by Amy Sumida
Golden light drifted out of mullioned windows which were adorned with polished wood grids and stained-glass masterpieces as detailed as any painting. The building spread out in a welcoming way, with a few trees placed around it to make up for the lack of gardens, and the warmth from the light within actually made it seem welcoming. A sweet country manor . . . filled with bloodsucking immortals.
We drove around to the back of the mansion and parked in a garage that looked like a miniature version of the main house. Our driver got out, and Banning quickly turned around to level a stern look on me.
“They will try your patience, Elaria,” he said hurriedly. “These are old blooders who have very little in the way of entertainment, and they will see you as such. Do not let them goad you into doing something unwise.”
“No goading, got it.” I started to pull on the door handle, but he stretched a hand out to me.
“I'm deathly serious –deathly.”
“Banning, I've dealt with gods all of my life,” I reminded him. “Gods. Your little bloodsuckers aren't anything special, compared to a god –I don't care how old they are.”
“That may be true”–he grimaced–“but there is strength in numbers. These blooders may not be the equal of gods individually, but there are more than three-hundred of them here. We'll be facing an entire gura, not just a few blooders.”
“Three-hundred?” I blinked. “I thought this was a little backwoods gura?”
“I told you, Elaria; this is the Gura,” he said with deep emphasis. “The first ever formed.”
“Yeah, but I didn't know it was like Sparta up here.”
“Sparta?” Banning frowned.
“300 . . . Gerard Butler . . . 'This is Sparta!' Come on, Banning, work with me here. Don't make me fight in the shade.”
“Are you seriously quoting a battle movie to me, right before we face a bunch of blooders who may or may not want me dead?”
“They may want you dead?” I went serious.
“Your Highness?” Our driver was standing outside Banning's door.
“'Your Highness'?” I gaped at Banning. “Banning, what the fuck is going on?”
Banning made an annoyed face, directed his annoyance briefly at the blooder outside his door –who paled (yes, it's possible for a blooder to pale)– and then Banning sighed deeply. “I am considered a prince here.”
“You're a prince?” I hooted with laughter and the blooder driver scowled at me. “I'm going to start calling you Leonidas.”
“He was a king,” Banning said dryly.
“I don't care; it's perfect, and he was a prince before he was a king,” I insisted. Then I looked him over speculatively. “Will you consider growing a pointy beard?”
“Elaria”–Banning rolled his eyes–“I know you don't think much of blooders, but please try to have some respect for us . . . at least until we leave Romania.”
“Alright, Prince Leo.” I chortled. “Oh fuck, wait till I tell Cerberus.”
“Cerberus knows,” Banning said.
“He knows and he didn't tell me?” I growled. “I'm going to kick his big, furry ass! So much time wasted on not making fun of you.”
The blooder outside the van was trying valiantly to keep his composure, but his expression was shifting through several emotions, none of which was amused.
“Elaria, please.”
“How the hell are you a prince anyway? Just tell me that before we get out of the car,” I urged. “I've read a little about Romanian culture, so I know Suceava was the capital of the Principality of Moldavia for awhile, but that –if I'm getting my dates correct– was before you were born. The princes moved to . . . oh crap, where was it again? Lasso?” I frowned and muttered, “No, that's a cowboy rope.”
“Lasi,” Banning said in an impressed tone. “I had no idea you knew so much about Romania.”
“I'm old too.” I smirked. “Nearly as old as you are.”
“But not quite,” he reminded me. “You were born right after Fortune died.”
“Yes, Banning,” I huffed. “I know. I get it. I'm your ex-girlfriend reincarnated. Everyone knows. What I don't know is why you're a prince.”
“I'm not a human prince,” he explained. “I'm a blooder prince. My blooded father is king.”
“There's a blooder king?” I didn't bother with trying to hide my shock. “How did I not know that?”
“It's not information we share.” Banning shrugged and got out of the van.
“Hey”–I hurried out after him–“we're not done here. I thought blooders were diplomatic . . . sort of. You have councils and shit like that.”
“Falcas,” he corrected me, using the blooder term for a council. “But we didn't begin as such.” Banning gestured to the driver –in a very royal way– that he should lead onward. “The first gura is home to the blooder royal line. Much like the English monarchy, it's more about respect and less about rulership.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The king holds power, but it's mainly here that he wields it,” Banning went on.
“Is that the real reason you left?” I lowered my voice.
“No,” he said succinctly.
“Your Highness.” Our driver bowed as he opened the back door of the mansion for us. This place was so fine, even the back door was amazing: carved with some sort of crest and set with panels of glass. “His Majesty awaits you in the library.”
“Thank you.” Banning nodded to the man as we walked inside.
I held it together long enough for us to get down the hallway a bit; the gorgeous, polished, wood-paneled hallway. Wall sconces, that looked older than both Banning and I, shed soft circles of light over a thick, Persian carpet which ran the entire length of the passage. How it was even possible to get a runner that long is beyond me, but it must have taken forever to weave the thing. I hoped the weaver was well compensated and not just sucked dry after all that hard work. Blooders were notorious for pulling a dine-and-dash, though the meal wasn't what they failed to pay for.
“His Majesty awaits you in the library,” I mimicked in a snobbish tone, under my breath.
“Elaria!” Banning hissed.
“Sorry, that was immature.”
Banning gave me a satisfied look.
“Your High-and-mighty-ness.”
“Dear merciful gods, take me now, and save me from the humor of a spellsinger,” Banning groaned.
“This is Romania!” I whispered dramatically.
“Please stop with the 300 jokes.”
“Nice digs.” I ignored him and looked over a painting we passed. “I think I saw that one in a home in the Hamptons. Which one do you think is the original?”
“Sweet succubi!” Banning stopped dead in his tracks. “I swear, you have become more obnoxious since I cautioned you to not be so.”
“Yep.” I smirked at him.
“This is not the time to challenge me simply because you don't like being told what to do,” he snapped. “What are you: five?”
“Relax, Prince Blooder”–I gave his shoulder a pat–“I'm just messing with you. As soon as we're in your father's kingly presence, I'll tone it down.”
“My blooded father,” he corrected me, turned, and started down the hallway again.
“Interesting distinction.” I narrowed my stare on his back, working out the Banning puzzle in my head. It didn't seem like he held this blooder king in such high regard. Then there was that “may or may not want to kill me” line. If I didn't have complete faith in Banning's love for me, and the fact that the last thing he'd want is for me to be lynched in Romania, I'd be worried about what exactly we were walking into.
What we actually walked into, was a library bigger than my entire house in Hawaii. I whistled in appreciation. Now, this was impressive. My eyes roamed lovingly over the leather-bound volumes lining the walls. They were all stored on shelves far enough away from the windows to prevent them from being damaged by the sun. Blooders were very aware of the damage sunlight c
ould do, though the older ones –like Banning– developed a tolerance, and could actually walk around in it if they had to. They just preferred not to. I'm told it stings a bit.
The caution was really unnecessary though. The only window in the room was two-stories high and made of stained glass. The light coming through the intricate design of a couple standing before a pastoral scene, wouldn't do much damage once filtered through the colored panes. Still, I suppose it never hurt to be extra careful when dealing with sunlight or blooders. My eyes drifted down to the focal point in the room, which, ironically, wasn't a piece of furnishing.
In the center of the massive space sat a young man who looked no older than Banning –perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven. His hair was curled into those sausage curls they put on little blonde girls, except his tresses were deep ebony –blacker even than Torin's. So dark, that his hair seemed to suck up the light in the room, highlighted with a sheen that was pristine white. A mustache stretched across the man's upper lip, wider than I thought was possible for a mustache to roam. Then there were his eyes; they were just as dark as his hair –like oil pits– and they were focused on Banning.
“Well, bite my neck and call me Mina; it's fucking Dracula himself,” I whispered.
The dark eyes shifted to me –and brightened with a glint of humor. Banning groaned.
“You compare me to Vlad?” He asked in a perfect Count Dracula accent as he stood and came over to us with confident steps.
“You bear a striking resemblance.” I decided to just roll with it.
“It's the hair.” He swept back his curls and smirked. “I'm a bit traditional when it comes to my appearance.”
I burst into laughter.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Banning growled.
“Jesus never wore his hair like that,” I said loftily.
“Banning,” the man chided, “what has you so on edge?”
Banning gaped at him.
“I have . . . lightened up.” The blooder king looked to me. “That is the term, yes?”
“Oh yes.” I grinned and held out my hand. “Elaria Tanager. It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Ah, she knows how to be respectful as well as naughty,” the king observed as he shook my hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Elaria. I have heard of you; the sixth spellsinger. I am King Sorin Iliescu, Gheara of the Suceava Gura. You may call me Sorin.”
“She may call you Sorin?” Banning nearly screeched. “No one calls you Sorin. I don't think Ilana even called you by your given name.”
“Ilana”–Sorin sighed–“it has been a long time since I've heard that name. Or yours, Banning”–he opened his arms–“it is good to have you home, Son.”
“What game are you playing?” Banning frowned at the king.
“No game”–Sorin pulled Banning into a hug–“I have missed you.”
Banning stood rigid for a moment, then finally hugged Sorin back. I stepped a few paces away, trying to give them some privacy for the obviously emotional moment. Though I wasn't sure exactly what emotions Banning was having.
“I'm sorry for the way we parted,” Sorin said when he eased away from Banning. “I only ever wanted to help you, Banning.”
“You turned me into a monster,” Banning whispered.
“Still?” Sorin huffed and looked to me. “He still believes this nonsense?”
“Evidently.” I shrugged.
“I must drink the blood of humans to survive,” Banning snapped.
“Such a child.” Sorin rolled his eyes. “People die so that others may live. It happens every day. And now the world grows overpopulated –even with monsters such as ourselves thinning the herd. We do humanity a service.”
“That is a deception.” Banning shook his head. “A pretty lie to tell the newly blooded, so they don't go insane.”
“Isn't all of life a pretty lie?” Sorin shrugged.
“Perhaps.” Banning gave in grimly.
“Well, I may not be the only one who has changed.” Sorin looked Banning over. “The prince has grown into a man.”
“I've dealt with my monstrosity and my complicity in it,” Banning said. “I will not deceive myself in any way. I know I am a monster, yet I enjoy my immortality. It's a conflict which has taken me centuries to accept.”
“Ah, an enlightened outlook.” Sorin nodded approvingly. “So, my self-aware son, what has brought you back to us?”
“I need some information”–Banning glanced my way–“for Elaria.”
“Elaria,” Sorin mused as he stared harder at me. “You have a familiar face.”
“Do I?” I lifted a brow.
Sorin nodded, then frowned deeply as he scrutinized my face. “Where have I seen you–”
“Let it be, Father,” Banning growled.
“As you like.” Sorin held up his hands, but shot me another intrigued look. “Come, let's sit together.”
The blooder king waved us over to some leather couches and we all sat; I took a seat beside Banning and Sorin sat across from us. Sorin stared at us together, a slow smile spreading over his face, then waved to Banning in much the same manner Banning had waved to our driver earlier.
“Ask me what you've come to ask,” Sorin commanded.
“There was a blooder female named Bettina living here,” Banning started. “Do you recall her?”
“Bettina . . . yes, I know the name.” Sorin scowled. “She was murdered”–his eyes shot to mine–“by a siren. Your family, yes?”
“People die so that others may live,” I repeated.
“No one likes their words thrown back at them,” Sorin chided me.
“And no one in the Beneath is innocent,” I said simply. “We all have blood on our hands . . . or lips.”
“Humph”–Sorin smirked–“well said. Go on, Banning. What would you know of Bettina?”
“I was told that she left the gura because of a witch –is that true?” Banning asked.
Sorin frowned and considered it. “I believe so. I was not overly fond of the girl. She went away for awhile and then returned, something about wanting to learn more about the Beneath. I don't recall exactly why she left the final time. I just remember being notified of her death. There was an investigation into it, which is how we know about the siren.”
“We need to know the name of the witch Bettina left the gura for,” Banning said. “It's important, Father.”
“Obviously it's important or you wouldn't have returned to your despised roots, and you certainly wouldn't have resorted to calling me 'Father'.”
Banning lifted his chin, a tic flickering in his cheek as he clenched his jaw.
“Oh, stop your posturing.” Sorin rolled his eyes. “I am happy you are here, for whatever reason, and even happier for the proffered title. If it's information you want, you shall have it . . . under one condition.”
Banning narrowed his eyes.
“I want three days,” Sorin said. “You and Elaria will remain here with me for three days. You called me 'Father', and now you must pay for its calculated employment. Act like a son and spend some time with me.”
“Fine, but at least allow Elaria to leave,” Banning bargained. “She needs to return to her father with this information. It is imperative.”
“She can call whoever she needs to. She doesn't need to physically leave to share information,” Sorin said reasonably. “You will not be prisoners. You are prince here, Banning. I simply want to spend some time with you. It has been nearly three centuries, I think a day for every hundred years you have been gone is hardly too much to ask.”
“It's acceptable to me,” I said quickly. The information was too precious to bargain over. “Three days.”
“But you provide us with the information first,” Banning added. “And if you cannot provide it, we will leave . . . unmolested.”
“Unmolested”–Sorin chuckled–“what a word. Fine, that is acceptable to me.” He stood and went to the library door. “Boris!”
/>
After barely thirty seconds, a man came rushing into the room. He bowed, his brown curls flopping into his face. “Your Majesty?”
“Do you recall that woman, Bettina, who left our gura?” Sorin asked casually.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Boris said immediately. “Not very long ago, it was.”
“What was the name of the witch she was enamored with?”
“Oh”–Boris frowned, then his face cleared–“ah yes, he was an air witch, I believe.”
My heart sank. “Nigel,” I whispered, feeling utterly betrayed. “It really was Nigel. How could he?”
“No”–Boris glanced over at me–“his name wasn't Nigel. I know that for certain. Maybe I have his element wrong . . . oh, right, yes, of course.”
“What was his name, Boris?” Sorin snapped.
“He wasn't an air witch –it was the cold that had me confused, you see,” Boris stammered.
“Get on with it, man,” Banning urged.
“Cold?” I asked; my heartbeat quickened. “Like a cool breeze?”
“Colder,” Boris said. “Not air . . . water.”
“Cold water? Do you mean ice?” I asked as I shivered, feeling the word in my veins. “That's a sub-class of water.”
“Frost!” Boris declared. “His name was Thomas Frost! Oh, thank all the gods, that would have bothered me all day.”
“Well done,” Sorin gave Boris a pat while he stared at me in concern. “You may go, Boris.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Boris bowed. “I'm pleased to have been of service.”
“Elaria?” Banning's hand was on my upper arm, helping me to remain standing. I was shivering and swaying. “The name is familiar?”
“Yes,” I whispered as my world tilted and tears filled my eyes, “very familiar.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
