seat beside her.
“I'm sorry, Sebastian, but it was necessary.”
Sebastian Forza, even seated, was a tall man, height suitable to his muscular frame. He brushed back his dark curtain of curls displaying a handsome bronzed face with full lips pressed to a firm line. He heaved an irritated breath. “Was it as you surmised?”
“It was bad.” She slid nearer to him and leaned her head onto his shoulder, for the first time manifesting her weariness.
“Have they discovered I am not in Morocco?” he asked.
“I'm not sure. But they are sending a prime, the one from the Carpathians.”
“That ghoul? To what end?”
“Apparently mine.”
“Is that a fact?” His eyes blazed as his exsanguinating fleams dropped into place. “Then by all means, let him come. I will provide him a proper welcome.”
