by James Somers
The applause finally died down when he gestured with his hands that it was enough. His smile lit up every man’s face with excitement as they waited for golden words to spill forth upon them. Every face except mine. I regarded him as, possibly, the most dangerous person in the room. He was certainly more than human. And he had some agenda driving him that none of us realized. If I had developed any sense of foreboding, it all centered on this man right now.
“My very dear friends,” he began. His voice felt like silk brushing our ears. “I am so pleased to be able to come before you this evening. Friends of the people of England, rulers of our vast empire, I have come to call upon you for your support. Our empire is in dire need of new strength and resolve as we near the turn of our century. How many of our colonies seek to rebel against the mother that birthed them? How many enemies on every side covet our power and prestige?”
The tension in the room had only grown with every word coming out of this charismatic flatterer. His oration tickled our ears delightfully, stroking the collective ego of these men who wielded the power of mighty Britain.
“Our enemies suppose that we are a waning power, but we can still show them England as monarch of the world. Together we will transform our present government and begin the process of reclaiming our rebellious colonies. From there we can add to our territory, changing the world for the greater good”
My head was buzzing. I felt several sensations at once. At first, I had been listening to the actual words Grayson Stone was saying, trying to discern his intentions. However, I gradually began to lose track. I felt sleepy, yet excited. I could no longer grasp what he was saying.
Looking around the room, I noticed that the other men were similarly awestruck. I had expected this of those who were willing to follow the man, but I was the lone skeptic in the room. What was happening to me? My mind was split. One part of me was examining this phenomena, trying to resist it, while the other part wanted to surrender to the soothing rhythm of his words.
My conscious mind rebelled then. I attempted to resist the pull Grayson Stone had on me and the rest of the men in the room. At that same moment, Lord Stone looked directly at me. His mouth was still moving—the words only a thrum in my mind now.
He locked his will upon me. It was growing more difficult to tear myself away. I wanted to obey him now, no matter what he might require me to do. And yet that diminishing part of me refused to give up. I had to do something to break his hold.
An exquisite chandelier hung above us. I reached out to it, snapping the mounting bracket, chain and gas feeder line with a desperate thought. The chandelier came crashing down upon the large table, smashing to pieces and scattering crystal bobs all over the room.
I felt the release suddenly as Grayson broke away from his speech, startled by the unexpected event. I took in deep breaths, feeling like I had nearly drowned, as though I had been held under water to force my submission. I was sweating profusely.
I looked around the room at the other men. None of them had taken notice of the priceless light fixture lying across the table, a twisted mass of brass and crystal shards. They simply stared at Grayson Stone, waiting entranced for his next word.
“You’re stronger than I would have thought,” Grayson said to me.
The buzzing in my skull had faded since the chandelier came down. I felt more in control, but fatigue was coming on strong. What had he done to me?
“You’re not what I would have expected either,” I replied, trying to seem more stable than I felt.
I stood up, flexing my fingers and my mind. “I didn’t realize I was invited here for a fight.”
I hoped that bit of bravado might back him down. But he only seemed amused by it. The men in the room still had not reacted to any of this.
“I’ve not asked you here to fight,” Grayson said. “I’m offering you the opportunity to join with me.”
“Looks like you have plenty of help already,” I said, indicating the Order of Light seated between us.
Grayson laughed. “The power of the Order is negligible,” he said. “But pawns still have their place in the game.”
“What piece does that make you then?” I asked.
“The king, of course,” Grayson replied.
“That still leaves the unseen hand moving all of the pieces on the board,” I observed. “Who would that be?”
Grayson only smiled. “You could make a valuable ally,” he said. “You’re young and you have only begun to come into your power.”
“I’m flattered,” I replied sarcastically.
“Don’t be,” he said. “Were it not for your royal blood, I wouldn’t be making you this offer.”
“Royal blood?”
“I know that you are the son of Southresh,” he said. “That is the kind of royalty I’m referring to. That kind of power will decide this war.”
“And I suppose you are the same kind of royalty?”
“I am,” he said.
“Who is your father?” I asked, not sure that I really wanted to know the answer.
“The Light Bringer himself,” he answered.
“Lucifer?” I asked. I had heard this title used before.
Grayson grinned devilishly. “You’ve heard of him?”
My stomach was doing flip-flops. It had to be the worst possible answer he could have given. My concerns about the good angel turning out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing came to mind again. It had to be him.
This devil had just admitted the truth about himself, but still there came no reaction from the members of the Order of Light. They were all but catatonic. I knew that the same power he had employed against me, had completely overtaken them. Grayson stood smiling and confident while my anger mustered within me.
“You seem proud to be called his son,” I said. “I’ve renounced Southresh. I claim my Heavenly Father now.”
“Why should I not be proud?” he asked. “You can renounce your heritage all you want, Brody, but it doesn’t change who you are.”
“But I can still choose who to follow,” I retorted. “And it won’t be you, or your father.”
His smile darkened then. “If you refuse, then you’ll leave me with no choice. You see, I can’t allow you to destroy all that we have worked for.”
Now, the Order of Light members rose from their chairs, turning to face me with hatred in their eyes.
“These men have worked diligently to save our beloved empire, Mr. West,” Grayson continued. “How could you possibly consider such sedition? Treason is punishable by death.”
Weapons came into their hands, led by cues in Grayson’s speech. The thrumming siren’s call of his voice had retreated to the back of my thoughts, but for these men he reigned supreme. I wondered if they even understood what they were about to do, or was the trance so complete that they acted unconsciously? As pistols leveled on me, I realized the difference mattered very little. I would be just as dead either way.
Trolls
Uriah watched as Brody was led away by one of the servants working for the Order of Light. He gave the reins a little snap, sending the horses on their way. The other carriages had lined up in a lot not far away with instructions to return after three hours time. Presumably this would allow for the members of their order, as well as Uriah’s master and Lord Grayson Stone, to hear any speeches to be given and then enjoy a customary meal following.
These plans had been sent with the invitation over a week ago. However, Uriah had not liked what he was hearing at the time. King Lycean had communicated his concerns to Brody once the invitation was received, but Uriah’s master was young and more confident in the face of danger than he probably should be. True, his power was formidable and growing more so day by day. But Uriah meant to protect him in any way he could.
He was still stinging from the loss of his other master—he would not say former yet—Oliver James. Had he not been away on business for Oliver, he might have intervened in some way to prevent the present situation
—Oliver trapped, possibly forever, within Tartarus. He couldn’t let that happen again. Oliver would no doubt be counting on him to protect the boy.
A sudden cricket chirp drew Uriah’s attention as he parked the coach near the others. His keen troll’s ears discerned the difference between the sound he had heard and the real thing. A little extra intensity added to his gaze revealed the heat signatures of more than just horses and coachmen in the lot with him.
One of the figures, outlined in red and yellow hues that conveyed his body heat, approached Uriah from the wall of a nearby building where his fellows remained invisible to mortal eyes. Counting their approaching leader, he had spotted a dozen in all. Uriah waited until he came close to the carriage before he made his move.
“I thought I told you to bring at least twenty,” Uriah whispered.
The figure stopped cold, placing his hands on his large troll hips. “Do you know how difficult it is to get this many out of their warm beds to come to the mortal world for a human?” the invisible troll asked.
Uriah descended from the seat of his master’s carriage, becoming invisible like the others, blending like a chameleon with his surroundings. “He’s not a human, Redclaw,” Uriah said.
“Well, he’s not a troll, is he?”
“Let’s go,” Uriah insisted.
They two led the remaining troll band of eleven away from the carriage lot, making their way along the front of the building, facing Whitehall Street.
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this whole servant business after all these years,” Redclaw complained. “It’s beneath you, Brother.”
“I feel a sense of accomplishment,” Uriah replied. “I enjoy having something to do besides fostering tales of monsters dwelling beneath bridges.”
“Trolls are warriors, not butlers.”
“I prefer Executive Assistant, thank you very much,” Uriah said. “Now pipe down. We’re going in. If my hunch is correct, Brother, you’ll see enough action to make it worth your time.”
That point, at least, brought a smile to Redclaw’s face, though being invisible no one could see it.
Their merry band of trolls moved quickly and quietly, passing the servants who had been left to watch the front of the building. For hulking brutes they were remarkably agile. And while some of Redclaw’s warriors had been lax in their bathing recently, none of the guards on patrol gave them more than a slight wrinkle of their noses.
Into the building they went, following closely on the heels of Uriah’s master and the servant conducting him to this secret meeting with the Order of Light. They made their way down each flight of steps, coming at last to a long marble-lined hall bearing pictograms of an all seeing eye in gold filigree. Brody and his escort entered a large door located at the end of the corridor. Uriah, Redclaw and his warrior band hastened down the hall, trying to beat the closing door.
The door closed shut. Locks fell into place—all of their own accord—separating the men inside from the outside world.
I stood before the entranced members of the Order of Light without a weapon in my hand, or on my person. Crystal shards lay scattered across the table and the room. I envisioned using those shards in order to protect myself from these men, but the fact that Grayson Stone had somehow brainwashed them into doing his bidding made me decide against it. I didn’t want the blood of possibly innocent men on my hands. Instead, I raised a clear extension around myself—having learned to make them invisible by now.
Grayson smiled. “Last chance,” he said.
The men twitched on their triggers. Evidently, he thought I was still unprotected. Neither of us realized how wrong that theory was until Uriah’s war cry resounded throughout the room.
From the surrounding walls, at least a dozen trolls leaped into the fray, becoming visible in midair. Uriah appeared closest to me, beating down two men before they managed to fire their weapons. The others attacked the remaining members of the Order of Light. Mere men had no chance against the brutish troll warriors.
Grayson, on the other hand, was no mere man. One of Uriah’s trolls attacked the charismatic Lord Stone. Grayson moved lightning quick, intercepting the screaming warrior with his ax raised over his head. Grayson disarmed the troll with a blurred move of his left hand, caught the warrior’s wrist with the same and held him there.
The troll’s fierce expression disappeared in that same moment. His eyes rolled back into his head while his body convulsed. Grayson released him, offering me his devilish smile one final time before he faded into nothing. The troll fell to the ground, spasmed a few more times and then expired before our astonished eyes.
Craven, the coward that he was, had immediately bolted behind some of the other men of the Order when the trouble started. He tapped the wall where a hidden switch was located. The panel spun around, delivering the frightened magician to whatever escape tunnel waited for him on the other side. With one of our own down, I had no time to follow after him.
On the other side of the bolted door to the chamber of the Order of Light, Grayson Stone strolled down the marbled corridor. Servants and armed guards came running down the hall. They had heard the commotion within the chamber including several gunshots.
“Lord Stone!” one of the servants called as they approached. “What has happened?”
The next few moments in the corridor saw five men fall to the barely perceptible movements of Lord Grayson Stone. His lightning quick attacks were disarming, but his touch, which allowed him to invade their physical bodies with his mind, stopped their hearts and exploded their vital organs.
Grayson smiled at the destruction of life he had caused before walking on. “All in all, a very satisfying evening,” he mused. He vanished a moment later.
The troll warrior called Brogan, who had thought to kill Grayson Stone, was quite dead. There was no external trauma that we could find. Still, Grayson had somehow managed to steal the life of this warrior.
“How did he do it?” Redclaw asked.
I was examining the body next to Uriah’s brother, trying to discern the answer.
“He’s a Descendant of some kind,” Uriah said from across the room. He was surveying the members of the Order of Light who had died during the attack. “He was bound to have some sort of special power.”
“He’s not just a Descendant.” I said. “He’s the son of Lucifer.”
That statement quieted everyone in the room.
Redclaw finally broke the silence. “Well ain’t that just peachy?” He looked up at Uriah. “This is the mess you wanted me to be a part of, Brother?”
Uriah glared back at him. “Do you really think any of the Descendants can stay out of this?”
Redclaw sighed heavily. “What now?”
Strangely, all eyes had turned to me. I regarded each of the troll warriors in turn. “We get out of this place, for one,” I said.
I stood, creating a portal through the nearest wall. The trolls lined up to go through.
“Don’t forget Brogan,” Uriah said. “We’ll need to have one of Lycean’s physicians determine how Stone killed him with only his touch.”
“I agree,” I said. “In fact, we’ll go straight to Tidus from here.”
A thought was all that was necessary to change our course. The trolls carried their fallen comrade. Uriah and I followed them through. Surely, we could get some answers in Tidus. At the very least, I had to warn the king of Grayson Stone’s treachery before the conference at the end of the week.
Coercion
Charlotte had been given an open invitation to Oliver’s home years ago, after she began working with him against the machinations of Mr. Black. That same invitation had also been reiterated by Brody as the heir to Oliver’s vast estate. Myths had been spun relating to the inability of vampires to enter a dwelling without permission. However, these stories were only partially true. They could certainly enter any place they pleased, like other people, but they could not establish a portal through magical wards apart
from that invitation.
The wards placed by Brody had been somewhat different from those used by Oliver. At least, the key to those wards was different. Brody had chosen to lock out unwanted visitors with the use of scripture as the key. He assumed that an angel would never utter the key phrase, even if they knew it.
As Charlotte invoked the key a pang of guilt touched her. “Jesus Christ is Lord,” she said.
Her brethren among the Breed stood by, listening as she bypassed Brody’s wards against intruders.
“Clever,” Alexander commented.
Charlotte and the others watched as a wisp of one of Brody’s recently used portals appeared nearby. As vampires they were unable to do much in the way of establishing their own portals. However, they were quite keen to the telltale traces of portals created and used by others. These they could pass through just as easily as any other Descendant.
Alexander looked down at Charlotte, grinning. “Shall we see if Mr. West is home?”
“You promised Brody would not be harmed,” Charlotte said.
“And as long as he cooperates, I will keep that promise,” Alexander said, striding toward the portal.
The other Breed warriors under Alexander’s command followed him, never making a sound. Charlotte sighed and then fell in line with them. Guilt lingered in the back of her mind. She knew Brody would consider this a betrayal of his trust.
She mustered her reasons, ready to give an answer. He had, after all, refused to open a portal into Greystone, even though he was probably able now to do so. He always argued of the danger vampires posed to mortals.
Presupposed dangers to mortals were of little consequence to Charlotte. Her people were dying. She had to do something, anything she could, to save them. Even though he would doubtless be angry, she hoped he would come to understand. Irregardless, she would do what was in the best interest of her people.
