The Mage Tales, Books I-III

by Ilana Waters

Still, if something did happen, Arthur might eventually die in a subterranean jail cell. But it wasn’t as if I could’ve gone up to another PIA member and said, “Excuse me, but if I don’t make it out of my top-secret mission alive, would you mind releasing the old man I locked in your basement? Thanks so much.”

  Speaking of subterranean jail cells . . .

  “Have you considered what we’ll do if we find more than Ferox’s followers down here?” I asked Titus, stepping over a shattered urn. “For instance, if we find Ferox himself? Although you think he’s dead, the Council said killing him outright would’ve been impossible. There’s a good chance he may still be alive in one form or another.”

  If you recall, dear reader, I mentioned earlier that vampires have the ability to lie dormant for many years without feeding. I imagine witches could use a spell on a vampire to accomplish the same end.

  “Let me deal with Ferox, if it comes to that,” Titus replied. Despite the uneven ground where we now walked, he wasn’t slowing down. “Besides, if everyone thinks we’re trying to resurrect him, it stands to reason that he’s dead, or possibly still asleep somewhere.”

  “Let’s just hope he stays that way,” I mumbled. “But how will we know when we find him? Are we to just go wandering about underneath Rome, hoping to stumble on him?”

  Now it was my father’s turn to be impatient with me. He stopped long enough to turn and frown. “I can sense him, remember? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing the entire time? Just follow me, and you’ll be fine.”

  Suddenly, I heard rumblings above us, and a few pebbles seemed to drop from the sky. A large rock fell inches from my foot, and I jumped back. Titus gave a short laugh.

  “Don’t worry, Joshua,” he said, and kept walking. “It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.” Seething, I wished my father would turn around again to enjoy the full extent of my glare. Alas, no such luck.

  “What was that, anyway?” I asked.

  “Over the centuries, mortals built over the ruins we now walk through,” Titus explained. “The falling rocks could have been from cars passing along a road, for instance. Sometimes, the hollow space can’t support the weight of new structures.”

  “That means there’s a very real risk of the earth collapsing above us,” I said. I lifted my head nervously.

  “Possibly,” replied Titus, but his tone didn’t seem very concerned, and we continued on in silence. After a few minutes, Titus spoke again.

  “I hope that if we do meet with Ferox—or his followers—you’re prepared to bring an end to this,” he said. “We have to do whatever it takes.”

  “Of course I’m prepared,” I said indignantly. I couldn’t believe he was implying otherwise. “Would I have come all this way if I weren’t? Perhaps we can reason with them—bribe them, maybe—or use some kind of spell,” I thought aloud.

  “Reason?” Titus scoffed. “You can’t reason with the blindly faithful. And it’s going to take a lot more than fancy magic to get the job done. We’re talking about vampires here—we live and die by blood.”

  “There must be a way to solve problems that doesn’t involve violence, or at least brutal hand-to-hand combat,” I shot back. “Sorcery and cleverness go a long way too, you know.”

  “You didn’t seem averse to violence when you and Blackline were razing the Forum Romanum,” Titus said. He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and kept walking.

  “We weren’t razing it,” I corrected, following him. “But trust you to exaggerate. And that was different. He was being entirely uncooperative, not to mention the fact that he started it. Also, if you’d been paying attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t have to kill or permanently maim him to get information.” Though I did want to.

  Titus shook his head. “I should know better than to argue with you. Things were much easier in my day. The law would’ve allowed me to kill you for disobedience.”

  “ ‘We praise the ancient times, but live the present years.’ Ovid,” I said.

  “I know who Ovid is,” Titus growled. “Stop quoting my own culture to me!” He ducked under a fallen slab of stone, and I did the same. “I still don’t understand why I haven’t killed you. Mortal law would hardly know I did so one way or the other.”

  “Must be that ‘crazy little thing called love,’ ” I replied. “Don’t worry—that’s a quotation from the band Queen, not an ancient Roman poet.”

  “Love . . .” Titus rolled the word over his tongue as though it had a bad taste. “Love is for the weak. For those too frightened to act.”

  “And war is for whom, exactly?” I asked. “Everyone?” And didn’t you love my mother at one point, at least a little? I didn’t even want to hazard a guess if Titus truly loved me. He’d just talked nonchalantly about killing me, after all. “War is all you have ever known, Father. Did you ever wonder who you’d be without it?”

  Titus whirled around, stopping just before an archway into a different part of the underground. “And I suppose we should all be tree-hugging hippies who try to save the world?” he sneered. “You should be less concerned with others’ welfare, and more concerned with your own.”

  I could feel anger rising within me, heat spreading to my face. “Yes, because being the last Roman left standing worked so well for you,” I said. “What will you do if your self-preservation instincts leave you all alone in the world? Will you put on a crown and be ruler of the graveyard?” I raised my hands to indicate the decay all around us. I knew I was going too far, but somehow I couldn’t stop. “Let’s face it,” I continued. “If you hadn’t been turned into a vampire, you still would have been just another in a long line of day-walking Roman slaughterers.”

  I could see by the look on Titus’s face that my words had cut him. Instantly, I was torn between regretting it and not. I think this was the first time I’d ever been able to hurt my father, to touch his heart. It was a power I’d always wanted, but somehow, not like this.

  Why should my remarks offend Titus? I thought. Wasn’t he proud to be ruthless, to be made of stone? I always believed that was the case.

  Titus kept staring at me, and after a few seconds, I looked at the floor. “Father, what I meant was—”

  “Shhh!” Titus held up a finger. His head turned to one side, and his eyes narrowed.

  “What is it?” I asked. “I don’t hear anything.” Probably because I’m not a vampire.

  “Hush, boy!” Titus kept listening to sounds only he could hear. “Something’s wrong.” His voice deepened. “There’s someone else here.”

  “Who? Is it Ferox?” My whole body tensed, and I could feel magic automatically gathering within me, readying itself for what might come.

  “No, not Ferox,” Titus said. “But whatever it is, it’s more than one.”

  “Seven, actually,” I heard a familiar voice echo throughout the chamber before us. Quickly, Titus stepped through, and I had no choice but to follow. Titus raised and magnified our ball of light, revealing a colossal domed hall—and half the High Council of Witches.

  Chapter 19

  My stomach froze, and I looked at Titus for some indication of what to do. His eyes scanned the room, moving from one Council member to another. Finally, he spoke.

  “Only seven of you?” he said. “Couldn’t they send the rest? How did you lot get stuck doing the grunt work?” The entire Council visibly bristled, their glares and frowns the exact reaction I’ll wager Titus wanted. If he felt any apprehension, he certainly wasn’t showing it, and I daresay he never would. It couldn’t be denied that I felt more confident facing them with my father at my side.

  “Father, this is Sasha Cronin, and I believe you recognize Mr. Blackline,” I said, pointing them out. “That gentleman there is Lord—”

  “Ashdown,” my father said, smirking at him.

  “Aurelius,” replied Ashdown tonelessly.

  “Ah, so you already know each other. We really must stop meeting l
ike this,” I said to the Council. “That is to say, you really must stop sneaking up on us like this.”

  “Yes, how do you keep doing that?” Titus pressed his lips together.

  “We weren’t sneaking,” Ashdown said. “We simply arrived before you and remained here. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Lurking in the dark, lying in wait for your enemies,” Titus said. “Sounds sneaky enough to me.” I could tell Titus wasn’t attempting to read any of their minds, probably recalling what happened when I tried to do so. The Council wisely wasn’t trying to read ours either, probably anticipating Titus’s response if they did. Blackline still looked like hell after our fight; I guess he hadn’t had time to clean up. It was pleasing to know this likely embarrassed him as he stood next to the perfectly coiffed Council.

  “We were afraid of this,” said Cronin, ignoring Titus’s remark and shaking her head. “So you discovered the entrance to Ferox’s tomb after all.”

  “Oh, it was easy,” Titus said. “All we had to do was look for a church where this little blighter thought we wouldn’t be welcome.” He jutted his chin at Blackline. “And wouldn’t you know, we walked right in.”

  “Yes, we’re more than a bit put out about that.” Cronin gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes at Blackline.

  “I told you, I didn’t tell them anything,” Blackline protested.

  “Silence!” Ashdown snapped at him, and I couldn’t help but smile. A bit put out indeed. “We will deal with you later, incompetent fool.” He looked again to Titus and me. “It’s not as if we wanted to force a confrontation.”

  “Really?” I folded my arms. “You could’ve fooled me. You seemed all too eager for a confrontation earlier. Several times, in fact.”

  “We don’t want things to get any uglier than necessary,” Cronin said.

  “And by that you mean ‘don’t want to fight my father if you don’t have to,’ ” I said.

  “Since you and Titus refuse to do as we ask,” Ashdown said, “and leave this whole matter alone, you give us no other choice. All you have to do is stop looking for the crystal and Callix Ferox.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, it’s like I said before: I don’t worship the vampire race so much that I would—”

  “Perhaps you are not so astute as to see the possibilities,” Ashdown interrupted. “But you must follow your father’s lead, I imagine.”

  Oh really? Since when? They obviously didn’t know us very well. Except for this quest to find Abigail, I couldn’t think of another time I’d followed Titus in anything.

  “And your father here is a different story, I’m sure.” Ashdown fixed his gaze on Titus.

  My father raised one eyebrow with an air of amusement. “Who, me?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Ashdown said. “Even if you and Ferox had your differences in the past—”

  “Differences that involved trying to behead one another,” Titus said.

  “Nevertheless,” Ashdown continued, “surely you can see the potential in bringing Rome back to its former glory. Perhaps with two ancient vampires at the forefront, mmm?”

  “What? I . . . I . . .” Titus stuttered in disbelief.

  “And after Rome, who knows where else?” Cronin interjected. “Possibly the world—all kowtowing to vampires. And what would that mean for the Council? For witches everywhere?”

  “What about the carnage?” I said, unfolding my arms and clenching my fists. “Or do you think all vampires will suddenly become vegetarian and democratic? Forget your precious Council for a moment, or even all witches and mages. What about the fate of humanity?”

  “Shut up, all of you,” boomed my father. The sound that rang throughout the room was what I’d come to recognize as his general’s voice. It was even more intimidating than his vampire voice. Everyone got quiet, and Blackline took a tiny step back.

  “First of all,” Titus said, “I wouldn’t undertake any enterprise with Callix Ferox if you paid me ten swimming pools filled with virgin blood. Second, I don’t need his help to ‘bring Rome back,’ as you put it.” He glanced at me. “From what I’ve seen, it has come along quite nicely in the time I’ve been away. And third, I’m quite content with the way things are.”

  “You are?” Ashdown and I said in unison.

  “Of course I am,” Titus replied smoothly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I live the life of a king—much better than I ever could have imagined in ancient Rome. I run a successful business, with a bevy of servants at my disposal.”

  “Employees, father,” I said. “They’re called employees now.”

  Titus gave me an exasperated look, then continued addressing the Council. “I have everything I want, and anything I do not have is brought to me all but instantaneously. Now, why would I jeopardize all that by colluding with Callix Ferox?”

  I had my doubts about what Titus said. Not about getting involved with Ferox—I knew he’d never want to do that. But about being satisfied with the way things were. For someone who felt his life was complete, he sighed an awful lot over lost glories. But if it was enough to convince the Council and get us out of this predicament, it was good enough for me—at least for now.

  “So you’re just on this mission out of the goodness of your heart, to rescue your long-lost love?” Cronin scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Yes, that doesn’t sound like the Titus Aurelius we know,” Ashdown said.

  “What you know or believe is of no concern to me,” said Titus in his voice of steel. Again, this was the voice he used to denote his will was absolute. I was sure he had it even before he became a vampire. It was easy to see why thousands of Roman soldiers had marched into battle with him. “I have reasons of my own for what I do. So, if you dare challenge me—or my son—do it now. I have no more time to waste on your petty games.”

  I held my breath, but kept looking at the Council. If there was one thing my father taught me, it was to never show fear before an enemy. If Titus was ready to fight, then so was I; my mother’s life might be at stake. I had no idea if this was a fight we could win, but I would die trying. Ashdown’s and Titus’s eyes were locked together, the Council waiting for Ashdown to do something, and me waiting for my father. For several agonizing seconds, you could have heard a pin drop. Then a cell phone rang.

  It was bizarre to hear a modern device in such ancient surroundings. Nevertheless, the high-pitched noise was coming from Ashdown’s pocket. He removed the phone and put it to his ear, nodding in our direction. “Excuse me,” he said.

  I looked at my father in disbelief.

  “They’re making us wait so they can take a phone call?” he said. Titus’s face was sheer fury—even paler than usual.

  “I know. It’s unbelievable,” I said. “What on earth could be so important?” And how are they getting reception down here?

  Titus was just about to say something when Ashdown turned to the others, still on the phone.

  “Yes. Yes, I see.” He nodded. “Very well. Thank you—we’ll be there shortly.” He put the cell phone back in his pocket. “She’s here,” he told them.

  There were a few seconds of silence, and then the Council members started murmuring and whispering among themselves. My father and I looked above and around us. Finally, I had to say something.

  “Excuse me,” I said, raising my hand, “but who is here?” Other than Titus, myself, and seven powerful witches, we were alone in the cavern. Was this “she” the problem Blackline and the rest had referred to so cryptically before?

  “That is none of your concern,” replied Ashdown firmly. “However, it does mean we must conclude our dealings with you. For now.”

  “You’re leaving? From one phone call?” Titus asked. Then he snorted. “Hell, I could’ve done that. If I’d have known that’s all it took, I’d have rung you ages ago.”

  “There’s no need to be impertinent,” said Ashdown, and my father clenched his te
eth. I placed a hand on his shoulder—partly to calm him, but partly to hold him back if necessary. “If you say you have no plans to be in league with Callix Ferox, we will take you at your word. We will hold you to your word, Aurelius. I’m sure you can imagine the consequences if we discover you’ve been less than truthful.”

  “Consequences?” My father’s voice tightened. “I have some consequences I’d like to discuss with you—”

  “Father . . .” I dug my fingers into his shoulder.

  “Anyway, it seems a matter of greater importance has arisen,” Cronin said.

  “More important than the vampire takeover you thought my father was plotting only minutes ago?” I asked. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. Mostly relieved, I supposed.

  “Young man, there are some things in this world you cannot possibly understand,” Cronin said sternly. “Some things beyond this world.”

  “Beyond this world? What in blazes does that mean?” demanded Titus.

  “That is for us to know and remedy,” Ashdown said with an air of finality. “And we’d best do it as soon as possible. Come, all.” He started walking away.

  “Wait,” I called. “Don’t you have to leave the way you came?” The only way back that I knew of was behind Titus and me, but that wasn’t the direction the Council was going.

  Ashdown stopped long enough to roll his eyes. “Boy, there are numerous entrances and exits to these chambers,” he said. “Don’t think that because you found one, it’s the only one.”

  I let out an indignant grunt. Titus folded his arms and raised his chin. One by one, the Council members filed into an archway across from us. Blackline was the last one out; he kept looking back and glaring at me.

  “Tootle-loo!” I called to him, wiggling my fingers in the air. He gave one final scowl and left.

  “Should we follow them?” I prompted Titus. But he just glanced at me and gave a slight shake of his head, and we stood staring at the spot where the Council had gone.

  “What in Fate’s name was that?” I asked.

  “No bloody idea,” he replied. “We’ll figure it out later if we have to; we’ve wasted enough time as it is. If they were here to stop us, we must be getting close. We have to keep going.”