by Nathan Spain
Brone interjected again. "You're just letting him go? He’s an enemy. We ought to kill him!”
Thanatos turned his head to Brone and said sharply, "Is one execution not enough for you? We are lords, not mindless butchers."
"How very merciful of you," Damian spat. Here, standing before his enemies, unexpectedly alive, his despair was subsumed by anger; the loathing he felt when he looked at Thanatos was a hot, living thing inside his body, filling his veins like blood.
"Mercy is only part of it," Thanatos admitted. If he saw the hatred in Damian’s eyes, he paid no heed to it. "There is a task you can perform for me. Go to your clan and tell them what happened here. Tell them to stay out of my way if they don't wish to suffer the same fate. I may yet allow the Winebloods to keep some of their land and to remain self-governed, if they refrain from causing me further trouble. But rest assured, Damian, if you or your clan stand in my way again, I will not be so merciful. Now go, before I change my mind."
Damian didn't have to be told twice. But it was with a heavy heart that he took to the skies. As the lodge faded into the distance behind him, his thoughts were not on the reunions ahead, but on those whom he would never see again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ariadne stood on the balcony of Wineblood Manor, staring up at the stars. They had been at the Manor a few nights now, and she felt cooped up and frustrated.
No one seemed to know what their next move should be. Callidora had floated the idea that they should muster a force of Wineblood soldiers to launch a preemptive strike on the lodge and drive Thanatos and Brone out of Wineblood territory. But Draven had advised caution, and said it was likely the lords were even now gathering their forces; without knowing exactly what they were facing, such a direct assault could easily backfire. In addition, they couldn’t risk Thanatos killing his hostages outright if they made a move against him. Ariadne had suggested a smaller, covert rescue operation, even going so far as to volunteer for such a job herself, but the idea was deemed to have equally slim odds of success and was shot down, which only served to further her frustration.
She leaned on the balcony railing and sighed. Defending the Manor against any further attack seemed to be the most they were capable of. They had tried to interrogate Gregario, but he was uncooperative. The one measurable action they had taken was to send a messenger to the Stormfangs to inform them of everything that had happened. But even if the messenger reached his destination safely, the journey would take many nights, and it was unlikely the Stormfangs would be able to send them reinforcements quickly enough to be of aid.
The plan of action they had settled on, then, was more a plan of inaction: Protect Lady Rosanna, still a valuable potential hostage, stand ready to defend themselves, and wait to see what their foes would do next. But Ariadne had never been one to sit on her hands and patiently bide her time – not in the best of circumstances, and definitely not in these ones.
So here she was, trying to resist the urge to scream wordlessly into the night. She hated being unable to do anything, left to stew in her own frustrated impotence. She wanted to leap off the balcony and fly away, to go find her father herself, to do something, anything, because damn Draven and damn Callidora and damn all the helpless Winebloods and their endless debates and lack of action.
Would Draven come after her, she wondered, if she disappeared? Would she want him to?
She was pondering how best to leave a note for him to the effect of ‘Don’t follow me,’ and the likelihood that he would just ignore such a request anyways, when a figure slipped onto the balcony and approached her.
“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Rosanna asked in her usual blunt manner, leaning against the railing alongside Ariadne.
Planning to do something desperate, Ariadne thought. Can’t you tell?
“Thinking,” she said.
Rosanna nodded. “Lots to think about.” When Ariadne failed to respond, she said, “You’re worried about your father, aren’t you?”
Ariadne shot Rosanna a look, but her questions died on her lips; she had made no secret of her eagerness to mount a rescue. Damn it, her desire was so obvious that anyone with eyes could see it. Draven had probably sent Rosanna out here to talk her out of it.
“Wouldn’t you be?” she asked.
Rosanna laughed. “If my father was in trouble, you mean? I would have left him twisting in the wind and never looked back.”
Ariadne stared at her, shocked out of her fog of annoyance. “How can you say that?”
“You didn’t know my father. He’s long since in the ground now, and I’m better off for that fact. All I did was disappoint him. He didn’t want to lose the son that only ever existed in his head, you see. I was never gonna be the person he wanted me to be, not even as a human, and now…” She laughed again, bearing her fangs in a grin. “Now he wouldn’t even recognize me, and I consider that a point of personal pride.”
Ariadne thought about this, and about Rosanna and how little she actually knew about the Stormfang leader. She would have considered it rude, normally, to ask another vampire about their past, let alone one as high-ranking as Lady Rosanna. But Ariadne didn’t much care about manners at the moment.
“Who were you back then?” she asked carefully. “Before you were turned, I mean?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rosanna said casually, as though this were all the note that her past self was worth. “I was stuck in a lie, but becoming a vampire let me finally be myself, without fear of the consequences. I’m a self-made woman.”
Ariadne nodded. “A fresh start.” She could relate to that.
“Exactly. You know, it’s funny. Humans would consider vampires to be monsters, but in some ways, ours is the more accepting society. I never felt like I belonged among humans, but among the Stormfangs I could be my true self without anyone so much as blinking an eye. Things like gender norms don’t mean as much to them. Not what I would have expected from people who were born centuries ago. Ever think about why that is?”
Ariadne considered this for a moment, and then said, “Most humans only ever have one identity. They take whatever they’re born with and consider that normal. Vampires – every vampire – they know what it’s like to reinvent themselves. They’re less…rigid, in that way.”
Rosanna smiled, her lanky frame leaning against the railing. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I think the humans were gradually getting better about accepting people who are different. I’m not sure about now. I imagine the Devastation kinda made cultural norms seem less important to them, too. But that kind of change doesn’t come easy, and back when I was one of them, there was no way I could openly be the girl I knew I was.”
“Why did you choose the name Rosanna?” Ariadne asked.
“Because a rose has thorns.” She showed off her fangs again with a playful grin. “Pretty and dangerous, just like me. That was always the name I would have chosen for myself, if it had been safe to change it. Being turned just gave me the perfect excuse. How about you? Is Ariadne your given name?”
“Yeah, actually. My dad always liked Greek names. I know most other vampires change their names after being turned, but I never felt the urge to change it. Dad chose ‘Damian’ for himself. From the patron saint of physicians. I think it was his way of reminding himself that being a vampire didn’t mean he had to do anyone harm.”
Kindly, Rosanna said, “Your dad seems like a good man. I’m sorry about what happened.”
Ariadne looked away, letting her hair fall in a curtain that hid her face. But she couldn’t hide the choked sound of her voice as she admitted, “I can’t lose him. He’s all I have.”
Rosanna put a comforting hand on Ariadne’s back. “Hey…hey, it’s okay. You haven’t lost him yet.”
They stood in silence for a while, Rosanna offering the simple comfort of her presence while Ariadne stared down into the gloom of the trees, thinking about Damian. She felt powerless, just as she had thirty years ago when he was sick
and dying. She had so much more power now, and yet all she could do was wait and hope and –
Her thoughts ceased abruptly. Something was moving down below, at the edge of the tree line – a man-sized shadow separating itself from the deeper shadows of the night.
She stiffened, and Rosanna straightened up, no doubt sensing the change in Ariadne.
“What is it?” Rosanna whispered.
Ariadne was about to reply, to issue a warning, when the approaching figure stepped more fully into the moonlight and looked up, directly at her. Their eyes met.
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Before she could think, she vaulted over the railing, ignoring Rosanna’s surprised shout. She landed cat-like on the ground, and her legs were already moving. She ran toward the figure as fast as she could, and he reached out for her as she ran…
They embraced. Damian almost staggered backward from the force of their meeting, pulling her into his arms as she clung tightly to him, more tightly than she ever had. All the worry and fear and nervous tension left her body, ebbing out of her with each grateful, heaving, overjoyed sob.
He pulled away after a moment, and cupped her face in his hands, tears in his eyes.
“You’re alive,” they both said at the same moment, a simultaneous statement of a miraculous, obvious truth. Ariadne gave a little hiccup of laughter as she expelled the last of the premature grief she had been carrying.
His eyes watery, voice thick with stunned relief, Damian said, “They told us…Thanatos…he said you were dead. He said you had been killed, you and Draven, and I thought – I thought you had burned, with the others, but you’re – you’re…” He trailed off and pulled her into another hug.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Draven’s fine. They lied, that’s all. It was just a lie.”
He drew away from her again. Tears streaked his cheeks, but his shoulders drooped, the tension visibly leaving his body as he took in the truth. “I thought I would never see you again.”
“I thought so too,” she breathed, and it felt like a confession for which absolution had already come.
He looked her up and down, like he needed to prove to himself that she was not some hallucination born of desperate hope. His clothes were dirty and torn, and he looked exhausted, as though his joy at seeing her was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He looked old – not just physically, but emotionally, like he rarely had since his turning. Even here, in the pale light of the moon, she could tell something had dimmed in him.
“Dad…are you okay?”
He grasped her hand, squeezing it tight. “I am so, so happy to see you,” he whispered.
Ariadne only became aware that Rosanna had joined them when the Stormfang spoke, her words directed at Damian and her tone grave. “Is Selene with you?”
Damian’s grip on Ariadne’s hand tightened in acknowledgement of the question. He wiped the tears from his eyes and raised his head to look at Rosanna, his expression solemn. “I need to speak to everyone,” he said.
Rosanna blinked, looking away for a moment as though registering the implications of the non-answer, but she composed herself quickly. She met Damian’s eyes and inclined her head toward the Manor. “You’d better come inside.”
They found Draven conferring with Callidora in the throne room, and if there had been any doubt in Ariadne’s mind that he was concerned for his old friend’s well-being, it was erased by the look on his face when he spotted Damian. He leapt up from his seat and rushed to Damian’s side, pulling him into a tight hug.
They ushered the weary Damian to the long oak table in the court’s council room and poured him a glass of blood to restore his strength. Then, when he was ready, he began to recount to them what had happened since the battle at the lodge.
“He killed Selene,” Damian said in pained tones, and the effect was instantaneous; the grief that swept the table was not a violent, crashing wave, but the sudden realization that the tide had already come in, slow and inevitable, until it filled their lungs and became impossible to ignore.
Through her own shock, Ariadne noted Callidora’s reaction – she hung her head, hand over her eyes and shoulders hunched, looking like she was struggling to hold herself together through sheer force of will alone.
Damian continued, and the despair in the room turned to anger as he described Thanatos’ ultimatum.
“That arrogant bastard,” Ariadne fumed. “He thinks we’re just going to take this lying down?”
Damian looked down at his hands. “He aims to intimidate us. The message is clear – oppose me and die or surrender and live.”
Rosanna snorted. “Didn’t we make it clear enough what we thought of such threats when we sent Brone running back with his tail between his legs?”
Damian glanced at her. “What exactly happened?”
Briefly, Draven filled him in on the altercation at the Manor. There was silence, for a time, when he had finished – a silence eventually broken by Callidora’s hollow voice.
“This is our fault. We had the chance to surrender peacefully, and now my sister is…” She choked on the words for a moment, then started over. “My sister is dead. She’s dead because I made the call to fight back.”
“No,” Draven said forcefully. “She’s dead because Thanatos murdered her. You made the right choice, Callidora. You put the good of the clan above everything else. Selene would have wanted you to do no less.”
His tone gentle, Damian told her, “Draven’s right. Thanatos gave Selene the chance to change her mind, and right up to the very end, she never wavered. She refused to give in, even knowing what it would cost her. We can honor her memory by following that example.”
Ariadne squeezed her father’s hand, caught up in another rush of gratitude for his survival. “At least we got you back,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe he just let you go.”
“Thanatos is cruel, but not entirely without mercy,” Damian admitted. “Or at least a sense of honor. He executed Selene because he felt he had no other choice, but I believe he genuinely regrets having to spill so much vampiric blood to get his way. I think Selene knew this and suspected he would spare me. The way she spoke to me, before the end…she basically told me to continue where she left off.”
“What do you mean?” Draven questioned.
Damian hesitated, his eyes on Callidora, who watched with interest. Slowly, he said, “Selene named me as her successor. She told me that when all of this is over, she wants me to lead Clan Wineblood.”
Ariadne’s breath caught, and her eyes widened. Her father, the leader of the entire clan?
Before she could speak, however, Callidora interjected, her voice filled with surprise. “You? Why?”
Damian glanced down uneasily. “She said she felt I have what it takes to lead. Had she discussed choosing a successor with you before?”
Callidora shook her head. “No…nothing had been set in stone. But in hindsight, it makes sense. I think she always saw potential in you, Damian.”
Damian leaned forward with a sigh, resting his forehead on his hands. Finally, he said, “I haven’t decided if I even want such a responsibility yet. But our leader is gone, and our Military Commander is a traitor. You were Selene’s second-in-command, Callidora. I propose that for the time being, we all agree to defer to your judgement.”
Callidora gave him a slow, appreciative nod. “I’ll try not to let us down.”
“You’ve spent over a century at Selene’s side while she ruled,” Damian pointed out. “If anyone’s prepared for the task, it’s you.”
Callidora smiled faintly, but she looked troubled.
“For now,” Draven said, “we need to decide on what to do about Thanatos. Whatever mercy he may have shown Damian, we can’t count on it to protect us if we go up against him again.”
Rosanna raised a hand before adding, “I realize I’m a guest here, and this is your clan, not mine, but we have to do somethin
g. We can’t just stand by and let this go any further.”
Draven nodded. “I agree. It may be tempting, having lost as much as we already have, to take the path of least resistance and protect ourselves, but if we fail to stop Thanatos now, his power and ambitions will only grow. Since we won’t join him, he’s hoping we’ll stay out of his way in the short-term, but he knows we’re a threat that will need to be dealt with eventually.”
Angry determination flared up inside Ariadne. “So how can we stop him?”
Draven gave a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. What we need is a plan. But for that we need more information – where Thanatos intends to strike first, how the attack will be carried out. We know he means to subjugate the humans, but that alone isn’t enough to go on.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Damian said. All heads turned toward him, and he continued, “I overheard him telling Brone they would deal with us ‘after the city has fallen.’”
Ariadne looked at him, her mouth slightly agape as the realization hit her. “Sanctuary. It’s got to be.”
“That’s what they’ve taken to calling Seattle now,” Damian explained, when Rosanna gave them a blank look. “It’s right in our backyard. Most of the humans in this region settled there after the Devastation.”
Draven added, “I’ve been there recently. Whatever resources they once had are wearing thin, and their defenses won’t protect them from a full-scale attack. With the element of surprise, and the natural advantage our kind has over them, Thanatos could take the city in a matter of hours.”
Ariadne’s mind raced. “But how?” she wondered aloud. “Look at everything he’s done so far, how calculated all of it has been. He’s not the type to fly in blind and start killing everything that moves. He must have a specific plan of attack in mind.”
“If we can figure out what that is, maybe we stand a chance of preventing it,” Draven added. He looked at Callidora. “Assuming you concur, my Lady?”
Callidora had been listening in silence, but now she raised her head, and a newfound confidence shone in her eyes. “I do. And as for the need for more information…I think I have an idea.”
