by Lund, S. E.
We’re able to drive the carriage undetected until we get closer to Blackstone’s camp in Cambridge. The lights we finally see in the distance signal that we’re getting close. We arrive at a set of jerry-rigged gates made with police barricades and barbed wire, cordoning off one city block. One of Blackstone’s guards greets Dylan and asks for his papers. I listen as Dylan describes our trip from the coast to the city, and the reason. The guard looks at me with real curiosity and then takes off his hat and nods, smiling. Maybe what Dylan said is true. Maybe Blackstone’s forces do think I tried to kill Soren because I support Blackstone’s goals.
The guard motions us through the makeshift gates and down the street, which is more residential than commercial, the buildings grand mansions set on large lawns. It reminds me of Michel’s mansion and I wonder if we’ll ever be able to return there.
We drive up to a gated and protected mansion of red brick with Georgian architecture. It’s huge with three wings, a semi-circular driveway, and torches lighting the way to the massive set of double doors. Guards greet us at the driveway and speak with Dylan. They recognize him and pass us through, nodding to me once more, as if they’re expecting me.
We dismount at the entry. Another guard takes the horse and leads it away from the front.
“Come,” Dylan says, his hand at my arm. “Don’t be afraid. Lord Blackstone is only too happy to meet you. You’re his poster child for Dominion.”
We walk up the steps to the doors and a servant opens them for us, admitting us into a wide foyer. As we cross the threshold, I look up to see a huge chandelier and a double staircase leading to the second floor. Our footsteps echo in the cavernous entry. In a room to the left, people are gathered in small groups and from their pallor, they’re all vampires. They turn expectantly when Dylan enters the room. One of them, a young-looking vampire with short dark hair and a very muscular frame, stands and comes right over to us.
“Dylan,” he says, nodding. Then he turns his eyes to me and I feel his gaze like a laser boring into me. “This must be Eve.” He reaches out to take my hand and then kisses my knuckles. “Welcome. We’ve been waiting to meet you. I take it your trip from the coast was uneventful?”
I force a smile.
“Eve, this is Lord Blackstone’s eldest son, William. He runs security for the compound and spent some time in Afghanistan during the wars.”
I smile again and he finally releases my hand.
“My father's in a business meeting and won’t be able to join us for a while,” William says, so very polite. “But please, do come and sit with us. We’re pleased to have you with us.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me over to the group of other vampires. “Have something to drink. You look famished.”
He motions to a circle of plush chairs surrounding a central coffee table. On the table is a large carafe filled with what appears to be blood. Immediately, my bloodlust revives and my mouth actually waters.
“We’re rationed,” Dylan says. “Both of us are hungry.” Dylan raises his eyebrows at me as if to warn me not to ask about the blood’s provenance.
I don’t want to drink the blood of slaves, but what choice do I have? My purpose is to get Blackstone’s daywalking drug so I can be an effective fighter for the Council. I can’t be effective at anything if I’m starving. I must compromise my morals for the greater good, but it chokes me to do so.
William pours some blood and hands us the delicate crystal glasses. They’re beautiful, with an intricately etched floral pattern. I hold the glass up and nod to William.
“To Lord Blackstone,” I say, hoping to get myself even more deeply into their good books.
Beside me, Dylan holds up his glass. “Here, here. And to Dominion.”
I’m so hungry by that I drink the glass down without stopping, gasping a bit when I finish. It tastes so good. When I look up from my glass, I see that William has his hand over Dylan’s glass, preventing him from drinking. It’s then I realize things are not what Dylan has led me to believe…
I turn to Dylan. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
Dylan doesn’t answer. Instead he puts his glass down and turns to me. “Don’t panic,” he says softly. “The drug should start to work right away. You might feel a bit dizzy.”
I frown and sit down heavily. “The daywalking drug?” I say, licking my lips. It’s then that the room starts to feel far too hot. I glance around as the room seems to melt around me. “What’s happening?”
“Truth serum,” William says. He stands in front of me, his hands on his hips. “Do you really think Lord Blackstone wouldn’t want to interrogate you before he accepts you into the fold?”
I try to look at Dylan but my muscles seem weak and it takes forever to turn my head.
“Dylan,” I whisper, fear starting to fill me. “What’s happening?”
He turns to me, his expression sad, his mouth downturned. “Sorry, sister, but they have my parents. You must cooperate now, for real. They know you can’t be compelled, so they’re using a truth serum to force you to tell the truth.”
He shrugs as if it’s all beyond his control. It’s then I realize that he’s betrayed me.
“You knew all along…about your parents…” I manage to whisper.
He nods. “I didn’t expect that we’d have any reason to go to their cottage. I’m sorry I lied to you, but you can understand, Eve. They have my mother and father.”
Adrenaline courses though me and what I’d like to do is get up and run as fast and as far as I can, but I can barely move the muscles of my face, let alone my legs.
“Lord Blackstone,” comes a voice from the doorway.
I slowly crane my head and when I finally have the entry in focus, I see him.
Lord Blackstone himself.
He’s younger than I imagined—not much older than his son—perhaps early thirties. He must have become a vampire and then turned his own son when he got to a certain age. That’s the only way they could be so close in age, for they look more like brothers.
He has dark curling hair to his shoulders and green eyes, thick black lashes and a generous mouth. His square jaw is covered in dark whiskers. He’s also well-built, wearing a black zip-up mock turtleneck and leather trench coat over black jeans. He’s very handsome in a slightly fearsome way. Like I’d imagine a thug in the Irish Republican Army.
Not someone you want as your enemy.
“Ahh, Eve. The woman of the year.”
He walks over to me and I follow him with my eyes, my body slumped back into the sofa, my muscles useless. He motions to Dylan, who moves aside, and then Blackstone sits beside me. He takes my hand and kisses it the way his son did. On his face is a warm smile, but his calculating green eyes betray his otherwise-friendly demeanor.
“I am so glad to finally meet you, Eve. Your brother here has told us so much about you. You have the de Cernay twins on their knees before you, you almost killed Soren and the Twelve… Everyone wants to ask you about the whole thing. But me?” he says and turns my hand over, examining my fingers. “I want to hear you play Chopin. Dylan tells us you were a child prodigy and performed in Budapest and Prague. How sad that things went so badly for your family.”
He clicks his tongue, smiling at me while I sit helpless.
“So,” he says and leans in closer. “I know you can’t be compelled and I apologize for drugging you, but how can I trust someone I can’t compel?” He shrugs as if this is out of his control. “Now that you’ve had the truth serum, I hope to get some answers out of you. Tell me, how much do you hate Soren?”
“I want to suck him dry,” I manage to whisper. “Then I want to drive a stake through his heart.”
Blackstone smiles at that. “Sadly, that would accomplish nothing. He would merely incarnate into another body. To kill him, and I completely understand your desire for his death, Eve, we must prevent him from leaving his body. We must destroy him and the body together. Our first attempt didn’t work, due to incompet
ence on the part of my scientists, but I assure you that won’t happen again.”
I say nothing, barely able to keep my eyes open. In fact, I can feel them partially shutting so that all I can see is the bottom of his face, his very square jaw covered by dark stubble and his full, smiling mouth, his chin and neck with a prominent Adam’s apple. It’s only very slowly that his words finally hit me.
Our first attempt…
What does he mean? It was the Council who tried to kill Soren.
Blackstone shifts on the seat. “And what do you feel for Michel and Julien?” he asks.
I can’t help but respond, for whatever drug he’s given me is making me lose all control over what I say.
“I love them both more than anything.”
He smiles at me and nods his head. “Yet you were willing to let them die so you could kill Soren?”
“I thought they might live.” It’s the truth, even if not the complete truth. I find I can tell a half-truth as long as part of what I say is true.
“You were willing to sacrifice yourself to kill him.”
“Yes,” I say. That is the truth. Of course I wanted to live, and I wanted both Julien and Michel to live as well, but apparently I wanted Soren to die even more. “Soren is a monster.”
“That he is,” Lord Blackstone says, his eyes narrowing. “And what do you think of Dominion?”
“It’s wrong.”
He nods again, as if he expected me to say that. “You support the Treaty?”
“Yes. Vampires shouldn’t rule. We should share power.”
“Sharing power,” he says and shakes his head. “A nice dream, but only possible between equals.” He crosses his legs and leans back. “Vampires and humans are not equals.” He studies me for a moment, and then inhales as if he’s decided. “In the end, Eve, it really doesn’t matter if you agree with our goals or not. You still love your parents as well. You’re an exceptionally new vampire and still have all those old loyalties. You’ll do what I want to keep your father alive.”
My father?
He has my father? Despite the drug, my heart thumps in my chest.
“You have my father?”
“Yes,” he says. “If you want him to stay alive, you’ll cooperate.” With that he stands and goes to Dylan, who glowers at him, not hiding his contempt.
Dylan assured me that my father was well-guarded. Of course, at the time, I had no idea Dylan was under Blackstone’s control.
“Quit looking at me like that,” he says to Dylan and pats Dylan’s cheek. “This is the far more humane thing to do, don’t you think?” He turns to me and catches my eye once more. I don’t see gloating in them—just a calm sense of competence. “Aren’t you glad I took him to protect him from harm, Eve? I’m sure you’ll comply with my wishes to ensure he remains alive. If I didn’t take him, Soren surely would have.”
With that, Lord Blackstone struts out of the room, his two guards following in his self-confident wake. I hate him.
Almost as much as I hate Soren.
* * *
I’m left alone in a small, dark cell of a room in the mansion, the lights low, waiting as the drug slowly loses potency. I’ve lost track of time, but judging by how hungry I am, I’d say it’s been several hours. Finally, Dylan comes to me, sitting on the bed beside me and taking my hand. Part of me wants to be angry with him, while the other part understands completely. With my father now under Lord Blackstone’s control, I’ll do what he asks. But I will also look for every opportunity to stop him.
“Don’t hate me too much, sister,” Dylan says with a strange detachment, his voice monotone, as if he feels nothing. “I screwed up and didn’t protect our parents well enough. We didn’t get your father to safety soon enough.”
“I thought he was somewhere in upstate New York,” I manage once my control recovers and I no longer want to scream.
“Blackstone found your father and brought him here. He has all angles covered, Eve. He’s a master strategist.”
“You say that as if you admire him.” I drag myself up to a semi-reclining position, my back against the cement wall.
He shrugs listlessly. “I can admire someone’s skill and still hate them.”
“Can I see my father?” I ask. “If he’s here in the compound, I want to see him. Tell Lord Blackstone that I’ll comply with him, but only if I have proof that my father’s alive. Otherwise…” I say to the ceiling, where a video camera is poised, watching and listening. “Otherwise, he can go ahead and kill me. What do I care?”
“Lord Blackstone assumes you’ll cooperate to save your father’s life.”
“He’s right,” I say, but my heart is almost thumping out of my chest at the thought that my father is here. My foster parents deliberately hid his location from me because, in his brief moments of sanity in between those of complete insanity, he didn’t want me to see him the way he was, and they agreed.
All I knew was that he was somewhere in an asylum, drugged and insane. I was always told he wouldn’t recognize me anymore because he’d lost complete touch with reality and had become catatonic.
I make a terrible decision. If he truly is that way, if he is completely shut off from reality and I can do nothing to bring him back, I’ll kill him myself so his torture and death can’t be used against me. If he truly is catatonic and it isn’t the result of drugs or compulsion, I figure he’d rather be dead than used to blackmail me and destroy human civilization.
“Please ask Lord Blackstone to let me see my father. Tell him that once I see he’s truly alive, I’ll do whatever he wants of me.”
Dylan rises and straightens his jacket as if he’s gathering his courage. “All right, sister. I will.”
He goes to the door and knocks. A guard opens it, but before Dylan leaves, he turns to me once more, his face pained despite the smile he pastes on his lips. “Don’t get your hopes up that your father will recognize you. From what I hear, he’s practically a vegetable.”
I nod and lie back down, my muscles too fatigued from the effort to sit up. I don’t know what to do. How can I get myself out of this situation? Once I know whether my father is a vegetable, at least I can remove Blackstone’s leverage over me. What will he do then? Kill me?
I’m totally at his mercy.
* * *
A while later, a guard opens the door and motions to me with his head. “Come on. Lord Blackstone wants to see you.”
I rise without protest and stand while he fastens my hands together with rough iron manacles from some bygone era, the iron rusted and rough on my skin. We trudge down a long, dim corridor to stairs leading up to the main floor of the massive house. Upstairs, the guard leads me through a half-dozen hallways with wood paneling and stone floors until we enter a large study with cathedral ceilings, the walls lined with bookshelves. There must be thousands of books in the library. Lord Blackstone sits at a wooden desk before the arched stained glass window, a map spread out before him on the tabletop.
He looks up when we enter.
“Lord Blackstone, you asked to see her.” The guard pulls me forward and I stand before him, my bound hands in front of me.
“Take off her cuffs, for God’s sake, man.” Lord Blackstone waves his hand at the guard, his brow furrowed. “She’s not a prisoner. She’s a guest.”
The guard unlocks the manacles and removes them from my wrists, which I rub. The scrapes are slow to heal because I’ve had so little blood in the last few days and I wince a bit from the pain. I glance around, searching the room for potential weapons. There are few, but nothing traditional. A table or chair leg could be broken off and used as a makeshift stake if I had to…
“Guests are free to leave when they choose,” I say, hoping to distract him while I survey his study for weapons. There’s a coat of arms on a wall with two long blades—I could try to remove one and stick it through his heart if the opportunity arose.
Blackstone smiles, his eyes narrow. “Unfortunately, I’ve declared mar
tial law over this sector of Boston and so no one is free to travel without permit. You have no permit, so...”
“And I suppose you’re in charge of issuing permits?” I say, sarcasm heavy in my tone.
“Of course. It’s a safeguard to ensure that there’s no unnecessary traffic to interfere with keeping the order. And we must have an orderly society, mustn’t we, Eve? Don’t you think that order is preferable to mayhem and murder in times of chaos?”
“A free society is more important,” I say, eyeing the chair’s narrow wooden legs. One of them could be used as a makeshift stake in a pinch. “How inconvenient for me that you’re the one to issue permits,” I continue, unable to bite my tongue. “Does keeping the order include attacking humans, killing them, taking them prisoners, and farming them like cattle?”
“That’s what humans are to us,” he says, smoothing his hands over the map and turning his attention back to it. “Feedstock. Amusement. Toys for our pleasure.”
“Not all vampires feel that way.”
He nods and examines part of the map more closely. “That’s entirely true. I intend to make sure that they all share my view of things. Those who don’t will go the way of the dodo.”
“You intend to kill off all dissenters?”
He glances up at me. “Whatever it takes to keep the peace.”
“Your peace. Isn’t killing another vampire one of the cardinal sins?”
He smiles but says nothing for a moment, examining me like I’m a disobedient child. Finally, he heaves a heavy, impatient sounding sigh.
“Dylan said you had a mind of your own.” He looks back at the map and motions to me. “Killing vampires is something mortals have become very adept at doing. Too adept, your mother included. I had to do something to stop our extermination. Come and see what we’ve accomplished in such a short time.”
I frown and refuse for a moment, but then realize that knowing his plans and what’s happened could be useful. I walk over and stand in front of the desk. A map of the world is spread out on its surface. I recognize the continents and the oceans, but on the entire eastern seaboard of America, there’s a wide swath of red extending from Newfoundland to Florida. It reaches all the way west to Chicago and down to New Orleans.
