by Clare Willis
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Enzo replied.
“Come now, ragazzo, what’s going on here?”
Jacob knew that Enzo couldn’t lie to him. They had been friends since they were young yeomen together in Europe. At about the same age, both had been forcibly converted by an unscrupulous vampire. In Enzo’s case it was his own mother, who had turned her whole family in a hopeless attempt at preserving the domestic bliss she had known as a human. Both had been military men, and both had joined the Council to restore order to a life that no longer made any sense.
Enzo sighed. “You are summoned before the Council. They are meeting in the secret place.”
Jacob thought of Sunni, asleep in the leaves on the roof. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Enzo smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“Do you know what they want? ”
He shrugged, pushing out his lower lip. “It is not for me to say.”
Jacob climbed into the backseat. The car headed east, with the beach on one side and rows of boxy, pastel-colored houses on the other, everything aglow in the fiery light of the rising sun. The woman vampire drove very fast, barely applying the brakes, weaving in and out of traffic, both on her own side and in the opposing lane. Several times she avoided obstacles by driving on the sidewalk. In a human this would have been dangerous, but vampire reflexes were so fast that the other cars seemed like wagons drawn by mules. There was the possibility of being pulled over by the police, but then she would just glamour the officer and be on her way. It took less than two minutes to arrive at the Palace of Fine Arts, a gorgeous beaux arts temple left over from the Panama Pacific Exposition of 1915. The female vampire dropped all her passengers off without a word and sped away.
“Cloak yourself,” Enzo said, but Jacob already had. The young vampire was having trouble. He flickered in and out like a dying lightbulb until Enzo thumped him on the back.
“Concentrate, Patrick,” he growled. “Your mind is distracted.”
Patrick stopped walking and squared his shoulders. In an instant he was fully cloaked. Two joggers passed within inches of him, causing him to jump back to avoid a collision. The three vampires skirted the pond that flanked the Palace and entered the center of the monument. Enzo smiled as he looked up at the circle of Corinthian columns, each one adorned with a maiden in Roman dress, splayed over the top of the column as if she was resting from the climb. Jacob knew the Palace, in its ruined splendor, reminded Enzo of his native Rome.
“Buona sera, ladies,” Enzo murmured to the statues. He led the small procession to a cement wall flanked by two columns. He felt around the mossy, pockmarked wall until his hand found its quarry. He pulled, and a door appeared. He waited for the other two men to enter and then he pulled the door closed behind them. They were at the top of a narrow, damp staircase that descended straight into the earth. There was no light, but none was required.
They walked down the stairs and along a low-ceilinged hallway. Eventually they emerged into a vast, circular room that roughly mimicked the dimensions of the monument above them. There was an empty area in the center, tiled with marble, surrounded by ascending rows of seats, benches for spectators and chairs for the members of the Council.
It was a small assembly. Four vampires sat in the lowest tier, facing a platform supporting a chair and a lectern. A glass and a pitcher of water sat on the lectern, as if they were expecting a speaker who would lecture at length. Jacob hoped he wasn’t the speaker they were waiting for, for he had very little to say in his own defense. He was a farmer, after all, not a lawyer.
At the far left of the group was Scipio. Even though he and Enzo were both Italian, Scipio possessed none of Enzo’s sartorial flair, as evidenced in the nondescript dark suit and white shirt he was wearing. He appeared as tired as a vampire was capable of, but he sat ramrod straight with his head forward, the very picture of dignity and nobility. He gave Jacob a small nod of acknowledgment. Next to him was a vampire named Nasim. He was Moroccan, if Jacob remembered correctly, and was dressed in traditional garb, a galabiya, its mandarin collar edged with gold braid. Nasim had been vampireborn in the mid-nineteenth century and had risen quickly in the ranks of the Council because he was a consummate negotiator and harbored no allegiances toward any of the old European vampire clans. Nasim was leaning over, whispering to a woman Jacob didn’t recognize.
It was rare to encounter a vampire who had been turned in the twilight of their years, as this woman had been. Jacob didn’t know the reason for this: perhaps a lack of access or simply a lack of interest. After all, humans were usually turned for romantic or sentimental reasons, and it was the rare old man or woman who was capable of making a young heart flutter. The female’s wrinkles had been erased by the conversion process, but her shoulder-length hair was as white as a swan’s down. She was slender, pale even by vampire standards, and wore a plain black dress topped by a thick shawl.
It was cold in the underground chamber, and although vampires couldn’t be harmed by cold, it bothered most of them, especially the ones who had lived before central heating. Jacob remembered too well the winters in Providence, when his wife drew the curtains on their bed and they huddled together under their blankets. It was some-times so cold that they couldn’t sleep for shivering. In the morning frost would rime the insides of the windows and the water in the washbasin would be frozen solid.
The last Council member was a man Jacob knew well. Looking at Isaiah Eddington was like staring into some strange mirror, in which you could see not only your own image, but also the reflection of your whole family. It was a mirror that also reflected back your sins. In Isaiah Jacob saw his own face, tinted with the African blood of the slave who was Isaiah’s mother. He had Jacob’s aquiline nose and blue eyes, but his lips were fuller and his skin was the color of caramel. Isaiah didn’t acknowledge Jacob, only stared straight ahead as he waited for the proceedings to begin.
Scipio stood as the three vampires reached the platform. “Jacob, please take a seat,” he said, in a formal tone.
Jacob’s two guards evaporated into the darkness at the edge of the chamber, although he knew they were loitering somewhere nearby in case they were needed.
Scipio sat down and spoke from his chair. “Jacob, you know Nasim and Isaiah. ”
Jacob nodded.
Scipio indicated the woman. “This is Melinda Peterson, of New York City. She is one of the newer members of the Council, turned only two years ago.”
“Mistress Peterson. “ Jacob bowed, lifting back up just in time to see the woman nod at him curtly.
“It has come to our attention that Richard Lazarus has been in contact with the dhampir called Sunrise Marquette, whom you have been assigned to guard.”
The hope that Jacob had been harboring, that the Council might not yet know about Richard and Sunni, that he might be able to stall for more time, flew out the window.
“That is, unfortunately, correct,” he answered. “But he hasn’t convinced her of anything. She isn’t on his side.”
“That is irrelevant,” Melinda said.
Jacob tugged nervously on his nonexistent beard.
Isaiah cleared his throat. “Jacob, your guarding of the dhampir had an inauspicious beginning, but since then you have carried out your duties with integrity. ”
“Excuse me,” Melinda said, “but isn’t Jacob Eddington your brother?”
“Half brother,” Isaiah replied. “We had the same human father. But what is your point?”
“My point is that Isaiah is most likely biased,” she said to Scipio.
Scipio’s lips twisted with irritation. “The Council heads sent him here, Melinda. It is not for us to question their judgment. We have a decision to make, so let’s confine our comments to the issue at hand.”
Jacob was unable to sit still any longer. He rose to his feet. “What is the issue, by the way?”
Nasim answered him. “I’ll speak frankly, Jacob. The Council
has determined that Sunni Marquette must be eliminated.”
Jacob swallowed slowly, holding his eyes and lips steady, not allowing his emotions to show. His hands wanted to ball into fists, but he kept them loose at his sides. If he gave anything away it would be a death sentence for Sunni.
“Ordinarily it would be you who would undertake the task, but there is a question of whether you have been compromised. We are here to determine whether to reassign you or allow you to complete your mission.” Nasim’s handsome face stayed neutral as he spoke.
Jacob paced to the edge of the platform, as close as possible to his interrogators. “Of course it must be me who eliminates her. I have been her guardian for twenty-four years. I know all her habits. For anyone else it could be dangerous. She is not aware of them yet, but when she is frightened her abilities appear, and they are formidable.”
“Some Council members have questioned whether you have developed feelings for the dhampir,” Isaiah said gently. “If that’s the case it’s better for all concerned if you recuse yourself.”
“I have no feelings beyond concern for my fellow vampires and hatred for the traitor Richard Lazarus. I will do my duty, you can depend on it.” Jacob stared into Melinda’s pale blue eyes, trying to control his rampant emotions but knowing that she was reading him like a book.
“I have grave concerns about you, Jacob Eddington,” Melinda said.
“It’s time to vote,” Scipio said decisively. “All in favor of allowing Jacob Eddington to complete the task of eliminating the dhampir Sunrise Marquette, raise your hand.”
Just as Jacob expected, the three men’s hands lifted. Melinda’s gaze was icy. Why did she hate him so much, he wondered.
Scipio looked down at Jacob. “You have three days to complete your task, Jacob. We are sending Enzo Rizzoli to assist you. When it is done, report back to the Council for reassignment.”
“I object,” Melinda shouted. She rose to her feet, aiming an accusing finger at Jacob. “He’s in love with her, it’s as obvious as the nose on his face. He cannot be trusted with this task. The consequences of Richard Lazarus joining forces with this dhampir would be disastrous. We must reassign him.”
Nasim seemed to find her outburst embarrassing. He looked away into the darkness. Isaiah kept his blue eyes focused on Jacob. His half brother knew everything that Jacob had lost and Richard’s role in it. His vote had been purely personal.
Scipio gazed at Melinda with patience, like a benevolent parent watching a child have a tantrum. “The vote has been taken, Counselor.” He clapped his hands twice. “Enzo!”
Enzo and Patrick soundlessly materialized out of the darkness. “Yes, sir?” Enzo asked with a slight bow.
“Did you hear the verdict?”
He inclined his head. “I did, sir.”
“Then go with Jacob, without delay. ”
Patrick stepped forward. “May I go too, sir? I have never killed a dhampir.” His handsome, boyish face was suffused with excitement.
“You wish to confront Richard Lazarus again, after that episode with the chain?” Scipio asked, with a slight note of sarcasm.
Patrick’s face fell. “I thought it was just the dhampir.”
Scipio waved a hand at Jacob and Enzo. “Go, now. You have seventy-two hours to execute the task.”
Chapter 15
Sunni awoke, curled in the stolen blanket, atop a soft pile of dead leaves. Golden sunlight warmed the concrete roof, and her clothes had dried while she was asleep. She felt perfectly comfortable, healthy and happy, only a bit hungry. She caught sight of Jacob in her peripheral vision, pacing along the crenellated wall, looking out to sea.
She stood up slowly and stretched, brushing stray leaves out of her clothes and hair. He turned when she began moving, and retrieved a paper coffee cup and a pastry bag from a spot in the corner.
“I hope this is still hot,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you. ”
The latte was lukewarm, but it tasted delicious, as did the cinnamon roll. Sunni had just swallowed and was about to speak to Jacob when she heard a rustling in the leaves and smelled an unfamiliar scent. This time the adrenaline rush was instantaneous. The latte cup hadn’t even hit the ground when Sunni landed directly in front of the other man on the roof, her small hands curled into fists.
He took a step back, waving his hands in mock surrender.
“You are right, Jacob, the lady is fast. “ He smiled broadly at Sunni, raising one eyebrow. He was very handsome, with a bold nose, heavy eyebrows, and dark, wild hair similar to Jacob’s. Sunni took a step back and lowered her arms.
Jacob handed Sunni her cup, which he had caught in midair with a minimal loss of liquid. The roll had not been so lucky. It lay on the ground, crusted with dirt. “Sunni, this is Enzo Rizzoli, an old friend of mine. He’s going to help with your training. ”
When Sunni placed her hand in Enzo’s he lifted it to his lips and kissed it lingeringly. She stepped back, flustered, while Jacob glared at Enzo.
“What kind of training? “ she asked.
“All of it,” Enzo replied. He surveyed the roof of the fort with disapproval. “We must leave here, Jacob. It is too exposed.”
Jacob pointed to the vast military cemetery tucked into the eucalyptus forest behind them.
Enzo smiled. “Excellent.”
Enzo leaned against the parapet and peered over the fort wall. Sunni followed his gaze. A few people could be seen on the road and on the beach, jogging and walking dogs in the early morning sunshine.
“We’ll need to cloak as we descend,” the vampire said.
Sunni eyed Enzo’s brightly colored shirt andtie, the incongruous cross pendant lying on top. “Where’s your cloak?”
Jacob stepped forward. “It is not a garment. Cloaking is a way we have of avoiding the eyes of humans.”
Sunni couldn’t hide her skepticism. “You can make yourself invisible?”
“Look at the bridge,” Jacob said.
Sunni obeyed, taking in the gorgeous vista of the brick-red bridge and the surrounding green hills and blue water. When she turned back Jacob had disappeared. The only thing indicating his presence was a slight shimmer in the air, like the air patterns over a road on a hot day.
She laughed with excitement. “Wow! Can I do that?”
“It’s an advanced skill,” Enzo said. “Even some young vampires can’t do it, because it is a mental skill, rather than a physical one.”
“Show me,” Sunni begged.
Jacob reappeared abruptly, as if he’d stepped through an invisible door.
“Close your eyes,” Jacob said, and Sunni obeyed. “The process is something like meditation. You must focus all of your attention.”
“On being invisible?” Sunni shifted from foot to foot, impatient to try it.
“No,” Enzo replied. “On nothing. You must clear your mind. When your mind is empty then humans will not be able to see you.”
“That makes absolutely no sense,” Sunni said. She opened her eyes and stared at Enzo.
He shrugged. “Fine. Don’t do it.”
Sunni puffed out her cheeks and sighed, but when she was finished with her slight fit of pique, she closed her eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds she opened them again.
“How will I know if I’m invisible?” she asked. “Can’t vampires always see other vampires?”
“Yes, but we’ll know if you are cloaked,” Jacob replied. “We’ll see that shimmer around you.”
She closed her eyes and emptied her mind. The sensation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. Sunni’s disrupted childhood had left her with a powerful need for inner peace, and one of the ways she’d searched for it was through Buddhism. She had spent several years in her twenties learning to meditate, and she drew on that knowledge to quiet her mind and clear it of extraneous thoughts.
“She’s flickering, like Patrick,” Enzo commented.
“Quiet,” Jacob hissed, but her concentration was broken. Sunni popped h
er eyes open.
“Did it work?” she asked.
“With practice you might be able to do it,” Jacob said diplomatically.
Enzo laughed. “You are only half a vampire, so it stands to reason that you would only be able to cloak halfway. ”
Sunni glared at him. “How do you explain how good my other skills are, then?”
He gave her a sly smile. “I am not aware that you have any skills, beyond an obvious attractiveness. Would you like to show me?”
∗ ∗ ∗
Sunni had been in a car accident when she was twenty-five that broke her pelvis, cracked three ribs and shattered her ankle. At least that’s what the emergency room physicians claimed, but when she was transferred to intensive care the new x-rays didn’t seem to match the old ones. She didn’t have any of the injuries they had claimed, or rather she did, but they were old and already healed. The doctors were busy at the city hospital and released her with little more than a perplexed shake of the head, but Sunni vividly remembered the immediate, overwhelming pain upon waking up in the wreckage. That pain was what she was feeling now as Enzo bent her backward over an ivory headstone, punching her repeatedly in the face while the back of her head bounced off the monument.
“Pain is in the mind, Sunni,” she heard Jacob say. “Remember what I taught you on the bridge. Separate yourself from the pain by concentrating on everything your senses take in.”
It was beyond difficult to ignore when someone was punching the living crap out of you, but she concentrated on her hearing first, and as the sounds around her came into focus, the pain began to fade into the background. She heard sparrows chirping in the bushes nearby, and crows cawing farther away, high in the eucalyptus trees. Even further out she heard seagulls squawking in the air over the bay. Cars created a river of noise as they followed Doyle Drive onto the Golden Gate Bridge, and a single helicopter sounded like a giant egg-beater in the sky.
Once the pain had subsided she focused her powerful vision on her attacker. She could discern immediately from the way he was leaning into her with his body and arms, but away with his head, that he was trying to protect his face. It made sense that someone as handsome as Enzo would not want to be punched in the face. Even if he was a vampire and knew that he would heal he wouldn’t want his features marred, even for a few minutes or hours. He probably didn’t want to get blood on his tie, either.
