“Both Esme and I are more than happy to speak on your behalf. Mother will support you, as well,” Kalon said. “Think about it, Ansel. Think long and hard before we reach the city. You only get one chance.”
The boy didn’t even try to respond. Not that the gag would’ve made it easy, but he’d offered a muffled protest a few times before. This time, however, Ansel was quiet. Kalon glanced my way, and I felt the weight of his whole attention coming down on me.
“Something is different between us, Esme,” he said. “And I don’t know what.”
“Different? What do you mean?” I replied, my face already burning.
“I feel you slipping away from me. After the lake house… Like I said, I don’t know. I’m hoping you might be able to tell me.”
I took off my hood, the overhead crowns providing plenty of cool shade. Midnight neighed softly, and I ran my fingers through her silky mane avoiding Kalon’s gaze. “Nothing is wrong. I just think we have a lot on our plates,” I said. “Besides, you know I’m not the lovey-dovey type,” I added with a dry chuckle.
“I’m doing my best to be honest with you,” Kalon replied. “And I—”
“Are you?” I cut him off, perhaps a little too abruptly. His eyes widened as they found mine.
“Yes, I am,” he insisted, his tone clipped. “Are you implying otherwise?”
I stared at him for what felt like forever, my throat closing up. I inwardly cursed myself for such ridiculous weakness. Why couldn’t I just lay it all out in the open? Why was I dragging my feet like this? Kalon had just given me the perfect opportunity to address the issue, and all I’d managed to do was express doubt regarding his honesty with zero follow-up. It made me look paranoid without reason.
“Do you think Ansel will tell you everything he knows?” I asked, changing the subject.
The shadow of a smile fluttered across Kalon’s face. I knew the conversation wasn’t over. I just needed to pull myself together, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. Kalon’s presence alone was a dangerous distraction… not to mention his kisses, his embrace, his smell. Jeez, pull yourself together, Esme.
“I don’t know,” Kalon replied. “Maybe, maybe not. I tend to expect the best from the people I love. And Ansel, despite his faults, is still my little brother. I’ve watched him grow up. Our history together precedes those wretched Darklings.”
There weren’t many words between us after that. We traveled on in silence, occasionally stopping to check the map and our surroundings. The rain followed behind, a dark curtain stretching toward us. By the time it reached us, we were already on a secondary road leading into the imperial city, the Nightmare Forest becoming a mere memory.
We guided Lightning and Midnight through the northwest entrance to the city, which was a simple cobblestone road used for various transports. With our hoods up, we were virtually indistinguishable from the many merchants and travelers who came through on horseback. We stayed behind the larger carts until we reached the main road on the east side of the city.
The ocean sprawled dark blue to our right, the harbor stretching for miles along the coastline. I even spotted our shuttle near the water, guarded by gold-armored soldiers. I remembered the weapons we had stored in it—specifically, the pulverizers. Those would come in handy if we crossed paths with the Darklings again. In fact, they were the only advantage we had against their Reaper scythes.
“We should go through here,” Kalon said as we stopped at a small junction of battered roads. The path he indicated would lead us deeper into the city through a lesser-known residential area mostly occupied by poor Rimians and Naloreans. The buildings were in disarray, the paint peeling off, the shutters old and shoddy. “It’s the fastest way to get to my house without anyone noticing.”
I’d informed Tristan of my position as soon as we’d entered the city. He knew where I’d be by sundown. I hadn’t mentioned Zoltan’s capture to Kalon yet, however—probably due to my internal turmoil regarding his honesty. I did wonder what Kalon might say once he learned that Zoltan had been captured. Throughout my many musings on this topic, I’d wondered if Kalon had known more about Zoltan, too, and not just the Darklings. Had he known that Zoltan was responsible for Nethissis’s death from the beginning?
“Esme.”
His voice brought me back. I was still struggling with my options where Kalon was concerned, but by not talking about these problems, I was driving a wedge between us.
“Yes, Kalon, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve just heard from Tristan. They caught Zoltan.”
This was supposed to be a deciding moment for us, dictated exclusively by his reaction to the news. I should have told him yesterday, the moment my brother had reached out. In hindsight, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Kalon smiled, and tension seemed to leave his frame as he relaxed in the saddle.
“They caught him,” he repeated after me. “They caught Zoltan. That’s amazing. That is excellent news! Where? How? Is your brother okay? Valaine?”
I nodded, giving him a weak smile. There was nothing about his demeanor that suggested deceit, and it made me feel terrible. “About fifty miles north of Astoria,” I said. “They lost a lot of troops in the process, and they couldn’t capture the rest of the Darkling horde, but they got Zoltan. They’re bringing him back into the city for judgment.”
Kalon smiled as though he’d been given the greatest news ever. He beamed like the sun itself, beyond the hazy spell that enveloped Visio, Rimia, and Nalore. He appeared genuinely pleased with this development—unlike Ansel, who frowned and glanced off to the side, concern clouding his expression.
“It’s a good way to start the day, don’t you think?” Kalon clicked his teeth as he spurred Lightning into motion. I followed him up the alley, and we made a series of turns through the neighborhood until we reached the Visentis mansion.
“He’s going to pay for what he did,” I said after a while. “Every single Aeternae who has consorted with the Darklings will pay for their crimes. Whether it’s lying, keeping their secrets, acting or killing on their behalf… they’ll all suffer.”
I hoped to elicit a reaction from Kalon with this statement. Annoyingly enough, it was Ansel who threw me a nervous glance. Kalon didn’t reveal even an inkling of concern. We got off our Vision horses as one of the valets came down the stairs of the mansion and took the creatures up the side alley. I heard horses neighing nearby and assumed there was a stable waiting for Midnight and Lightning.
Kalon threw Ansel over his shoulder, then turned around to face me. “Okay. You’re about to meet the rest of my family,” he said sternly. “They’re not immediately friendly types. I kindly suggest you let me do most of the talking until I get them to agree about Ansel’s future options. My siblings might be more forgiving than I am, and I don’t want Ansel to get off easy after everything he’s done.”
“I’m right here with you,” I told him.
Looking up at the house, I suddenly felt small. Even insignificant. It was the tallest construction on this block, with a sloped four-sided roof and thick columns descending to the entrance stairs. The façade was covered with sturdy wood panels, the windows tall and wide. We ascended the stone steps as two Rimian servants opened the giant red double doors.
Architecturally speaking, the Visentis mansion stood out. Imposing, dark, and luxurious—much like its owners—and radically different from Kalon’s old house. It wasn’t as monumental, but it still left a lasting impression on its beholders. It even made my stomach churn.
As we entered, I was immediately struck by the abundance of gilded sculptures and bas-reliefs that adorned the reception area. The walls were painted white with brass lights hanging from the tall ceiling. A double set of marble stairs arched upward to the first floor, and paintings of various Visentis family members hung everywhere, their eyes following us as we moved across the polished floor.
If the exterior had attempted a mild sense of modesty, the interior of the Visentis mansi
on was eager to gloat and show off its artful opulence. The furniture was massive, its lacquered surfaces reddish, like cherrywood. Miniature sculptures occupied nearly every flat surface around us—most of them antiques from different cultures of Visio, Rimia, and Nalore. The diversity reminded me of Kalon’s lake house, but an emphasis had been placed on style and visual impact here. Every object in this room was meant to tell me how expensive it was.
“You’ll like my brothers,” Kalon said. Footsteps thundered above, getting louder as they approached the reception area and the marble stairs. “They might seem snotty or elitist, but they mean well. They just have high standards.”
“So, they’re snotty and elitist.” I chuckled.
He smiled, and I could see the horror on Ansel’s face as Kalon put him down and forced him to stand, despite his ankles being bound together.
“Kalon, you wretched fiend! Where the hell have you been?!” A tall Aeternae came into view as he glided down the marble stairs. He stood half a foot over Kalon, but I could still see the resemblance. The sharp blade of his nose. The full lower lip. The inquisitive blue eyes.
“Simmon,” Kalon said. “I’m sorry I left without a word.”
Simmon stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion. He looked ridiculously handsome in his cream pants, knee-high leather boots, white shirt, and crimson silk vest—though my heart didn’t beat a second faster, still hung up on Kalon. “What… What’s going on?” the younger brother asked.
I remembered Simmon had built and decorated the lake house. He’d put a lot of love and care into that place. I was inclined to assume he was also responsible for this mansion’s décor. Too many elements from different cultures for it to be a random design—no, Simmon had put a lot of thought into this place, too. I could see it in his eyes, in the way his very presence commanded control over his environment.
“We need to talk,” Kalon said, one hand resting on his hip. “Our brother, Ansel, has done something monumentally stupid.”
Simmon didn’t get to reply, as the rest of their brothers came down—both of them basically children. I did some quick math in my head, going over everything Tristan and I had learned about Kalon and his family—Valaine had told Tristan that Kalon had two younger brothers, one aged ten and the other six, but she must’ve forgotten about Simmon, likely because he was a little over two thousand years old and thus closer to Kalon in age.
What truly astonished me was the fact that the youngest had actually fought Kalon in the Blood Arena. A six-year-old! To be fair, the kid looked spry and agile, with hawkish blue eyes that gave off a certain maturity most children didn’t have. Kalon had told me that many Aeternae matured really fast, unlike other species I’d come across. By the time they were ten, the Aeternae were basically self-sufficient. That didn’t mean their families left them behind, but they were at peace knowing that in dire circumstances, their children would survive on their own. I made a mental note to ask Kalon about all this, since I had clearly underestimated the combat prowess of an Aeternae child. Maybe his little brother was some kind of prodigy.
The boys were joined by an Aeternae adult. He resembled Simmon so much that for a moment I thought they might be twins, but the calculations didn’t add up, since I knew Kalon only had four siblings, and I was already looking at them.
“Kalon! Ansel! What are you two doing together?” the elder Aeternae asked.
“And who’s the babe?” one of the kids added with a devilish smirk.
He made me laugh. Kalon scoffed, slowly shaking his head. “Tudyk, don’t be rude,” he said. “This is Esme Vaughn. She’s my guest, and she deserves only respect.”
Tudyk stopped in front of us and bowed politely. “My apologies, milady.”
I was amazed by how mature and adept at etiquette the kids were. I was also a little overwhelmed by their presence. Whenever I looked at the six-year-old, I tried to imagine him going against his brother in the Blood Arena. Weren’t they supposed to have an age limit in that place?
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “Though it is a pleasure to meet you!”
Simmon smiled. “Esme. Esme Vaughn. You’re one of the outsiders.”
“That I am. I’m honored to meet you all.”
“Esme, meet my uncle first,” Kalon interjected, pointing at the adult Aeternae first. “This is Aganon. My mother’s youngest brother. And you’ve already met Simmon…”
“You did a wonderful job with the lake house,” I told Simmon, offering a warm smile.
The Aeternae’s eyebrows popped up as he looked at me, then at Kalon. “You took her to the lake house? Is there something we should know?”
My cheeks flushed as I coughed lightly, hoping Kalon might change the subject and focus on Ansel, who was still bound, gagged, and standing awkwardly between us. Kalon, however, simply ignored Simmon and continued with the introductions.
“This sharp-tongued scab here is Tudyk, aged ten,” he said, “and this one’s our youngest. Moore. He’s only six, and already our mother’s primary headache.”
“Well, I had to take over from you,” Moore shot back, crossing his arms and raising his chin in defiance. It was Moore that Kalon had fought with in the Blood Arena. I could only imagine what sort of warrior he’d become in a few more years.
“So, you’re the one who fought Kalon in the Blood Arena. Not once, but twice!” I said, my eyes wide as I stared at Moore. “How is that even possible?”
Aganon chuckled. “Moore is extremely precocious and talented. The Blood Arena’s referees didn’t want the boy to fight, but he snuck in several times and convinced them he could hold his own there.”
“My age was never an impediment. I’m ready to go in there again. It’s been a few months since I fought Kalon,” Moore said.
“Maybe improve your technique first,” Kalon replied. He didn’t seem too happy about the idea of fighting his kid brother again—not that I could blame him. This was pretty savage, in hindsight. Only the Spartans had had such a warlike culture that encouraged children to fight. However, the Spartans had been humans, significantly limited. The Aeternae were peak predators. They were different.
The brothers looked a lot alike. The dark hair with faint silver streaks—Aganon had them, too, though his were slightly more pronounced. The deep blue eyes and playful smiles. The sullen frowns and wiry figures. And they all smiled a similar smile—charming, no doubt, but filled with secrets and unspoken thoughts. None, however, were more mysterious than Kalon.
“Dear nephew, what’s the deal with Ansel? How badly did he piss you off to end up like this?” Aganon asked, scratching the back of his neck as he measured Ansel from head to toe with an amused expression.
“Ansel here decided to become a Darkling,” Kalon said, and the humor was virtually obliterated from the room. Silence replaced it. A dark, cold silence. Angry silence. Shocked silence. Not that I could blame the guys. I probably would’ve felt the same way, had my own brother turned out to be a member of a murderous cult.
“Say what, now?” Simmon replied.
“Excuse me?!” Petra’s voice cut through with a spine-tingling echo. We all looked up to find her at the top of the stairs, clad in a simple black dress, a ruby brooch glinting on her chest. But it was the look in her eyes that made me still. She tucked a silver lock behind her ear as she descended the stairs, staring at Ansel.
“I caught him during a Darkling raid, Mother,” Kalon said. “He had the black-and-white thread. He was part of a blood slave ring operated by the Darklings up north.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tudyk gawked at Ansel. “Dude, have you lost your marbles?!”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Simmon snarled.
“Enough!” Petra shouted, rendering everyone silent. I shrank inside my leather combat suit, suddenly feeling out of place. One of these things is not like the others. A vampire among the Visentis Aeternae.
She reached us with stead
y steps, hands clasped together. She looked at Ansel first, then at Kalon and me. “Esme. You look well,” she said, her tone flat. “It is good to see you.”
Somehow, I didn’t believe her—though that wasn’t really her fault. I’d just brought home her Darkling son. That was obviously a lot to take in. I smiled faintly and bowed before her. “Milady, it’s good to see you again, as well. I only wish the circumstances were better.”
“Sister, what is this about Ansel—” Aganon tried to speak, but Petra immediately shushed him, glowering at Ansel.
“How certain are you, Kalon, that your brother is a Darkling?” she asked.
Ansel didn’t even blink, petrified by his mother’s presence. Kalon sighed. “He admitted it. It’s not a suspicion, Mother. I caught him in the act during a Darkling raid in a Rimian village.”
“My beautiful little angel,” Petra murmured, still fixated on Ansel. “Whatever did I do for you to end up like this?”
“We have to get him to talk,” Kalon said.
Petra shot him a cold stare. “You need to take a bath, to change into some clean clothes, and to offer Esme some proper Visentis hospitality. Now that your uncle Aganon and Simmon are back from their travels, our house is truly safe,” she replied, briefly glancing my way. “You’re free to stay here and freshen up, Esme. I’ll deal with Ansel.”
“Milady, I’m not sure that’s something I can accept. Ansel has answers, and I need to talk to him,” I said.
“And you will, once I’m done with him,” she snapped, struggling to keep her composure. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, and Petra had a hard time keeping herself together and dignified in front of us. “Ansel betrayed the Visio empire. He sullied his family name and honor. I’m the matriarch, and I have the sole right to question him.”
“Mother, please. We can help.” Kalon tried to plead with her, but Simmon put a hand on his shoulder.
“Leave it, brother. You know she’s right,” he said. “We’ll all get our turn to talk to him.”
“Listen to Simmon, my darling Kalon. You’ve done well to bring Ansel here. At least we can give him a chance before he stands trial for his actions.” Petra sighed. I would’ve protested against this decision more, but I was literally outnumbered by the Visentis Aeternae. “I will get the whole truth out of him, I promise,” Petra continued. “By nightfall, we’ll know everything he knows.”
A Shade of Vampire 81: A Bringer of Night Page 12
