by Nathan Spain
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The cool air raised goosebumps on Draven’s arms as he descended into the dungeons beneath Wineblood Manor. He followed Callidora down the passageway, torch in hand, its flickering orange light announcing their presence like a herald.
The defeated Blackwing soldiers stirred in their cells as the Winebloods approached, but they passed their captives by without a glance; their focus lay on the cell at the end of the hall, and its single occupant.
Gregario smirked at them through the bars as they stopped in front of him. "Callidora, Draven. Back again so soon?”
"You can wipe that smile off your face, Gregario," said Callidora.
Gregario tilted his head to one side, but his smile didn’t waver. Draven thought he looked entirely too cock-sure for a prisoner of war.
"We know that Brone and Thanatos are planning to attack Sanctuary,” Callidora continued. “What we need to know is how."
"And you think I know this because…?"
Patiently, Draven explained, "If the Lords got you on board with their plan to the point that you were willing to betray your own clan in support of it, then they must have given you some details of how they intend to pull off that plan. We need you to tell us everything you know."
The edges of Gregario’s mouth crooked upward. "We’ve been over this, haven’t we? You know I have no desire to help you. Why would you think that’s changed?”
"Because Selene is dead," Callidora said flatly. "Thanatos murdered her. Which makes me the last person you should be pressing your luck with right now."
That finally got the smirk off Gregario's face. "I am...sorry for your loss. It wasn't supposed to come to that."
Draven gave a derisive snort. "Spare us your crocodile tears. You must have known it was a possibility."
"Well, I can't say it's surprising, Selene being as stubborn as she was. But nonetheless, I had hoped that a peaceful transfer of power would be possible."
"Not when your approach is conquest and intimidation," Draven said icily.
Callidora cleared her throat. "Here's how this is going to go. You’re a traitor, Gregario, and your crimes are punishable by death. However, given the circumstances, I'm willing to cut you a deal and offer you exile instead – in exchange, of course, for sufficiently useful information."
“We will be fighting Thanatos and Brone,” Draven added, “with or without your assistance. Help us, and you get to walk away in one piece. If not, you’ll be executed as a traitor. Your choice.”
Gregario smirked. “I see a third option – Brone and Thanatos wipe you fools out and free me.”
Callidora fixed him with a cool stare. “Decline to help us, and you’ll be put to death long before anyone will have time to rescue you. And I wouldn’t be so certain that Thanatos and Brone have your best interests in mind. You let them down, Gregario, and now you’re placing your fate in the hands of men not known for their forgiveness.”
Gregario hesitated, and his expression darkened. “And if I choose exile, where am I to go?”
“Not our problem,” Draven said. “What we’re offering is the best deal you’re going to get.”
Gregario shook his head performatively, giving an exaggerated sigh. “Draven, Draven, Draven. Ironic that we should find ourselves here. Do you find satisfaction in twisting your own sentence back upon me?”
The comparison wasn’t exactly fair, Draven thought. He never betrayed his own clan.
“No, I feel only pity for what you’ve become.”
Gregario shrugged off the jab with a snort and turned his attention to Callidora. “Your sister was a fool who would have led us to ruin. I should have known you would be no better. You have a chance to be a stronger leader than Selene, and instead you seem hell-bent on making the same mistakes. I weep for the future of Clan Wineblood under your rule.”
Draven’s fists clenched in anger, but if Callidora shared his desire to punch Gregario’s arrogant face, she hid it well.
“Weep for it all you want,” she said scathingly. “Either through death or through exile, you won’t be around to see it. Now make up your mind and tell us which option you choose.”
Gregario glowered at them for a moment from behind the bars. “Fine. You can dig your own graves for all I care. I wipe my hands of it. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Draven raised his eyebrows. “We’re all ears.”
Gregario paused. “How familiar are you with the current power structure in Sanctuary?”
“They’re led by a mayor,” Draven answered. “Limited city government officials, limited police force, mostly civilians who stepped up to fill those roles. They’ve managed to protect the city, allocate its resources and maintain order, but only barely.”
“Well, not for much longer. Thanatos and Brone will see to that. The humans’ leaders will be the first to go.”
“You’re talking about assassination?” Callidora interrupted.
“Exactly. Thanatos and Brone already have spies in place in the city, blending in with the human populace. All they need is the signal to strike, and they’ll bring the whole city to its knees. Then comes the invasion. Destabilize and conquer.”
Draven looked at Callidora in alarm. “It’ll be every man for himself. Complete chaos.”
A smile tugged at the edges of Gregario’s mouth as he went on. “I wish I could see it…our people will cut through the humans’ ranks like sharp fangs through the flesh of a soft neck. By the time the sun rises, Sanctuary will be a vampiric city. And then on to the next human stronghold, and the next, until none remain to stand against us.”
Horror crawled along Draven’s spine. He stepped closer to the cell and bared his fangs at Gregario. “When is this madness supposed to take place?”
Gregario shrugged. “Could be any night now. It sounds like Lord Thanatos has no reason to wait any longer. You can try to stop it, but I’m warning you, you’ll just end up among the corpses in the street.”
“What else?” Callidora demanded. “You must know something more specific.”
“That’s as much as I know. Surely it’s worth something to you, knowing your opponent’s strategy?”
Draven glanced at Callidora. “Time to make our own.”
They turned and began to walk away.
“Wait,” Gregario called after them. “You promised me my freedom.”
Callidora paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. “In exchange for sufficiently useful information. I believe that’s what I said. I guess we’ll find out how useful your information proves to be. If we return victorious, you’ll have your freedom, but not before. We’ll not have you running back to your old masters to aid them.”
“You fools,” Gregario shouted as they strode back down the corridor. “You’re only going to get yourselves killed.”
Calmly, without looking back, Draven said, “For your sake, Gregario, you had best hope not.”
----
“We have to do something.”
Ariadne was aghast. Draven and Callidora had just filled her, Damian and Rosanna in on what they had learned. Now they all huddled together in the throne room, anxiously conferring.
“We will,” Draven assured her. “How much time do you think we have, Damian?”
Damian stared into the distance, his brow knitted. “Precious little, and none to waste. Thanatos was still gathering his forces in preparation for the attack when I left them. I don’t know how long it will take before he’s ready. I had a head start in getting here, but they could already be on their way. Whatever we do, I suggest we do it as soon as possible.” His words echoed slightly off the stone walls, reverberating uncomfortably through the air.
“The night’s still young,” Rosanna said. “Someone should fly to Sanctuary and warn the humans.”
Callidora nodded. “I concur. We don’t want to alarm them by showing up unannounced. This may take some explaining.”
“They’ll learn the reality of the situa
tion soon enough either way,” Damian pointed out. “We just need to make sure they learn it from us, and in time to prepare themselves for the real threat.”
A silence fell among them, and Draven knew that the implications of that statement were sinking in for the others, just as they were for him. He thought about the people in Sanctuary, about how they might react when they learned the truth. The memory of the scared faces on the policemen he had narrowly escaped from filled his mind. He could have slaughtered them all, had he wanted to. None of them were prepared for what was coming…
Putting voice to his thoughts, he said, “You all realize that there’s no coming back from this, right? In order to save them, we’ll have to reveal ourselves. No more secrecy, no more living in the shadows. Everyone will know that we exist.”
They looked to Callidora, and she returned their gaze thoughtfully. “Well…it’s like Damian just said. Secrecy won’t be an option for much longer. At least this way, maybe we have a chance to prove to them that our kind don’t have to be their enemies. That some of us are more than just monsters to be feared. Maybe we can still bring our races together, like Selene envisioned.”
“Not if Thanatos and Brone get their way,” Rosanna said. “We’re only gonna have one shot at stopping them, and we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“I assume we have a plan?” said Ariadne.
Draven glanced at Callidora, who nodded at him. He looked back to the others. “An idea did occur to me. But before I tell you, keep in mind, these are desperate and unusual times.”
Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “Why the disclaimer?”
Draven looked at her and drew a deep breath before giving his reply. “Because you might not like what I’m proposing…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Robert Allen leaned back in his chair, stretched, and yawned loudly. Cool night air blew in through the open window, a refreshing sensation after the heat of the summer’s day.
It had grown dark outside, almost without him noticing. He often worked late into the night, even after the rest of his office staff returned to their homes. Running a city had been no easy task even before the Devastation; now, years removed from civilization’s nightmarish collapse, his chaotic job had finally begun to settle back into a normal routine.
The irony of that thought made him scoff in amusement. Six years ago, it had seemed that ‘normal’ was an obsolete concept. But now he supposed that ultimately, it was just a relative one.
It was getting late, and his eyes felt heavy. Time to go home and get some rest. He straightened the papers on his desk and stood up.
Just as he moved to shut the window, three large bats swooped through it. The mayor screamed, stumbled backward, and landed on the floor with a grunt.
Allen threw his arm in front of his face instinctively. The bats wheeled around through the room a couple times, then settled on the floor. He watched in alarm and astonishment. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him – or he had finally lost his mind due to years of stress – the bats’ forms were blurring, twisting and expanding.
His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open as he stared at the three figures that had appeared in place of the bats: a handsome, dark-haired man, an old but spry-looking man with silver hair, and a blond-haired young woman, all dressed in strange, formal velvet clothing.
He staggered to his feet. “Who the hell are you?” he said weakly. “What’s going on?”
The dark-haired man stepped forward. “Mr. Mayor, I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but we’ve come to you with a most urgent matter.” His voice was soft and smooth, but the sound of it did not put Mayor Allen at ease. Something felt off about the man, even discounting his impossible arrival in the mayor’s office.
Allen retreated behind his desk. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer or I’ll call for security.” This was a bluff, of course. Everyone else had left the building for the night, and he suspected these strange intruders knew that.
The man held out a hand, palm out and fingers spread, as though to calm him. “Please, don’t be afraid. We mean you no harm. We wish only to speak with you. My name is Draven. These are my friends, Damian and Ariadne.”
“I don’t understand. Who…what…are you?”
The silver-haired man – Damian, apparently – coughed politely and said, “We realize this may be hard for you to believe, but –”
Draven cut in. “Your people have long spoken of us in myths and legends. Those stories are mostly fairy tales, but they have their basis in truth. We’ve been known by many names. We are the people of the night, a parallel race to your own. We –”
“We’re vampires,” the young woman finished bluntly.
Mayor Allen gawked at them. It was clear now: He had definitely lost his mind. There was no other way to explain what he was seeing and hearing.
He felt suddenly dizzy and clutched the back of his chair for support.
Draven, who the mayor assumed was some advanced form of hallucination, gave his female companion an annoyed look.
She frowned at him defensively and said, “What? We’re in a hurry.”
“There’s such a thing as easing them into it. Look, the poor man’s in shock. He’s gone almost as pale as we are.”
“He’ll get over it. He’ll have to. It’s better to just be forthright about it. All that ‘myths and legends’ stuff is just being melodramatic.”
“Let’s focus on the matter at hand, please,” Damian said. Carefully, he approached the mayor, his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, the important thing to remember is that we’re not here to hurt you.”
Mayor Allen let out a little panic-stricken laugh. “This is insane,” he said, mostly to himself. “I’ve gone mad.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Ariadne muttered. She raised her voice and said forcefully, “We’re vampires, we’re real, you’re not insane and you’re not dreaming. Now pull yourself together.”
There was an awkward silence, at the end of which Draven cleared his throat and said softly, “Mr. Mayor, do you recall a recent incident in which a citizen of your city was, uh…attacked by a man who bit him in the neck? A man who escaped your police and evaded capture?”
The mayor stared at him. His mind was still reeling, and it was difficult to focus on Draven’s words.
“I trust the victim made a full recovery?” Draven continued. “That he had two small holes in his neck and had lost some blood, but was otherwise unhurt? And I assume that he, and your police officers, provided a description of the culprit?”
The mayor looked more closely at Draven. The giddy panic started to fade, replaced by suspicion as his mind gratefully latched onto the explanation. “You! I paid a man to find you, and he returned bloody and scarred. Said the problem was taken care of, that you wouldn’t return. Listen, you and your friends stay the hell away from me and my city! I don’t know who you – you think you are, but you’re not welcome here.”
Calmly, but with sincerity, Draven said, “I regret my prior actions. I was only doing what I had to in order to survive. It’s no excuse, I know, but surely you can understand such a thing. We’ve all had to make hard choices in recent years for the sake of survival.”
Damian interjected. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust us, but it’s also a matter of survival that brings us here – both yours and ours. We mean you and your city no harm, but there are those who do, and they are coming for you. We are here to warn you, and to help protect you.”
The mayor looked at them and gulped, slowing his panicked breathing as he digested these words. He sank weakly into his chair. “Vampires…” he breathed. “I’m still not convinced that I’m not just imagining all of this, but…that man I hired, Bodrock…he came to me, claimed to be an expert, a mercenary of sorts. Said he had experience with such things, that he knew what I was dealing with. I never asked him what that was, exactly. Figured I was better off not being curious, so long as the problem was dealt with. Bod
rock said he could make it go away.” He gave a bark of ironic laughter. “If you’re real, then apparently I should ask him for a refund.”
“Does Bodrock still reside in Sanctuary?” Draven asked.
“I think so. He returned rather the worse for wear. Took a few days to avail himself of our medical facilities, such as they are...” Allen narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed by a sudden, disturbing thought. “Why do you want to know?”
“We’ll explain everything,” Draven assured him. “And then…” He glanced at his companions. Ariadne gave him an uneasy frown, but nodded.
“And then,” Draven finished, “you had better send for Mr. Bodrock. We’re going to need his help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Bodrock was asleep when the knock on his door rang out, but he had always been a light sleeper. He jolted awake with a start and looked around the dark apartment, listening intently. After a moment, the rapping on the door repeated itself, confirming it had been the stuff of reality and not of dreams.
He slid quietly out of the bed, grabbing a hunting knife from the bedside table as he did so. Bodrock always slept with a weapon within reach, and he would never think of answering a late-night knock on the door without one. It was the little things, the habitual precautions, that kept a person alive.
He could move with surprising stealth for such a large man, and though the room was dark, he knew exactly what surrounded him. He padded silently to the door, holding his breath, and peered through the peephole. When he saw who it was, he exhaled with a sharp hiss, unbolted the lock and opened the door.
“What?” he growled at the police officer standing on his doorstep. He used the term ‘police officer’ loosely, for the man was barely grown. Just a boy, really, another recruit trying to earn his keep by contributing some service to the community. The Devastation had forced too many, too soon, into roles of responsibility that they were ill-prepared for.
