by D. N. Leo
“All right.”
“You don’t look too confident.”
“Because I’m not. But we have no choice now except to keep going.”
Madeline turned to leave. Then she quickly turned back. “Just in case—”
“No, we can’t wake Ciaran without your palm print. And I won’t promise to take care of your children. So you get yourself back here in one piece. That’s the only acceptable scenario.”
Madeline saw tear gleaming in Jo’s eyes. She nodded quickly and turned for the door.
Chapter 5
Present time
The Bodleian Library at Oxford University was quiet. Some would consider the ambiance spooky, and others might think the arched stone doorway and thick dark wood gate carried a sort of gothic charm. The university and the town it was in were tourist attractions and famous for several reasons, including their royal connections. But for Ciaran, it was a place of memories.
He had met Juliette here, and not long after, he married her.
She had died in his arms six years ago, and until now he had still sought answers. Regardless of what people said about their relationship, they had once shared the passionate love of a couple in their twenties.
He didn’t come here to brood, though. Those days were long gone.
Despite some evidence to the contrary, he believed they had met by fate. She had never plotted to infiltrate the LeBlanc’s system and spy on their secrets. She had spent a lot of time here, and if what she had told him was true, she would have left hints of their secrets here—the formula for the golden medicine that healed all disease and could revive someone newly dead.
If she’d had the formula, then she wouldn’t have needed to exploit his family secrets.
It was too early for the library to be open. He walked around the grounds, enjoying the fresh air the early morning offered and the peaceful sight of the small well-maintained English garden. In a far dark corner was the stone bench where he and Juliette used to sit together.
He stood, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his coat. For a moment, he thought he saw the dim shape of Juliette on the bench, hunched over a book.
He shook his head to clear the image. He wasn’t so sentimental he’d be seeing things. After all, it had been six years.
Then the shadow moved.
Disliking how his vision was playing tricks on him, Ciaran moved toward the bench. Sitting there alone was a young woman with long sandy hair that curved around her shoulders. She looked up at him with beautiful blue eyes as he approached.
From her vantage point, he must have mysteriously appeared from the fog and dark. He smiled so she wouldn’t be frightened. “I don’t believe we have to line up for the Bodleian library this early,” he joked.
She frowned. “Is the library not opening today, sir?” She looked him up and down as if he might be someone in authority.
He chuckled. “I don’t know. I’m only a visitor.”
“That’s a relief.” She smiled. “I just want to be the first inside. I have a major paper due very soon. And the library wouldn’t let me check out the book I need. It’s a rare book. Only one edition.”
“What do you study?”
“Mythology.” She paused. “You don’t approve?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just the look on your face. A slight trace of a mental cringe. My father did the same when I told him what I wanted to study at the university.”
Ciaran wanted to laugh out loud but thought that would make her feel worse, so he just smiled. “I like the subject, but I don’t think I understand it well enough to pass judgment.”
She giggled. “My father asked me, ‘What kind of job will you get if you study that?’”
“And what was your answer?”
“Well, I told him I look at studying as an adventure of the mind. I have to explore what I want while I can. A job is what people do for a living. And for me, life isn’t worth living if you don’t have the freedom of your mind.”
“I totally agree.”
“You look like a science kind of guy.”
“I’m in medicine. I guess you can call that science.”
She grinned and reached her hand up. “I’m Margaret.”
He shook her hand. “Ciaran.”
“You must be a graduate…or maybe a professor here?”
“Are you saying I look old?”
She laughed. “No, but you don’t look like a student. Yet you’re standing in front of the library at this hour, in that outfit. What do you expect me to think?”
Ciaran shook his head. “You’re right, I’m not a student. I’m a businessman. I’m just here to visit an old friend.”
Margaret shrugged. “Oh, so you’re friends with a professor here? Close enough. You want to sit down?” She gestured at the empty space on the bench.
“Actually, I just remembered I have an early appointment. I’ll come back to see my friend later. It was very nice meeting you, Margaret.”
She waved a small gloved hand. “You too. Have a good day.”
As he turned to walk away, she returned to her book. Just before Ciaran left the yard surrounding the library, he caught a glimpse of two shadows that moved quickly behind a stone pillar at the far end of the darkness beyond the bench. He glanced back and saw Margaret still sitting there, reading in the dim light.
His brother Tadgh had been right. He had reason to be concerned. It might have been his imagination, but the air seemed to suddenly grow eerier. He remembered the anonymous notes sent to him after Juliette’s death, notes threatening his death and significant collateral damage in revenge for her soul.
He wasn’t superstitious, and thus he didn’t think the notes had any basis in fact. The LeBlancs had several enemies, and the notes had surely been written by one of them. Regarding the soul business, he thought it was the lowest superstitious stunt an adversary could pull on his family, and as far as he was concerned, it was nonsense and wasn’t going to work on him.
As he looked again at the pillars, he could now clearly see the shadows of two people. Ciaran walked in that direction, figuring he would check it out. Whoever the shadows were, they had no idea what he was capable of.
Then he paused in his tracks. Margaret was still reading, immersed in her scholarly world and oblivious to everything around her. He didn’t want her to become collateral damage.
Ciaran turned her way and walked back toward the bench.
Margaret looked up when she heard his footsteps. “You’re back so soon?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? I know a small coffee shop around the corner. They open very early.”
Margaret looked toward the library.
“I can guarantee you that you will get to read your book today. When the library opens in ten minutes, I’ll call in and reserve the book for you. I don’t know anyone in the library, but I do indeed have a friend who is a professor here.”
Margaret smiled. “Promise?”
“Yes. Shall we go?” He gestured toward the street.
She hopped off the bench and followed him.
Before they left the university grounds, he glanced back and saw the two shadows emerging from behind one of the pillars. He slipped his hand behind Margaret’s back to guide her across the street and around the corner where several coffee shops had opened for early customers hungry for breakfast.
Chapter 6
Dead. That was the one word Madeline could use to describe the creature in front of her—or what used to be a creature. Alex was right, a vampire’s death was horrifying and disgusting. Not that they weren’t horrible when they were alive. The only nice vampires she knew were Alex and his wife Emily. The two lived in and ruled the vampire city in the cross-zone between human and paranormal worlds in Antarctica.
The puddle of black substance on the ground used to be the body of a middle-aged male vampire. He’d been about to feed on a dog. When Alex saw him
run past them after the animal, there had been no time to discuss anything. Alex flew at the vampire, engaging with it in a tremendous fight.
Jo and Tadgh had sent Alex and Madeline to Oxford because they had located Ciaran nearby and detected a creature approaching him. Madeline and Alex didn’t know what kind of creature they might be dealing with and could only follow the guidance of the program. Jo had installed the program into Madeline’s wrist unit, and it started buzzing when they approached a street corner. A dog ran past with what looked like a half-eaten baguette in its mouth. They were confused—it made no sense that this was the creature Jo and Tadgh had detected. They expected the soul trader to be in human form or at least some kind of human lookalike. They hadn’t been expecting a dog!
But then came the hungry vampire. He descended on the dog and was about to feed on it.
The next thing Madeline knew, there was a tornado of bodies and limbs. Alex tore the other vampire apart. When the two were nearly finished with the fight, and Alex staggered back to her, Madeline finished the dog-eating vampire with the sword Jo had given her.
Alex was still heaving.
“Alex, are you okay?” She crouched next to him. He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot. His complexion was paler than that of the palest vampire.
He shook his head. She helped him up.
“Tell me what I can do for you.”
“I shouldn’t have bitten him. His blood is poison to me.”
“Poison? Is there an antidote? What can I do?”
“It’s all right. It wasn’t much. I pulled my teeth out quickly, and I didn’t drink his blood. Well, I did get a little, but not much. Let me sit down for a bit. I’ll be fine.”
She helped him to sit on the sidewalk and propped him up against a wall.
“I should have known better. I’m a few hundred years old.”
“Yes, you should have. But now I know. So next time, you just identify the vampires and leave the killing to me. I’m sure it’s hard to manage when your fangs come out when you least expect it.”
“I’m in total control of my fangs. But something about that vampire triggered my adrenaline.”
“Maybe because it’s a vampire and a soul trader?”
“No, Madeline. Unfortunately, I don’t think we got the right one. That was just a vampire and nothing else. I’m sure about that.”
“What do you mean? The device traced Ciaran…” She trailed off when Jo’s call signaled. As soon as she engaged, green-eyed Jo appeared on the screen.
“You’re close but still in the wrong place, Madeline. There’s a lag in the timer signals. The signal has to bounce between multiple dimensions. By the time it gets to you, Ciaran has been there and gone. So to find him, you might have to anticipate his movements and try to get there first. You may have to use your psychic ability, Madeline.”
“But we’ve just killed a vampire. How can we be so sure it wasn’t the right one? Can you scan it and tell me?”
“No, that’s why Alex is with you.”
“He said the creature was a vampire and nothing else. He says it wasn’t a soul trader. Can your device detect soul traders, Jo?”
“No, it can only detect supernatural properties. You’ll have to work it out for yourselves. Where’s Alex?”
“Alex fought the other vampire, and he said he bit it by accident. He’s in pain.”
Jo arched an eyebrow and said, “Let me talk to him.”
Madeline went to where Alex sat and tilted the wrist unit so Jo could see him.
“Do you know why you’re in pain, Alex?” Jo asked.
“No. I know a vampire shouldn’t drink another vampire’s blood. But I thought it was more like an unwritten code of conduct. Plus, I didn’t feed on him. I just bit him.”
Jo shook her head. “I think you’re weak because of the time travel, Alex. I meant to tell you about that.”
“No, I think that vampire had something in him. Something strange.” Alex closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall.
“I’m not an expert, but I did some research when I developed the lock for your vampire city gate. Time traveling weakens paranormal creatures if they’re not prepared. I integrated that into the mechanism of the lock to ensure that the traveling channel between the lock chamber when it is engaged is equivalent with time traveling. I’m sorry—it totally slipped my mind to tell you about it when I prepped you for this trip.”
Alex nodded but kept his eyes closed.
“Is there anything I can do to help, Jo?” Madeline asked.
“He needs to rest, and he needs food to recover.”
“Vampire food?”
“Naturally.”
Madeline nodded. “I can handle that. Getting some blood shouldn’t be too difficult. Will pig’s blood do?”
Jo smiled. “In normal situations, yes. Like a meat eater eating a tofu burger in a pinch. But Alex is injured and weak. If you want him to help you kill that soul trader, then you’ll have to feed him real food. That means human blood.”
Madeline shrugged. “Sure. I can figure it out.”
Jo nodded. “I’ll keep you posted on any news.” She logged out.
Madeline hauled Alex up off the ground. “Come on. Let’s find you a place to rest, and then I can fetch you some food. Do you have a preference in blood type?”
“No.”
“That was a rhetorical question, Alex. I just wanted to make sure you were conscious.”
He chucked weakly. “Apparently I am. But if Jo was right about the negative effects of the time traveling chamber, I won’t stay lucid for long without a supply of blood.”
Chapter 7
Ciaran chose the table next to the door. It was a small coffee shop that barely accommodated six tables, but he didn’t care to be cornered if something went wrong. A man of about fifty approached. Ciaran guessed he was the owner of the shop. His kind smile reminded him of Doctor Thomas, their family doctor.
“What would you like this morning?”
“A pot of tea, please,” Margaret said. “Do you have home-brewed tea by any chance? If not, I’m happy with a commercial selection.”
The man smiled again. “Oh yes, we do have home-brewed herbal tea. That’s my wife’s creation!” He lowered his voice and glanced toward the kitchen door. “Her tea has won awards. It is indeed wonderful. I’ll give you some complimentary scones and jam to go with it. The scones are not so good, I’m afraid, but I don’t have the heart to tell her.”
Ciaran chuckled. “I’ll pay for the scones. I’ll take some to go as well for my brother. And can I have a cup of black coffee, please?”
“Certainly. It won’t be long.” The man turned around and disappeared through a door into the kitchen.
Margaret smiled—a smile of innocence that brightened the dimly lit tearoom.
“So what specifically are you studying in mythology, may I ask?”
She winked at him. “Can you guess?”
“I couldn’t even begin to. I don’t have much knowledge in the subject.”
“Cross worlds.” She looked at him, her smile gone and her eyes serious. “I believe worlds that have different ontological grounds—like the paranormal, human, and religious-based worlds—share some common areas. What they are, I don’t know yet. That’s why I study. But I don’t study the past as many do in mythology. I look into what exists now and what’s in the future.”
“What’s your view on the extraterrestrial?”
“Yes, there’s always that. Ontologically, though, I’d group that together with humans.”
Ciaran nodded. He liked her already. Intelligent and open-minded.
The front door opened, and a couple of tall men walked in. Their size seemed to block the early morning light coming through the windows and darken the room. Or maybe it was their aura that brought the darkness. Ciaran wasn’t sure why, but he felt an unusual discomfort.
The men walked straight to the counter, and at the same time, the man came back
out from the kitchen with their tray of tea and coffee. The men’s presence seemed to demand attention, so much so that the man put the tray down to serve them. They mumbled an order and then took seats at a table in a back corner.
The man then brought the tray to Ciaran and Margaret’s table. Ciaran could see the kind smile had evaporated from his face. He didn’t look himself.
Margaret thanked the man for the tea and reached for the pot. Ciaran stopped her hand before it touched the teapot.
“We should leave,” he said.
Margaret was about to question him, but then he could tell she read his facial expression, and she just nodded. As they stood up, the man growled.
“Drink your tea,” he said. His eyes were bloodshot, and the veins on his forehead were throbbing visibly.
Ciaran stepped out and around the man to lead Margaret out.
The man reached out for Margaret’s shoulders, but Ciaran grabbed his hands before they could touch her. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the nape of his neck. Margaret grabbed the teapot and smashed it against someone behind him. Ciaran elbowed the person. Feeling the man behind him staggering backward, he reached over and grabbed Margaret, pulling her again toward the door.
The other man charged over, and with one hand, he ripped open the throat of the cafe owner. Hearing the commotion, the man’s wife ran out from the kitchen. One of the men darted over and broke her neck before she could utter a sound.
Ciaran grabbed a chair and whacked it as hard as he could at the man who was now standing in the doorway, blocking their way out. The chair broke into pieces, but the man—who didn’t look like a man anymore—still stood there, a smirk on his face which was now as pale as a piece of paper. Fangs had emerged from his mouth.
“Bloody vampire—” But before he could finish his sentence, Ciaran found himself flying through the air toward the far end of the room. His body crashed into the wall. He could feel his bones rattle. The vampire who had just killed the owner’s wife now approached Ciaran, who was trying to get up from the floor. The vampire from the door also moved toward him.
