by Kirk Zurosky
“Because if we are so busy fighting one another and using all our wits and energy to hate, then maybe we won’t be aware of what is really going on.”
“And that is at the root of my mission,” Hedley agreed, nodding. “The more immortals I can influence, then the more those ignorance mongers, mortal and immortal alike, will lose what they cherish the most—their power over the masses.”
“In your own way, you might be as hated as much as I, huh?”
Hedley shrugged. Clearly what I had just said to him was nothing novel. “Have a seat, Sirius, and tell me what happened in Florence.”
I sat, looking around his office and comparing it to that of his half brother, Justice. Hedley’s books were shelved in massive white marble bookshelves that stretched high into the air. Nary a book was out of place. And, to my disappointment, Hedley did not have in his employ any sexy bookworms to keep things in order, though the place sparkled in its cleanliness.
Hedley’s desktop was a beveled pane of glass sitting on an ornate mahogany carving of the Tree of Knowledge, its branches spreading wide and supporting the glass. The chairs in front of the desk had bookshelves in the back, filled with leather-bound books, and writing desks, akin to those in the reading room at the Laurentian Library, in the front. Hedley eased into a big leather chair behind the desk, and my eye caught the back of a small portrait frame on his desk. I would have given anything to know whose image was in the painting, especially when I saw Hedley’s eyes go to it as he sat.
“Florence?” he coaxed.
Finally, my interest in Hedley’s office waned, and I told him about my run-in with the creeper in Florence, and the strange, black poison he was trying to kill me with. “What is most concerning to me is that we are dealing with an enemy that is using a poison that a master assassin can’t figure out,” Hedley said, frowning.
I nodded. “I really should have kept some of it,” I said. “But the longer I was near it, and the more I inhaled the strange scent of it, the more enraged I felt. So I got rid of it before I lacked the ability to do so.”
“I think that was best,” Hedley agreed. “I hate to think what could have happened when you went back to the Chamber of the Master of Masters in the Laurentian if you were still armed with that bow and arrow and were fully overcome by the bloodlust it caused.”
My heart sank. “I hadn’t thought of that.” I could not imagine harming a rainbow-colored hair on Knowledge’s head, but the poison was such that I was not sure I would have been in control of myself. “So what is our plan?”
“What else?” Hedley said. “Educate ourselves against the threat. The attempt on your life and the means used are valuable information. It also tells me that Max and I were right to talk to you and your friends about the Blood of the One. Someone, or something, did not want you to make it here to the College of the Immortals to study with me.”
“How can that be related?” I said. “A lot of people want me dead, for example, Bloodsucker Number One. By the way, do you just let any immortal in here? Martin is clearly her issue, isn’t he? I’d know those crazy, gray eyes anywhere.”
“Martin is indeed her child,” Hedley said. “I do not and cannot discriminate against my students just because of who their parents are. My hope is that I can give those begotten from an evil seed a chance to flower into something good. We all have our own destiny, and we all choose our own path to travel.”
“That fellow is going to travel into my fist before we are said and done here,” I grumbled. “And any path he takes is going to lead him straight to Hell.”
“Maybe,” Hedley agreed with a wry grin creasing his face. “But then, like his encounter with you today, that would be a valuable lesson for him. Remember, the more immortals I can influence, the better.”
“She swore she could never carry issue,” I said. “Now I think she was just too self-involved. That was her issue with issue. She did not want her children to take any attention away from her, not to mention the fact that she does not have a maternal bone in her body. Tell me what happened to bring Martin’s sneering face into being. Did I mention I hate the name Martin?”
“You did not,” Hedley said. “Her modus operandi is to use men to achieve political power, being of no royal blood herself. She had her worst string of luck in centuries when she backed Karposh in a 1689 rebellion against the Ottoman Empire. Karposh was crushed, and while he was being executed on the Stone Bridge in Skopje, she fled with the remainder of her gold. She wanted to go as far from there as she could, so she took a few years to collect the rest of her fortune, which she had hidden all over Europe. Once she had her nest egg all together, she decided to journey to the English colonies to practice her manipulating ways again.”
“Good place to keep a low profile and lick her wounds,” I said.
“You would think that,” Hedley said. “But she landed in Salem Village, Massachusetts, via crystal in 1692, and her bad luck continued, for she was immediately spied by the local witch-hating magistrate, captured, had her gold impounded, and was tried as a witch and sentenced to die.”
“Apparently, they did not succeed.”
Hedley laughed and slapped his leg. “No, as you know, vampires are kind of hard to kill, so she survived the drowning, and the hanging, and the pressing, but escaped penniless, because they thought her gold to be evil and ferried it out to sea and dumped it into the depths.”
“I would find that funny—well, the drowning, hanging, and pressing part is funny—but some of that gold was probably mine,” I said. “To complete the circle, just tell me Baron Orcinus picked it up from the bottom of the ocean to add to his treasury to fund his war on all land dwellers.”
“Possible,” Hedley said, considering for a moment what I had said. “He was the first merman to actively pillage the wreckage of land dweller ships.”
“He causes ships to wreck, Hedley,” I said. “But, tell me of Martin—what of that ingrate?”
“Well, she found a new benefactor.”
“Of course she did. Survivor that one is—does what she has to do, or who she has to do.”
“And what she had to do was have a child,” Hedley said.
I nodded, wondering what kind of creature would willingly lay down with Bloodsucker Number One, without being in a lotus wine–induced stupor. “That guy must have been out of his mind—I know I was,” I said. “Who is he?”
Hedley shrugged. “I do not know, but rest assured, I am going to find out. But what seed Martin sprung from is kind of a minor issue right now with what else we have going on.”
I waved a hand at him. “The attempt on my life . . . is really no big deal.”
“Yes, quite true, quite true,” Hedley said. “But that is not what I am talking about, you narcissist. My sources tell me that someone is trying to steal one of the Seven Sacred Relics from its rightful owner.”
“Oh, that,” I said. “I mean that is obviously a problem, but it is not like having one Relic gets you access to all the others . . .” I noticed him staring at me. “So, the owners of the Relics are not anonymous to each other, are they?”
Hedley shook his head. “Not exactly. All the immortal power brokers tend to run in the same circles and are, at their root, still people with all the foibles of mortals. Don’t get me wrong. Those who are the rightful possessors are the best of the best, but they are still—people.”
“That is what you said at the House of Indigo. But you sounded like the Blood of the One was something that could never, ever happen.”
“Well, it can,” Hedley said.
“And you did not tell us all the truth then, because . . . ?”
Hedley sighed and put his head in his hands, looking old and tired, if it was possible for a half demon to do. “Some things are better left as legends and myths,” he said. “The truth is that it only takes six of the Relics to make the Blood of the On
e. The possessor of the seventh Relic is special, in that he, or she, has a right to call for a meeting and make each of the other members show their worthiness to be entrusted with the Relic in their possession. Even immortals need a watchdog so to speak.”
“True,” I said. “You just never know, right?”
“Even immortals change over time,” Hedley agreed. “It was done thousands and thousands of years ago as a failsafe in case one of the possessors went astray. The theory was that the holder of the seventh Relic would call the meeting, and then as a group they all would call the wayward Relic holder on their deceit and strip away the Relic and have it bestowed upon a more trustworthy member of their race.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Member of their race?”
“Yes, Sirius,” Hedley replied. “The Relics have been entrusted to certain of the immortal races for eons. The names of the Relics have changed over the years to honor those that have contributed to the advancement of the planet in a positive way. The Cylinder of Archimedes, for example.”
“The Greek engineer?”
“Aye, the trolls thought it fitting to honor him by renaming the Relic in their possession after him.”
“What are the other Relics?”
Hedley paused for a moment, apparently having an internal debate about whether to share this information with me. “I cannot help protect a Relic if I do not know what it actually is, right?” I said with a smile.
“Indeed,” Hedley replied. “This path is unavoidable. Blast that Justice for being right about your place in this! You know about the Blade of Truth obviously. It seems to be attracted to vampires—a lone elf, three thousand years ago, was the only nonvampire to wield it. You are still the rightful possessor of the Blade of Truth.”
“But where is the Blade of Truth now?” I asked. “Should it not be by my side for safekeeping?”
“It is where it needs to be,” Hedley replied mysteriously. “Now then, you have also seen the Dagger of Dorje.”
“But that is protected by mortal monks,” I protested, thinking of Sonam. How was she doing in her quest for her chosen one?
“The monks are mortals,” Hedley said. “But Master Lobsang is a faerie, and he just chooses to appear as an old mortal because it suits him.”
“So you know about the faerie that tried to steal the Dagger?”
“I do, she is from a rival faction of faeries that want to take from the monks the honor of protecting the Dagger. Some of the faeries believe Lobsang thinks too much like the mortals, and that he is not able to safeguard it anymore.”
“Lobsang, lose his edge? Not likely.”
“So she was not trying to steal it for a nefarious purpose but, ironically, to better protect it,” Hedley said.
“Why stop there?” I said. “Maybe it would be best to lock up all the Relics for safekeeping, like the Dagger of Dorje. It might solve all your worries. I wonder if the Thief and her faction are going to go after all the Relics? What do you think of that?”
By the look on his face, I could see that I had just caused Hedley to have more worries, not fewer worries. “Quite a notion, young vampire, quite a notion,” he said, then changed the subject in typical Hedley fashion. “But anyway, between the monks and the Rakshas, I am sure you can attest that the Dagger of Dorje is not one of the Relics we need to worry about!”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “If it wasn’t for her trying to save me from the Rakshas, I think she would have gotten away from them and the monks. Let me tell you, she was pretty impressive, and I am not just talking about her body.”
Hedley looked troubled. “Lobsang did not mention that part.”
“How about Kunchen? You were there when that tattooed refugee from the Duga Paw clan successfully escaped from the Temple of Dorje. Maybe he had some help at the temple, and Lobsang is not as in control as he, or you, think he really is.”
Hedley gritted his teeth. “Possible, but not probable.”
“Well,” I said. “I am not taking a trip back to that place anytime soon, so tell me about the other Relics.”
“All right,” Hedley said. “I will have a little conversation with Lobsang later.”
“Go easy on the old fellow,” I replied. “He probably was going to tell you what happened with the Thief, but did not want to put a damper on Norbu and Choden’s chosen-one ceremony. So, the other Relics . . .”
“Oh yes,” Hedley said, clearly a bit distracted. “The merfolk are entrusted with the Font of the Oracle.”
“I know about the Oracle,” I said. “Seems the Oracle is responsible for more than just the Queen tracking me down for stud duties—well, at least I got a wife and merpire out of that deal.”
“Funny,” Hedley said. “But the Font is a single piece of mother of pearl from which the Oracle springs forth to advise the merfolk. It is in one of the most heavily guarded locations in the world.”
“And just how likely is it that, if the holder of the seventh Relic demands to see the possessor of the Font, it gets transported somewhere on land? Not likely, if the Queen has lost control of the kingdom, and Orcinus is in control.”
“She hasn’t, and he is not,” Hedley said. “But the Queen is not the possessor of the Font. The Font would come regardless of what the Queen, Orcinus, or their often deluded high council wishes.”
I could not help but think of the Queen being married to Orcinus. What a horrible turn of events. Had Orcinus succeeded in sea-worming his way into her heart? Though she wanted nothing to do with me, the thought of her with him sickened and angered me. I saw Hedley staring with a raised eyebrow at my apparently angry face, and realized my fangs were out, and that my whole body had tensed up. “It is nothing,” I said. “Please continue.”
“Right, nothing,” Hedley repeated. “The other Relics are the Moon of Madrid, watched over by the werewolves—”
“The Moon of Madrid! I know who the possessor of that little bauble is,” I exclaimed. “I cannot believe it is in that family. But Cornelia is certainly not like the rest of her brethren. And she said it was just sentimental. What a load of poppycock that was! Does Jova know he has one of the Relics in his house? He doesn’t, does he?”
“Not exactly,” Hedley said. “But the Moon of Madrid is but a rumor, even among the werewolves. Some think it is mystical, some want to worship it, and some, like old Angus, are bound by duty to protect it.”
“Angus,” I repeated. “Really? The conniving wereturd that is afraid of a teensy weensy spider? My ex father-in-law who chained me in the dungeon at Peel Castle for a decade has that kind of responsibility? That guy?”
Hedley merely stared at me blankly. “Those two things have nothing to do with one another.”
“But you said character and moral righteousness are the calling cards of the Relic holders, and Angus is involved?”
“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” he said. “Do you have anything to say about Cornelia, or her husband’s character?”
“Uh, no.”
“Thought as much,” he said. “Now, moving on. The goblins hold the Heart of Kings, a ruby of incomparable purity and beauty.”
“Now I am confused,” I said. “Goblins are known for doing whatever they can to amass wealth and power. How does that even make sense?”
“Not all goblins are like Andrew Murfield,” Hedley replied. “How would you like it if all vampires were judged by someone meeting your first wife?”
“Point taken,” I said, realizing once again why Hedley Edrick was the Master of Masters. “Wait a minute,” I said. “That is only six. What is the seventh Relic? Who has it?”
“That is the final piece of the puzzle,” Hedley said. “Only the owner of that Relic knows what it is. And there is a failsafe for the failsafe.”
“And just what do you mean by that?”
“Well, the possessor of t
he seventh Relic cannot call a meeting and just assemble the other possessors of the Relics at any time,” he answered. “Only during a celestial event that occurs once—and sometimes, very rarely, twice—in a century.”
“So, when is the next celestial event?” I asked. “And who holds the seventh Relic?”
“Listen, Sirius,” Hedley said. “You are just going to have to trust that I will give you all the information you need when you need it. Sometimes, like right now for instance, I am not going to answer your questions. So let’s talk about you helping me prevent a Relic from being stolen.”
I wasn’t a fan of blindly trusting anyone, and that included the Master of Masters. But for right now, I would respect him on his sheer reputation, until something happened where that changed. I only hoped Hedley’s selectiveness with information didn’t get me killed in the meantime. “Okay, Hedley, I’ll take you on your word. So which Relic do you want me to keep from being stolen?” I asked.
“Excellent question,” Hedley said. “I don’t know.”
“The Master of Masters does not know,” I blurted out. “How is that even possible?” He had to be kidding. How was I to prevent the theft of a Relic if I did not know that it was the one being targeted? I could not be in six places at once.
“I am not omniscient,” said Hedley. “Believe me, if I were, the world would not be in this predicament in the first place, and there would be a lot more goat sausage. However, I have some leads that you, with your unique abilities, will help me explore, and I think we will find out who is behind this plan, and be victorious.”
“So, I am not here to study after all, am I?”
“Actually, you are,” Hedley said. “Which brings me to the next item on my agenda—you have to pay me for the tuition, or people will suspect something!”
“Maria is on scholarship is she not?” I said. “So, put me on scholarship too.”
“Maria is special,” Hedley said. “The world knows you as a cold-blooded killer with a penchant for trolling through whorehouses and marrying poorly. Why would I, the Master of Masters, put you on scholarship? Not believable.”
