by Lee Dignam
The phone rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. She tried again, and again it rang out.
“Fuck,” Cyanide grumbled, staring at the screen with Neo’s phone number on it.
She could have tried again, but if Neo didn’t answer the first two times, he wasn’t going to answer at all. So, she tried Pixi instead. The phone rang twice, then connected. “Cy, what’s up?” Pixi asked.
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to the hotel.”
“Are you far away?”
“Nah, just a couple of blocks. Is everyone there?”
“Daniel is. Neo’s missing.”
“Typical. How long before everything kicks off there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes? There’s a lot of people here already.”
“Alright, alright. I’m gonna try and get to Neo, just stay out of trouble.”
Pixi hung up. Cyanide sighed and slipped her phone back into her pocket. From where she stood, she could see the street. Cars rolled past quietly in the night, but none of them were Neo’s Trans Am. Where the hell had he gone? This was not the time to disappear.
Movement in the window’s reflection caused her to stiffen. Two men had moved in behind her while she had been on the phone, and she hadn’t heard them. One of them was bald, and by the wolfish grin on his face could only have been one person—Asimov. The other was the guy who had attacked her and Pixi in the street—Jason. She spun around, her fist ready to knock Asimov off his feet, but Jason clasped her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Cyanide managed a groan, but the sound was cut short and turned into a kind of jabbering stutter.
She fell to the floor, twitching from the residual shock left behind by the thousands of volts coursing through her system. It was funny, really. Vampires were unnaturally strong, tough, and fast, but a stun gun had turned her into a useless, stuttering heap.
Asimov cocked his head to the side and smiled widely. “Look here,” he said, “We caught ourselves a rat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Daniel checked his watch. Midnight had come and gone, and as far as he could tell, every vampire who should have been in attendance was, with the exception of three. Cyanide had been there a second ago, but she was gone now. And where were Neo and Pixi? He let the cuff of his jacket fall over his watch and went back to smiling, but Jessica saw through it. She tugged on his arm and led him away from the group of people they had been swapping niceties with.
“What is it?” she asked, “You’re distracted.”
“I know,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t like you.”
Daniel smiled and held Jessica’s arm. “Everything’s fine. How are you finding this?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know you prepared me and everything, but this is… boring.”
“Boring is a good word to use. Most gatherings aren’t like this. There’s usually music, and chatter, and things to drink.”
“Whereas tonight there’s no music, no one can talk for more than ten seconds without wondering what’s going on, and I haven’t had a drink since I woke.”
“Going without is a necessary experience, Jessica. You won’t always be able to drink your fill, or drink at all. Some nights, the opportunity just doesn’t present itself.”
“Unless you don’t have morals, and you just take who you want.”
Daniel pulled Jessica aside now, his eyes wide, his heart run through with dread’s cold knife. Had anyone heard? No, he didn’t think they had, but that had been close. “You shouldn’t talk so candidly here, Jessica.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, sheepishly turning her eyes away, “I don’t feel comfortable, there’s a weird vibe in this room.”
“Being uncomfortable around other vampires is also a necessary part of this life. You have to play their game. Those who don’t are quickly found out and ostracized. Very few vampires survive outside of the court.”
“Why?”
He tucked a loose curl of blonde hair behind her ear and let his fingers caress the side of her face, her cold, smooth skin. “Vampires, as much as they want to believe they’re solitary creatures, are pack animals just as humans are. If you aren’t part of the pack, you’re an outsider—someone to be suspicious of. Outsiders aren’t offered the same kind of politeness friends are. Whatever you do, you have to play their game.”
She nodded, satisfied with the answer, and let her eyes make another scan of the room. “I like the way our banner hangs from that wall,” she said.
Daniel looked over at the stage where five of Ashwood’s great clan banners hung. There was a time, following Cyanide’s—Grace’s—departure from the court when the Knight banner had not been seen rubbing shoulders with what was, effectively, Ashwood royalty. Daniel had worked hard to rebuild the clan’s reputation, though only for the sake of his clan, not because he wanted to see his colors up there with all the others.
It was 12:10 when the first vampire walked on stage, and there was still no sign of the Dead Wolves. Daniel held Jessica’s hand firmly and moved closer to the front with the rest of the gathering to quietly applaud as members of the Count’s Guard walked on stage, each of them looking no different from anyone else walking down the street, wearing jeans, shirts, jackets. Clearly not everyone had bothered to use what little time they’d been given to dress up, but each member at least wore a pin representing their clan with shields and icons to match their banners, identifying their heraldry to other vampires.
Finally, the Count himself emerged from within the crowd of guests and walked onto the stage to the tune of much louder, more energetic applause.
The first things anyone noticed about Count Rufus Lichten were his imposing height, his long silver hair, and his charming smile. Rufus was a handsome man by anyone’s standards. He had dark eyes, as black as the night itself in this light, and pale skin, but his cheeks were rose red and matched his lips. When he walked, he did so with grace and poise. And when he talked, his voice was smooth and authoritative, but laced with a venomous edge no one wanted to be on the wrong side of.
No one except the Dead Wolves.
The Count’s hand came up, and the quiet clapping ceased in an instant, as though silenced by his own will.
“Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” he said, “I wish to thank you for coming on such short notice. Your court, and your Count, appreciates your devotion to our collective family.”
His words were greeted by a round of nods and soft, agreeing murmurs. “He’s different than what I imagined,” she said.
“Try to smile,” Daniel said.
Jessica’s face forcibly lit up. She even nodded along with the rest of the vampires.
“What brings us here today,” the Count continued, “Is not a topic I am going to enjoy speaking about, but it is a matter of urgency that has brought us here tonight, and it is one that has no doubt already reached your ears. When a shepherd loses sight of one of his flock, he does all he can to find it and bring it back home. I must confess that I have not been a good shepherd. The vampire known as Neo strayed away from us, and instead of trying to help, I cast him out, and without my protection and guidance, the wolves went rushing after him. When news that a blood hunt had been called on him reached my ears, I had no choice but to intervene.”
More murmurs circulated around the room, but the Count’s hand came up again and the voices hushed.
“There have been many things said about Neo,” the Count added, “Stories about his activities which have circulated from night to night. I know he does not trust me like you do. I know he thinks our organization is rotting from the inside out. But I ask you to look upon this stage, at the people you trust to keep Ashwood safe for all of us. Do you see a rotting foundation, or solid ground on which something great could be built? My fellows, a good shepherd does not blame the sheep for straying from the flock—a good shepherd tries to bring that sheep home and find out what caused it to stray to begin with.”
Daniel noticed Pixi standing by the conference room door. He hadn’t seen her come in, but he had spotted the door shutting behind her. The Count had probably noticed too, despite there not having been a single break in his speech, but if anyone else had, they didn’t take any mind of her. Good. At least she was here. But if she was here, then where was Cyanide?
“What is it?” Jessica asked, “You’re shifting.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, moving deeper into the crowd and retrieving his phone from his pocket. He dialed Cyanide’s number, and put it to his ear. The call connected after hardly a single ring, but if she was in the conference room, he couldn’t see her.
“Cy?” he asked, whispering into the microphone.
“Not exactly.” The man’s voice coming through the phone was harsh and deep.
Daniel tensed when he heard it. “Who is this?” he asked.
“I think the more important question is, what is the illustrious Daniel Knight doing calling this green-haired bitch?”
He hung up without saying another word and stuffed the phone into his pocket. Jessica saw the sudden alarm in his eyes, and felt the way his body had gone stiff in her arms. She placed her hand on his cheek and bid him to look at her delicate, shining face. Though not even the sight of her could pull his mind out of the place where it had gone.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said, whispering.
He hesitated, not enjoying how close he was to the other vampires in the room—vampires who could hear everything he was saying. “I think something’s happened to a friend of mine,” he said in a low voice.
“What? Who?”
“Someone who should be here right now.”
“What are you going to do?”
Daniel looked around, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. He saw Pixi standing by the door and fumbled around for his phone again, but only made it halfway through typing out a text message to her when the Count’s narrative seemed to have shifted, and had elicited a round of applause to ring throughout the conference room.
When he turned his eyes back to the stage, he saw the Count’s hands had gone up again as if to silence the crowd, but he was smiling. “Yes,” he said, “It has been some time since I have done this, but the world is changing quickly, and I felt like I needed to breathe young life into our clan, as others have done around me. And now, without further ado, I would like to present to the court, the Lichten clan’s newest daughter.”
The Count gestured gracefully toward the side of the stage, and the court waited on bated breath as a woman came through the door attached to Mister Red’s arm. The woman wore a long, black gown, had her chestnut hair done in a French twist, and carried the Lichten skull and shield pin attached to her dress as a broach on one shoulder. Daniel’s heart could have stopped, if it hadn’t stopped beating decades ago.
Kaitlyn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cyanide struggled to roll onto her side, fighting through the numbing effect thousands of volts of electricity had caused in her body. The pain was minimal, but her nerves were fried and refused her commands. Despite her blurry vision, she saw she had been dragged into a back room somewhere—an office, maybe, or a store room; she wasn’t sure if those were boxes or filing cabinets on the far wall.
Asimov and his hired thug, Jason, were standing in the room with their backs turned. They were talking in low voices, but she was so disorientated she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She needed to get up; that’s what she needed to focus on. Get up, and get the hell out of this room. Fight her way out, if she had to.
She blinked away the daze and turned her head toward the ceiling, but it was as if her own body was putting up resistance, each of her joints defying the will of her mind. She could roll, at least, so, careful not to be heard, she turned on her side again, coming to a rest on her front with her head down against the carpeted floor. From here she would be able to plant her palms flat on the floor and push herself up without her movements being noticed.
The more she fought with herself, the more she regained control of her limbs until, one at a time, her palms were flat, and her arms were beginning to push her chest up.
“Think the turncoat will show?” Asimov asked, his voice harsh and almost toad-like.
“I don’t think he has the balls,” Jason said.
“If he does, we’ll use his little girlfriend to bait him. Then we’ll let the Count deal with them both.”
“What do you think he’s gonna do? The blood hunt was called off.”
“He’s the fucking Count. He can do whatever he wants. I heard from one of the guards that the Count is planning on taking matters into his own hands. I bet he’s gonna rip him apart just like he did to Crimson. But—holy shit!”
Jason turned around, and now both men were staring at the empty space where Cyanide should have been, still stunned and unable to move. “Where the fuck did she go?” he said.
Asimov looked up, and Cyanide dropped on him from the ceiling like a ton of bricks. He turned his body to the side and put his hands up to defend himself, but she was too fast for him. She pushed him to the floor, then sank her long fangs into his neck, biting deeply into his flesh and dragging her head up in a ripping motion, severing his jugular and tearing out a chunk of his neck. Dark blood had splattered across Jason’s face, and now oozed from the wound in Asimov’s neck.
Cyanide hissed, her mouth and chin covered in blood, then pounced on Jason, who was a much larger vampire. He ducked to the side, weaving out of her grasp, and kicked her in the ribs, sending her into a filing cabinet and causing papers to fly in all directions. She hissed when she had locked him in her sights, and then she lunged, this time determined to use his size to her advantage.
When Jason swung his fist at her face, she was quick to dodge it by rolling onto the floor, avoiding the blow entirely and getting behind him. Driven purely by instinct, she swept out with her foot, hooked Jason’s shin, and brought him to the floor. Before he could get up, she was on top of him, her hands clasped around his face. She tilted his neck up, exposing his throat, and plunged her fangs into his cold, dead flesh, tearing out the jugular just as she had done to Asimov a moment ago.
Her strength, her reflexes, her toughness—she hadn’t considered just how easily she had taken both men down until she had started to drink the vampire’s blood right from out of the gash in his neck. He was trying to resist, but she had his arms pinned down with her knees. Asimov had gotten up and, holding his neck with one hand, had tried to grab a fistful of her hair, but her hand had shot out, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until the bone snapped with a resounding crack.
This brutality was unprecedented, and when she reasserted control over herself—sometime after snapping Asimov’s forearm and drinking her fill of vampire blood—the shock sent her staggering backward, retreating into the corner of the room like a scared animal. Both vampires were down, one clutching his useless arm, the other unable to move now that his body had been all but drained of blood.
And they had gone down quickly.
Cyanide stared at her hands, both of which were covered in a red, viscous, sticky fluid, and forced herself upright. Was it the vampire blood she had just tasted that had empowered her? She wiped her mouth on her right bicep and went straight for the door leading out of the office, yanking it open and hurrying into the lobby of the Old Greystone. She was relieved to find Asimov hadn’t taken her to another location. From where she was, only a quick dash across the lobby stood between her and the conference room where the vampires were meeting. She crossed the space in a flash, barely visible to the humans standing behind the desk.
She didn’t care what she looked like or what she smelled like, and didn’t care what the court might say if they saw her like this. What Asimov had said had unnerved her and filled her with an urgent need to get to Daniel fast. Neo had been right; this whole thing was a trap of some kind.
Nobody turned to look at her when
she burst into the room, despite all the noise she had made. Not even the Count, who stood on the stage bathed in a bright spotlight and looking like a proud peacock on display at a zoo, gave her a glance as she barged in. The only person who did was the girl standing next to the Count—a girl she thought she recognized, but one who looked almost entirely out of place next to the cabaret of monsters standing around her.
Is that…?
But the thing that rooted her to the spot was seeing Daniel at the foot of the stage, pointing an accusatory finger at the Count.
“You bastard,” Daniel yelled. “You had no right; none!”
“Please, Lord Knight, let’s drop the j ’accuse act,” the Count said, his voice smooth and apathetic. “You did not lay claim to this human, and so I have made her mine.”
“That woman’s name is Kaitlyn, and she is my blood—my human blood. You have committed a crime against your own laws, and this cannot be allowed to stand.”
“You would call me a rule breaker in front of my own court? Lord Knight, if this woman is your blood, then prove it. Now. Before the court.”
Kaitlyn’s face showed nothing but confusion and fear. It suddenly hit Cyanide that this woman had no idea who Daniel was, or who he was in relation to her. There was no way he would be able to convince her to come with him. And even if she did go with him, she was a Lichten now, and that meant something.
“You knew,” Daniel said, anger and spite seething from his mouth. “You knew who she was, and yet you turned her anyway. Moreover, you plucked her from the very street as if she were some stray you could just take at your whim.”
“Once again,” the Count said, “You make accusations, yet you have no proof of what you say. We have only your word. As much as you have painstakingly rebuilt your clan’s reputation following your maker’s great betrayal, one must take your word with a pinch of salt.”
