A Tale of Two Vampires

by Katie MacAlister

  He looked where Io pointed to a booth covered in black canvas with gold runes painted on it. “My daughter is a soothsayer?”

  “She reads rune stones, yes.” Io bit her delicious lower lip, instantly causing him to want to do the same. “I wonder where she went? This is all sorts of anticlimactic, Nikola. I was ready for a happy reunion. I brought tissues and everything, in case Imogen cried buckets at seeing her beloved daddy risen from the grave—hey!”

  Io rammed into him, half turning as she did so to glare back at the person who had shoved her.

  Nikola turned to deal with the rude person, but at that moment, the crowd of fairgoers went berserk as a sense of pandemonium gripped them. Women screamed, men shouted, children shrieked in fear, and all of them turned as one body and stampeded past Nikola and Io to the open end of the fair, and safety.

  “What on earth—” Io started to say.

  Nikola thrust her into the space between his daughter’s booth and the one next to it, standing protectively in front of her so that she wouldn’t be trampled.

  “What’s going on?” Io said, nudging his back and trying to peer over his shoulder.

  The crowd streaming past them began to thin, and he could see at the far end three men who were stalking down the center aisle, sweeping bloodied scythes before them. “It would appear the grim reaper is here. And he is a triplet.”

  “Who? And what?”

  Io pushed him so she could see, but he stood solid, his gaze narrowed on the three men as they approached. “Perhaps it isn’t the grim reaper—there are three men, and other than the blood-splattered scythes they are all holding, they appear perfectly ordinary.”

  “Liches!” a woman with short red hair yelled as she bolted past them, following on the heels of the crowd. “For the love of the goddess, everyone take shelter! Liches are here!”

  “I stand corrected,” Nikola said, watching the men. “They are evidently liches.”

  “What’s a lich?” Io asked, holding his shoulder and craning her head to see them.

  “I have no idea. Assumedly someone who slaughters others with iron farm implements. No, remain behind me, there is no time for me to find a place for you to seek shelter as that woman advised. I will keep you safe from harm.”

  “OK, one, that he-man crap doesn’t pull a lot of weight with me. Well, a little, because I appreciate the fact that you’re standing there thinking about ways of disarming them should they come after us, and I flunked out of my self-defense class because I get squeamish about hitting people, and yes, I know that’s not the right attitude to have when defending oneself—lord knows, my instructor kept telling me that self-defense wasn’t about anything but keeping yourself safe—but regardless, I do appreciate it, and at the same time, I don’t. If you know what I mean. Which I can see that you don’t by the fact that you’re looking at me like I’m one antler short of a reindeer.”

  Your conversations never fail to interest me, sweetling, but now is not the time for blethering.

  I was not blethering! she said, mentally bristling. I never blether! I am not a bletherer! What’s blethering? Wait, it’s like babbling, isn’t it? Well, Mr. My Words Are Like Pearls from a Swine’s Ear—

  Sow.

  I beg your pardon?

  It’s pearls from a sow’s ear, not swine’s ear. “What the devil?”

  A small group of people ran past them from the opposite direction, a man and two women, one of whom had familiar long, blond hair.

  “Oh, look, there’s Imogen,” Io said helpfully, clutching his shoulders as she peered around his head. “And I think that’s your son. Hell’s teeth! That’s one heck of a big sword Ben’s carrying!”

  Two other men approached, clearly following on the heels of the threesome. Nikola noted the two swords held by one of the men, and the large ax held by the other.

  “Stay here,” he said, and, reaching out, snatched one of the swords from the closest of the two men.

  “What? Nikola! Dammit, man! I will not be left—holy deranged ax murderers!”

  Io followed him, much to his irritation. I asked you to stay back, Io, and I expect you to honor that request.

  It wasn’t a request, it was an order. An annoying and unrealistic order. One that I’d have to be an idiot to follow, so you can just stop thinking about tying me to the booth, and instead pay attention to the dude with the beard, because he doesn’t look any too happy about you taking his sword, and I think he’s going to—look out!

  Io screamed just as the man whom he had de-sworded swung at him. Everything seemed to happen at once: He slammed the hilt of the sword against the head of the man, sending him reeling backward, then on the backswing, parried a thrust by the man holding the ax, tripping him so he, too, fell over backward, crashing heavily against one of the booths. The sounds of breaking wood, tearing canvas, and the tinkle of shattered glass were followed by some profane oaths. In front of him, the man and two women stopped to look back just as the three scythe holders shouted, and ran forward toward them.

  “Papa?” he heard the blond woman ask, her voice filled with incredulity.

  “Nikola, wait,” Io yelled, leaping over the prone form of the man with the ax, stopping to kick out his leg from under him when he tried to rise and disentangle himself from the booth.

  When we return home, I will make sure to find the time to explain to you why it is that you must attend to me when I give orders, he told Io sternly as she ran up behind him, clutching the back of his shirt. Do not block my arms, sweetling. I must be able to swing the sword, and I can’t do that if you are clinging to me.

  Oh, sorry. She let go, her concern for him warming him to the tips of his toes. She truly cared about what happened to him, and was honestly worried that he would be harmed. He cherished that sentiment almost as much as he cherished the silk undergarments that made wearing tight breeches extremely comfortable.

  Seriously? You’re fawning over your undies now? I can understand some of that, because you look really hot in them, and I just want to fondle…but no, now is not the time. Pay attention, Nikola. There are baddies in front and behind you. We can discuss your underwear later, in the hotel room.

  I am a Dark One, he reminded her, striding forward past where Imogen was standing and staring at him with an open mouth. You will cease worrying. It is extremely difficult to kill me. “Imogen, you will catch flies if your mouth hangs open like that. Benedikt, stand back. I will attend to these ruffians.”

  “Who the hockey pucks is that?” the tall woman next to his son asked, giving him a less-than-friendly look.

  Benedikt looked older than when he had last seen him, but Nikola felt a swell of pride that his son had grown to be a man of prepossessing appearance. “Your mother would be pleased,” he told his son before swinging his sword, catching the nearest of the scythe wielders on the shoulder, neatly severing his arm.

  The man stopped dead in his tracks, looking in blank astonishment at the sight of his arm—still holding the bloody scythe—lying on the ground in front of him. “Oy!”

  The man nearest him also stopped, but his attention was on Benedikt, his black eyes narrowed until they were veritable slits. “There’s the Dark One! Kill the women and take him!”

  “That’s my arm!” the first man said, looking from the blood spurting from his shoulder down to the arm on the ground. “Oy!”

  “Over my dead body,” Benedikt growled, focused now on the threatening man. He swung a large two-handed sword that Nikola instantly coveted.

  “Hell’s teeth, you just cut off that guy’s arm!” Io gasped. “You just…it’s…it’s right there on the ground. An arm. On the ground. Not attached or anything. Are you OK?”

  The man she was addressing looked from his arm to Io. “He’s had me arm off!”

  “I know, I can see it. It’s right there in front of you.”

  “Oy,” the man said a third time before nudging the arm with the toe of his shoe.

  “The master say
s we has to bring you in alive,” the middle scythe man snarled, spittle flying from his mouth, his lips pulled back in a sneer that Nikola felt he’d tolerated long enough.

  “Imogen, stand next to Io. You, too, woman,” he told the auburn-haired woman who frowned at him. “I will take care of these swine.”

  “Sow,” came a soft voice from behind him.

  Now is not the time to be witty, he told Io. “Benedikt, can you disable the smaller man? I will take care of this nasty piece of business.”

  “Your father?” the woman asked, her voice filled with surprise. “I thought you said your dad was a jerk who was in South America hitting on all sorts of scantily clad women?”

  “It’s me arm,” the one-handed scyther said, picking up the object in question. He tried to push it back onto his shoulder, but the arm just fell to the ground again. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

  “If you had a decent bone in your body, you’d die,” Nikola told him, his sword flashing in the air when the middle scythe man, his eyes widening when he got a good look at who was attacking him, snarled an obscenity that would have made a sinner blush.

  “Yes, it’s my father,” Benedikt said, giving him an odd look before rushing at the third man, who had leaped forward toward the women.

  “Hi, Fran. That South America stuff was just something Imogen told Ben, probably to keep him from being devastated that his dad was killed by his brothers. Nikola’s brothers, not Ben’s brothers. I don’t think Ben has any brothers.” Nikola, you don’t have any other children, do you?

  Now is not the time, woman! Nikola panted, alternately parrying and thrusting to disable, disarm, or smite down the man who clearly had nefarious designs against his son and daughter. It might have escaped your attention, busy as you are discussing arms and such with the potential murderer who is even now attempting to tie his severed arm onto his body using his belt—which I cannot help notice does not possess a fine embossing of castles, as my present does—but I am conducting some business that requires my full attention, and thus I will be able to engage in trivial conversation with you later, after I have dispatched these rogues.

  Oh, sure, when you blather, it’s just fine, but when I do, I’m distracting you? Men! Io winced in sympathy when the edge of the scythe slashed against his upper arm. Are you OK? That looks deep.

  Not enough to hinder me. Just stay back.

  “Imogen said what?” Fran asked, shaking her head before she hefted a large mallet that had been used to pound in a stake, and took a swing at the nearest man.

  “Io, why are you here with my father?” Imogen asked her, then spun around and shouted, “Finnvid! What are you and Eirik doing back there? Why are you playing with the aura photo booth? Come and help us kill the liches!”

  It didn’t take Nikola long to disable and destroy the middle lich—scythes being a notoriously awkward weapon to wield in close combat—after which he turned his attention to the third ruffian, but Benedikt had just knocked that man’s scythe away, and was about to skewer the man with his broadsword when the woman stopped him.

  “No, Ben, don’t!”

  “They killed four innocent mortals!” Ben snarled, raising the sword.

  The woman grabbed his arm. “I know, but killing them isn’t the answer. Besides, if we let them live—”

  Nikola twirled his sword, and neatly beheaded the lich.

  “—we can find out what they know about David. Oh.” The woman turned angry eyes to him. “Well, thank you very much, Ben’s dad! That guy might have given us just the clue we needed to find David!”

  “I’ll not tell you anything,” the lich’s head spat out, his fierce expression made somewhat less effective by the fact that there was no body attached. “Not if you tortured me!”

  “What the—hell’s toenails!” Io clutched his arm and stared at the animated head. “That guy’s head is still talking!”

  “How very curious,” Nikola said, studying the head for a moment before handing Io the sword and pulling out his notebook. “Evidently liches can’t be destroyed by a simple decapitation.”

  “You’re going to pay for this, mate,” the armless lich yelled, shaking his arm at Nikola. “It’ll cost me a packet to get this reattached, and I’m not going to pay for it meself!”

  Nikola eyed the man, then reached for the sword.

  “No,” Io said, turning away. “One decapitation is enough for me today, even if the head…wow, he really does know a lot of curse words, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s quite the potty mouth,” Benedikt’s woman agreed.

  “I feel woozy,” the one-armed lich said, and staggered to the side, collapsing next to a tent. “Someone fetch a healer!”

  The head continued to hurl abuse, alternating with some choice threats that Nikola took down carefully.

  Benedikt’s woman sighed. “Imogen, maybe we could use your scarf to gag him.”

  “I’m so glad I chose this one to wear, and not one of the good silk ones,” Imogen said, handing over a blue and purple strip of fabric. She turned to him and gazed with wide, blue eyes that reminded him of her mother. “Papa, what are you doing here?”

  “Io brought me,” he said simply, still making notes as Benedikt helped his woman tie a gag around the lich’s mouth. It tried to bite them, but eventually they got the scarf bound around the head a few times.

  “Oh!” Io stopped reading over his shoulder and went to Imogen, putting an arm around her. “I’m so sorry! We meant to do this much differently. We wanted to break it to you gently that your father was still alive, and not killed by your uncles as you’ve believed all these years, but then those men attacked—exactly what is a lich? And why did they have scythes, of all things? And then there you were, and of course, there was no time to explain everything. I hope we haven’t given you some sort of a trauma by having Nikola come back from the dead like that, but…um…well, here he is!”

  Benedikt turned to face them, his face stony. “And I wish to hell he’d go back to wherever it is he crawled from.”

  The Incredible Adventures of Iolanthe Tennyson

  July 16

  “I hope you realize just how incredibly lucky you are that at this moment I don’t have a blunt object at hand,” I told Ben, moving to stand in front of Nikola. I’m not normally an aggressive person, but I couldn’t believe what a bastard Ben was being to his father. Of all the nerve, telling him he wanted him gone!

  “Are you threatening him?” Fran asked, an expression of utter incredulity chasing amusement across her face.

  “Yes, yes, I am,” I said, lifting my chin and just daring either Ben or her to laugh at me. “Your father was excited and happy to see you again, and for you to say such hurtful and cruel things to him after what he’s been through—well, you seriously have a smack upside the head coming, that’s all I’ll say!”

  Nikola sighed and put away his notebook. “Io, do not upset yourself. You told me that Benedikt was not told the truth about my death. He is obviously reacting to whatever falsehood Imogen saw fit to tell him.”

  “I didn’t tell him a falsehood of any sort,” Imogen said slowly, her expression suddenly wary.

  “Of course you did. You told Ben that his dad was alive and kicking in Rio or somewhere, obviously because you wanted to save him the horror of knowing Nikola was killed by your uncles. I don’t blame you, although I would have thought, at seventeen, Ben could have handled the news, but you clearly felt otherwise—”

  “No, Io, I didn’t,” Imogen interrupted, moving over to stand next to Ben. “I didn’t lie to Benedikt…. I lied to you. When I said my father died that night more than three hundred years ago, I was speaking more figuratively than literally.”

  I gawked at her. What the hell?

  I don’t know. Nikola tucked away his notebook and frowned at Imogen. Obviously, something has occurred about which we know nothing.

  “Dammit, I knew if I brought you back with me, something horrible would happen to the future.
”

  “What are you talking about—there you are.” Imogen turned to face the two men whom Nikola had disabled earlier. Both men looked like they wanted to pick a fight with him.

  They’re welcome to try, Nikola said with some amusement.

  “What were you doing back there?” Imogen asked one of them, the one who was clutching the ax and glaring at Nikola. “You were supposed to help us. As it is, my father took care of the liches.”

  “Your father?” the man asked, his frown fading. “The one who ogles women in Brazil?”

  “Well, it’s better than lizards taking over,” I told Nikola. “Although really, it’s not very nice to know everyone thinks you’re a smutmonger.”

  “Smut—” Nikola pulled his notebook out and made another note.

  “Yes, that’s him. And this is Io. She’s the cousin of a friend of mine. And…erm…somehow knows my father.”

  A little blush crept up my chest. I coughed. “We…uh…”

  “Io is my lover,” Nikola said, sliding an arm around me. “She does a great many things to me that bring me much pleasure, and which I have not enjoyed since your mother died. I will not discuss them further, however, because you are yet an innocent maiden, and it is not suitable that you should know such things. However, I wish to put your mind to rest, since I know you are worried that I am lonely. Io has agreed to spend her life with me. We are in pursuit of a method by which we can make her Moravian without losing her soul. She does not wish to be soulless. I have told her it isn’t that bad, but she is adamant, and I must honor her wishes in this regard.”

  The others stared at us like we were both buck naked and dancing the cancan.

  To my complete surprise, Ben leaned forward and sniffed the air, an indefinable expression crossing his face.

  “She’s what?” Fran said almost in a shriek.

  “It’s faint, but it’s there,” Ben said, giving me an odd look. “Evidently she’s his Beloved.”

  “Look, I realize that Nikola could have broken the news about our relationship in a more fitting manner, but really, what we do behind closed doors is our business,” I told Ben, feeling irritable for some reason. “I’m sorry if it upsets you that your dad has found someone, but—”