by Imogene Nix
Cressida waited, still as a marble statue for only the passing of a heartbeat, before slowly turning so that the onlookers would realize that she addressed them. “Of those present tonight, do you swear in the tradition of honor, loyalty and righteousness to tell me true? Is this humble servant Javed of the Tudor nest fit to assume the mantle of mastership?”
A ripple of magic filled the air and, as one, the voices of those watching called out, “He is.”
His back bowed as some unseen force pushed him to the ground at her feet.
She stepped closer, so he could see only her silver clad shoes. “Javed of the Tudor nest, rise and come to me.” Her words were imbued with the same magic that had pushed him to the ground, and he gave himself up to the urges within his body. He rose stiffly and moved closer, crowding the Councilor who stood before him.
He felt the elongation of his fangs, something that rarely happened now they’d stopped feeding directly from their nestlings. The sharp sting was gone in an instant, and his awareness narrowed to a pinprick as he saw the wrist Cressida held out to him. “Feed deeply from me and accept the power that lies before you.”
He frowned, fighting the urges. Feed from Cressida? His body urged him to do so, to embrace all the power that was there for the taking.
His mind told him that was wrong.
He wasn’t there for the power. He was there for the good of their race and the nestlings.
He tore his eyes away from her wrist as pain arced through him. He stared into the crowd, searching for the red-haired woman, and not for the first time he felt the stirrings of desire even as his body screamed at him to accept what was freely offered.
“You have done well to ignore the call of our nature. The investiture of a house is not about power. It is about choices made to protect our way of life.”
He glanced back to see a grin upon Cressida’s face. The test! No wonder it had felt wrong. Each investiture had a test of some description and he let his diaphragm fill with air. He’d successfully negotiated that. He forced the smile from his lips. This was a sober time.
The compulsion broken, he scanned the crowd as members of the Council surged forward, then knelt beside Cressida.
With a smooth action she took the sword Xavier had offered her and made a shallow slice in her wrist. Several deep red drops of blood dripped into the goblet, then one by one the other Councilors followed suit. While waiting, Cressida licked at the slice, healing the cut almost instantly. Javed observed the flesh repair itself. Cressida winked at him and shock took his breath once more.
The goblet was now passed back along the line of Councilors until it rested once more in Cressida’s grasp. She stepped forward. “Drink. Drink deep and assume the mantle of leadership.”
He accepted the goblet and as he drank she spoke words that he could barely hear, but he felt the effects. Power rushed through his veins, making his fingers and toes tingle. He felt stronger, lighter and faster. Once he had drained the goblet she inclined her head.
“Now you make your oath to the Council.”
“I, Javed, no longer of the Tudor nest, do swear and affirm that my fealty is to the Council, my nestlings and my brothers and sisters of blood. I will protect them, keep them safe. Above all I will give them service. I will remain true to our ways and seek always to protect the innocents.”
“Then rise, Javed of the al bin Habbad nest. Accept the fealty of your nestlings.”
Celina stepped forward. After weeks of learning to control her powers, the headaches had become far less prevalent. But the result of learning to control herself and the magic within her had come at a cost. She’d had to agree to move into the nest, and had given up her job and apartment. She had lost control of her destiny.
Instead, here she stood in the warm night air attending an event that only rarely occurred, so she’d been informed.
Bertha, her high witch tutor, clucked her tongue and pushed her into the line. “As we are both going to the new nest, we need to give our oath to the new master.” So she waited quietly for her turn to kneel before the new master. Javed. The procession took some time so she studied those standing around, including the tall blonde woman everyone paid deference to and who’d conducted the ceremony.
The vampire caught Celina’s eye and Celina smiled back only to have Bertha hiss at her, “You don’t play eye tag with a Councilor. Now come on.”
Truly, if she hadn’t been so grateful for the help Bertha had given her she would have been royally peeved at the words. Instead she turned back to survey the procession of ducked heads and murmured words.
Finally she reached him. His eyes were now at half-mast and he indicated she should kneel. The gravel beneath her knees bit at the tender flesh, but she accepted the pain. “I promise to give service to you, master, as well as my honor and loyalty at all times.” She almost whispered the words but the touch of his hand on hers left her with the impression of lightning zinging through her veins. She glanced away once she had finished her part of the oath, feeling the immediate effects on her body, as within her settled the knowledge that she had now given the last part of her freedom to him. It was both strangely satisfying and terrifying.
“In return for your service, I promise safety, service and protection for all your days and those of your line.” When she peered up his eyes blazed. Her body tightened, a not unusual circumstance around him, she admitted privately to herself.
She stood unsteadily and nearly tripped over the traditional long gown but Javed rose, helping her to stand, and she blushed, the heat creeping over her face and highlighting the confusion. “Thank— Thank you, master.”
He grinned before turning back to take the next oath, but Bertha hadn’t missed the exchange. “You have to be the clumsiest witch I’ve ever met. Now come on, we need to go eat before the festivities begin.” The woman grabbed her arm and dragged Celina behind her bulk, but Celina let her, knowing that the hungry members of the household had fasted in preparation of the feast. They hurried inside and the cold refreshments were already a hit with those attending.
The Yeux Secondes of the Tudor nest, David, watched silently, aloof from the milling people. She’d heard whispers about his history and his wife. The wife, Alexa, was long gone, Celina had heard. They said she’d only married him to get at his sister, Hope.
She already knew that Hope was the life partner of Xavier, and that the relationship of brother and sister remained strained. She felt pity for him, but followed the edict of Bertha who had told her he had been damaged by the whole affair and that no one discussed it openly.
It seemed even vampire nests weren’t immune to family politics. Then she snorted. “And what the hell would I know of family politics?”
Bertha cast a glance over her shoulder. “Did you say something?”
“Uh no. Not really. Just talking to myself.” At that, Bertha steered her to the tables spread with Middle Eastern foods.
They ate quickly, circulating through the throng when the gong sounded in the ballroom and everyone proceeded to the large room.
The final formal part of the evening would be the telling of a prophecy. Apparently it usually told of the future of the house, so everyone waited quietly while the seers lined up across the front of the stage. Then there would be dancing.
Twelve people stood still at the front of the stage, a mix of old and young, male and female. Each gave the impression of being nervous and uncomfortable with the limelight thrust upon them. The room quieted and all became still.
The oldest woman, standing at the far end, jerked slightly, her eyes closing as her body tensed. She extended a hand, her head thrown back.
“The secrets of the blood must out. The lost scroll of prophecy holds the truths that only the three foretold can stop. Without these three, the secrets shall crush us all. The houses shall fall and our races will be destroyed. Be quick, though, for the secrets must be learned from the book hidden, before the next full moon.”
The
woman slumped to the floor, and only those closest hurried to her, fanning and offering water as she came back to consciousness. Voices chattered now, in low tones, as everyone tried to assimilate the words.
“Oh dear, our races shall be destroyed.” Bertha screwed up her eyes. “That doesn’t bode well. I can see we will be busy after tonight.”
“I take it this isn’t, then, the usual kind of prophecy for an investiture?” Celina leaned forward and Bertha shook her head.
“Indeed not. At least, not that I’ve ever heard. My family have served for over seven generations.”
A hush fell over the room as Cressida and the new master, Javed, ascended the small stage. The presentiment of doom left pockets of whispered conversations even as the two conferred. She glanced to Bertha then to the new master. The Councilor stepped away from Javed, raised hands in the air wordlessly calling for calm.
“I believe, given the prophecy, that our newest nest has just been granted a very significant role in our future. We, as your Councilors, will begin an immediate search for information pertaining to the secrets of the blood that were spoken of. In the meantime, I suggest everyone return to their homes, so that we may make immediate plans.”
With those words, the festivities were ended.
Chapter Three
Two weeks had passed since the investiture and the new nest was already finding its feet in such a trying situation. With members from other nests populating it, well, it kind of made sense, Celina thought.
Idris, a brawny dark-haired vampire and recruit from yet another house, acted as second for the newly formed nest. He’d taken over the day-to-day interaction that the witches currently had with the senior vampires. Bertha suggested that it was because he was interested in a liaison with Celina, but she just shrugged the suggestion away. She wasn’t interested in him like that.
She watched as Idris left the basement that had been claimed by Bertha and the other witches who were currently staying here, as their workrooms.
“So, what are you going to do about him?” Bertha raised an eyebrow at her before returning to whatever she was doing.
“He’s nice enough, but not really my cup of tea.”
Sure, she’d had some conversations with various guards, but their conversation either tended to be terse and to the point or suggestive on their part. Instead, she gave every waking moment over to learning the craft. She hoped that someday soon, when she had learned enough to be marginally competent, she might also be given another role within the nest. Perhaps she might even get to use her hard-won degree again.
But that wasn’t now. Instead, she was relegated to the most simplistic spells and she chafed under the restrictions. After so many years of living her life, now from rising to how she spent her time and even what she ate was determined by someone else. About the only thing she had control of was what underwear she chose. “Even that would be taken if I handed over any more control of my life.”
Celina wanted to help, but being a neophyte with little to no status sucked.
“Is there something I can do?”
Bertha watched, then shook her head at her before she resumed her task of searching for whatever would help them unravel the mystery of the prophecy.
“There has to be something.” She winced, hearing the intense need in her voice. For the last few weeks, her world had spun out of control. From being a well groomed and settled insurance assessor, now she was little more than a shell upon the beach, being buffeted by the tide.
“Dear, there really isn’t much you can do until you learn to control your emotions and the power that runs within your veins.” There was a subtle dismissal in Bertha’s words.
Celina grimaced. “But surely…”
Bertha grunted, though this time there was a flattening of her lips, and a distinct coolness in her voice. “If you must… The old gray book in the next room. You can try the spell for finding something you have lost… It’s in there somewhere.”
Celina agreed wordlessly. It wasn’t much. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d call it a dismissal. But it was an opening—a way to help in the search for the prophecy. Not that Bertha obviously expected it to work.
“I’ll just…”
The woman jerked her head up. “I cannot work with so many distractions. Take yourself to the other room. And make sure you use the athame to cast a circle first.”
This time Celina blushed. Her last attempt at spell casting had seen her forget to create a casting circle and the consequences hadn’t been positive. The blackened patches on the walls bore testament to that.
Once in the next room, she moved to the bookcase, searching for the book. Each of them felt different, as if imbued with a power from their previous users. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Bertha, but given the circumstances she couldn’t ask any more.
With care, Celina ran her hands over the spines. Some sang beneath her touch and others made her shiver as trickles of iciness spread their tendrils through her spine.
The gray book was finally beneath her fingers. She sighed as if it were an old friend just returned home. Could it be that this book wants me to use it?
The pages were thick and smelled of mustiness, but it was comforting too. She slipped it from the shelf. Its weight felt oddly familiar and she laughed at her fanciful thoughts.
Celina searched for the athame the older woman had given her weeks ago. The ceremonial knife lay in the open box ready for use, and she inhaled deeply.
A smudge stick sat nearby, she swept it up and the small packet of matches that waited. I can do this. Can’t I? But an uncertainty clawed at her.
The old door creaked as she stepped through it into a small anteroom that lay beyond. Celina found the old stool and hauled it to the center of the room, where she carefully laid the book on the wooden chair. It opened with a groan, and her heart beat wildly. Page after page she searched through the spidery writing.
Finally, toward the end she found the one she searched for. “To Find Something Once Lost.” She breathed the words as a layer of dust lifted from the pages.
For an instant, she wondered where this book had been hidden, then dismissed it from her mind. She could always ask Bertha later.
She swept up the tight bundle of herbs that smoked from one end, and muttered the sacred words she’d been taught. Carefully, she wafted the gray cloud around in the air. Once satisfied she’d purified the area, Celina extinguished the remains, dropping them to the chair, then she scooped up the blade. Her hands shook, and she struggled to clear her mind.
“From floor to ceiling and in between, the circle is cast as can be seen. For all within let it burn so bright, for the good I cast let it be right. Harm ye none, do as ye will. Let no hurt to all and only good be free. And with your power, so mote it be.” She proceeded around the circle invoking the four points that denoted the tips of the compass, before carefully returning to the stool at the center.
A flare of light enveloped her, and Celina set the athame back on the surface of the stool. With great effort, she cleared her mind again as the excitement had grown, and prepared herself to begin the spell. Her fingers traced over the page. She felt the power build within her as she sought her center. She detected the flare then reached for tendrils.
“Bound and biding, biding bound. See the sight and hear the sound. What was lost will now be found. Bound and biding, biding bound.”
Once the words were said, warmth flooded her. She wanted to move, as if an unseen force tugged at her. She carefully grabbed the knife, creating an exit in the circle, before she gave in to the need dragging her toward the doorway.
On the way out of the door, she placed the silver knife on the side table and grabbed her mobile phone safely hidden in her pocket. She could leave a message to let others know where she was going, but right now she had to follow the draw before it dissipated.
Up the steps she hurried. The compulsion deep within her throbbed, almost painfully. She didn’t
exactly know where she was going—instead she would let her body and senses guide her. After all, wasn’t that what they’d kept reminding her to do? The car. She could follow the urgent tug and get there quickly.
“And if I wait, it could disappear,” she muttered to herself. It made excellent sense to her. Go where the call came from. Then let them know once she knew where.
The car waited where she had left it, with the keys still in the ignition. Once the Bluetooth connected she rang, leaving a message. “I’ve found something and I’m heading there directly. I’ll let you know what I’ve found.”
Elation filled her. Surely it was great fortune that had shown her where she needed to go?
Celina steered out of the drive of the house without glancing back.
* * * *
In the dark, something old stirred, stretching its awareness outside the alcove it had rested in for so long. “Who is there?” The voice was rough from disuse.
A light flared, and he hissed at the assault on his sight.
“It is I, my liege. I call you from your slumber with tidings.” He waited, holding himself very still as the servant, Jelani, stepped into his view. “They have started hunting for the secrets. The secrets of how they were formed. They do not yet realize that is the path to destruction.”
“How long have I rested?” He moved now, grunting slightly as he straightened his stiff limbs. Then he released muscles that had been locked for so long, amid loud groans.
“Three centuries, sire.” Jelani bowed low and he watched silently, thinking of the changes Jelani must have seen in the world during his slumber. Just as he had, in the thousands of years of his existence.
“Did you find the one I requested?” He pinned his gaze on the quivering creature before him.
His servant was not a vampire, for the change had not been absolute. It was only after they had become aware of his other bloodlines that the truth had become apparent.
Others could not be changed. Instead, this one was caught in the shadowy visage of were and vampire. But he was loyal and long-lived.
