by HDA Roberts
Primal’s Wrath
Book VI of The Magician's Brother Series
HDA Roberts
Contents
Primal’s Wrath
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Copyright © 2019 HDA Roberts
All rights reserved.
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is unintentional.
Cover by Warren Design
Chapter 1
The Portal opened and I staggered onto a wide lawn, breathing hard as I tried to keep from screaming. My flesh was torn and battered, several of my bones were broken and my clothes were soaked in blood. I was blind, one eye sliced into uselessness, the other simply... gone. Even through the numerous Painkiller Spells, just about everything hurt.
The Portal snapped shut behind me, cutting off the enraged screams of a hundred Vampires, and I sagged onto the soft grass, knowing I was safe at last.
My Mage Sight Spell showed me what my eyes could not. A mansion, shimmering in moonlight, wide and gothic; huge and imposing, perched in the middle of a wide expanse of grass, surrounded by fir trees. The house looked like the home of a Disney villain, with a dozen sharp towers of various height and width, all built of a dark grey stone. Statues and intricate decorations carved from rare black marble were dotted throughout. The roof was made of black slate, sharp and peaked, perched amid crenulations. It practically oozed Magic, with thousands upon thousands of Wards and overlapping Enchantments. The front doors were heavy and ornate, twice my height and made of mahogany planks six inches think; solid enough to brain a dragon if thrown properly.
It didn’t take long for someone to spot me, and three of my sister's Wardens came running, weapons in their hands, pointed in my direction.
I couldn't blame them for that; it wasn't like I was easily recognisable in my somewhat mangled state. I’d barely had the chance to cast some basic Triage Spells, much less do anything about my appearance.
"Identify yourself!" one of the Wardens barked, her expression stuck half way between disgust and pity.
I recognised her as Minnie, one of Jennifer Hopkins' favourite Wardens, a specialist in stealth and infiltration, mean with a rifle and meaner with a lightning bolt.
"It's Mathew Graves," I said slowly, my voice thick with the damage to my throat, which had very nearly been bad enough to sever my vocal chords.
Minnie looked at me for a moment before recognition dawned.
"Lord Shadow?!" she gasped, quickly holstering her gun. "Good God, what’s happened to you?"
She knelt next to me and gently took my undamaged arm (the other was broken, clutched to my abdomen). "Let's get you indoors, alright?"
"I need to see Lady Hopkins," I said. "Is she here?"
"Of course, I’ll have her fetched for you. Is there anything I can do now? Your wounds...”
“I’ll live. I’ll heal. But I need to see her first.”
Minnie nodded, "Max, go and tell the Lady that her brother is here."
A man I didn’t recognise nodded and trotted off.
"You really need a healer, Lord Shadow," Minnie said as she helped me to my feet.
"Yes," I replied simply, wincing as another spike of pain made its evil way past my Spellwork.
I grunted as we started moving, forced to lean heavily on my Shadows. Damn, but those Vampires had really done a number on me. Cassandra was going to be insufferable for months after this.
Minnie guided me through the front doors and into a broad hall.
Hopkins' home was decorated in an older style. The fixtures and fittings gleamed in brass and gold, the artwork on the walls was bright and cheerful, generally landscapes of places few humans had ever seen. I could have spent a month looking at her collection and still not have fully appreciated it. Normally, I’d have been drinking in every detail, but I was too distracted, too hurt.
And also blind, that didn’t help.
I wasn’t far into the room when I heard a barely-strangled scream from above.
"Matty, what happened to you?!" Hopkins said, all but throwing herself down a set of marble stairs towards me. I felt her cast Mage Sight; she was just in time to avoid grabbing my broken arm.
I didn't know quite how to answer her question, but Hopkins didn’t really give me the time to, anyway.
"Wait, let’s get you settled. This way," she said, gently taking my other arm. She flexed the gravity around us, and I suddenly weighed next to nothing, which made things a lot easier. She soon guided me into a nearby guest room and then towards a bed.
"I'll ruin the sheets," I said.
"Shut up and lie down,” she replied softly, her tone kind.
I did as I was told, groaning as I took the weight off my mangled body.
“Who did this to you?” she asked, a tinge of fury entering her voice.
Once more, I didn't know how to begin.
There was a reason I'd gone to her and not back to Blackhold. Someone had to know what I'd done; I just didn’t know how to start explaining it.
I looked down. It was an unconscious gesture. I still wasn't 'looking' at anything.
She waited for me to answer, not pushing, just sitting on the bed next to me as I gathered my thoughts.
I decided to be as direct as possible.
"I did something bad, Jen," I whispered. "I killed someone."
It was six hours earlier, and I was feeling slightly nervous as Crystal and I walked up to the Chrysanthème Hotel in Paris. It was a warm June night, just a few days after the end of my first year at Stonebridge University.
"Relax, Matty," my girlfriend said, smiling at me.
She was beautiful that night. Her golden blond hair was styled into a curly sheet that cascaded down her back and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She was radiant in a red, form-hugging dress that accentuated her curves and soft contours to their best effect, while still being modest enough to allow me some measure of coherency. I appreciated that; when Crystal went all out to entice, it wasn't unknown for me to lose the ability to speak entirely (or even breathe, on one particularly memorable occasion).
I smiled back, though it was a tight thing. I hadn't been this nervous in a while. I was about to meet Crystal’s family, and meeting my girl
friends’ families had not gone well for me in the past. The fact that Crystal’s family were all Vampires didn’t help. What could I possibly talk to them about?
Further complicating an already complex issue was the idea that when Crystal talked about my meeting her family, she didn’t just mean her relations, she also meant her House. For Vampires, their House was very important. They didn't generally interfere with the day-to-day lives of their members, but they were always a presence, an authority to call on in times of crisis and a source of support for those that needed it. They kept in touch, arranged social events and even had reunions (such as the one we were about to attend) every few years to keep the community ties strong.
Crystal's House, the Aurelia, was mostly concerned with Western Europe, specifically France, Spain, and parts of Southern England. It was one of the wealthiest Vampire Houses, though not one of the more influential, as they were somewhat old-fashioned.
Alas, I hadn’t thought to ask Crystal what that meant. Wow, did that turn out to be a mistake...
The Chrysanthème Hotel was close to the Champs-Élysées, on the Avenue Montaigne, and was one of the most expensive, most luxurious in Paris. The frontage was wide and immaculately white, with navy blue awnings and balconies surrounding every one of its dozens of windows.
Flawlessly dressed footmen in the hotel’s livery opened the front doors for us as we approached, tipping their hats as we passed. The front hall was marble, which covered the walls, the floor and made up the two rows of columns, all in a tasteful Greco-Roman style. There was a thick red carpet from door to reception desk, itself a work of art, stitched with intricate scenes of city life, all in gold thread.
"Aurelia Party?" Crystal said to the receptionist, linking her arm through mine.
The man on the desk blushed terribly at the sight of Crystal, but managed to stutter out directions to one of their dining rooms, which had been booked in its entirety for the event.
When it first opened, the Chrysanthème had styled itself as something of a literary salon, attracting artists from all over the world. Alas, the French Revolution didn’t really approve of that sort of thing, so they’d seized it, guillotined the owner and started using it for Citizens' Housing. Thankfully, an enterprising man more 'equal' than the rest of his peers had bought it and reopened it. That fellow, and his descendants, kept the literary theme, and named the various restaurants and rooms after famous French authors.
Crystal’s reunion was being held in the Dumas Room, named for Alexandre Dumas of 'Three Musketeers' fame. It was a renowned restaurant in its own right with two Michelin stars to its credit. They specialised in modern French cuisine, which wasn't my preference, but then it wasn't my party.
The restaurant was pretty big, about seventy metres long, with an upper level half the width of the room, both floors filled with circular tables of various sizes. To my left were a set of tall windows that provided a view of the hotel's central garden, which was packed with ornamental shrubbery and a rather picturesque water feature. At the far end, was a wide table on a raised platform for the House Elders (the oldest, and thus strongest, Vampires; the ones in charge).
Crystal led the way in. It didn’t take long for her to be noticed. Even among supernaturally striking people, she stood out. It wasn’t a large crowd, but it was enough to fill the two hundred seats. They weren’t all Vampires, but about three quarters or so were, with the rest being a mixture of regular people, a few Ghouls and even a trio of nervous looking Lycanthropes who kept rubbing their necks like they were afraid that part of their bodies would suddenly go missing.
I wasn't worried about being among them. Crystal promised to tell the organisers who she was bringing as her date, and it went without saying that if I failed to come back, then something very akin to the wrath of God would descend on them from a very great height and leave very little behind to regret their mistake (and that was just Cassandra. What the other Archons would do to them would be worse).
"Marcel!" Crystal squealed, darting over to a handsome gentleman in a dark, tailored suit (not that his attire was unusual in that crowd, I doubted that there was anyone there wearing ‘off the rack’). He was tall and lithe, with a swimmer's build, pale skin and dark green eyes.
"Crys!" he replied, wrapping her up in a warm hug before pushing her back to look her over, "You've lost weight again! Is your servant not feeding you properly?"
She blushed prettily and turned to introduce me.
"Marcel, this is Mathew Graves, my boyfriend. Matty, this is Marcel, my brother."
Terms like 'brother' and 'sister' could be complicated with Vampires. Crystal had a biological sister, a nasty young woman by the name of Amber, who had been turned into a Vampire by the same 'Sire', which made her both a sister by blood and of the Blood. The terminology was unnecessarily vague, but you got used to it. Marcel was of the latter type (made by the same Sire).
"Nice to meet you," I said politely, shaking his hand.
"And you, Lord Shadow," he said with a half bow. "Crystal has told us a great deal about you."
"Good things, I trust?" I asked.
He grinned good-naturedly, showing fangs much longer than Crystal's, an indication of greater age. Most species of Vampire could retract them, to blend in, but few of them were bothering that night.
"You probably don't want to know," he replied.
No, I probably didn't. That girl had no filter.
"Is Vallan here yet?" Crystal asked brightly, almost jumping up and down. "I wanted to surprise him."
She gestured at me. This was news to me in a variety of ways, and likely meant that Vallan (her Sire) didn't know that I was coming. Not good. Just going by Cathy's father, boyfriends were not a surprise that father-figures enjoyed.
"Not yet. He was detained by one of his side projects; he should be here in a little while."
"Great!" Crystal said, though she'd given me an almost guilty sideways look when Marcel said 'side projects'. I should have paid more attention to things like that, but I was complacent and smitten with the sexy Vampire, it wasn’t entirely my fault.
The next half an hour was a blur of introductions. I must have met fifty people and seven more of Crystal's siblings of the Blood. One thing I noticed was how many true siblings there were among their ranks. Five of the Vampires I met were actually brothers from the same family.
When I asked, Crystal told me that this was something of a recurring theme with Vampire Houses. They actually preferred to offer the Turning to siblings, to promote a sense of community, family and loyalty. It was really quite clever; a way of moderating the erosion of humanity that comes from immortality and losing your loved ones to old age. Preventing that erosion was very important. Inhuman Vampires tended to draw fireball-wielding attention, which was very bad for business.
Just before the meal was due to start, I was introduced to the House's Elders. There were six of them present, with the seventh being the aforementioned Vallan. They were an impressive looking bunch, dressed in suits or dresses that cost more than most cars, with yet more money evident in their jewellery and their hair styles. Four were men, handsome enough to have been models in their old lives. The women were even more stunning, and of a type with Crystal, tall with spectacular figures and delicate features. Their dresses were conservative and dark, giving their beauty dignity and a certain distance.
They were very polite, welcoming me to their party, but otherwise they largely ignored me, focussing on Crystal. I didn’t mind; this was an affair for the Immortals (as they called themselves), after all, and a family reunion besides. I was actually happier that way; I disliked attention at the best of times and I suspected I’d like it even less at a dinner thrown for creatures that consumed human tissue.
Crystal had a wonderful time, catching up with old friends and ‘family’ members, largely leaving me to my own devices. All I had to do was stay close so that I was around to meet Vallan (and gain his stamp of approval). He was the closest thing Cr
ystal had to a father, as her birth-father had died during Operation Overlord. Vallan had taken her whole family in and raised the two girls as his own. Anyone willing to do that was a good egg, so I couldn’t see myself not liking the fellow. I just hoped that being sprung on him wouldn’t annoy him; I wanted him to like me, too.
Dinner was... the only word I have is spectacular. I didn't even like French food, and yet I enjoyed all eight courses so much that I still consider them some of the best things I've ever eaten in my life. All the while, Crystal sat next to me at one of the smaller tables near the windows, chatting away, relaxed and happy.
As you might guess, the Vampires didn't eat the same food as their guests, but that didn't mean they were shorted on the luxury. They were provided with their own version of a tasting menu consisting of dozens of different blood types, prepared in different ways. I didn’t listen too closely to the descriptions and critiques (because then I wouldn’t have enjoyed my dinner), but Crystal seemed to enjoy them, which was the important thing.
Finally, the meal came to an end, and we made our way into one of the hotel’s impressive reception rooms, where the family could mingle and chat the rest of the evening away. It was on the other side of the hotel's central garden, a mirror of the restaurant’s space.
It was lit by a row of bright chandeliers and filled with comfortable furniture in little groups, with waiters circulating to provide drinks and snacks to any that wanted them. I struck up a conversation with a few of the other non-Vampires, but it was just small-talk and of no real substance.
Just as the evening was beginning to wind down (after about three hours of painful post-dinner small talk), the big double doors at the end of the room burst open and a man walked in like he owned the place. He wasn’t as handsome as his fellows, but he carried himself with a certain dignity and grace that made him stand out anyway.
The crowd made welcoming noises at his arrival, and he smiled, revealing fangs even longer than those of the Elders. I took a step away from the doors, not wanting to block the crowd getting at the new arrival, but then I felt something; something impossible, and I stopped.
It had to be a mistake, because I’d felt Magic.
