by James Somers
“And you know this how?” I asked.
Kron paused, uncertain. “His position against the vampires is well known among the clans,” he said. “It would be a hasty mistake to accuse him when we have no proof.”
I remained seated, staring at Kron with my fingers steepled before me. “I have all the proof I need to understand Stone’s motives and ambitions,” I said. “He is a son of Lucifer, the Father of Lies. Eliminating Lycean as a threat to his ascension among the Descendant clans makes perfect sense.”
“We don’t know that Lycean and his daughter are dead,” he said.
“True,” I admitted. “But we do know that they weren’t together when the explosion occurred. Lycean’s personal guards reported him going off by himself toward the river. Sophia was with me, until she went to alert her father of the explosion.”
“With you?” Kron commented disdainfully. “That seems a curious situation.”
I glared at Kron.
“Curious how?” one of the administrators asked.
“If Mr. West wanted revenge against Lord Stone for their conflict, he might have caused the explosion as a diversion. He does possess the power to do so, does he not?”
Much murmuring ensued.
“I wouldn’t need poison darts to incapacitate the Lycan guards,” I countered.
“A clever ruse to keep us off of your trail,” Kron shot back.
The portal into the throne room rippled the air and then deposited Uriah into the chamber with us. The others seemed startled by his sudden appearance, despite the fact that Lycean had long given us the freedom to come and go in Tidus at will. He surveyed the room, finding me with a grave but puzzled look on his face. Of course, he had no idea what had transpired since his leaving with his brother and the body of Brogan.
Kron glared at Uriah maliciously and then back to me. “Has your accomplice come back from kidnapping our princess?”
I waved Uriah’s possible response down with my hand before answering. “You know quite well, as does this council, that Uriah’s friend was killed by Grayson Stone earlier this evening, and that Uriah has been away, escorting Brogan’s body back to his family. I suppose his death was all part of our plan.”
Kron did not reply.
Just then, one of the guards, that had been out searching for Lycean, returned to the throne room. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were red, possibly from weeping. Everyone took a deep breath in expectation of the news he had come to deliver.
“Is there news of the king?” one of the administrators asked.
“King Lycean is dead.” The guard looked as though he would rather cut out his own tongue than say the words.
“How?” I asked quickly.
“Beyond the river, in the forest,” he said. “He was murdered along with Master Helios.”
Gasps rang out in the throne room. Lycean’s administrators all held bewildered expressions on their faces. Only Kron seemed removed from an emotional response. Nevertheless, he accepted the news in a grave manner. As I watched him, he met my gaze with malice in his eyes.
Beyond my suspicion of the Lycan general, my mind went numb. Two of my dear friends were now confirmed dead—murdered as part of some greater plot that was only beginning to be revealed. My mind seemed disconnected from my body. I wasn’t even sure if I was still breathing. Vying for preeminence, however, was the uncertainty of Sophia’s fate. What had happened to my love, and would I ever see her again?”
We waited impatiently as the bodies of King Lycean and Master Helios were brought into the throne room before the council upon stretchers—each carried by a pair of weeping Lycan soldiers. Lycean had been a much loved king, and Helios, though not a Lycan, had endeared himself to the soldiers through his specialized training techniques and his care for their king.
Both bodies remained as they had been in their deaths. Lycean had retained two arrow shafts protruding from his shoulder and his breastbone. Lycean had at least attempted to avoid his attacker since the shoulder wound had to have been inflicted first. A miss that had been rectified after the king was wounded and less agile, no doubt.
Helios, however, had no such wounds. His face was contorted into a mask of agony. I glanced at Uriah next to me. We had seen this before when Brogan was killed. I looked at Kron, finding him staring at me already.
Before I could speak, Kron broke our awestruck silence, bringing his sword from its sheath, striking the table where Lycean lay, driving the blade into the wood.
“The death of our king must be avenged!” he cried.
The other Lycans in the throne room answered emotionally with the same cries for vengeance. I tried to speak, but the chorus of contempt that Kron quickly stirred, by his posturing, overrode anyone else. He cried out again, “Death to our enemies! Death to the vampires, and all who would side with them!”
The ensuing frenzy swept up the soldiers bearing the bodies, using their hatred for the Breed and their sorrow at the loss of their king as fuel for the fire. The administrators, as well, were carried away with this tide. Kron eyed me as the others continued their cries. I noticed a sly grin creasing the left side of his mouth.
“These intruders,” he said, pointing to Uriah and me, “are allies with the vampires! He brought the vampire woman into our sacred city, deceiving our glorious King Lycean, so that he could unleash this betrayal and finish our people.”
That was it. We had no voice in this place now. The soldiers and administrators had for the briefest moment, during this tirade, questioned in their mind how I could be a traitor to their king. However, once Kron mentioned Charlotte’s visits to Tidus, it was all over. They connected the dots just as Kron wanted.
The soldiers turned on me, as the elder administrators moved away from my side quickly, lest they come too near to so vile and wicked a betrayer. I was guilty in their eyes without any trial or viable evidence against me. Spears came into play and swords were drawn from sheaths. Lycan soldiers became half man and half beast in their fury for justice, no matter who suffered for it.
Uriah leaped to my aid, separating me from the encroaching band. His ferocious roar startled the soldiers, but they would not be held back now by a single troll warrior—not when the body of their slain king lay in the room with them, his blood crying out for justice. I seized Uriah by the arm and wrapped a portal around us with my mind that delivered us from Tidus back to my library. Cries of Lycan hatred followed our departure.
Kron hurled his sword after the boy and his troll servant, as their forms dissolved. The metal blade passed harmlessly through their fading images, clanging loudly against the marble floor of the throne room. Others threw their short spears in solidarity with their general, so that a dozen weapons lay heaped near a far pillar helping to support the massive stonework above.
Kron knew the value of the act rested not in any possibility of killing Brody West so easily. Rather, it was the call for a response that thrilled him. He had made the boy an enemy of his people with cunning words and emotional bravado. Inwardly, he congratulated himself for his quick thinking. He had seized upon the moment to glorious effect. Now was no time to falter.
“Death to the betrayers of our people!” he cried.
Every angry, hurt Lycan in the chamber cried out the same. They desired someone to blame for this tragedy, and Kron had fed them one of the king’s most trusted friends. The iron was hot, and it was time to strike.
“My brethren,” he said as their clamorous cacophony began to subside, “with our king murdered and our princess stolen, I offer myself as a servant to lead our people as we exact retribution for these heinous crimes!”
Soldiers immediately rallied around Kron as the obvious successor in the absence of a royal heir. The council members, seeing no other alternative, consented to the proposal, accepting Kron as a hero who would surely bring those responsible to justice. They did not consider the repercussions of such a rash action, nor did they give any further attention to the evidence presented
by the bodies of the slain. Action was called for now, not inquiry.
“I swear to you, my brethren, that I will seek out these vile murderers,” Kron said, “and I will find what they have done with our beloved princess, Sophia. If she has been harmed,” here he appeared to be overcome by emotion, nearly choking on the words, “if she has been harmed, our enemies will beg for death and rue the days when their mothers bore them!”
Perilous
Tom followed the wolves through the dark forest, winding through evergreens, none of them brushing so much as a snowflake from the feathery branches. He wasn’t sure about the tenuous truce he had undertaken with their leader, a Lycan named Thorn. Even now, as he marched at their pace, surrounded by wolves, he wondered if at any moment they might pounce and rend his flesh in this lonely wood.
Still, despite his long alliance with Sinister and the Breed, Tom had always known the Lycans as a people holding to a deep sense of honor. Vampires might betray you at a moment’s notice, but Lycans rarely did. Moreover, these were soldiers. Thorn had given his word and he would not break it.
Their troop made its way for more than two hours, by Tom’s best estimation, through the woods until the moonshine finally revealed the sheer face of the mountain before them. Even in the dim light, Tom’s preternatural eyesight showed him their destination. A rent in the rock became wider as it met the earth, a cave that delved deep within the mountain. Thorn led them inside.
A winding passage opened up within. Tom created a sprite to light their way—a fluttering luminosity under his direction that had often been mistaken by mortals for sentient fairy creatures of the same name. The sprite flew overhead, casting light for their way. Though he was sure the Lycans, with their nearly unequaled night vision, did not require it, Tom was less attuned to total darkness.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Thorn’s voice echoed back to him. “We have another way into the castle—a secret way that has allowed us to pilfer supplies as needed.”
“I guess you’re in need?”
“The vampires, in their current madness, have decimated any game left to hunt. We would be starving, if not for our fortunate happening upon this way into the giant’s home.”
Tom thought about his flight from the vampires. He was glad for his current predicament by comparison. Still, Thorn’s news about the scarcity of game in this area meant that the vampires were active even this far from their home city.
The trek through the mountain was long and arduous for Tom. He realized he wasn’t used to this sort of thing after dwelling in London for so long. Paved lanes and stair steps were a far cry from this crawling about and squeezing through narrow cracks. The air was much warmer than he might have suspected. Still, there were pools of water gathering in crevices that he and his newfound companions were able to drink from.
By the time they got near the castle, Tom knew from a distinct change in the air. “Smells like a giant privy,” he commented.
His sprite hovered near Thorn’s head as the werewolf transformed into human form, giving Tom a sardonic look. “Do you think?”
“Oh, great,” Tom said. “We’re coming through a giant toilet?”
“A crevasse that long ago opened up around the vent pipe to be exact,” Thorn said.
“No wonder it stinks down here,” Tom said.
“Up here,” Thorn rebutted. “We’re high up in the castle now. This will bring us into one of their storerooms. They keep salted meats hung there along with many other supplies.”
“And you steal from them?” Tom asked.
“You helped the vampires steal mortals and you question our morality? They are the enemy, and we would starve otherwise,” Thorn said.
Tom threw up his hands. “Hey, I’m not criticizing you,” he insisted. “Just wanted to understand our plans here.”
The other werewolves also returned to their human forms, preparing to move into the castle through a crevasse ahead with light pouring through.
“Our plan is to get in and get out, each of us with as much supplies as he can carry,” Thorn explained. “What you take is what you live on for the next few days.”
Tom smiled, giving the Lycan a cheerful thumbs up. Thorn was not amused.
“Must you make a joke of everything?” he asked. “You might not come out alive, elf.”
Tom grinned as he walked to the head of their line. “If I don’t, then you can have my share.” He snapped his fingers and vanished.
Sophia awoke with pain radiating down the left side of her neck, through her shoulder into her left arm and down her back. For a brief moment, the world around her was a blur. She could not remember what had happened. Then, as the room around her came into focus, she remembered the vampire woman and her betrayal.
Charlotte had won their fight. Sophia had known when she encountered her alone in the atrium that she likely would not win the confrontation. The vampire had age and experience on her side. Still, she had tried to fight.
The blow Charlotte had dealt her felt like a deep bruise. Had she been a mortal, the vampire’s strength would have shattered all of the bones incorporated within her left shoulder. As it was, she remained whole, but the soreness might last a few days.
Sophia took stock of her predicament. She had been kidnapped and taken from her home in Tidus. The surrounding building appeared to be ancient. The only available light filtered in through grimy, fractured images of the Virgin Mary and her Christ child. She realized she must be located in an old Christian church. There was no telling if she was in London or not. She had not been gagged, or bound to the simple wooden chair where she was sitting.
Her keen sense of smell brought her the scent of vampires in the room. Her preternatural sight picked them out almost instantly. A towering specimen, closest to her, watched her like a gargoyle from the shadows, standing as rigid as stone. Four others, likely lower in rank, held flanking positions to either side of the big one. Charlotte was nowhere to be found.
“Who are you?” Sophia asked.
“Someone who will not hesitate to render unimaginable pain upon your small body if Mr. West refuses to open the portal into Greystone,” he said.
“Your name? Or do you fear the retribution that will come if you harm me?”
“Alexander,” he replied. “And I fear nothing—least of all feeble reprisals from dogs such as you.”
Sophia stood slowly, attempting to show her captors that she did not fear them either. “Then why this sneaking about?” she asked. “Why not come against my father’s army openly. You have no honor.”
To mortal eyes, Alexander became little more than blur and shadow, crossing the space between them in a fraction of a second. He loomed over Sophia, but she did not flinch.
“It is not an army that I wish to crush, but the will of your young suitor,” Alexander threatened. “Being in love with you will naturally make him pliable to any demands that might ensure your safety.”
His wide grin revealed his fangs. However, Sophia still showed no fear of him. She knew his name from war-time talk between her father and his advisors, but she had never laid eyes on him.
“Then you’ve bound yourself with the same shackles,” Sophia said confidently. “If I am harmed, he will never meet your demands.”
“A simple exchange is all I desire, for the time being,” he said. “After Greystone is reopened, I’ll have all the time in the world to crush the Lycan dogs beneath my heels.”
He expects Brody to give in to his demands, she realized. He may be right.
Betrayal
My library came into focus again, as our portal deposited Uriah and me back at the manor house. The distant echo of Lycan curses was abruptly silenced as our gateway closed upon itself. We had apparently left just in time to avoid a fight.
“Are you all right, sir?” Uriah asked, giving me a quick examination to be sure.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Thank you for risking yourself. I’m afraid they now believ
e you to be my accomplice in all of this mess.”
I walked away from Uriah, across the room, toward my desk. My legs suddenly felt very heavy. The weight of the situation fell upon me. My loyal friends, Lycean and Helios, were dead, and Sophia was missing—presumably taken by the same people that had murdered the king and his master assassin. I had been tricked, along with the rest of the citizens in Tidus, and had not possessed the forethought to see it all coming and stop it from happening.
I leaned against the desk as tears forced themselves into my eyes, spilling across my cheeks.
“Sir, I—” Uriah began, then paused not knowing what to say.
“Sorry, my friend,” I said, “I’m just not sure where to begin in order to rectify all that has happened. Oliver would have known what to do. I’m just a child by comparison.”
Uriah crossed the room slowly toward me. “You are young, my lord, but I see how you have been blessed with power and wisdom beyond your years.”
We heard tromping footsteps approaching from outside the library in the hall. The door opened. Redclaw strode inside.
“You’re back,” he said. “Good, did you tell him about the woman?”
Uriah hesitated. “I was just getting to that, brother.”
I glanced toward Redclaw and then to Uriah. “What woman?” I asked.
My carriage carried Uriah, myself, and Redclaw toward the designated location where we were intended to meet the woman to whom the troll warrior had been referring. My fury over this new player in the attack on Tidus was barely contained during the course of our ride. Uriah, of all people, had encouraged me to do my best to remain calm for Sophia’s sake.
The carriage stopped at Trafalgar Square, and we exited promptly. My pocket watch displayed a time of twelve o’clock midnight. A halo of fog encircled us, leaving the square open within. Uriah and I walked to Nelson’s Column, jutting into the night sky, surrounded by four sculpted lions that kept watch over it.
