by James Somers
Sophia smiled at Brody sitting across from her at the small table for two that was set up inside one of the palace’s sitting rooms. She had chosen this place because of the stone fire pit that was kept burning here. It provided the atmosphere she wanted for a dinner with her suitor.
Above the fire pit, the roof was open to the night sky, allowing the moon’s pale light to fall upon them, mingling with the flickering amber glow of the fire. She had been asking when they would have the opportunity to attend one of London’s plays. Brody had promised to escort her to one, but now he was teasing her that time might not permit it anytime soon.
She was about to return his teasing with a quip about another suitor who might take her in his place, when a thunderous explosion resounded throughout the city from nearby. Brody leaped out of the chair.
“What’s happening?” Sophia cried, as Brody began to cross the room toward a window that might provide some answer. She ran to him as he peered outside. One of Tidus’s buildings had been leveled near the opposite wing of the palace—the wing where the king had his private chambers.
“Your father might be in danger,” Brody said, as he surveyed the destruction.
“We have to get to him,” she said, starting to bolt away.
Brody grabbed her arm. “You go make sure he’s safe,” he said. “I’ll see about the explosion.”
Sophia hugged his neck quickly. “Be careful,” she said. Then she let him go as she headed down the hall that would lead her through the middle of the palace and on to where she hoped to find her father safely calling for his soldiers to investigate what was happening. Behind her, Brody vanished, no doubt making his way as quickly as possible to the scene of the blast.
Kron stood over Lycean with his bow in his left hand. Two arrow shafts stuck out of the king’s body at odd angles of entry, their feather fletches quivering in the cool breeze. Kron flinched as he realized someone else had entered the clearing from the trees. He raised his bow, nocking an arrow instinctively. Helios, the king’s personal bodyguard and master assassin, stood fifty paces away.
“Kron, what has happened?” he called.
Kron did not bother to hesitate. Helios was no fool. He had to have already guessed that he was the one that killed Lycean. Why he was here, Kron had no idea. But the man was too dangerous to leave alive now.
He released his bowstring. Helios responded instantly with his Mover’s telekinesis. The arrow shaft shattered in mid-flight. He thrust his hand toward Kron, knocking the Lycan general backward to the ground, his bow flying from his hand.
Helios now had control of the situation. He lifted Kron from the ground with his mind, holding the general up before him, his feet dangling. “How could you do it?” Helios asked. “Lycean gave you your rank and station. He was your greatest supporter.”
Lycean’s master assassin never felt the hand that gripped his shoulder from behind. He only registered the mind-numbing pain coursing through his body. Kron fell to the ground as Helios lost the control he had possessed only a moment ago. The master assassin’s body shuddered and then lurched forward, falling face first onto the ground. Grayson Stone was left standing there in his place, withdrawing the hand that had touched Helios a moment ago—that hand imparting the power that had torn his nerves and vessels and burst his organs.
Kron fell to one knee. “My lord.”
“I see that Lycean is dead,” Grayson observed. “You have done what was necessary to save your people. Well done, Kron. You should get back to the city immediately. There is some commotion happening. The people will need leadership.”
Kron stood to his feet. “What about the bodies, my lord?”
Grayson barely glanced at the corpses. “The buzzards need feeding like anyone else,” he said. “Come. I’ll see you back to the city before your absence is noted.”
Kron walked past Lycean, stepping over the body of Helios. Grayson clasped his hand. They both disappeared from the meadow, leaving the King of Tidus and his master assassin for the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air.
Exposure
Sophia’s racing heart kept pace with her speeding legs, carrying her toward her father’s wing of the palace. She prayed in her mind as she ran. Brody had shared his faith with her months ago, and she had embraced his beliefs. Not because of her infatuation with him, but because she had seen the truth of his convictions. Now, she appealed to God to keep her father safe because any attack on Tidus must be an attack upon the king.
Passing swiftly through an atrium, Sophia caught a familiar scent in the air. She skidded across the polished marble tile, slipping so that she had to catch herself with her hands on the floor. A poison dart passed over Sophia’s left shoulder, barely missing her bare olive skin.
She spotted Charlotte clinging to a beam where the roof joined one of the atrium walls. The vampire woman was holding a blowgun to her lips. Sophia waited for the fall of Charlotte’s chest as she exhaled through the weapon. Sophia twisted away, allowing the dart to pass by harmlessly.
Sophia swept her arm around a ceramic vase full of soil and a decorative plant, flinging it toward the vampire. The projectile forced Charlotte out of her perch. It shattered behind her as she dropped to the marble floor, showering her and the room with dirt.
“Are you the one behind this attack on my city?” Sophia asked. She had never trusted Charlotte. The fact that she was a vampire was reason enough for any Lycan to distrust her. The fact that she supposedly had a friendship with Brody, yet had been hounding him to open the way to Greystone was another.
Charlotte tossed the hollow metal tube aside as she stalked toward Sophia. “I don’t want to hurt you, girl, but I will if you don’t come along quietly.”
“What’s this about?” Sophia asked. She remembered the dagger she kept hidden at the small of her back. Her father had long ago insisted upon her wearing it, despite his daughter’s complaints. Now, she saw his wisdom and forethought. How she wished he was here right now, or that she had not separated herself from Brody.
“This is about desperation,” Charlotte said coldly. “Desperation Brody has forced me to live with.”
Sophia understood the matter completely now. “And you suppose that by kidnapping me you will force him to bow to your wishes for a portal into Greystone?”
Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Exactly,” she said. “I know of his feelings for you. He would not risk your life, not for anything.”
The vampire flexed her fingers as she paused, preparing for the fight both of them knew was coming.
“You’re supposed to be his friend,” Sophia said. “How could you betray him like this?”
“It’s very simple,” Charlotte said. “I will not let my people die.”
The vampire lunged forward. Sophia drew her blade defensively. Charlotte smiled, and Sophia realized the vampire had forced her to reveal her weapon before it was convenient. Resolve burned in Charlotte’s eyes while Sophia brandished the blade toward her.
The Breed woman would not be dissuaded by it. Sophia realized the advantage Charlotte had on her: she was older, and stronger, and likely had seen real battle. Sophia, on the other hand, was inexperienced despite her royal training with Master Helios. And she did not possess the strength or cunning of the Lycan warriors serving in her father’s military.
Charlotte came towards her fast. Sophia stabbed out with the blade, realizing too late that it was a mistake. Charlotte anticipated her response and was ready to capitalize on it. She struck Sophia’s wrist hard, dislodging the weapon, as she drove a knuckle at her carotid. She had applied just enough pressure.
Sophia staggered backward, wobbling in her effort to stand. Then she collapsed to the floor. Charlotte lunged forward to catch her before her head could strike the marble tile. The last thing she wanted was to kill the girl. Such a blunder would not only destroy any chance of getting Brody to open a portal into Greystone, it would set him toward destroying her and any vampires he could find. And she underst
ood that the young man now commanded enough power to carry out such vengeance.
Charlotte scooped Sophia’s body into her arms. With her strength, the girl seemed to weigh almost nothing. She moved quickly back toward the throne room. Fortunately, her diversion had done its job well. All of Tidus’s warriors were either on the scene, or on their way.
The few guards she had encountered on her way through the palace had already been incapacitated with poison darts. As she found her way back to the throne room with the Lycan princess slung over her shoulder, Charlotte encountered no resistance. Everyone in Tidus was oblivious to their true loss, having been baited away from the palace. Her mission completed, Charlotte passed through the portal she had come by, leaving chaos in her wake.
Tom had already spent two days trudging across the valley toward the Castle of Giants. With the cold, his progress seemed extremely slow. The snow had already hidden several deep ravines from him and had nearly cost him his life. Now, he stomped along with a walking stick in his hand, testing the snow covered ground before setting his feet there.
His view of the castle was now obscured by the forest nestled at the base of the mountain. Evergreens featured prominently here. Unfortunately, their bristled branches, hanging down to the ground, kept much hidden from his view. However, his elf’s ears had picked up a pack of wolves tracking his progress. He lost sound of them at times, but he knew they would not have abandoned him as a means of prey.
Tom hoped that he might reach the castle before anything more had to be done about them, but he doubted that would be the case. No doubt, game was scarce, making him a welcome feast for a hungry pack.
Night would be upon him soon, and there was too much of the journey left to make. He might attempt it, but Tom already knew he would end up lost in these woods without any visual landmarks to lead him. He stopped, deciding he would risk making camp for the night.
Tom contemplated making another attempt at a portal that would put him in the castle. He had tried and failed three times along his way. Unfortunately, portals took so much of his strength and he had had hardly any rest or food. He sighed. It wasn’t worth the effort. At least, he had enough energy left for a fire and a tent.
He spread his hands out toward the space of ground before him. A white burlap tent appeared, already staked out with a pile of heavy animal furs inside to keep him warm and comfortable through the night. A fire pit also appeared, roaring flames upon a mound of black coal that would burn longer than wood.
Turning himself in a circle, Tom conjured a ring of fire to encompass his meager camp. Likely, that would keep the wolves out. He inspected his creation one last time and then retreated into his tent for the night.
The call of the wild woke him hours later. He had gone to sleep to a frigid, howling wind, only to wake to a howling of a different kind altogether. Through the wall of his tent, Tom was relieved to see that his wall of flame was still in place. Still, he had better investigate in case the wolves needed more incentive to leave him alone.
After all, his fire was only fire in appearance. It possessed flickering flame as light and some heat, but not the intensity or destructive power of the real thing. As dumb animals they might be fooled by it, unless they were starving. In that case, they might risk it anyway.
He crawled out of the flap and stood up, stretching his back. Beyond the circle of firelight, Tom saw many pairs of eyes watching him. A cursory count revealed twenty wolves encircling his camp.
However, these wolves did not behave as he might have expected. There was no pacing, growling, or howling going on. Every one of them was facing his camp, standing stock still, watching and waiting.
Tom decided to make the first move. He walked around the perimeter of the flaming circle, meeting their eyes in turn. Normally, this should have provoked some response, at least from the alpha. None of them moved, though their gazes never left him.
He raised his right hand then lowered it a little, causing his faux fire to diminish by half, so that he was now looking at the largest wolf directly. Still, none of them moved. On a hunch, Tom decided to chance addressing the big wolf.
“Odd to find Lycans in Greystone,” he said.
The wolf glanced at his fellows before looking back to Tom. He paced forward a few steps before speaking.
“I know you,” the werewolf said in a deep voice filled with contempt.
“Let me guess,” Tom said, “you never forget a face?”
“I know your stink,” the werewolf replied. “You reek of vampires.”
“That might be because they’re trying to kill me,” Tom replied.
“You are Sinister’s toady,” the werewolf shot back.
Tom grinned. “I might actually take issue with the word toady,” he said. “However, I can understand why you would think that, but matters in the mortal world have changed.”
The werewolf didn’t seem convinced. “Really, how so?”
“For one, Sinister is dead, and Mr. Black has been consigned to Tartarus indefinitely,” Tom explained. “Both me and Sinister turned against Black, which is why he’s dead. Black killed him.”
“An interesting story,” the werewolf said. “But I have no reason to believe it.”
“I really couldn’t care less what you believe,” Tom said, growing annoyed. “My only concern is staying away from the vampires. They’re trapped in Greystone, thirsting into madness.”
The werewolf and his fellows glanced at one another knowingly.
“Maybe I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know?” Tom asked. “By the way, why are you here so far from home?”
“We were sent by Lycean to assassinate Tiberius and located the missing humans.”
“Well, since Tiberius is alive, I guess that didn’t work out so well,” Tom said.
“We found where the humans were being held, at the castle upon the mountain, however they disappeared before we could get word back to our king. Tiberius and the others have, as you’ve said, gone mad with thirst since the humans disappeared. We found ourselves the hunted instead of the hunters, so we retreated to this forest and the mountain. Our attempt at leaving by the portal at Stonehenge has failed.”
Tom and the werewolf considered one another for a moment. “So, what now?” Tom asked. “Should we just kill each other, or maybe work together to get out of this place?”
The leading werewolf narrowed his eyes. He glanced again at his Lycan fellows still encircling Tom’s camp. They returned his gaze.
“We have had our fill of this accursed place,” he said finally. “We will work with you to escape Greystone.”
Tom smiled. “Good, I’m glad to—”
“However,” the werewolf continued, interrupting him, “if you attempt to deceive us, or betray us to the Breed, I’ll tear your heart out myself.”
Tom’s sighed, narrowing his gaze. “Lovely.”
Tragedy
Two Lycan guards had been killed in the explosion that decimated one of their armories. I had gotten to the scene quickly as efforts to fight the resulting fire began. My lessons with Master Helios on Moving had been instrumental in bringing water to the remainder of the structure in order to put it out.
I had absconded with the water from Tidus’s nearby decorative fountains in order to accomplish the task. Many mesmerized Lycan soldiers had stood by with mouths agape, watching as thousands of gallons of blue-dyed water wound its way through the city like a serpent to come crashing down upon the inferno.
In our rush to put out the fire and see to any injuries, none of us on the scene had stopped to consider the reason why neither King Lycean, or his daughter Sophia had arrived to investigate the explosion. In fact, it was not until I returned to the palace that I became aware of the frenzied search underway for them both. Servants and soldiers alike were organizing groups to search the entire city.
Slowly, but surely, the puzzle pieces began to come back to me in the throne room where Lycean’s administrators had conven
ed an emergency council. To begin with, nearly a dozen palace guards had been incapacitated with poison darts. Gerard, Lycean’s personal physician, had tested the toxins.
“From a species of South American frogs, I should think,” he said. “The toxin would kill the average mortal, as well as most Descendants. Fortunately, Lycans are merely rendered unconscious for a day, or so.”
Secondly, the explosion at the building had at first been thought to be an accident—the guards having knocked a lantern into a crate of explosives. However, the evidence of poison darts had led to a more thorough search of the scene. Lycan soldiers had scented out the same toxic darts as those used on the palace guards.
“What can it mean?” one of the king’s administrators had asked.
“It means the explosion was a diversion,” I said.
“To divert us from what,” General Kron asked.
“From the king and his daughter,” I replied.
“But who would do such a thing?” asked another.
“One person comes to mind,” I said.
Kron pounded the table. “The vampires must be behind this! It’s the only possible answer.”
“The vampires!” agreed the other administrators quickly.
“Have you forgotten that the vampires are still trapped inside Greystone?” I asked before an attack could be ordered. “Kron’s supposition doesn’t make sense.”
“But who else could it be?” Kron growled.
“What about Grayson Stone?” I asked. “After Lord Stone attacked me at Whitehall, King Lycean had confirmed a plan to postpone the meeting with Stone. He’s a threat to the Descendant clans.”
Kron came to his feet. “He champions our cause,” he said. “Lord Stone hates our vampire enemies. He could lead us against them to victory.”
