Valentina’s features slowly changed as she grasped what Julian Ward was saying. “Mordred told you I was a whore?”
“I believe he used a different word but he indicated you possessed such talents and skills which you employed frequently in your espionage encounters and that you would be highly qualified for my experiment.”
Valentina cringed at the thought of sex with Julian Ward. She wondered what his true form was and how horrible it might be if it drove men insane at its sight. “Mordred said I might be driven mad.”
“Mordred is a fool… Which is why can’t imagine how my sister tolerates him. As long as I don’t lose control, which I won’t, the experience for you should be like that with any other man.”
Valentina realized it had never occurred to Julian to ask for her consent. He was a god, and concepts like permission or consent implied limitations, a word not in the lexicon of a deity. She felt the faluba root beneath the fold of her clothing and realized she was being presented with a tremendous opportunity. She also knew Julian was unlikely to allow her to remain alive afterwards possibly to tell others about the experience. She had to carry out Dracula’s plan or face her own destruction. She approached him. “But you’re not like any other man. Remove your clothes and we shall begin.”
Mordred waited outside the chamber. He recalled Samantha’s words calling him a lackey of the gods. For the first time, he felt like a lackey. It was one thing to be the high priest of the Nosferatu Lords and to be one of the few non-celestials allowed access to the chambers of the dark deities, but… I’m the world’s most powerful warlock and yet that damnable Julian Ward has turned me into a mere pimp. I’ll bet he did this on purpose to humiliate me. Mordred knew Julian despised him and the feeling was mutual. This is the Age of Magic, he thought. Practitioners of magic should rule the world, not be hunted like prey by flea-bitten lycanthropes and vampires at the behest of Nyx and her dark progeny.
Mordred was shaken from his ruminations by an eldritch scream from within the chamber. It was an unearthly caterwaul, the likes of which the warlock had never before heard. He wondered if it was the sound of a divine orgasm or merely the death cry of a vampire being torn asunder by such unholy intercourse. Mordred reached for the doorknob and paused. If it were a cry for help, he felt obligated to respond, both as Julian’s de facto servant should the scream have come from him and as high priest of the vampires should the cry have emanated from one of the undead. Yet, if it were a cry of ecstasy, he knew Julian would be displeased if he interrupted the moment of orgasm. Mordred grinned and turned the doorknob.
The warlock entered the chamber and saw Valentina bending over Julian Ward’s still form. Mordred stepped closer to the naked god, surprised that Julian had not objected to his presence and ordered him to leave. “Julian?” He knelt beside Valentina and examined the body. “It’s not possible, but he seems to be dead.”
Valentina bolted for the door. Mordred gestured with his arm, casting a spell to stricture the vampire’s throat. Valentina’s head jerked back as she felt the tightening in her throat and began choking. “Please,” she gasped. “Spare me. Forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Mordred grinned. “I should thank you. I despised the pompous ass but it never occurred to me a god could die. But how?”
“It’s because of the Age of Magic,” Valentina spit out. “They’re vulnerable to the faluba root.” She pointed at a charred and cindering taproot.
Mordred’s eyes lit up. “Then, all the Dark Gods could be eliminated?”
Valentina nodded, gasping for breath.
Mordred grinned. “It would be far more fitting for the world’s most powerful warlock to rule the multiverse in the Age of Magic, wouldn’t it?”
“But, you already rule the vampires and are second in power and authority to the Dark Gods. You’re the most powerful mortal alive.”
“Why settle for second? Why be consort to a goddess when one can become a god?” Mordred was intoxicated by the thought of the power at his fingertips.
“The faluba root can’t make you a god. It has no effect on mortals.”
Mordred’s eyes fell on the naked god’s body. “But obviously it possesses the power to eliminate the competition.”
Valentina was astonished. “You plan to kill them all?”
“Now that I know they can be killed. However, that must stay a secret for now, so…” Mordred tightened his fist and, although several feet away from Valentina, crushed her larynx with his magic.
The chamber door burst open and Angelique entered. “Julian, I heard a cry and felt an odd sensation. Have you felt…” She paused when she saw Mordred and Valentina; then her eyes drifted downward to Julian’s naked human form. “Julian?” When he failed to respond, Angelique knelt by his body and immediately realized there was no life present within it.
“I didn’t want you to find out this way, my love,” Mordred said. “I heard him cry out, as you did. Valentina killed him.”
Shock and anger coalesced on Angelique’s face. “To kill a god… How is such deicide even possible?”
Mordred shook his head. “I tried to question the vampire but unfortunately I crushed her larynx while trying to save your brother’s life. She’s unable to speak now.”
Angelique glared at Valentina. “You murderous bitch! How dare you slay your god.” Enraged, she incinerated Valentina.
Mordred picked up the charred remains of the faluba root. “This was the weapon. It appears to be of magical origin. I’ll have to consult my mother’s grimoire to learn more about it.”
“Do so immediately,” Angelique said, regaining her composure. “We must know everything about it if it can slay a god.”
An imperceptible smile formed on Mordred’s lips. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Chapter Fifteen
Castle Dracula, Transylvania; several days later:
The vampire sisters Annabelle and Antoinette entered Count Dracula’s drawing room each bearing a gift in the form of a large hat box. Lady Bathory poured herself a snifter of warmed blood from a heated decanter as Dracula bade the sisters to sit. “Did you have any difficulty completing your assignments?” Dracula asked.
Antoinette and Annabelle each shook their heads. Annabelle opened her hat box and revealed the decollated head of the Polish Nosferatu Lord. “He suspected nothing, which made him easy prey.”
Dracula picked up the head with its distinctive blond crewcut. “Poor Stanislaw; I knew him well.” He laughed, and tossed it aside. “And you, Antoinette?”
Antoinette opened her hat box, displaying the decapitated head of Magda, the dark-haired Nosferatu Lord of Hungary. “My task was made easy since you had discovered Magda secretly carried the lycanthrope gene. Once I had incapacitated her with the wolfsbane it became child’s play to slay her.”
Lady Bathory looked up from her drink at the sound of her phone pinging. “It’s a text from one of our sources. They’re keeping a tight lid on it, but word is Julian Ward is dead.”
Dracula’s stoic countenance expressed no surprise. “And what of Countess Petrovna?”
Lady Bathory scrolled down the text message. “Valentina has been destroyed.”
“A pity.” Dracula poured himself a snifter of blood from the decanter. “However, it would appear with the deaths of Valentina and these two,” he said, gesturing to the decapitated heads, “all of Eastern Europe now lacks a Nosferatu Lord. Nature abhors a vacuum; fortunately, Dracula is here to fill the vacancies.” He raised his glass. “A toast: To the start of my conquest of the Nosferatu Lords… and of the Dark Gods themselves.”
The pan-dimensional celestial realm of the Dark Gods:
Nyx reposed on her inumbrated throne listening to the concerns of her children. “We have enemies,” Angelique Ward said. “Lethal enemies.”
“This is all your fault,” Momus, the god of blame and criticism said to his brother Thanatos. “You should not have brought death to one of our own.”
The god
of death merely shrugged. “All who live shall one day die; even gods.”
Oizys, the goddess of misery, addressed her sister Angelique. “Never before have I felt such distress and anxiety emanating from one of our own. Forgive me dear sister, but I am relishing your concern and worry. Such anxiety from a god is far more intoxicating than from a million mortals.”
Angelique sneered at her. “Will you feel the same when it’s your own existence that hangs in the balance?”
The goddess Eris came to her sister’s defense. “I understand Oizys’ sentiment. I thrive on strife and I must admit I find such discord among the gods to be intoxicating, as well.”
“Then you’re both fools,” Moros said. “I drive mortals toward their inevitable destruction; who or what is steering you to the same result?”
“Julian was killed by a vampire,” Apate, the goddess of deceit said. “And it was a vampire that released Samantha Twitch from her confinement. It would seem clear who the enemy is.”
“We can’t seek retribution on the entire vampire race because of the actions of one or two of them,” Nemesis said. “If we have an enemy in the Age of Magic it’s not the vampires but rather obviously practitioners of magic: witches, warlocks, wizards, sorcerers, and other mages.”
Angelique shook her head. “No, Julian and I often discussed the emerging insurgency that has been growing the past several months. I don’t believe it to be a product of any single group, be it the vampires or the mages. We noted a growing unrest among the mortals around the world and even defections by kitsune in Japan. There’s talk among the serpent cult that Mamba Anyiewo conspires against us. Once we appear vulnerable, the vermin will come out of the woodwork. This contagion may have spread through the multiverse, possibly to the few remaining demons in Hell and maybe even to the Dreamscape.”
Nyx frowned. “I know my son; Hypnos would not betray us.”
“I doubt he would be able to stay awake long enough to,” Angelique said. “But who knows what the Oneiroi are capable of. Your grandchildren are twisted and devious and quite capable of almost anything.”
“The Oneiroi have no reason to attack us or encourage a rebellion,” Nyx said. “They’ve been content with their own realm and the last thing they’d want is to risk losing it. As Julian’s death has shown, we’re all vulnerable to magic during the Age of Magic. Therefore, it should be our primary task to eliminate all practitioners of magic no matter where they may be throughout the multiverse.”
“We’re already doing that,” Thanatos said.
“Obviously not quickly enough,” Nyx replied. “I shall have the Shadow People and the Nagá serpent cult redouble their efforts to locate all of the mages.”
Nemesis glanced at Angelique. “We know where to find the most powerful mage.”
Angelique bristled at her sister’s innuendo. “Mordred is not a threat, and if he were to become one I wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him. But remember, it was Mordred who tried to save Julian from the assassin and even crushed her larynx when he pulled her from Julian, albeit too late. He’s also the most skilled warlock we could have investigating the magical weapon used to slay Julian. We need him and his expertise.”
“Angelique makes an excellent point,” Nyx said. “Mordred is to be spared for now. But the other mages are fair game for all of you. Now go.” The dark deities dispersed into the shadows.
A solitary figure stepped out from the darkness. “Do not be so quick to dismiss Angelique’s concerns,” Destiny said, resting his weight on his cocobolo staff. “The continued reign of the Dark Gods faces several threats but the Resistance shall prove the greatest.”
Nyx glowered at him. “We shouldn’t face any threats. Remember our arrangement.”
“I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain. With my assistance, your children the Moirae were able to re-create reality to place you and your progeny in control of the multiverse. But it’s up to you to maintain that control. It appears to be slipping through your grasp.”
“You’re Destiny: if we face threats, then you can remove them.”
Destiny grimaced. “I’m not entirely pleased with the outcome of this restructured reality. In the original reality, the future was an open book to me. But now…” He gripped his cocobolo staff tightly and stared into the embossed wooden the zodiac carvings on its head. “Now the future is as uncertain to me as it is to everyone else.”
“It’s the present that concerns me. You can still alter the present.”
“Whenever I’ve altered an event it’s always because I know what the outcome will be. One small change in the timestream can have a ripple effect of unintended consequences. If I no longer have the ability to foresee those consequences, then I cannot interfere.”
“Then I shall ask my daughter Clotho. She holds the Book of Fate and will not be restricted by your newfound infirmity.”
Destiny nodded. “That would be a wiser course of action. The Moirae have the power to do what you wish.”
The dark goddess softened her tone. “I shall heed your advice. We’re obviously engaged in a war with many fronts but from now on the Dark Gods’ primary task shall be the elimination of this so-called Resistance and the death of all those supporting it.”
Rhiannon's cottage, the Otherworld; a short time later:
Destiny walked through the apple orchid and stepped across the threshold of the stone cottage. He saw Rhiannon gazing intently into her hourglass. “You left your door open. You should be more careful; anyone could walk in.”
“I enjoy the breeze from the sea.” Rhiannon did not look up from her hourglass. “The tropaean wind cools the cottage, and it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. After all, it brought you to me, didn’t it?”
“I’m here because you summoned me.”
Rhiannon looked up at him. “Yes, I did. I thought you’d like to know that since our last conversation I’ve resolved the problem with my hourglass.”
“Oh?” Destiny arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, I can see through the glass clearly now, thanks to the Norns.”
“The Norns?”
Rhiannon nodded. “They were quite helpful… Once I convinced them not to kill me. It seems I was right: the past has been changed. The Moirae exceeded their authority and re-created reality.”
“Again with your wild imaginings. As I said before, it’s obvious the role of Keeper of the Sands of Time has become too much for you.”
Rhiannon grinned. “Hardly. Now that I can see the past, present, and future with perfect clarity through my hourglass I’ve learned the Norns have discovered and proven the Moirae’s perfidy. Come, take a gander.”
Destiny leaned in and peered through the hourglass as the scene unfolded before him. “I see Lachesis singing of things past, Clotho singing of things that are, and Atropos singing of things yet to be. All appears normal.”
“Keep watching. The good part is coming.” Through the glass they could see three figures alighting on leathery wings. Each was black as the night but their female shapes were visible nonetheless. They were crones, older perhaps than time itself, and while their heads resembled vicious dogs as if Cerberus had been summoned from hell and trifurcated, they appeared reminiscent of Medusa with writhing snakes in lieu of hair, each hissing threateningly and darting sinuously to and fro.
Destiny recognized Tisiphone, the avenger; Megara, the jealous; and Alecto, the unresting but dared not utter their names. “The Kindly Ones!” he muttered in a tremulous tone. He watched in stunned silence as the Furies eviscerated the Moirae. When he could bear to watch no more, Destiny averted his gaze and asked, “Is this occurring now or in some distant future?”
“Not now,” Rhiannon said, “but not so distant either. As vicious as they may appear, the Kindly Ones were merely warming up.” She waved her hand over the hourglass and a new scene appeared. The Furies stood over a disemboweled and unrecognizable carcass.
Destiny gulped. There was a reason even celestials and Eterna
ls feared the Furies. “What purpose is there in showing me such horror?” The perspective changed as the scene widened and Destiny noticed an object lying unscathed a few feet away from the carnage: a cocobolo walking stick. “No!” he cried in terror.
“I’m sure with your powers you already foresaw this but if not I thought you might appreciate the preview. After all, sometimes the coming attractions are the best part of the film.”
Destiny glowered at her. “You did this.”
“Moi?I’d never dare summon the Kindly Ones. But I fear the Norns are not nearly as reticent as I.”
Destiny raised his cocobolo staff as if to strike Rhiannon. The spectral form of the landdís floated through the stone wall of the cottage, appearing before Destiny. “Stay your hand, Eternal. This cottage and its occupant are under my protection.”
Destiny lowered his staff. He faced Rhiannon. “You’ve doomed me.”
“I’ve done nothing. You’ve brought your own destiny upon yourself. You’re welcome to stay but I would assume you have more important things to do in the remaining time you have.”
Destiny glared at her.
“You should thank me for the warning. You still have time to flee. Tell me, can Destiny outrun his own fate?”
Destiny turned and fled from the cottage, Rhiannon’s laughter ringing in his ears.
The schoolyard, Las Vegas, Nevada:
While holding another afterschool training session for the Resistance, Alaric noticed Professor Eligos approaching him in the schoolyard. He braced for what he thought would be an inevitable conflict as the hellspawn knight, replete in his polished chain mail armor and carrying his silver lance as if it were an oversized walking stick, drew nearer. “Professor Eligos, I know I can’t attend class after turning eighteen but there’s no rule against being on school property after hours.”
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