by Kiki Howell
Takeshi folded his arms. "Yes. With the exception of Ivana, the driver, and your half-dead, beaten body when my crew found you, we turned up no vampire assassins."
Tristan felt the tension build between them. It was clear that Takeshi was picking up what Tristan was implying, and whether or not he felt the implication valid, Tristan was growing tired of feeling crazy. He closed his eyes and saw Claude's face.
I know what I saw.
"One of the assassins attacked me, Takeshi." Tristan crossed his arms. "And he wasn't a Were or a Green Girl. I saw his face. He was vampire."
Takeshi scowled at Tristan, then further unzipped the bag to the dead Were body.
"Impossible. I told you, there were no vampire bodies other than Ivana and her driver."
"Perhaps your cleaners didn't get everyone," Tristan replied. "That was a vampire I killed, and he attacked me and Ivana."
Takeshi's eyes were not as stoic as usual. Irritation loomed in their silver reflection. "Perhaps you saw a Were who didn't fully transform. Kept his fangs, but not much else?"
Tristan shook his head, finding the irritation contagious. "No. He wasn't a Were. He was vampire. I'd seen his face before, a long time ago. And I know the fucking difference between a Were and a vampire, Takeshi. Do not test me!"
Takeshi stepped back into a fighting stance. His face was crumpled into a deep frown, visibly upset and ready to either defend himself or inflict pain if need be.
"Testing you?" His deep, staccato voice pattern resonated in the hollow room of the dead. "It is you who tests me, Commander. My team are honorable vampires and quality cleaners. Now you insult them?"
Tristan wasn't trying to burn bridges, but he needed answers. In the ten minutes he'd been down here, new information had been flipping his entire world upside down.
"I didn't insult them or you. I'm trying to find out what the hell I saw when there were bullets flying everywhere, and I was out there with my ass hanging out trying to save Ivana! I know what I saw, and I'm asking if you know something!"
Takeshi zipped up the Were body with haste. The sound of the zip was more of a curt screech against the plastic.
"I told you what I know. You are chasing shadows, Commander." He shook his head slowly at Tristan like a father scolding a child. "To lay a claim on vampires being on the fighting side of this attack is poisonous thoughts. Thoughts that I hope The Three will not entertain, at least not without proof."
Which I have none, Tristan thought to himself. Apparently I'm the only asshole that saw Claude's body. So either he got up and walked away, or someone removed him. Did I imagine it?
Takeshi relaxed his body a bit and then zipped up the witch, shielding Tristan from her lifeless gaze. "Please leave, Commander."
Tristan still had questions, but he could tell that Takeshi no longer had the patience for it. He’d taken a gamble, and he’d lost. He should have known that Takeshi would not have entertained such an accusation, being the loyal vamp he was.
Tristan wasn't finished with him, but he needed to talk to The Three anyway and continue to kick over stones that pissed off everyone around him. Without a word, Tristan backed away, then turned and left the morgue.
Takeshi was right. Saying that vampires were present was toxic, but not as crazy as Green Girls and Were-shifters teaming up to attack.
Ivana had been in talks with both of them, and she had last told him things were progressing. Why would they burn down the bridge between the vampires? Especially since the witches and the Were-shifters were immortal enemies.
Witches were the key to the Were-shifter origin, as their magic and sorcery were rumored to have created them eons ago. The Green Girls denied it, of course. However, in doing so, the Were-shifters hunted, tortured, and studied them, trying to figure out what powers they possessed and how it could protect the Were-shifters.
Tristan would feel sorry for the witches, except he knew they did the same to the Were-shifters, trying to figure out how to hurt them. It was all one big shit show.
Throughout the mansion, areas were decorated with white lilies and roses in memory of Ivana. The royal blue banners of The Three were tied with a white ribbon, a symbol of mourning.
As Tristan turned the corner to the throne room, several vampires stood outside of the door, waiting for an audience with The Three. They were talking amongst themselves until Tristan walked past them to the guarded entrance. Standing inches from Maurice, the guard on duty, Tristan gave him a nod.
"I'm here to see The Three."
Maurice's scarred face frowned. "They have been anxiously waiting to speak with you." His pale grey eyes, didn't hold much emotion, but what little of it Tristan was able to pick up held great distaste.
Tristan didn't let it phase him. He never was one for popularity contests, and if he had to be persona non grata to get the job done, then so be it.
Maurice stepped aside and allowed Tristan to walk into the Chamber. Immediately, the scent of fresh lilies invaded his nose as he continued to move into the vast room.
In front of the three thrones was a mahogany platform with Ivana's body covered in a royal blue shroud. Constance and Drago stood around the body and looked up as soon as large door closed shut with a slam behind him.
Moving at lightning speed, Constance lunged out at him, striking his cheek with her long nails that dug into his skin. Tristan felt the tear of his skin, followed by the trickle of chilled blood running down his cheek.
Numb and already healing from the strike, he stood complacent of the insult. He just wiped the blood off his face as she glared at him with fiery eyes, blazing with contempt.
"You were asked to do one thing! One fucking thing! And that was to look after her for us! Look at what you've done, Tristan!"
Almost spitting his name, Constance pointed her finger at the table where Ivana's body laid covered. She lunged for him again, but this time Drago quickly caught her wrists and pushed her back.
"None of this is going to bring her back. I'm not interested in maudlin displays of loss. She's not coming back, so what more can we do?" Drago's thick Russian accent echoed through the room. "What I want to know is what happened."
"As do I," a deep voice shot through the silence. Tristan looked past them to find Javen next to the thrones, the planes of his face partially hidden in the shadows.
Tristan stood quiet as Javen slowly stepped away from the thrones and closer to him. His body taut, Tristan waited, alert, thinking the vampire would attempt to strike him. In fact, he decided to stay frosty until he spoke his piece.
As Javen got closer, Tristan could see the simmering rage in his mannerisms. His stiff walk, his pupils like pinheads, he could essentially feel the old vampire's detestment for him as he approached.
"Tell us, Tristan. Please, tell us how just a few hours ago, I was kissing Ivana goodbye, and now we are going to burn her body tomorrow night?"
Constance stood with arms crossed, watching with tear stained eyes. "What the fuck happened?"
Tristan took his military stance and looked Javen in the eyes. "I am deeply sorry for Ivana's death, Javen. I know she meant the world to you, and I respected her, greatly. I want you to know that I took great care in planning transport for her, but somehow, that plan was discovered."
Drago cocked his head. "What you mean?"
"I'm saying that someone knew we were coming and set a trap to ambush us." Tristan replied. "They were prepared for a strike to kill Ivana. This was not luck, Javen. Someone knew exactly when we would be there and we were horribly outnumbered."
Javen frowned, his movements uneasy. "Do you know who?"
Tristan regrettably shook his head. "No, but I'm looking into it. Dashiell told me that Christophe is missing. I need to find him too. Maybe he has some answers."
Constance scowled. "You're not implying that one of our own is involved in this, do you?" Her wide eyes shimmered tears that soon looked like turbulent waters as she blinked them away. "This was clearly the work o
f the Green Girls! Takeshi showed me their bodies."
"That and the Were-shifters, apparently," Javen added.
Tristan shot his eyes to Constance. "I'm saying that Christophe may know something we don't. But yes, I did encounter something during the attack that raises more questions."
Javen continued to move closer to Tristan until he stood merely inches away. "What is it?"
Tristan frowned. "One of the assassins after Ivana was a vampire."
The moment the statement rolled off his tongue, he felt a wave of silence grip the entire room. For what seemed like a full minute, only the sound of their breathing was heard. Tension soon began to mount and stack between the four of them until finally, Javen broke the painful silence.
"A vampire?" He shook his head dismissively. "There's no way." He stepped back and looked to Constance. "The cleaners said they found witches and Were-shifters, that's it. What vampires would try to kill my Ivana?"
Constance threw her hands up. "You were seeing things in the heat of battle, Tristan. Vampires would never hurt our own, and they sure as hell wouldn't try to kill Ivana, of all vampires. You have any idea how insane this sounds?"
Tristan took a step forward. "Yeah, I realize how this must sound, but I know what I saw." His eyes did an arc from Javen to Constance to Drago as he spoke. "Something isn't right about this whole ambush. I fought several of the assassins. Some hand to hand, but I know when I'm fighting a Were, and I wasn't fighting a Were. There may have been witches. I mean, one did carry white light, but I didn't lift their mask to confirm. And finally, I killed one of the assassins, face to face, and pulled off their mask. He was a vampire named Claude, Javen. He was there."
Javen's eyes squinted, and his face lowered in shock as if he were trying to digest what Tristan was saying. He visibly bucked at the thought and grabbed Tristan by his coat.
"You're a liar, Tristan! You'll say anything to remove yourself from the blame of my Ivana's death! Even shitting on your own race!" He growled and shook until Tristan finally shoved him off, knocking him a few feet back.
"Of course I'm to blame! I accept that! But I'm telling you the truth, Javen. Something stinks about this whole thing! I've worked for hundreds of years for you and have done pretty fucked up shit. Why would I need to lie about this? Vampires were there, Javen and they attacked your companion. Now, why would they do that?"
Javen snarled. "Because they wouldn't! You're insane! We've been fighting the witches and the Were-shifters, and they have continued to turn against us, don't you see!"
"They saw Ivana as a threat, and they decided to team up to send a message." Constance walked over to her throne and plopped down. "And you let them send that message. You don't even give a shit about this war anyway, Tristan. You’d rather bow out with your tail between your legs."
Drago moved from Ivana's body. "Where is this body of the vampire you saw?"
Tristan sighed. "I don't know. Takeshi said his team didn't find anything like that."
Javen scoffed. "So we're supposed to just take your word for it on something this damning? The same word you gave that you would protect Ivana and keep her safe?"
Tristan's eyes flickered amber and felt his fangs descend on impulse. He was growing weary of this denial and lack of faith in him. "I had done everything in my power to protect Ivana, nearly dying to try to save her. Now I live with the failure of losing her, but I will not be your whipping boy for this. Now I'm telling you, vampires were there, and I'm not going to stop until I find out what really happened!"
As Tristan turned to walk out, Javen moved in front of him. His eyes were cold, and fury that once simmered was boiling now.
"Until you have proof, you will not spout such lies and rumors about Ivana's death. Or I will have you excommunicated from the vampire society and exiled for your treasonous inclinations. Something like this could tear us apart, just like our enemies would want. Do you understand, Commander Castillion?
Tristan's face was stoic, as tired as it was, as he glared at Javen. "I think you're forgetting, Javen. This was my last mission commissioned under The Three. I could give a rat's ass of your society. I've been trying to get out for years. Like I said, I'm tired of the war, and apparently some things never change. With that, Tristan pushed past him and continued to leave the room.
Fuming, Javen took a few steps toward him, but Constance ran to him and blocked him with her hand on his chest.
"No, don't," Constance warned, her voice soft. "Let him go. There's other ways to deal with him."
Tristan tore the large door open so fiercely, it splintered and cracked against the wall as he walked through. The other vampires quickly moved aside as he moved past them with determination.
He wasn't crazy. He knew what an accusation like this could do, but it was the truth. He knew what he saw, and whatever it meant, it told him that all of this was bigger than he'd imagine.
And far from being over.
.
Chapter Five: Mystery Gift
ONE DRINK. TWO drinks. Three. Tristan shot the warm dark liquid into his mouth, enjoying the sting and burn of the liquor as it trailed to his stomach.
He decided that alcohol-infused blood was the greatest vampire invention since the inception of vampires, especially on nights like tonight. He was certain that it had to have been an old-school vampire like him, a warrior who missed the numbing effects of wine and alcohol after a battle, that created the vamp-friendly drink.
For reasons unknown, a vampire's body rejected typical, distilled alcohol. It didn't affect them the same way it would a human. However, when infused with human blood, it proved to be the ideal vehicle for the alcohol to finally get a vampire shit-faced.
What a brilliant asshole was that pioneer vampire? Tristan could only imagine how many failed experiments the vampire had done to get that much potent, grain alcohol into human blood. It was rumored, but Tristan imagined it very plausible, that many humans died a horrible death, essentially being drowned in grain alcohol like giant Ortolans, or forced to drink large quantities of it until they eventually died of poisoning.
Of course, there was no way to get to 20 proof, let alone a proper 80 proof, if the humans were topping out at a mere 5%.
Who were the main people selected for such experiments just for a vampire to get hammered? Green Girls. They were, after all, used to being drowned in something, and between them and the transient humans, it was enough to conduct several years of atrocious trials until The Three demanded it was time to stop. This hadn’t been the straw that had broken the camel's back for the witches, but it hadn’t helped win them over in the wars.
Tristan remembered Ivana being terribly disgusted as he had told her the origin of the drink, aptly called "Sangri-La." She had vowed never to drink it, and said it was a shining example of how our species were just as cruel as the humans.
He slammed another drink down his throat at the thought. She had been so naive. Of course we were just as cruel, if not more. How easy was it to pluck the wings off a butterfly when your hand was a hundred times more powerful?
But she had seen things differently, and even though he hated to admit it, Ivana had made him want to believe that the war could end. If ever an ember sparked within him on that sentiment, it definitely had been extinguished the moment he’d seen her dead body.
Such a hope like she had harbored simply had no place in the world of monsters and men. It had just been folly.
Dashiell pulled up a chair next to him in the dimly lit bar, picking up the bottle of Sangri-La and examined it. "Quite an expensive drink, Tristan. Celebrating or mourning?"
"A little of both, actually," Tristan said quietly. "I'm free from the chains of The Three, but unfortunately, I leave dishonored, being as my last mission failed."
It was all bullshit to him. He spent years fighting for a cause he’d barely wanted to believe in anymore. What did it all matter? Green Girls, Were-shifters, fairies, ogres, vampires... Let's face it—they all were
assholes. None of them were the 'good guys' of the world. They were all just fighting for dominance in a shadow world, away from the eyes of fearful man.
It was pathetic, really. Too many of his friends had gotten swallowed up in this game over the years. The same friends that had hope. The ones who wanted to believe things could have been better than all the bloodshed.
Those same friends were all dead. Perhaps the only reason he was still alive was because he didn't buy into the crap anymore.
Mr. Darkness loves a good martyr, and fools are born everyday to keep him company.
Dashiell smacked his lips. "C'mon, Tristan. You can't blame yourself for Ivana's death. You did everything you could. In the end, the protection of a vampire like Ivana belonged to her companion. And where was he?
"He was asking me to look after her. And I failed. I've asked around for Christophe, but no one has seen him." He looked to Dashiell. "You?"
Dashiell shook his head and opened the bottle to take a swig. "No. No one has seen him since before the motorcade. I've been backtracking the route of the motorcade downtown, but haven't seen a damn thing. No blood. No sign of struggle. It's like he just disappeared into fucking thin air."
He winced, the blood drink burning down his throat, and set the bottle down with a mild slam against the table.
"Ack! Fucking Type A positive?" He pushed the bottle to Tristan. "Might as well be drinking piss. Good thing you don't get smashed often. You have shitty taste."
Tristan gave a wry grin and poured another shot. "Well, don't worry. I'm gonna hit the ground running tomorrow night. I'm going to find Christophe, and I'm going to prove what I saw tonight when Ivana was murdered. The Three are hiding something, I know it."
He kicked back the shot of blood alcohol, this time savoring the burn.
Dashiell scoffed. "Tris, they're elitist vampires. When are they not hiding something?"
Tristan frowned."This is different, Dashiell. I think they know more than they let on about what happened tonight. Takeshi didn't even seem himself. I think he knows something, too."
