Dark Ascension: A Generation V Novel

by Brennan, M. L.

  We stared at her.

  “Patricia assured me that that would be appropriate for a simcha.”

  The expression on Prudence’s face indicated that she found my mother’s use of casual Yiddish just as disturbing as I did, but she recovered herself first. “Mother,” she said cautiously, “how on earth do you know this? Neither Chivalry nor I had heard any of it, and I wasn’t even aware that you bothered yourself with the other vampires in our part of the world.”

  Madeline gave a loud snort of derision as she took a precise sip of tea. “My precious dove, just because I don’t often bring up such a dull topic doesn’t mean that I have willfully blinded myself to our neighbors. Even those that pose no threat should at least receive the occasional check. As for our Floridian and his baby, your uncle Edmund informed me about that. He always keeps track of these things, and he moves through so many different territories that someone mentioned it to him. Of course he was quite excited—Amália is only the fourth vampire who has been successfully Brooded in the New World, after you three of course. And given that Maximilián was the child of a single-host parent—well, he rather beat the odds on that one.”

  “What do you mean?” Chivalry asked, leaning forward intently.

  “Nothing to concern yourself with, dearling,” she said with a maddening wave of her hand, the kind that indicated that this conversational topic was closed. “Just my brother’s hobby. While I do very much enjoy being able to Skype with Edmund wherever he might be, I do admit that at times I miss being able to skim over the boring parts of his letters.”

  “How is Amália only the fourth vampire infant?” I asked, confused. “I’ve seen the territory map. There are a couple of other vampire-held areas. I know we’re operating on a different time scale than humans, but we’re not moving geologically. There should be more.”

  Chivalry shifted to look at me. “Not many vampires were ever interested in leaving the old territories in Europe and Western Asia,” he explained. “Mother was the first to come to the Americas, and not many others followed. There’s Caterina on the West Coast, of course, but she’s old, and, according to Mother, was never able to Brood offspring at all. She barely concerns herself with anything outside of Napa Valley. And there’s Gavril in Minnesota, but his daughter, Yelena, emigrated with him. I’m not even sure whether she’s old enough to try to Brood.”

  “Yelena is a little older than Prudence,” Madeline said. “She might start toying with the idea.”

  “She has already claimed her own territory beyond her father’s borders.” Prudence’s voice had a distinct edge to it.

  “In Manitoba.” Madeline was dismissive. “Gavril always had interests there anyway, so he’s almost certainly taking an active hand in helping her secure it. They even share a border, for heaven’s sake.” Then, sounding more pleased, “Though I will at least say that Gavril taught the girl some manners. I got a very polite note when she pushed into Manitoba about ten years ago, and she was careful to leave a nicely sized comfort zone between her territory and where ours ends in western Ontario.”

  “Good fences make good neighbors?” I asked.

  “When it comes to vampires, dear heart, the fence also needs a hundred-mile buffer unless it’s a Nest member on the other side of it. Close quarters always set tempers on edge—that’s why those in Europe are constantly getting into fights.”

  Chivalry interceded, his voice sounding upbeat. “Since Yelena set up territory, she must be trying to Brood. We’ll see the first Canadian-born vampire within the next few decades.”

  “I doubt very much that she’ll have much luck with that goal,” Madeline said darkly.

  “What do you mean, Mother?” Prudence asked.

  “Nothing that merits attention, precious.” Our mother set her teacup down in its saucer with a decisive little clink of china, ignoring Prudence’s frustrated scowl. “Now, I’m sorry to say that that tangent carried us quite far from the topic at hand. Tell me, then, my doves, how do you suggest I respond to the request posed by these succubi?”

  “Let them in,” I said immediately. “Minimal risk, shouldn’t create a population explosion, big tithes down the line, and they diversify our portfolio of residents.”

  “You just made up that last part,” my sister accused. “And even if we allow Fortitude’s overly rosy assessment of their exposure likelihood to stand, everything else remains doubtful. A tithe is a percentage, and this doesn’t sound like the kind of high-earning business-owning group that we have in the metsän kunigas. As for the potential for a population explosion, I’d say that the kitsune have certainly taught us the danger of making assumptions. As for this idea of diversification . . . I fail to see any benefit in bringing yet more potential troublemakers into our territory. Frankly I’d say that Maximilián has the right idea.”

  We both looked at Chivalry, catching him just as he took a sip of his coffee. There was a long pause while he held it in his mouth before slowly swallowing, then patting his mouth precisely with his napkin. We kept staring. He heaved a large sigh. “You both have good points,” he said. “Fort, I agree that they could probably be a group that would be very easy to control, and at the very least they don’t seem strong enough to put up any kind of resistance if we decided to expel them at a later date. But”—he saw my expression brighten, and immediately sent me a cautioning look—“I also have to agree with Prudence that there seems to be little in the way of a financial incentive for us in allowing them into the territory—if anything, it’s one more group to keep tabs on.”

  Prudence reached across the table and, her every movement indicating her level of pique, transferred several Milano cookies from their current position on the doily-clad nibbles section of the tea tray over onto her plate. She didn’t even try to hide that she was high-grading those cookies from among the less desirable sugar or Danish butter cookies on offer. “Chivalry, you remain the king of the middle ground,” she grumbled. I didn’t say anything, but I found myself in (extremely) reluctant agreement with my sociopathic sibling.

  Thirty minutes followed where Prudence and I attempted to shift the other in their position, while Chivalry brokered uselessly from the middle.

  “Can you please just pick one side or the other? Preferably mine?” I asked my brother finally. By this time I was nursing my third cup of coffee, and I was not only getting a significant buzz on, but becoming increasingly aware of my impending need for a bathroom break. However, given the very real possibility that a bathroom break would result in a decision against the succubi in my absence, I didn’t dare get up. At least the sight of Prudence making the occasional subtle repositioning that nonetheless indicated bladder distress made me confident that she was in no better position than I was.

  “Fort, I see the value in both positions,” Chivalry repeated for the umpteenth time. “I must say that I could be equally happy with either the succubi being allowed in or in them being directed to depart.”

  “Then wouldn’t it at least make you happy to make me happy?” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration.

  “Now you’re just blatantly appealing to baby brother favoritism,” Prudence accused.

  “Well, since no argument that either of us has made has succeeded in budging him, I might as well attempt something else.”

  “Both of you have very strong feelings on this,” Chivalry defended. “And I just don’t see the value in getting so worked up at this point. Can’t we please find a compromise position here?”

  Prudence made an extremely frustrated sound. “I would be more than happy to boot them out of our territory with a ‘please slaughter’ sign attached, while Fort would probably like nothing so much as to establish a welfare system solely to fund them for the next half century. I’m sorry, brother, but we seem to be making no progress at all now.” She turned to stare at Madeline, who had been listening silently. “Mother, I don’t think that t
here’s a single facet to this decision that we have failed to punctuate. Fort, would you be in agreement?”

  I hated to give up on my attempts of finding some kind of argument that would either entice or strong-arm Chivalry over to my way of thinking, but I had to reluctantly nod. We all looked at Madeline expectantly.

  “I’m not going to intercede,” she said quietly.

  There was a long pause while that sank in. “Wait . . . ,” I asked, “what do you mean?” My mother had always made the final decisions on everything, and decisively. She could periodically ask us for advice, but I’d always had the sense that that was more like a mother cat presenting her babies with a mostly mauled bird and waiting for them to finish the poor crippled thing off, but always ready to step in and deliver the kill stroke if the kitten somehow managed to still lose control of the situation. And if what we advised her to do went in the face of what she’d already planned for, she had never had a problem with telling us that we were completely wrong, and that she’d be doing it her own way (which, she never failed to assert, was also the right way).

  Madeline’s voice was still soft, but implacable. “You have presented your arguments, but I am not making a decision. I want you, my three offspring, my heirs, to decide what course of action will be pursued.”

  Prudence broke in. “Mother, you can’t—”

  The gentleness was gone from my mother’s face as quickly as a cloud passing over the sun. “Can’t I?” she asked my sister, and while her voice was still just as soft, Madeline’s blue eyes were glittering dangerously.

  My sister backed down. She’d had a taste of our mother’s discipline very recently, and was probably still relishing the ability to walk without crutches. “All right, yes, you can. But we need a decision on this subject now.”

  “I don’t see why.” Madeline folded her hands precisely.

  While Prudence sputtered, Chivalry moved in smoothly. Looking at my brother, I saw his dark eyes assessing our mother closely, staring at her as if he wished that he could peel back her skin and see into her thoughts. “This isn’t how you do things,” he said carefully.

  “No, my darling,” Madeline agreed, her voice pleasant again. “It isn’t. But let us accept and face that, very soon now, I will no longer be here to lead you. I will be nothing but a rotting husk and you, my children, will be choosing what directions you travel in.”

  I could feel a hard lump in my throat. No more avoidance. There was what had been becoming increasingly, unavoidably clear for months now, and the subject now lay before us all. Our mother was old, and she was dying. And it would happen soon.

  Prudence shifted, the fabric of her skirt scraping against the sofa’s upholstery loudly in the silent room. Her face was hard to read—surprise at the bluntness of my mother’s statement, an unmistakable sadness, but there was something else there too. A confidence. An assurance. Madeline’s death would leave an empty throne, and it was clear who Prudence felt would fill it. “Mother, I will be—”

  Again the danger crossed Madeline’s face, and those eyes burned. Her upper lip curled back, revealing her ivory fangs, and she hissed, “Assume nothing, daughter.” Prudence rocked back as if slapped, her face paling, and I felt Chivalry’s hand suddenly on my shoulder, squeezing tightly, warning me to stay still. We all pressed back against our seats, and I wished for nothing in that moment more than a few more feet between myself and my mother. Even as weak as she was, in that moment there was no mistaking that there was enough left in her to leave all of us as nothing more than smears on the floor. For a long minute I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, and all I could focus on was the sight of a single drop of saliva slowly dripping down my mother’s left fang as she stared intently at my sister. Prudence dropped her gaze, her body expressing subservience, however reluctantly given. My mother’s lips slowly relaxed, and she seemed to forcefully take control. At last she spoke, and her voice contained a world of sadness and regret. “You are all so very, very young. Had things gone as they should’ve, this territory would’ve passed to Constance, had she lived, and she would’ve been able to protect all of you, guide you, as you grew into adults, ready to face the challenges of this newer world. But she, the sister you never even knew, my true heir, was lost to foolishness.” Her eyes closed for a moment and she seemed to waver. Constance was my oldest sister, born in England during the rule of King James. But she’d died young, killed in some kind of vampire territory clash that I’d never gotten the full details on. My mother had come to America shortly after Constance’s death, and Prudence had been born almost a century later.

  Prudence leaned forward and spoke carefully, and the expression on her face was frankly unnerved. It was rare for my mother to talk about Constance, and I couldn’t remember a single time in my entire life that Constance’s name had been mentioned in this kind of context, as a loss that somehow impacted our current situation. “Mother, you lost Constance, that’s true, but I’m not a child anymore. I’ll be able to protect your territory and my brothers.” Prudence gave a sudden, sharp laugh, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. “Look at this territory that you built, Mother! We rule unchallenged, the others of our kind in this part of the world barely even worth mentioning! What dangers could you be afraid of?”

  The lines in Madeline’s face dug deeper, and she shook her head slightly. A heavy, gusty sigh seemed to come from the very roots of her ancient, dusty sadness. “Oh, daughter. Just that.” My sister frowned, looking both pissed and confused at my mother’s simple, yet firm statement. Madeline locked eyes with her, and waited until Prudence reluctantly glanced away. Then my mother swept that intense blue gaze over all of us, leaving no wiggle room or hiding places. “You will decide this amongst the three of you. That is my will.” We stared. If anything had been revealed in the last hour and change, it was that there was almost no overlap in what we thought the best solution was. I had the sudden horrible vision of all of us trapped in this room for the next century, delivered food from the kitchen and surviving from bathroom break to bathroom break, deadlocked to the end of our days. Something of that must’ve been reflecting in all of our eyes, because my mother said, after a long and uncomfortable silence, “If none of you have changed your mind about the fate of the succubi, then we will simply wait. Perhaps time and consideration will soften your positions.”

  That opened the possibility that the stalemate might at least be punctuated by Marvel movie release days, but I didn’t see that as much of an improvement. I leaned forward. “Mother, time is something that the succubi don’t have.”

  Madeline flipped her hand dismissively. “Of course they have time. The succubi sit within our borders in the Supplicant House. The skinwalkers were reminded quite recently what the punishment is for violating my territory—they won’t risk it simply for the sake of prey, however tempting.” That glare swept over all of us again, and her decree was like iron. “We shall wait until the three of you can reach a decision.”

  My brain raced through the implications of that. The succubi were safe if they didn’t have to leave New Jersey. And given that a month or more could drag by while Prudence and I argued and Chivalry sat on the fence, the most important thing to do was make sure that the succubi were able to survive. That meant making sure that the skinwalkers never got close to them, even assuming the skinwalkers knew where they’d run. And that meant . . . “The succubi are having to hunt outside our borders. If we can’t grant them a speedy decision, then we should grant them hunting rights within the territory, where they can be assured of safety.” I forced confidence into my voice. Fake it till you make it was a better motto than nothing.

  Beside me, Chivalry tipped his head and pursed his mouth, weighing my statement. After a quick glance at my mother confirmed that she wasn’t going to say anything, Chivalry noted cautiously, “It would have to be limited hunting rights, but that doesn’t sound unreasonable. Prudence?”

 
My sister’s expression left no doubt about the absolute depth of her pissiness regarding this situation, but she snapped out, “City hunting only, and have them distribute it around as much as possible. If we’re lucky no one will notice a few more cases of syphilis in New Jersey.”

  The slur (whether justified or not) to the reputation of the Garden State was the least of my concerns, and I could almost feel my brain lurch into sudden, high gear. This was the most progress I’d been able to make on behalf of Saskia and the other succubi all morning. “So we grant them subsistence hunting in the cities, and we have them submit reports on how many humans they’re feeding from, and what steps they’re taking to avoid repeat victims.” My words tumbled out so quickly that they were slurred together, but both of my siblings nodded with varied levels of grace. I took my victory and immediately pushed forward. “That covers that—but we’re asking them to stay in a holding pattern indefinitely. That’s going to make it hard for them to look for the kinds of jobs that they’ll need to support themselves. We need to grant them a monetary stipend to help them make ends meet.”

  Oh, the disgust on Prudence’s face. “Good grief, Fort, you actually are trying to start a welfare state. We’re already allowing them to live rent-free in a house that we’re paying the bills on.”

  “They need groceries, gas for their van, seasonally appropriate clothing,” I countered. “That takes money, Prudence, money that they currently don’t have.”

  “They can get jobs. Even if they can’t get the kinds of jobs they’re used to, they can still mop floors.” For a woman who’d never struggled for money, even during the days when the woman’s place had ostensibly been in the home (with certain exceptions always made, of course, for the devastating one-two punch of the Scott family clout and wealth), Prudence seemed very confident in her assessment.