by Kiki Howell
A rumble through the night sky signaled a storm, and no sooner than he dragged the witch's body under the eve of the nearby building, the ominous clouds opened up and began to pour down. Tristan stood for a moment as the rain began to wash Greg's ashes away.
Greg had no companion, nor was he very established in the vampire ranks. He was just a young, often overzealous vamp. He didn't deserve this, to have his existence literally washed away in some alley. But then again, Mr. Darkness couldn’t care less. It appears a vampire's life can be fleeting all the same.
What did all of this mean in the end? Vamps, witches, Were-shifters—they all had some bone to pick at the other. He'd lived his whole life fighting battles, and one thing he'd learned—the end never justified the means. The vampires were no different. They were struggling to keep their dominance up in a world that hated and feared them.
Tristan was eager to deliver the grimoire to The Three, so he could finally bow out of this ridiculous war.
Chapter Two: On Neutral Ground
HOW LONG SHOULD a vampire continue to reap the rewards of immortality without consequences? Tristan had asked that question to his mentor, to his friends, hell, even annoyed upper management by addressing it to The Three.
No one knew the answer. In fact, many said there were no consequences, which meant they lived to run amok and watch the world burn. Some just called him crazy and tried to convince him to go under, which sounded more tempting every time he heard it. Becoming a living, dried up corpse locked in a tomb for a minimum of 100 years may seem like a pathetic vacation to the recently resurrected fledglings, but to a war-torn, long fang like him, drudging through four centuries of existence, it often seemed like a heavenly idea.
Let's chunk this fucking book at The Three, and then we can discuss a much needed vacation from the world, he thought to himself.
Approaching the oversized, black leather, double doors, Tristan stopped at the entrance and eyed the two guards. The Sergeant at Arms sucked his teeth, his eyes trained on him.
"I'm here for The Three. I've got what they were asking for." He opened his long, black coat to give the Sergeant at Arms a peek at the red book. With recognition, the man nodded and opened the door for him to enter.
Tristan inched into the grandiose chamber adorned with royal blue, silver, and black curtains and carpet. The colors of The Three. There were no windows, just large, classic murals depicting battle scenes of old supernatural wars. Many of course, were fought in parallel of human wars, such as the Peloponnesian War, the Battle of Hastings, and Tristan's favorite, the French Revolution, which really were witches, demons and halflings really pissed that the rich and haughty vampires were leaving them in squalor.
He slowly walked up the small set of stairs to the three empty wooden thrones that stood before him and stopped, awaiting their arrival. He looked around the chamber, which annoyed him. He had seen this chamber far, far too many times, had come to The Three's beck and call far, far too many times. Now, he was ready to let it go.
His attention moved to a side door that suddenly opened on the far left of the thrones and watched a woman in a long, dark-blue dress step out. With a welcoming smile and a smooth sway of her hips, he recognized it was Ivana.
Making a beeline straight to him, Tristan offered her a polite smile.
"Hello Ivana."
Her silver eyes flashed with her charming smile. "Hello yourself, Commander." Her sultry tone echoed through the empty chamber. She stopped just short of him and raked a look at him from top to bottom. "Good to see you, Tristan. How long has it been?"
She crossed her arms, still smiling.
"A long time, Ivana. And if you're mentor, Javen didn't kick over every rock to dispatch me for this recent job, it'd probably be longer still." Tristan's tone was a touch warmer than his typical voice, most likely for Ivana's sake.
Despite being a vampire, Ivana had a brightness to her. Only 150 years old, she was turned at a nubile age of seventeen, but one could see years of wisdom in her reflective, silver eyes. Javen, one of The Three, apparently turned her to save her from 'a fate worse than death,' which amused Tristan because he always felt that being a vampire... was a fate worse than death.
Oh, the excuses one makes to have a gorgeous young woman indebted to you for eternity, he thought to himself. "Have you seen Javen?"
Ivana nodded. "He's here. They just finished another meeting in the back. They know you are here, as they asked me to check on you."
She walked around him, gracefully, like a dance with her hips swaying. Watching him as he stood, she inhaled his scent and watched him like prey. "I came to see if there's anything you needed..." She leaned in to press her dark red lips dangerously close to his ear, so that Tristan felt the soft puffs of her breath against him. "...while you waited."
Tristan tried not to be phased at Ivana's very open invitation to him, but it had been a long time since he'd indulged. Unfortunately, his cock knew it. In fact, it started to physically remind him, jerking a bit before he sighed and took a step back from her.
Christ, I just wanna get outta here before I end up staked for trying to 'stake' Javen's protege. Is that too much to ask?
"You drive a hard bargain, Ivana, but I'm fine just waiting here."
A man would probably have to be a fool to pass up a roll with Ivana of Bainesborough, but a vampire would know better. Ivana didn't rub up to just anyone, and Tristan knew that, but it didn't give him an excuse to be with her. Protege, companion, it didn't matter to Tristan. In the old days, that meant she belonged to Javen—and he wasn't a vampire who shared.
Ivana grinned as she sensed Tristan's muted excitement. Oh, how she loved to get a rise outta the stubborn Commander. He was deliciously tortured and ridiculously a rule-follower. It was why Javen often referred to Tristan as one of his most dedicated soldiers. Everyone listened to him, and he was an unrivaled warrior. She wasn't all that surprised to see the dark vampire commander grace The Three's chamber again.
"Very well, Tristan. You know, I long to see you comfortable." She moved from his side to face him dead on, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Tristan nodded. Yeah, I bet.
He desperately needed to change the subject. "I hear you've been forming alliances and peacekeeping meetings between various Supe groups like the Were-shifters and the Green Girls," he touted. "Is that true?"
Ivana sobered but still smiled at his question that tugged at her passion. Her eyes lit up.
"It is. Remelia has been open to talks regarding the witches, and rumors have it that Gannon may be interested. Now, we're just in small talks and negotiations, but with a little time and patience, we can probably form some treaties with at least a few."
Tristan scoffed. "That is, until they find another reason to tear out each other's throats." He shook his head. "You're wasting your time, Ivana, if you think you can bring all of the Supes to join hands or wings, or paws or whatever—and sing some 'We are the World.’ That's just not in their nature."
Ivana's smile slowly morphed to a frown. "It's not a waste of time if we can stop killing each other and stop wasting vampire's lives fighting." She pointed at him. "A life like yours, Commander." She crossed her arms. "How many battles and frays have you been dispatched in your lifetime, Tristan?"
When Tristan stood silent, she nodded and asked a rhetorical question. "Where's your partner, Greg?"
Tristan sighed. He understood what she was saying, but he was a lot older than her. She didn't realize that this shit would never change. It was ingrained in them all, and they were no better than humans.
We hated and fought in our fear just like they did. We were failures. Some supernaturals felt they were superior to humans, but how could they, when the same greed and hatred fueled their decisions as well?
"Ivana, I'm not shitting on your efforts. Frankly, I think it is commendable. But do you honestly think we would really stop the bickering and plotting, considering I just went on a stealth mission involvi
ng witches?"
Ivana's frown deepened with concern, visibly surprised Tristan would say such a thing. "What do you mean? What happened with the witches?"
Before Tristan could say anything, the side door opened again, and three vampires stepped out.
Javen, Constance, and Drago were collectively known as The Three, prided for being three of the oldest vampires to date. They each came to the table many years ago with their own following and broods, hungry to join forces when vampires were being hunted and killed. They were the vampires all the others flocked to for leadership when finally they all came together to combine resources. They all ruled equally and collaboratively, even sharing the throne.
Javen looked at both Tristan and Ivana and gave a smirk. "Good to see you, Tristan. I take it Ivana was helpful and made sure you were comfortable while you waited for us?"
Tristan nodded. "Yes, she did."
When he looked at Ivana, her face still held that frown. Her lip trembled as though she were itching to say more to him, but she swallowed and turned to her mentor.
"Well, one does what she can, Javen." She began walking towards The Three. "Some vampires are just rough around the edges." She gave him a wink and a smile, washing away any angst she wore just seconds ago.
Tristan didn't know what to make of it, and he wished he could just ask her what was wrong, but seeing her clam up around The Three told him this wasn't the time or place.
Javen took her hand to help her up the steps then pulled her close when she reached the top, letting her hands brace against his biceps. He looked into her eyes and smiled.
"I told you Tristan was a hard nut to crack. No doubt he stood like a stone block the entire time."
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
Ivana gave Javen a polite smile, gently squeezing his arms. "Well, I'll leave you all to your meeting." She quietly stepped through the side door and closed it shut.
"Apparently, he gets more stubborn as the years dredge on," Constance interjected with a grin.
With wide brown eyes, she fixed on Tristan before sitting on the throne to the right. She let her dark dress flutter down, but not before gracing Tristan with a view of her ivory gams and the fact she wasn't wearing any panties.
Jokingly referred to as 'the virgin queen,' Constance played bashful and chaste, yet loved sex immensely. Many vampires said that she must have been the world's first cocktease. Looking at her now with her smug look, crossing her legs, Tristan figured the other vampires may have been right.
Tristan blew out a deep sigh. "Hello Constance."
She grinned. "Hello, Tristan."
Javen walked up to Tristan and shook his hand. "Good to see you, Commander Castillion." He looked around. "Where's your partner, Gregory?"
Tristan sighed. "I'm afraid, Gregory was killed during the mission, sir." Tristan took the grimoire from his coat and handed it to Javen. "The Green Girl who possessed the grimoire attacked, and Greg was unfortunately vaporized by white light."
Constance gasped. "Oh no! I thought they decided to ban white light?"
Drago shook his head. "Remelia and the Green Girls would never allow that, you know that. They know how effective it is against vampires, and they can even manipulate it to fight Were-shifters. They would never let it go without a fight." Drago's thick, Slavic accent put emphasis on the word fight, visibly tensing on his throne.
Drago was the most reserved of The Three, which had always been surprising to Tristan, considering that Drago had the bloodiest past.
Javen looked at the book and smelled it. Grinning, he shot his eyes to Tristan. "The witch you took this from, did you kill her?"
Tristan answered with a tic in his jaw. "No."
Constance scowled. "No?"
Javen raised his hand to silence her, still looking at Tristan. "Good. There is no need for more bloodshed and while we're at this stalemate with the witches, every life counts."
Constance leaned forward, her face still twisted in a scowl. "But she killed one of our own!"
Javen sighed. "Constance... that's beside the point. Haven't you been listening to anything Ivana has been evangelizing? Killing eye for an eye is a vicious circle. One that will never end with peace." He ran his fingers over the grimoire. "You did right, Tristan. Thank you for retrieving this for us so quickly. I will make sure you are paid handsomely." He turned to Drago. "Drago, make sure he gets Gregory's cut."
Drago nodded, standing to his feet. "It is done. We will also hold a vigil in the great hall to mourn his loss."
Javen walked the book up to the stone table and set it there. "Yes, something else, that Ivana has been working on with Constance. Making sure we mourn the fallen."
Tristan crossed his arms. "Ivana has been working on a lot, lately. You must be proud."
Javen smiled. "She has...and I am. She's young and an idealist, but Ivana could never be talked out of anything. I love her for her impetuous behavior."
Tristan gave a polite smile. "Impetuous, indeed."
"Yes, but it could also be dangerous." Javen walked back to Tristan. "She's been ruffling a lot of feathers with her drive to bring unity with the supernatural creatures. Some are open, but many are not. They don't like change and some don't like the idea of a vampire leading the charge."
Tristan nodded as the theory made sense to him."Supes don't like change, you know that."
Javen frowned. "I have one more job for you, Tristan. It's important."
Tristan shook his head. "Javen, I was clear that I am done with all this. I want no part in what's to come. I just want to live out my days away from bickering and discord with the Supes." He sighed. "Hell, these days humans are less problematic. Doesn't that say anything?"
Javen got up to his face and stared at him. His eyes soft and emotional. "I know, Tristan. We are all tired of the fighting. But we need you, and we are trying to build a better relationship with the Supes."
Tristan did not share the same sympathy in his bright eyes. "Is that why we're stealing little books from Green Girls?" He stood confident and still as Javen wrestled with the question in his eyes.
"That is entirely different, Tristan. I'm talking about Ivana. She's been getting death threats."
"From who?" Tristan asked with a scowl. It was the first time he ever heard of such a thing. "How long has this been going on?"
"Around the same time Ivana met with the Were-shifters a few weeks ago," Constance interjected. "We've been keeping her here, safe. Which she has not been too happy about! Little ingrate!"
Javen stepped back. "This is why we need you, Tristan. I can't keep her cooped up here as she is trying to make a difference. But I can't let her go to this next meeting with the witches, Were-shifters, and heaven knows what without someone to protect her." Javen pointed at Tristan. "One of our own. Trusted, respected, deadly fighter. We need you, Tristan."
Tristan raked a frustrated hand through his hair. He knew that Javen would try to pull something out of his ass to make him stay.
Screw this, he was done. He told The Three he was done after this crap job. The job that took yet another partner.
"There are other night fighters in your charge that can take care of Ivana for you. Ones just as seasoned as me, Javen."
"I don't want them!" Javen shouted in an outburst. He stepped back and took a deep breath to calm down before he spoke again. "Do you realize how important Ivana is to me?"
Tristan nodded.
"Then you know. You know how those naysayers will hurt her just to get to me...to us, The Three. It could be just smoke, or they could really mean to hurt her."
"She literally now represents our entire race of vampires." Constance interjected. "She's the key to finally getting towards peace."
Tristan scoffed. "Cut the bullshit, Constance. You three don't want peace..." He cut his eyes to Javen. "You want dominance. I told you I want no part of this shit. You guys can fight for world dominance—oh excuse me, world peace, without my help. Thanks, but no tha
nks."
As Tristan began to walk away, Javen blocked him. Tristan frowned.
"Javen, I told you I was done. I meant it."
"So you're going to turn your back on your leaders?" Javen asked. "Your race?" He crossed his arms, fury swirling in his eyes. "This is not the Tristan I know. Cowardice does not become you."
Tristan met his eyes equally with anger. He clutched his fists so tight, the nails dug into his flesh and he felt the stickiness of blood in his palm.
"Javen, you're my governance, and I respect you. But don't ever call me a coward again if you want to keep it that way."
Tristan ached to strike him. If not out of revenge for the comment, out of pure frustration for the situation he was in. He just wanted out and to be left alone. But Ivana didn't get to choose her mentor, and she wasn't like the rest of them—bloodthirsty, hypocritical snobs.
Maybe there was some truth to what Constance said. If Ivana was beginning to be seen as a positive drive to unity, then she needed to be protected.
He needed to do his part to protect her.
Javen stepped to the side, unblocking Tristan. "That was uncalled for, Tristan. I apologize for attacking your reputation. My companion is important to me. I could've made a string of them in my lifetime, but I didn't. I held back because I didn't want to know the pain of losing them. But with Ivana, it was right for me. She's my only, and I don't think I will want another."
He looked to Drago and Constance. "You can feel however you want to feel for us and the cause, but please do this for us. You're the only one we trust."
Constance and Drago walked up to the stone stairs, their eyes trained on Javen.
"This will officially be your final job with us before your retirement, Commander Castillion," Constance said as she pulled a pin out of her hair that had held it up. "The Three will blood-swear on it."
Javen walked up to meet them on the stone. "Agreed. It will be official, Tristan. It's not our intention to jerk you around. We just need you to get her safely to tomorrow night's meeting. Then your allegiance and duty to The Three will be fulfilled. You'll be able to do whatever you'd like, and we will never call on you again." Javen stood in the middle of Constance and Drago. "Do we have terms, Commander?"
