Discordia - Short Stories from The Golden Apple of Discord

by Lauren Hodge

and would have no contact with. I tend to agree with you but feel we need more facts. Verus has seen this new rebellion in a way we cannot.”

  “But Duncan has. I will ask him more on this.”

  Her mentioning the North American prefect reminds me of a question I meant to ask earlier. “How long have there been out-of-control feedings in Toronto?”

  “Duncan said only a few months.”

  A few months does not make sense. No one is only a vampire for a few months and capable of defeating the Premier Detachment. “That means they are either new to this life or have been sheltered by those who know how to avoid us. Still, I do not understand why the Dacians would rekindle a conflict now. We are missing crucial information.”

  After we round the last turn, Ismet’s door is several meters away, at the end of the hall.

  “Agreed,” she replies softly. “But we have one of our own to console first.” She truly cares for those who serve and support her as High Queen. Those who remember Priam’s first Socious, Ides, did not always love our Sabine, but her warm disposition quickly won them over and mended rifts.

  I open Ismet’s door to find Francisco sitting across the room. He stands and bows. Sabine discreetly puts her hand up and shakes her head. I nod and glance toward the door. He understands, departing quickly and quietly. Ismet sits and stares at a chessboard with a game in progress…one that will never be finished.

  The Queen kneels before him and gently holds his hands. “May I see what you have seen?”

  She takes his barely perceptible head movements as acquiescence and lightly brushes her thumb over his ring.

  “Losing one as close to you as Alton is the hardest trial you will ever encounter,” she says. “You and he shared a special bond not many of our kind enjoy. He was your brother not only in life, but also in adoption into this life. While it does not bring him back, know he died a soldier’s death and we are forever proud of him.”

  He whispers while staring at the chessboard, “I want her blood on my hands. I want all their blood on my hands.”

  Ismet was always the more serious of the brothers. Special care must be taken to prevent his grief from festering into wild rage. I say, “Ismet, know this. We live by a code. Peace to the victor, mercy to the meek, and death in rebellion. It will not happen overnight, but I promise you this rebellion will be sealed in their blood.”

  Sabine cradles his face with her hand. “Will you help us find them when the time is right?”

  His eyes flash to mine. “I have seen them and want their blood now!”

  It is Sabine’s role to comfort, mine to command. She says, “You will have it when we are sure it will be their blood spilt, not our own. Mourn your brother; do not create more empty chairs in haste.”

  He stares at her but doesn’t accede.

  I ask, “Did you use your ability on them?”

  His lip quivers before he answers. “No, I did not get the opportunity.”

  I say, “Until we know if this tragedy is of Dacian making, you will not trade sight with any of them. Sun Tzu once said, ‘In making tactical dispositions, the highest pitch you can attain is to conceal them.’ If they are not Dacian, and even if they are, there is no reason to believe they know of your ability yet. They will find out seconds before they die.”

  He finally nods.

  “Verus will send for you soon. You are to assist him with an intelligence mission.”

  “When?” He is eager, too eager. Captain Edson will need to carefully watch his soldier.

  “Verus must prepare the spies. Francisco will stay with you until then.”

  Sabine pats his hands, then rises. “I will send one of my ladies along for anything you may need.”

  Ismet rises and bows to us both. “Thank you, Majesties.”

  Sabine and I walk down the hall; Francisco is waiting at the end. I say, “Send word for Edson to find me, then stay with Ismet and make sure he feeds.” Francisco bows and turns to find his commander.

  Next, I must visit Verus and try to understand this new threat.

  I say to Sabine, “I must let Verus speak freely but do not want him to assume Dacian involvement. It will shape what he tells me about them, and I do not think his perception of their origin will be helpful in this instance.”

  She nods. “Although understandable given his experience, Verus jumps too quickly to see Dacians. From Duncan’s perspective, they looked defiant and casual in their demeanor. Those submissive to Cothelas do not act with power.”

  “But,” I reply, “he and Priam have experience with the Dacians we do not.”

  “Current events appear different when viewed through a looking glass of the past,” she replies. “Do you not notice how we, who have only heard stories of the Dacians, both believe this coven to be simply rogue?”

  Sabine is wise as she is beautiful. She, like I, comes from Roman ancestry. What a Caesar she would have made. Still, there is history here that cannot be ignored completely.

  Sabine says, “Do you disagree?”

  “No, I agree with you.”

  She stops walking and turns toward me. “You have something else to add. Everything you say and do has a purpose. Pray tell, what thoughts have you on the matter?”

  Sabine’s silver tongue could make a tree stump talk.

  Lowering my voice, I reply. “I agree that the opinion on Dacian involvement is split between those who have experience with them and those who do not. It is not my wish to offend Verus or Priam. They suffered horribly at the command of the Socious killers. I do not wish to offend you, my Queen, by mentioning Priam's first Socious.”

  She waves dismissively. “I made my peace with Priam’s love for Ides centuries ago. Do not fear to bring her up, as she still shapes the rulers of our world. Would you cut out one eye before going into battle for the sake of perceived compassion?”

  “That would be foolish.”

  “Of course you would not. You were a soldier of Rome. You are our General now. You assess issues from a tactical point of view. Because of that, you see things not even Verus and I can see. Never hesitate to use that and we will all be stronger for it.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.”

  I chuckle at the memory of when Sabine joined us. Created a century after the end of the Dacian Wars, she came in with a Roman coven on a routine census. Because she was new, Verus read her, then singled her out because of her talent. I remember assessing which Detachment to assign her to.

  She was a tracker, placed on an investigative Detachment. But life in Boulogne suited her well. She made acquaintances out of strangers and friends out of acquaintances. Whenever she walked into a room, vampires stopped what they were doing, eager to hear what she had to say.

  Priam was no exception.

  Not long after Sabine completed her Detachment training, Priam came to me in confidence and asked what effect his taking a new Socious would have on our people. They had lost many friends in a war fought over his first Socious. I told him it depended on the woman, for anyone he married would be High Queen.

  When Priam said she was well liked, I knew who it was.

  Sabine has been our High Queen ever since. Although I will never admit it to anyone but Melise, I think Verus resents Sabine. Not only is she an alternative to his invasive ability, but she is also his sister’s replacement.

  Verus sits at the table in the east turret room with his bodyguard, Marian. He sketches a scene from Duncan’s memories.

  Sabine glances at the scene he draws of Alton on his knees, then takes a seat at the other end of the table. My bodyguard, Aleric, and Sabine’s guard, Novak, enter the room as well. They keep their distance unless they are needed.

  Aleric’s ability to negate talents within a few meters of himself gives him, and, in turn, me, a comfort many in Boulogne do not have. With him, Verus is powerless.

  I say, “You saw four through Duncan’s memories?”

  He rouses from his drawing.

  “This one”—he poi
nts to a woman wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans—“Duncan identified as Taralie, the group’s sire. Although he assumes she is the leader, this one”—he points to one standing farther back from the front line—“gave the order to execute Alton.”

  The Queen says, “The one who issued the order has a crown braid in her hair, an old-world style.”

  Perhaps she and I are wrong. Sabine wears a similar hairstyle in her golden brown tresses. Has Cothelas successfully hidden such power from us, waiting to strike at will?

  I examine the drawing more closely. “Which one is the ghost-maker?”

  Verus points to the smallest of the four. "This one right here, holding the slack wrist of the unconscious prefect."

  I ask, “What of the wild-haired woman with her hands around Alton’s throat?”

  Verus says, “The others called her Coralia. She is one of the pushers and took pleasure in killing Alton. The other one is the sire, Taralie.”

  “The one who knew of your power, she told the prefect you wanted to see. Is she the one with a braid in her hair?”

  He nods. I look to Sabine. Our case of this being a rogue clan is getting weaker by the second. Perhaps Cothelas trusts these women enough to leave them alone.

  I ask Verus, “Do you know the range of the ghost-maker or pushers?”

  “I suspect the pushers are like Marian and need a direct line of sight. The ghost-maker touched Duncan before he went slack. You see here?” he points to the small one holding the prefect’s wrist. “She continued to hold his arm, which leads me to believe she needs to maintain contact.”

  Pointing to what looks