Ravening Hood

by Kendrai Meeks

  “If what you say is true—” With his back to the crowd, my back to the tower, long, hungry fangs descended and deformed his words. “—do you know how much danger that would put your people in? Why would you make something like that known?”

  “Because your boss has outmaneuvered me twice and taken away my people. I’m not easily overcome, Timur. I figure the only choice I have up against someone like that is to either go down fighting against them, or rise up fighting for them.”

  Those fangs could be the death of me, but that grin would be the end of him. Timur raised a hand eye level and flexed his fingers, as though inviting someone over. Temptation to look filled me, but I knew better than to break eye contact. Instead, I relied on my ears, telling me that again, a car had just come to a stop at a nearby curb, ready to whisk me away.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Each day, the city became more mysterious, even as the streets became more familiar. Within a few minutes, I understood we weren’t heading the same direction as we had the first time. Had the Ravens moved after my escape? Were there multiple fortresses around the city? Did I just fall into a trap and Timur was doing nothing more than taking me to a more convenient place to drink me and dump my body?

  “He wants to show you something first.”

  I blinked my confusion. “What?”

  No chaperones or chauffeurs this time. Instead of a massive tank of an SUV, the vampire had bundled me into a pavement-hugging sports car with only two seats. At a red light, Timur pointed ahead. Even from this low-to-the-ground vantage, I could see the ancient walls rise just a few blocks ahead.

  “Vlad wishes for you to accompany him on a private tour of the palace. He said it would be illuminating.”

  “Is that some kind of solarium joke?”

  Timur shrugged. “Vlad is not in the nature of making jokes. No Raven is. I understand you’ve spent time with our sister.”

  Nerves alighted and wormed their way into my gut. “Inga.”

  The light turned green; the car pulled into the intersection. “Then you understand.”

  “A HAREM COSTUME?” VLAD’S lips pressed against the back of my hand, testing my resolve. “How fortuitous. I believe you can see the future, Miss Kline.”

  If I could wield silver, the coins on my belt would purchase your head being cleaved from your body, bastard. But what good would that do? The other Ravens would still have Caleb, Tobias, and the others.

  “We see only the present,” I said. “It is only within our power to determine how far into the future our adversaries are permitted to see.”

  Vampires had no pulse, so I couldn’t be sure why a flush could overcome Vlad. Had I not known better, I’d have said it was lust coloring his cheeks. After a few unintelligible words to Timur, and exchange was made. The soldier left, and the prince led me on by the hand, strolling beside me.

  “Have you visited Topkapı yet, Miss Kline?”

  “I’m willing to bet you’ve been spying on me long enough to know the answer.” Before us appeared a set of magnificent doors, with grandeur on a scale that made the castles I’d seen in Germany come off as fixer uppers. “This barbican looks medieval.”

  His eyes brightened. “You know about architecture?”

  “I know about castles and fortresses.” I pointed to the turrets on either side rising above the stone archway gate. “This was either built as a nostalgic throwback in the nineteenth century, or during the middle ages at a time when whoever lived here suspected they might actually be invaded.”

  Vlad gave a slight nod as the doors, which had swung open by powers unseen, closed behind us. “They were wise, the Ottomans. It took me years to understand. Years to appreciate, to accept. Then, even longer to learn their ways. Eventually, my wisdom exceeded their own.”

  “You do have the benefit of a much longer life span,” I noted. “One that is getting longer all the time, I hear, thanks to all the wolves you’ve killed.”

  “All in the name of progress.”

  I bit down so hard, the taste of blood teased my tongue. Hopefully he couldn’t sense it. Play along. “Where are we going?”

  “The slayers whom I guard have grown up in my care. They know this world. You, however, are what my girls would call yabanci. A foreigner. An outsider. If you are to decide to join my harem, I wish you to know its origins.”

  “I know the basics,” I insisted. “Many women, one all-powerful man who gets to have them all to himself whenever he wants. Sex slaves.”

  “That is the ignorant orientalist view of what the Ottomans—of what I have established. Call one of my haseki a sex slave and she’d laugh. Or kill you. They are quite lethal, as beautiful as they are. I believe you received a small demonstration this afternoon from Konstantina. No, the true purpose of a harm isn’t sexual indulgence, Miss Kline. It’s legacy.”

  “To create heirs, right? But a slayer can’t be turned into a vampire, and you can’t impregnate them, so how does that work?”

  “I suppose this is one of the areas where my harem varies from the one that once thrived—” He pointed to a group of buildings, two stories high and as wide across as half a football field. “—in these very buildings. The slayers nurture not my biological progeny, but those reborn of the Dracule. That is their purpose: to sustain my life, so that my own purpose may endure.”

  “So you do see yourself as some kind of sultan, then?”

  He took my hand, lifting it with deliberate slowness, watching with upturned eyes to study my expression. When his lips met my knuckles, my anxieties unfurled, speeding my pulse. Good, I thought, let him think he’s already tempting me.

  “I am,” Vlad said at last. “As I vowed I would be.”

  “You vowed?” I took my hand back, arresting the stroke of his index finger over the pulse point in my wrist. “To whom, exactly?”

  “Who else?” Vlad’s arm swept the air. “To the sultan. To Mehmed the Conqueror himself. In the time I was human, it was common for the children of a conquered kingdom to be taken as insurance, dissuading a captured people from revolt. I do not blame Mehmed for his decision to claim my brother Radu and I, and our treatment was more than cordial. We were offered almost every comfort and opportunity as the sultan’s own progeny. With one marked exception, of course: our freedom. To earn that, we only need pledge our fealty to the sultan and his empire. My brother was all too willing. I, however, was not. When Mehmed saw I would not fall into line with his vision for my own homeland of Wallachia, he allowed me to return.”

  “So you got your freedom, then.”

  “Only to the extent that it fit into Mehmed’s needs. He knew I would rally my people, that I would be a thorn in the Ottoman’s side. No matter. That would give him the excuse he needed to destroy me. And he could, oh, so easily. I knew this. I knew I was no match of him. At least, not as a man. But as a vampire—”

  At this, Vlad paused, looking into the sky and spreading his lips wide. Gleams of a waning gibbous moon illuminated fangs that seemed to grow longer from the effect. “Most vampires are born because a maker chooses them. For skill, for curiosity, even for companionship. I, however, made that decision for myself. As a vampire, I would be Mehmet’s master. Even if he defeated me on the battlefield, even if he destroyed my entire country and all my people, I could have my revenge merely by outliving him. I vowed to him when we faced each other for the final time, that when his bones became dust and his house had long since fallen, that I would seize his empire, that his people would feed by bloodlust, and that his slayers would be my own salvation.”

  “Slayers?” I asked. “There were slayers in the Ottoman Empire?”

  Given the series of tunnels Caleb had shown me, I didn’t know why that should surprise me.

  “The slayers have always been here,” Vlad continued. “First with the Romans, then the Byzantines. In time, Constantinople gave birth to Istanbul, and the slayers were here to see that too. But not just time. Did you know that werewolves once protected this ver
y part of the palace? History says it was eunuchs who guarded the sultan’s family. I am sure there were some. But who showed the greatest loyalty, and who the sultan entrusted with his inner sanctum, were the mated werewolves who were incapable of being with any woman other than their mates. That, too, is my revenge. I deny them that luxury.”

  I struggled to push out sound through a mouth gone dry. “That’s why you’re undoing mating bonds? As some sort of revenge against a sultan who died five hundred years ago?”

  “Rarely are my reasons so simplistic. Your Caleb told me what you thought, that unmated royal wolves provide the best sustenance for my clutch to endure. There is some truth to that, though it was not the impetus for my serum to be developed. What I wished to do—what I am doing—is to destroy the werewolves from within. True, I could send my clutch to pick them off one by one. But there are thousands of them around the world. So much time and expense and coordination, when none of that is necessary. You see, Miss Kline, what we discovered is that destroying the mating bonds of the alphas leads to the deterioration of the pack as a whole. Alpha’s prerogative becomes impossible. The fealty which keeps them true devolves. I have the luxury of forever, thanks to my slayers. I can wait for the process to play out over several generations.”

  “But without werewolves, what is the purpose of a hood?”

  One of his eyebrows raised precariously. “An interesting query, isn’t it? In your case specifically, perhaps one which I may help answer. You have so much to offer: an interest in genetics, familiarity with all forms of supernaturals, and an instinct for hunting down werewolves. In turn, I can offer you every comfort, every luxury you would ever desire.” As he slow walked us back to the main courtyard, he reached out his hand to me. “Join my harem, Gerwalta Kline.”

  “Your world would never offer me one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  My hand traced down the curve of my hip, taking his eyes for the ride. “What of my own legacy? What of wanting my own family?”

  “I didn’t take you for the motherly sort.” Vlad licked his lips. “I have the resources required for that of course. If I didn’t, my crop of slayers never would have endured beyond the first generation.”

  “You know my proclivities. I am the namesake of The Betrayer.” I leaned into him, twirling one of his dark curls around my finger. “Promise me my choice of wolf instead.”

  “If that’s what you desire.” His hands finally detached from his side to wind around my hips, pulling me close. “Do we have an accord?”

  “Not yet.” I pulled back. “Caleb told me this palace is a museum, and that there’s quite a few of the Ottoman’s treasures here.”

  “Does my haseki desire diamonds? Art? Golden teapots?”

  “A hood has no use for any of those.” I leaned in, ghosting my lips over his. “Show me the weapons.”

  Desire curled in his eyes. “As you wish.”

  We walked in silence back across a stone path. A guard stationed at the door held an impressive weapon of the modern era, but gave no heed when he spotted us.

  “Do you have every person in this place under your thrall?”

  “There are less taxing ways of ensuring their acquiescence,” Vlad said. “They are on my bankroll.”

  “And they aren’t worried they’ll get into trouble?”

  “What part of ‘I am the sultan’ did you not understand, Miss Kline?”

  The room we entered, longer than wide and filled with display cases, came to life with a flick of a switch. My mother would have cried. I was on edge myself. The pieces of the collection were not only impressive, they were works of art: khanjars with jade hilts, kards embedded in granite, scimitars as long as my body... Arrows arranged in a quiver of tanned leather, gilded at the edges with copper... Iron helmets engraved with scroll work so complex and elegant, its place on the battlefield could only be to make the enemy understand the vast wealth of the foe they faced.

  And in one display case, though not the fanciest or most ornate, was a smaller sword, slightly curved, embedded in a wooden hilt that called to me. A typed slip of paper held in place by two pushpins was in several languages, the English of which read, Kilij, 17th c., Balkans. Older, a voice in my head said. Much older.

  My hands flattened against the glass. “Beautiful.”

  Vlad couldn’t hide his surprise. “Of all the treasures in this room, this is the one that you’re drawn to?”

  It was, even though items far more exceptional pieces surrounded it. “It...” I cut myself off just in the nick of time, just before saying it calls to me. Because it couldn’t. I was relinquished, more huey than hood, and not in any way, shape or form on speaking turns with silver. It was impossible.

  But I’d sensed Tobias, hadn’t I?

  What was happening to me?

  Vlad leaned in closer, as though he could get between me and the glass. “Does it please?”

  “Yes.” I raised my weapon hand, wishing I could make this glass dissolve and take that sword by the handle. I hungered to feel the hilt pressed to my flesh.

  When the vampire snapped his fingers beside me, I managed to draw my attention away just in time to see the guard who had previously been standing just outside the room scurry in. Vlad said a few words; the guard blushed and made excuses. A few more words from the vampire, this time spoken around fangs, and the guard dropped his argument and rushed away. Seconds later, he returned, a set of keys in his hand. I watched, mouth agape, as the very sword I’d been drooling over moments before was removed and rushed from the room.

  “Done. It is being loaded into my car as we speak. The weapons curator will also be happy to entertain any questions you have regarding the sword and its history whenever you care to make an appointment with him.”

  “Loaded into your...” Evil dead or not, that was absurd. “You can’t just remove a four-hundred-year-old sword from a museum!”

  “I already have.” Two blinks, and the vampire was no longer feet away, he was standing before me, his hands in my hair. “I will compensate the museum for the financial burden. That, or offer a similar piece from my private collection. I hope this gift sufficiently demonstrates the dedication I have for my haseki- my favorites, Gerwalta. If you give yourself to me, I give myself, and so much more, back to you.”

  I didn’t know why I felt the need to argue a present I was never actually going to receive with a man’s whose moral compass pointed towards a different pole than mine. “That sword must be worth thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “Your worth is far greater, and ten times more rare.” His head titled, as though he were mapping my side profile. “You have named your terms, and I have accepted. Are we in agreement, then?”

  “I don’t remember you presenting your terms.”

  “Mine is singular: loyalty. Not only to me, but to the whole clutch. If you are discovered to betray us, you will die. If we ask of your body, you must give it.”

  “Didn’t you just chastise me for saying the women of your harem are sex slaves?”

  He laughed at my ignorance. “We require only your blood. Anything more is at your own discretion, just as long as your lovers are friendly to the Ravens. My ladies mingle with the males of their kind at their leisure.”

  Which meant there were male slayers still alive. The question was where? If the females had ready access, somewhere in the compound or very nearby, I’d imagine.

  For the third time, he offered out his hand in the style of suitor asking a belle for a dance. “Agreed?”

  Do it, the voice inside me said. You’re going to kill him anyways, and you’ll buy the others more time to infiltrate the house if you keep playing along.

  Putting my hand in his, I gave one quick nod. Then, my world flew out of control.

  My mouth fractured, a silent scream cut from my throat, as his fangs pierced my neck. The pain flashed through my body, every nerve reacting to the attack. Then, numbness, almost as if instead
of the vampire’s bite, I’d been injected with morphine. The ache eked away, replaced with a subtle chill and sense of euphoria.

  Intoxication took me hostage as the prince drew back, his eyes wide and his lips crimson with my blood.

  “Im...possible.”

  Equilibrium was such a challenge, I dared not try anything as complex as speech. Instead, I just looked at him, goofy and aloof.

  “Someone lied to you.” Vlad ran a hand over my hair, brushing back the stray hairs free of my ever-present braid. “They lied to you—lied to all of us. And now I know why.”

  “What did you... Why am I...”

  The high-pitched trill coming from inside Vlad’s coat pocket overlaid my incoherent mumbles. Amused, Vlad grinned as he pushed a finger to one of my lips while holding the phone to his ear with his other hand.

  “Perfect timing, Timur. I believe I have just succeeded in getting Miss Kline to— Oh, really? Oh, very interesting. Yes, of course, bring around the car.”

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket. The way his expression shifted in the intervening few moments sobered me. Curiosity curdled, leaving behind only resent.

  “The funny thing about this is in hindsight is what I’ve just managed to do, without you having to canoodle me. Perhaps you’re more like your mother than I supposed.”

  “Sorry?” Fingertips pushed into my temple finally steadied the room. “I don’t have any noodles. I like dumplings though. Why... Why am I so dizzy?”

  “The disorientation is temporary, and will ease with rest,” Vlad said as he took me by the hand. “Rest, I fear, you won’t be getting for a while.”

  And with that, I stopped trying to keep a hold of both gravity and reality. I slipped into my own daydream, unaware of the nightmare that awaited me ahead.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Pain shot through me as Vlad slammed my face into the wall beside the fireplace in his massive home, rocketing me awake. My eyes shot open. Hungry, desperate lungs ate up air. With a twist of his wrist, I collapsed to the floor, panting, kissing carpet.