Dark Ascension

by J. D. Brown

  “Not to mention,” I continued, hand on the hem of my shirt, “Lilith knows alchemy.” I lifted my shirt enough to show Maria the scar above my navel. She’d seen it before, but she still gasped at the quarter-sized satanic-looking brand and took a step back, bumping the coffee table with her hip. I lowered my shirt. “Lilith didn’t do that. Apollyon did. It nearly killed me, but she convinced him to stop. She said a part of his essence was inside my child. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my philosopher’s stone glows when it comes in contact with my abdomen, and I can’t shake the feeling that—if she knew about this before—then maybe she knows how to cure them. Maybe she can tell me how to safely remove his essence.”

  Heat stung my vision, and I lowered my gaze. Would Lilith even help me? Was it safe to even ask, when I had used her to blackmail Valafar in Panama? Maybe it didn’t matter, when I didn’t even know where they had gone.

  “Oh, darling.” Maria sat and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m glad you told me.”

  I expected her to launch into a lecture about how succubae couldn’t be trusted, but she just held me tight for a moment longer. Somehow, the hug was exactly what I needed. Warmth filled me, and I smiled.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  She loosened her hold and leaned back to look at me. “I better call Naamah and let him know he’s staying longer. We’ll figure this out together.”

  “Naamah’s coming here?”

  “Of course.” A smile crinkled her dark eyes. “Who else is going to officiate Prince Brinnon’s ascent to the throne?”

  I had no idea.

  The last time any of us saw Naamah was just before he returned to Finland to stand in for Jalmari as Head of the Neo-Draugrian clan. The official word on the street was that Jalmari had taken a sabbatical to grieve the loss of his loved one, Leena. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Jalmari might in fact be grieving—from his cell in the castle dungeon three stories below my feet.

  I drew a deep breath and then sighed. “There’s one more thing I need to ask you.”

  “Anything, dear.”

  I passed my tongue over my lips and then glanced down at myself while lifting my arms. “What do I wear tonight?”

  Her smile widened as she took my hands and pulled me to my feet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Uh-oh. “Oh Maria, what did you do?”

  “None of that. Just follow me. It’s in my chambers.”

  “Dare I ask what is in your chambers?” I groaned, fearing the worst. Something pink and frilly came to mind.

  “Just a small gift.” Maria opened the door then paused to wink over her shoulder. “You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Soft gray satin swished against my legs as Maria and I entered the throne room. She wore a modest, black pencil skirt that brushed her ankles with a deep blue, silk blouse that billowed elegantly from the skirt’s high waistline. The look was refined, yet bold. Maria’s gift to me was a strapless gown that gathered in a natural waist with a layer of delicate, iridescent beading that dripped like dew drops over the floor-length princess skirt. My hair was pinned in a loose gathering of curls, and I had added a touch of makeup from the selection on Maria’s vanity.

  Garlands of crystal teardrops hung from the high ceiling in the throne room. A few well-placed candle lights caught the oblong surfaces, casting ribbons of rainbows over the enchanted space. The beading on my dress sparkled in response.

  Two large royal-blue tapestries hung from the banisters over the farthest wall, depicting the Alpan crest: Two wolves—one black, the other gray—stood on their hindquarters, fangs bared over a two-toned gray and black chalice. Tables draped in blue cloth lined the sidewalls. Each one carried a crystal carafe filled to the brim with a deep crimson liquid, along with the palace’s finest silver chalices. I forced my gaze away from the drinks and focused on the crowd.

  I didn’t think it possible, but more vampyres filled the throne room tonight than there had been at Nikolas’ funeral. I noticed Naamah and squeezed Maria’s hand. She turned to follow my line of sight slightly to the right, not far from where we stood. As though he could feel our eyes on him, Naamah faced us and smiled.

  “When did you get in?” I asked before wrapping him in a tight hug. My cheek pressed against the lapel of his suit jacket. He was warm and smelled like cloves. I suddenly missed him more than I realized.

  “Just now,” he chuckled. I let go and took a step back so Maria could take her husband’s arm. Naamah’s grin curled all the way to his eyes. “My, you ladies look radiant. And how are you, my friend?”

  “Fine,” I said. Now wasn’t a good time to bring up Lilith. “What about you? How did you become an officiator of kings?”

  “It’s one of the responsibilities of the Head of the High Blood Council,” Maria explained. I remembered reading about the High Blood Council. They were a sort of United Nations of the vampyre world.

  “In other words,” Naamah added, “it’s one of Prince Jalmari’s many duties. Since I am upholding his title for the time being...” He let the rest go unsaid; Jalmari’s job was now Naamah’s until we figured out what to do with the psychotic Prince. It unnerved me that Jalmari commanded the High Blood Council. Was there any pot Jalmari didn’t have a silver spoon in?

  “I’m afraid I must go.” Naamah glanced at his wristwatch. “We’re about to begin.” He kissed Maria’s cheek then made his way to the front of the room, disappearing into the crowd. I stood on tiptoe, hoping to see past the walls of pale faces and dark hair, but it didn’t help.

  “We can move to the front,” Maria suggested.

  “No.” I rolled back onto my heels and sighed. “That’s okay.”

  “Jesu’s over there. To the left.” She nodded to indicate the direction, but I had already noticed him the moment we entered the room. He was the reason I wanted to stay in the back, where I was invisible.

  Jesu stood next to Bridget. They both faced the throne, but his torso was slightly angled in her direction with a comfortable ease that was never present around me. It was the kind of unspoken closeness that made it obvious to everyone else in the room that they were there together. She wore a rose-colored dress that hugged her curves. A slit in the skirt showed off her lean legs. Her pouty red lips moved with effortless conversation. Jesu laughed on cue. He wore a tux; a traditional black wool one with a white silk shirt and satin black bowtie. Sara was right. My insides melted.

  They were still flirting when Jesu glanced to the side and our gazes met. His smile lessened, and I looked away. The urge to fiddle with the beading on my dress suddenly seemed paramount. I could feel him coming closer, until his presence fell over me like a shadow, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  “Ema. You look...”

  I glanced up, and fell into deep green irises the color of wild oceans, terrifying storms, and vast jungles. He swallowed hard then ran the tip of his tongue quickly over his lips, but he never finished telling me how I looked. Instead, he folded his hands behind his back and scanned the crowd.

  Music bellowed from an organ, and a respectful hush fell over the guests. Hundreds of faces turned toward the entrance as four guards crossed the threshold into the throne room. Each one carried a wooden pole with the Aplan banner flying above. Trumpeters followed. Their brass horns played in tune with the organ. The parade ambled down the middle of the room, cutting a path to the front. Then Brinnon appeared. He wore the colors of his clan; royal blue and silver, beneath a robe of burnt gold. He stood tall, chin up, shoulders back. His mouth was a thin line of indifference. His piercing gaze looked dutifully at his subjects, never spending too long on any one person.

  Heads bowed as their prince walked past them. A boy, a vampyre that looked no more than thirteen, trailed the Prince. Blood streaked his shirtless chest and his yellow irises looked feral. The severed head of a black wolf balanced on top of a spear he carried.

  I cupped my nose to mask the scent of dead
dog, and a hand squeezed my shoulder.

  “The boy represents the strength of the new king,” Jesu murmured. “He has looked death in the eye, and he has won.”

  I wasn’t sure that was a fair comparison. The boy could have very well been thirteen for a hundred years now, with all the strength of an adult vampyre. The wolf never had a chance. But I didn’t argue. For me, the act represented a terrible burden placed too soon on the shoulders of an innocent young man. My chest tightened. Everything Brinnon had to endure now was my fault.

  “It’s only been a day,” I whispered. “We just burned his body. How can they only give him a day?”

  “The crown is often cruel,” said Jesu, “but Brinnon knows what is expected of him.”

  Brinnon reached Naamah on the steps of a dais before the mighty throne, which I could now see from the aisle view. The throne itself was a marvel. As though carved from a giant tree trunk, smooth wood gave way to giant teeth and jaws. The throne was a wolf head—expertly carved to give the appearance of fur and eyes, lacquered and fashioned with a blue cushion where the animal’s tongue would have been. It was both frightening and beautiful.

  The music stopped, and my view was cut short as the crowd shifted to face the front of the room. Naamah addressed the congregation in German. I sighed.

  Jesu’s hand left my shoulder. “I almost did not come tonight.”

  I didn’t know what he meant and gave him a quizzical look. We hadn’t really spoken since I told him about Lilith. Was he still upset about that?

  “Then I realized,” he continued in a quiet tone, “of course you would attend. And I would bet my last dollar you plan on going to dinner and the ball after.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  A grin cracked through his resolve. “No. I only thought you might need some help surviving dinner with your dignity intact.”

  I scoffed, but I knew exactly what he meant. The last time I tried a sit-down dinner with the de Wölfes the result was less than graceful. In fact, I was pretty sure they had to burn the rug. It did disappear rather mysteriously. Still, why would Jesu care?

  “I wouldn’t want to steal you away from your date,” I said.

  “Date?”

  “You know; the pretty French vampire in the banging dress? Where does she shop anyway?”

  Jesu’s gaze darkened. “See you at dinner, Ema.” He stalked off in Bridget’s direction.

  Applause erupted from the crowd as Brinnon faced his people, took a bow, and rose a king.

  I never saw Nikolas wear the crown, I realized while looking at the regal headpiece from several seats away. It was a thick band of burnished gold with trees and woodland creatures engraved into the surface like a mural. A bear and a stag were visible from where I sat. Amber gemstones glimmered in the flickering candlelight where the animals’ eyes would have been.

  Brinnon noticed my staring and narrowed his gaze. I mouthed a silent, “Congratulations,” but he looked away. The new king sat at the center of the long dining table, surrounded by family members and other important people. I recognized a few of them—Cecelia, Sara, Auda, Naamah, and Tancred—but most of the faces were nameless.

  The dining hall was just as elegantly decorated as the throne room. Two flutists played a festive tune in the corner while the servants busied themselves refilling drinks and replacing plate after plate with meat cutlets that grew more exotic as the night wore on. Boar turned into lamb, which turned into elk, which turned into zebra, which I’m pretty sure became jackal meat. It was some kind of wild dog anyway, with its paws strung up and a spiced apple in its mouth. I didn’t want to know what was next on the menu.

  Maria and Jesu sat on either side of me. Jesu had disappeared after the coronation. I figured he and Bridget were just lost in the throng of people, but it wasn’t until halfway through the third course that he showed up beside me and sat down. Without his French date. I was worried he ditched her. And I was happy... and horrified because I shouldn’t be happy about it.

  I poked the uncooked slice of dog meat on the plate in front of me. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone that I wasn’t eating. The servants picked up my untouched food, carried it away, and replaced it with the next course, same as everyone else. I pretend the blood was tomato juice, but my hormones weren’t buying it. At least animal blood didn’t seem to trigger my gag reflexes as strongly as human blood. My stomach gurgled and clenched. I was so sick of being hungry and nauseous at the same time.

  I set my fork down and pushed the plate aside. Like clockwork, someone picked it up and sprinted away. I put my elbows on the table and sighed into my palms. “How long is this dinner?”

  “Too long.” Jesu tugged at his bowtie.

  In truth, we were probably the only ones not enjoying the meal. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time. Drinks flowed and conversation buzzed. Once in a while, someone bellowed with laughter.

  “Stop fussing.” Maria reached across me and swatted at Jesu’s hand. “At least wait until after the first dance.”

  Jesu made a particularly grumpy face, but the bowtie—defended by Maria’s stern tone—won the battle, and he lowered his hand.

  “What’s so special about the first dance?” I asked mainly to take my mind off my growling stomach.

  “It’s an Alpan tradition,” Maria explained. “The new king always has the first dance of the night, but if the Crown Prince is still unwed before his ascent, then he must choose a bride at his coronation ball.”

  I gulped in air too quickly and started choking on my own breath. I coughed and wheezed through the shock. “Wh-what? He has to pick a bride?” My eyes stung as I fought to clear my throat.

  Maria patted my back. “Isn’t it exciting? Of course, he has to dance with every eligible lady as a sign of good faith to their fathers, but as the story goes, the first woman the king choses to dance with is usually the one who succeeds in winning his heart. That’s why now-a-days the first dance is taken very seriously. It’s practically a proposal. I can’t wait to see who the lucky lady will be.”

  “Wait, you mean the first dance is planned?”

  “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a surprise to everyone.” Maria shivered with excitement.

  “Get ready for a surprise,” I muttered. My cheeks burned as I glanced around the room at the young male guests. Brinnon certainly had his pick, but what about Valafar? Not that I thought Brinnon had any real future with the incubus, but he couldn’t have been very serious about anyone else when he was getting cuddly in Italy with a certain purple-eyed man. Did anyone in the clan know their king was gay? Was he allowed to choose a husband?

  Jesu chuckled. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

  “You can’t possibly be okay with this,” I said. “How can anyone expect to be put on the spot like that? To just pick a spouse? That’s not the kind of decision you just—”

  “Woah, calm down.” Jesu furrowed his brow. “Brinnon knows what the tradition means. Trust me, he will already have someone in mind.”

  “He... he will?”

  Jesu nodded. “Besides, it is just a silly tradition. No one will force him to marry.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Maria hissed. “I would love to see a royal wedding, wouldn’t you?”

  “Sure,” I said to placate Maria. It wasn’t a lie. If Brinnon found the right guy, I’d love to see them happily married. But I just didn’t think he had yet.

  Eventually, the kitchen ran out of dead animals and the servants cleared the tables. Little by little, the patrons ambled toward the ballroom for the first dance. Brinnon had stood and gone, along with most of the people at his table.

  “Well.” Jesu dabbed his lips with his napkin, then tossed the cloth aside and stood. “Let us get on with it.”

  I stood and smoothed out my skirt. We stepped away from the table, and Jesu took my hand. He wrapped it around his arm—his blissfully warm, strong, masculine arm—and led the three of us into the
ballroom.

  A slow waltz filled the air. Flagpoles lined the vaulted ceiling with the Alpan banner. Royal blue velvet and soft gray brocade lined the walls. The lighting was softer and hazier, as a single spotlight drifted across the marble floor.

  Maria veered left, where Naamah stood chatting with a few other men. She took his arm and smiled up at him, her dark eyes dazzling. Naamah smile back, wide and toothy, and I could swear he fell in love with his wife all over again.

  Grinning to myself, I followed Jesu as he led us into the crowd. The majority of the guests had gathered in a tight circle around the dance floor. It was at the front of the circle that Jesu stopped and let me stand before him to watch the action. I had a clear view of the entire floor and realized the spotlight wasn’t drifting aimlessly. It was following someone.

  Brinnon walked slowly around the allotted space, his porcelain features nearly washed out by the trailing spotlight. The circle was a wall of young women, each one more eager to dance with the King than the last. Brinnon scanned each lovely woman dutifully, but politely passed them all.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said to Jesu. “He’s king. He shouldn’t have to flaunt like a peacock to some—”

  “Miss Ema?”

  Brinnon’s soft tone startled me. I glanced at the Prince—King—as he stood directly in front of me and extend a single, white-gloved hand.

  Jesu tensed. I could feel his muscles tighten beneath his sleeve. My gaze went to his knuckles as his fingers curled into a fist.

  “What?” I asked Brinnon, my voice a bit hoarse.