A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3)

by Danann, Victoria

  Again he jerked on the chains. Again the edges of the rusty manacles bit into his raw and bloody flesh. The pain and frustration of that led to panic. He had to break free. He began to breathe heavily, panting in his panic. He howled. He roared. He screamed. He shed the tears of a desolate and desperate lost soul.

  Storm watched a resigned, but unhappy young trainee walk toward Simon awkwardly carrying a valuable, and perhaps magical, silver flute. He hated saying no to the kid, but would hate it a lot more if he said yes and Glen got hurt. He already had one civilian to worry about.

  Hard decisions. He'd always known it couldn't be fun to sit in Sol's chair. Speaking of Sol, he wished he had time for a cigar. The tail end of that sigh brought him out of his reverie and back to the four people who were staring at him: three patiently, one about to jump out of her skin.

  He focused on Heaven, but motioned to the others to come in tight so they could hear. Heaven had never seen Storm train the force of his battle-ready persona on anyone before. It struck her that he might not even be aware of the raw power emanating from him. The sheer fierceness of his concentration was arresting. With him making direct eye contact, she couldn't have moved or looked away if she had wanted to.

  "Heaven, we will take you with us so long as you give your solemn vow that you will do exactly what I say, when I say to do it, no deviation, no variation. Agreed?" She nodded and didn't take her eyes away. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do. Kay and I are going first. Then you. Then Ram and Finn. You will stay sandwiched between us at all times. No matter what happens. Do you understand?" She swallowed and nodded again.

  Storm looked each of his fellow knights in the eye. Dinosaurs. Every one a vampire hunter about to become extinct. Like dinosaurs. Well, times change.

  He smiled at his comrades. "One more for old times' sake?"

  The other three laughed. Ram said, "Let's go get the wanker."

  Storm hated that each of the knights was forced to use one hand to hold a lantern. So he decided to have Heaven carry one in each hand to light the way. That left Kay's and Ram's hands free.

  They started into the darkness of the old alleyways. They didn't know whether the close was actually haunted by the ghosts of plague victims, but they did know there was something about the place that made the tiny hairs on the backs of their necks stand up and prickle. They moved slowly, investigating right, left, in front, and behind.

  About five minutes in, Ram stopped them with a, "Shhh!" He pulled his hair behind his ears. After a couple of beats, he said, "You hear that?"

  The consensus was that no one heard a thing except Ram.

  Storm shined a light in his direction. "You're the one who knows where we're going. You take the lead."

  Storm and Kay traded places with Finn and Ram and they started off at a much quicker pace. In another couple of minutes Storm and the others confirmed that they heard something. When they got closer, Ram said, "Singin'. I know 'tis him cause I heard his singin' once on a werewolf sanction." He stopped to listen again then repeated what he thought he was hearing.

  "Mairzy doats and dozy doats and little lambsy divey. A kiddle divey, too. Wouldn't you? Sounds like the poor sod has gone stark bleedin' mad."

  They found him in an out of the way vault underneath the bridge alternately trying to scream curses at god and sing bawdy limericks with what was left of his voice. Under other circumstances, Ram might have enjoyed the performance.

  When they shined a light on him, he yelled from the shock to his eyes and tried to lift his hands. Heaven started to rush toward him, but Kay caught her from behind and jerked her back so fast it made her jaw snap shut.

  Ram shot the vampire in the thigh. "I suppose 'twould be wrong of me to take pleasure in that. So I will no' say if I did one way or t'other."

  Storm gave Ram the special look reserved just for him. It conveyed a practiced indulgence that had passed between them a thousand times. "We need a tool to get these torture devices off him. Somebody needs to run back and get what we need."

  "I'll do it," Finn said.

  "While you're there, tell Simon we need an ambulance to take him back to the clinic. Bring back a stretcher and a couple of those 'blokes' from London to help cart him out of here."

  They gave Finn two of the lanterns and listened to the cadence of his jog for as long as they could hear him.

  Baka had slumped into a coma within seconds of having the formula hit his bloodstream. Heaven sat on the ground, crying softly, holding his body against hers so that his weight didn't pull on the manacles and make the wounds worse.

  Gods Almighty. She's trying to rock him like a baby.

  Watching the young woman try to soothe the unconscious, legendary bogey vampire, Storm, Kay, and Ram stood silent and helpless, unable to do anything more until tools arrived. As the scene played out, each member of B Team was privately thinking that life was very strange.

  "What do you think he was doing down here?" Kay finally asked.

  Storm just shook his head. "Trying to save the world."

  ***

  CHAPTER_20

  BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Section III: Chapter 1, #7

  Hunters will not leave behind physical evidence that might create suspicion in the general public or its military or law enforcement representatives. Success is defined partly by assurance that no trail shall lead back to The Order.

  Ram was dangling fifty feet above the ground, suspended from a Whister by a nylon weave harness, before he stopped to ask himself how much risk was involved. It's one thing to be a mate, but a whole other video game level of responsibility to be some tiny, little elflin's dad.

  By the time he had completed that thought he was safely on the ground. He unhooked the two stretchers and backpacks that were lowered next then, another five minutes after that, Glen was on the ground beside him.

  As he unhooked and unbuckled he said, "Okay, boss. So what's the plan?"

  It was still early, but there was enough light to see.

  "If he put us down where we said we were needin' to be, we're only half a mile away from the den, but we need to look alive because, ..." He gave Glen a pointed look. "...as you know, they can range a lot further than that on a hunt.

  "There's a stone circle no' far from the dolmen. 'Twas sacred to the Old Ones. I think Elora would like it if we burn the wolves' bodies there."

  "Old Ones?" Glen smirked. "You don't really believe in that stuff."

  Ram stopped and gave the kid a look that made him sorry he'd said that. "You're free to disbelieve as you please, o' course. But, as for myself, I've worked for this organization long enough and seen enough strange things to keep my judgment from bein' premature and keep my opinion to myself until it might be considered worthwhile."

  Glen felt put in his place and knew he deserved it. There was no place for irrational skepticism in The Order.

  "Get your pack on and grab one of these stretchers. I'll take the other. We should pick 'em up and put 'em down 'cause this task may gobble up the daylight hours."

  With that, Ram took a stretcher and started jogging toward the den with Glen right behind, keeping a sharp lookout for the surviving wolves. They had loaded tranq pistols in the long, unbuttoned thigh pockets of their cargo pants and enough supplies in their backpacks that they could survive a night out if the plan should jump track.

  They came to the bodies still strewn near the dolmen without ever encountering the wolves. The bodies of the men had been partially eaten and that was fine with Ram. He had Glen help him to remove their clothes. When Glen looked at him with a giant question mark on his face, Ram gave him the straight up, unvarnished truth.

  "I do no' want clothin' or accoutrements to litter the natural perfection of the forest. My grandfather wanted this place as pristine as a virgin pussy and 'tis the way we're goin' to leave it today. The wolves can eat whatever else they'll be wantin' from these unholy pigfuckers. It'll help 'em get through the winter. Whatever be left, the vultures
will take, like nature's little feathered rubbish disposals."

  Ram could see the whole thing was distasteful to Glen, but the kid was going to have to make a decision about a career path soon and Ram reasoned that he may as well understand beforehand that everything about being a Black Swan knight isn't glamorous.

  "We'll build a little fire and burn these thin's outside the circle. We'll build a proper pyre for the six wolves within."

  "Yes sir."

  Glen did not want to appear immature or inadequate in front of Ram. Even if Ram wasn't the most celebrated knight of the century, he would have admired him immensely. But, of course, he was the most celebrated knight of the century. The trainee was fortunate to have been put in a position to get to know Sir Hawking and Lady Laiken personally and he knew it. The last thing he wanted was to do something that would make either of them think less of him.

  Ram couldn't know what had passed between Storm and Glen on the way to the rescue. As luck would have it, Glen was set to the task of stripping Blackwell. As soon as he moved the body to pull the clothing away, it was evident that the man's neck had been broken. It took Glen less than a heartbeat to put together that Storm had done it and that he had asked Glen to go ahead so that he would be spared the witnessing of it.

  For a few seconds the part of him that was destined to be a righteous and honorable man recoiled at the idea, but the part of him that was destined to be a Black Swan knight coolly set that aside on balance of protecting one of their own. Storm's agenda was not to be a beacon of ceremonial justice. His agenda was primitive, practical, and calculating. And sometimes, even when held up to the analysis of a highly evolved intellect, that was the best choice.

  Glen came to the forest a boy who wasn't sure what he would do with the amazing cache of talent he'd been given by fate. He would leave the forest a young man ready to pursue field active duty and a knighthood.

  Each one of his former teachers had taken personal pride in his achievements and had tried to influence him to choose their field of expertise. His supreme versatility was part of his genius. He was simply good at everything. If those mentors could know that the final decision was made upon the discovery of the broken neck of a terrorist, they would be dumbfounded. There was just something about the fact that Sir Storm had quietly gone about doing what needed doing while trying to shield a young trainee from the harsh reality of The Order's mission and protect his innocence as long as possible.

  Glen knew he had the ability to do anything he wanted. And what he wanted was to be that kind of man.

  Ram took off his backpack and withdrew a contraption made of nylon weave.

  "What's that?" Glen asked.

  "Harness."

  "For what?"

  "For attachin' to these stretchers that are goin' to make a funeral procession for brave wolves."

  "But we didn't bring horses."

  Ram started laughing. "Glen, sweet lad, the harness is for ourselves. Let's get these wolves onto the stretchers then I'll help you get into your traces."

  It took two trips for the two of them to pull the bodies of six wolves to the circle a half mile away and another hour to gather enough dry branches to make an adequate fire. Using the cans of accelerant they had packed in, they sprayed the wood to make the fire catch fast and burn hot. When lit, the blaze made a little sound of explosion and the flames climbed high.

  Ram took out his intelliphone and began recording the blaze. He couldn't get service, but he could take a short video to show his mate.

  Glen wondered why Ram was doing that, but didn't ask. He didn't have to.

  "Picture's worth a thousand words. Seein' this will dry her tears and ease her very tender heart although she will probably always be blamin' herself for the loss of these very fine creatures. For myself I am more grateful for their sacrifice than I can express."

  Ram turned toward Glen and, with the firelight reflected in his eyes, Glen was able to imagine the fear Ram's enemies must have experienced right before they smacked into the danger zone of a bona fide Black Swan hero.

  "But 'twas no' she who should be takin' on the blame. 'Tis the fuckers who trespassed upon the quiet of my grandda's forest. When they fouled this place, they pissed on my grandfather's memory. Then they tried to murder my family."

  Glen stared at Ram for a few beats before acknowledging that he understood with a somber nod.

  Ram returned his attention to the fire. It had burned down to a level that was safe to leave at that time of year.

  "I'll come back later and scatter the ashes so that new grass will grow here." He glanced at Glen. "Call the Whister. Let's go to the barn."

  Both men left relieved that they had not been forced to tranq the wolves again. Ram knew his wife was going to be glad of that.

  In a hospital bed down the hall from Elora and Helm, Baka had lain sedated for three days. The first time he took the vampire cure into his bloodstream, it took six hours to eliminate the virus. This time, however, the virus was more resistant, as if it had spontaneously developed antibodies and was mutating to resist the vaccine. After twenty hours had passed with no change, a phone conference with Monq resulted in a decision to dose him again. When that also failed to produce significant results, Monq okayed a third dose saying something to the effect of, "Look. We can't very well just walk away and leave the man a vampire, can we?"

  Several hours after the third dose had been administered by drip into his I.V., his eyes clearly showed more of the sea blue that was the natural color of his irises. The assigned team checked on him hourly and, when his eyes had returned to normal, they gradually brought him out of the comatose state.

  Without moving his head, he allowed his eyes to travel around the room. Baka woke in a hospital bed to find his humanity had been revived for the second time, but he wasn't convinced he hadn't died.

  Heaven was sitting in front of the window, head bowed over an electronic reader resting on her lap. She was a picture framed by the window. The last of the tree's reddish leaves were moving in a breeze, barely hanging on to bare branches as if their purpose was to provide a background that matched the red highlights in her chestnut hair. The stream of sunlight coming through the panes lit her like a spotlight, making it look like her aura was as visible as a halo. Baka knew one of two things had happened. He'd either passed over to the other side with his soul intact or he was hallucinating.

  That was the only plausible explanation. Certainly Heaven would not be sitting by his bedside, looking like an angel, waiting for him to revive. Nonetheless, he couldn't help thinking how appropriate her name seemed at that moment. She looked up and saw that his eyes were open and sucked in a little gasp.

  "Hi," she said, her voice and features both soft with kindness.

  "Hi," he said with vocal chords still thickened and rough from screaming.

  She set the reader down and approached the bed. "What do you need?"

  He stared into her eyes while he repeated that question to himself. He couldn't think of a single thing he needed or wanted. He could be happy to simply stay in between clean white sheets, in a body that was not tormenting him at the moment, and absorb the lovely, concerned look of the woman who stood above him.

  The edges of her pretty, bow shaped lips softened even further into a tentative smile, a miracle in itself. "I brought you flowers."

  "You did?" Baka looked and sounded incredulous wondering what all he had missed while he was out of it.

  She straightened and drew the rolling table a little closer to the bed. The arrangement was a riot of color in a vase that was short, but wide enough to hold a large bouquet.

  "These are..." As he stared at the flowers he saw a rapid series of images, spring and summer evenings when he had stopped on his way home to gather wildflowers for Helena. Romanian bellflower, Alpine primrose, yellow foxglove, pink dobrogean, and Balkan peony. She had spent two months' pay to have them flown in after tracking down a source that cultivated out of season Romanian wildflower
s in greenhouses. Baka looked at Helena with a question mark in his eyes. "...my favorites."

  "I know." She almost whispered that while he searched her face for a clue as to how she knew. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the door opened and Storm walked in like he owned the place.

  He acknowledged Heaven with a cursory nod then looked at Baka. "You're awake."

  "Astute."

  "Good to know your biting sarcasm is still intact."

  "Laughing on the inside, Sir Storm."

  "Yeah. Well, I thought it was funny. Frivolity aside though. Want to tell me how you ended up a lonely vampire chained to a wall in the Underground?"

  Baka said nothing.

  "Wakie, but no talkie?" Baka remained silent. "Elora is in the room two doors down." Baka's eyes jerked up to meet Storm's. "Yeah. I thought that might get a reaction."

  "She's in the hospital? What's wrong?"

  Storm regarded him quietly for a minute. "She was walking her dog in those wild Irish woods she loves so much when she was attacked by people from her own dimension. Assassins who seemed to think they were freedom fighters. She, and Blackie, and her recently adopted wolf pack overcame them - with casualties: six wolves and three alien assholes. She was injured and then had the baby alone. They're both okay. You know Elora. She's a survivor."

  "I want to see her," Baka said as he pulled the covers back and swung his legs over without regard for modesty.

  When Heaven saw the level of concern, the instant tension that radiated from Baka, along with his determination to rush to the Lady Laiken's bedside, her heart fell.

  He loves her.

  "Okay," Storm said, "but only if you agree to tell her what happened."

  Baka hesitated, looking as if he was thinking that over. Storm could tell the moment Baka acquiesced. He sighed, let his shoulders slump, and said simply, "Pants."