by Alan Baxter
Several people wandered the library, browsing. Others sat at numerous desks or in leather armchairs, lost in their reading. Alex slipped quietly between shelves, exploring the layout. At the far end of the room a sectioned-off area looked enticing. Several rows of almost identical books, spines pressed with gold lettering. He crept in, looked closely. His heart skipped a beat and he cursed his stupidity. Every word was Latin, incomprehensible to him.
Why hadn’t he considered such a simple point? Had he really thought he would be able to wander in and read the ancient records of this magical race in a foreign land? Lorenzo had been right, he was child lost among things he didn’t understand. His disappointment, his internal rage, swam off him. The glee of Uthentia pulsated from his pocket, threatening to burst forth, smother his mind with fury, force him to smash into Lorenzo’s apartments and demand the information he needed.
Don’t get dragged into any mischief.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, dragging together the strands of his disguise. His eyes flicked furtively around. Thankfully no one stood near. The words of his Sifu floated in his memory. Power is dangerous without control. At all times, maintain control, maintain focus. Any obstacle, however seemingly insurmountable, can be bested with controlled focus.
Alex reminded himself that giving up was not an option. He smothered the book raging deep somewhere in his thoughts and turned back to the shelves. The grimoires he’d already read weren’t in English either. He could understand and absorb those arcane scripts easily. What was a foreign language if not another form of arcane script? Language itself was a supernatural thing, the transmission of stories and histories perhaps mankind’s greatest magic. He stared at the spines before him, let his vision open. Like watching for the move of an opponent before the opponent themselves knew what they were going to do, he looked for meaning behind the written words. Those meanings became clear.
Histories of the Den of Rome, Vol. CCLVII.
Volume two hundred and fifty-seven. Left and right were dozens of similar books. One of the oldest Dens obviously had one of the longest histories. He had found exactly what he’d been looking for, but it turned out to be a haystack. He had no idea when the events surrounding Uthentia’s exile had happened, therefore no idea what the needle he sought looked like. As soon as he overcame one obstacle, another dropped into his path. It would take years to look through all these.
He drew deep, even breaths, refusing to let despair sink him. He had come this far. Each volume had dates stamped below the title. He remembered Lorenzo’s words earlier that day, This happened before my time. Before history. But yes, it happened here.
How old was Lorenzo? Old even by usual Kin standards, he knew that. How old was history? He cast his mind back, remembering how Lorenzo had felt, compared to others he knew were beyond mortal years. Welby, Silhouette, Joseph, Isiah. They all counted their age in centuries. How many more walked the Earth holding secrets like theirs? Silhouette had said that some Kin counted their age in millennia. Could Lorenzo really be over a thousand years old? Two? More than that? The thought twisted Alex’s mind. What would it be like to have that kind of experience?
This sort of thinking would get him nowhere. He needed the volume that covered the exile.
He checked around again to be sure that no one could see into this corner of the library. Reassured he was alone, he let his mind out, as tightly controlled as he could manage, let it creep across the shelves of books. He filtered his thoughts through the Darak, asked the stone to seek itself in the hundreds of thousands of pages before him. He let his thoughts drift back through the histories of the Roman Kin, past volume after volume of events important to them, mentally fishing with magesign. As he neared the beginning of the shelves, he thought his plan would prove fruitless, his methodology flawed. Then something caught. His eyes were drawn to a volume very near the beginning of recorded Kin history.
He slipped it from the shelf, turning pages like slivers of dead skin as carefully as he could. He read about the threat of Uthentia, the rise of the Eld, the mages who fashioned the Darak. He learned of the battle when they faced Uthentia and used the power of the stone to banish the Fey godling from this realm. It was all recorded here. He read of a council meeting, of their decision to let that last shred of Uthentia be. Their agreement that nothing could be done about it and periodic chaos, watered down in that form, was an acceptable price for the largely successful endeavour they had embarked upon. The book described the three pieces, kept separate, the power denied recombination. The council agreed a stone this powerful must never be re-formed.
Alex’s excitement grew as he read of the decision to task three Kin to hide the shards and then kill themselves, so those shards might never be found.
There were no names, no places. No clues. Alex’s mood deflated, the book dropping into his lap. The story was confirmed, but he was no closer to an answer than before. Despondent, he slipped the ancient volume back onto the shelf, staring at the faded gold leaf printed into the leather.
His eyes grew wide with sudden realisation. He remembered Silhouette’s words when Meera had suggested they investigate Rome. Every Den keeps an account of its history, its members and genealogy. Any genealogy would keep birth and death dates. How often would a seemingly immortal race like Kin lose their members? He knew when the Darak had split. The date three Kin members had been tasked with the ultimate sacrifice. Would their deaths be listed on that same date?
He turned, searching. The genealogy books were not far from the histories. Moving carefully, quietly, he selected the correct book by date from the dozens of volumes recording births and deaths. Three names were listed as dying the very day of the council’s decision. Surely too much of a coincidence to ignore?
Alex spent hours cross-referencing the names, looking up their family trees in various volumes, looking for anything that might help.
He ended up in despair, with a huge list of names, descendants of the Kin who had borne that terrible task. At least, the three he suspected. Far too many names to investigate, follow up. Millennia of births and deaths since those days had created a many branched tree, hundreds of Kin descendants. Curdled excitement and despondency spun through his mind. All the events as described to him seemed true, yet his leads had disappeared in a morass of information, far too complicated to follow through.
Desolation rose into a red-tinged anger, melting quickly into fury. He would not be destroyed by this ridiculous situation. Uthentia poured rage through him, exhorting him to burst out of hiding, take on every Kin in this Den until a new answer presented itself. His heart beat a frantic cadence to match his mood as his temperature rose.
Grinding his teeth, hanging on to the rational part of his mind, he concentrated on the Darak to suppress the irrational thoughts bounding through his forebrain. Why would any Kin here know any more than he already knew? He held himself in check and crept away through the lines of shelves. With almost painful care he slipped through the rooms of the Den and out when a group of Kin left. He let them move ahead of him along the dim corridor then followed them out into the balmy autumn night.
Silhouette’s face dropped as he walked into the gelataria. She was clearly pleased to see him, but could tell instantly he wasn’t happy. She jumped up, slipped an arm around his shoulders and walked him straight back out the door. ‘Hold it together,’ she whispered as they emerged onto the street. She turned them right, heading down a cobbled alleyway between high shuttered apartments and scaffolding supporting renovations. ‘No luck, huh?’
Alex leaned into her, wordlessly thankful for her support. ‘I learned a lot,’ he said. ‘Mostly I learned there’s no way to use any of their records to help. At first I had too little info, now I have too much. What I found only confirmed the truth of what we already know. Or it confirms the myths, at least. But there are hundreds of tenuous leads. Far too many, we’d never be able to follow everything up.’
Silhouette squeezed him as they walked.
‘You’re burning up here. How close are you to losing it?’
He barked a laugh. ‘Pretty close. But I’m actually managing to maintain some level of control.’
‘Really?’
‘Sort of. I’m getting better at channelling the Darak. Where are we going?’
‘Anywhere. Away from the Den, mainly. Tell me everything that happened in there, everything you learned.’
They walked steadily, keeping to the quietest streets. Alex told her how he had snuck in, all he had discovered. As he reached the end of the story, his anger welled up stronger than ever, the retelling fuelling his resentment, and three men stepped out of the shadows.
Silhouette froze, a soft growl sounding deep in her throat. Alex sucked in a deep breath, fingers gripping air reflexively. The men spread across the alley in front of them. Alex’s heart pounded, his bloodlust rising like an orgasm. Uthentia exulted through his veins, throbbing with excitement. He read their shades and a wave of fear pushed through his anger. ‘Kin,’ he said sidelong to Silhouette. ‘Did Lorenzo know I was there?’
‘Not Lorenzo’s Kin,’ Silhouette replied. ‘I’m so sorry, Alex, I tried to prevent this.’ She slipped back, letting darkness fold her out of sight.
Alex didn’t take his eyes off the three ranged in front of him. ‘You betrayed me,’ he said, resigned. I knew you would.
Alex’s skin tingled, his blood rushed. He drew his centre in tight, breathed control over the adrenaline as hundreds of fights had taught him to do. He watched the colours of the Kin, read their shades as easily as he would read a child’s picture book.
‘Don’t blame her, Alex.’ Joseph’s voice, somewhere out of sight. ‘She’s been beholden to me for a lot longer than she’s known you.’
‘Are you too scared to face me?’ Alex growled, searching the shadows for the Clan Lord’s shades. He was obviously very well warded.
‘Not really. Just a healthy caution that’s seen me survive this long. Giles, remember what I told you? Just the book.’
Another Kin stepped from the shadows. ‘Just the book.’ His voice was slurred, like his tongue was too thick. ‘Search his pockets when he’s dead and take just the book.’
Alex studied his shades and saw colours of damage and retardation. This Kin had an injury of some kind that affected his thinking, his intellect. ‘You setting up a simple-minded puppet, Joseph?’ he asked. ‘That’s low, even for scum like you.’
‘Scum?’ Joseph’s anger washed out and Alex caught a flash of furious red, a diaphanous shade up and to the right. He knew where the Clan Lord hid.
‘Joseph, please,’ Silhouette said from the shadows. ‘Not Giles. He doesn’t understand.’
‘Of course he doesn’t understand. But he’s faithful and knows his duty. Isn’t that right, Giles? You do the right thing by the Kin?’
Giles’s face split in a vacant grin. ‘I do what my Lord says.’
‘Exactly.’ Joseph sounded pleased with himself.
Alex’s fury bubbled over, his skin burned, his thoughts narrowed to a scarlet focus. The stone, his stone, scorched his chest as he drew its energy, thinking of nothing but showing Joseph his error. If the Clan Lord thought Alex had been powerful to beat Ataro, he would learn now how far Alex had come. It seemed an insult that only three Kin stood before him, even though they were clearly very old, very strong. The Kin crouched, tensed. Their shades flooded out, their intention nothing but violence and death.
Alex moved even as they burst forward and slammed low into the centre Kin’s abdomen, sending him flying backwards. Everything moved like treacle. Alex used the Darak, drew it into his every move, his every intent. Time stretched out. The Kin he’d struck went down and Alex’s elbow crushed his head against the cobblestones like an overripe melon. Uthentia howled. Joseph roared somewhere miles away.
Alex kept moving, rolling over the dead Kin as the other two charged from either side. His mastery of the Darak was purer than ever. He swept a foot around in a long sweep, pivoting on one hand. The legs of the first Kin flipped up, his surprised face slamming into the cobbles with a dull crack and a spurt of blood. Alex caught the arm of the second man and twisted, standing as he did so. The man yelped as the bones of his forearm crossed well beyond their natural movement and snapped like dry twigs. He might be strong, but Alex was stronger. He held the Kin back by his broken arm and thrust a kick into his chest. The Kin flew back, his arm ripping from its socket with a wet suck. He screamed, slamming into the wall and staggering forward again. Alex dropped the arm and spun around, whipping one heel up and across. The kick landed true on the man’s temple, knocking his head brutally fast to one side, sending him sprawling across the road.
‘Finish him, you imbeciles!’ Joseph yelled.
The first Kin, who had gone facedown into the street, clambered to his feet, weaving unsteadily, trying to focus. Alex took one step towards him, drew back his elbow and hammered an iron fist into the man’s face. His nose and cheekbones folded back into his head, blood bursting out around Alex’s knuckles. He collapsed backwards, limp. Dead.
Alex turned back to the other Kin. He lay on the road, eyes wide open, seeing nothing, blood seeping from a skull cracked by Alex’s heel. Alex tipped his head back and bellowed, bathing in the power of slaughter. Uthentia roared with him.
Shape and shades moved swiftly from both sides. ‘Don’t just stand there!’ Joseph shouted as he emerged from hiding, barrelling towards Alex.
Silhouette shot out of the shadows. As Alex raised his hands to defend himself, he read her colours and sidestepped. She flew past him and crashed into Joseph’s chest before the Clan Lord could close the gap. She cried out in pain and rolled aside.
Joseph fell back and leapt to his feet in an instant, his face twisted in fury. Silhouette crouched to one side, tense like a bowstring. Alex moved to her, her shades the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. ‘You make a terrible choice this day,’ Joseph snarled.
‘You yourself said I’m too much human and too much Fey,’ Silhouette said, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘Even if I helped you, the Kin would always hate me. I love you, Joseph, you’ve done more for me than anyone. You saved me. But I can’t let you kill him.’
Alex stood ready, convinced Joseph would attack them both. The Clan Lord’s shades were all rage and violence. He might be powerful enough. The dead at their feet were strong, but had been no match for Alex and the Darak. Would Joseph be a different matter?
‘A terrible choice,’ Joseph said again. Alex tensed as the Lord’s aura surged, but he turned and vanished at a preternatural speed.
Giles stood to one side, his mouth agape, eyes haunted.
‘Go with him,’ Silhouette told him. ‘Can you find him, follow him home?’
‘I think so,’ Giles said thickly. He pointed to his slain friends. ‘They … they …’
Silhouette put one hand on his shoulder. ‘Ask Joseph to explain it to you. Quick, before you lose him.’
Giles turned and ran.
Alex let the exultation and tension slip through him, drew deep breaths to breathe it away. Uthentia revelled in the murder, but Alex pushed the pleasure away too. He let the Darak smother Uthentia’s joy, reminding himself that he had acted in self-defence, however much he may have enjoyed it. A shudder passed through him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Silhouette said.
‘I wondered if you would sell me out.’
‘Alex, I didn’t know what to do. When we went to Joseph for help he told me to get him the stone. He can’t bear to see it in human hands.’
‘He’ll hunt us again, won’t he? Next time he’ll bring an army.’
Silhouette crouched, closing the eyes of the dead. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. Joseph is a complex creature. If he knows that to get you he’ll have to kill me too, that might give him pause.’
Alex remembered the colour of Joseph’s shades. ‘I don’t know,’ he said dubiously. ‘I think you may have severed any loyalty he has to you. Why did you
do that?’
‘I’m a pariah among my own kind. I always have been. Joseph told me that if I helped him get the stone from you it would prove to the Kin that I was one of them. But that’s not true. They would never accept me, not really. But Joseph’s words made me realise something else. For the first time, with you, I’ve found someone strong enough to actually be with me. With you, I don’t need the Kin.’
Alex wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her but couldn’t help wondering if she was just keeping him and his power for herself. If she was such a pariah, did she intend to take his stone and use it to take over the Kin? He recognised Uthentia’s influence in his thoughts, and cursed the book again. But he couldn’t ignore it. ‘I hope you’re right. How did Joseph find us?’
‘As Clan Lord, he can find any of his Kin, wherever they are.’
‘So he can track us easily, with far greater numbers?’
‘Possibly,’ Silhouette agreed.
‘He underestimated me,’ Alex said. ‘He won’t do that again.’
Silhouette gestured to the three dead Kin at their feet. ‘These were powerful men. Ataro was big and strong and deadly, but Joseph thought you a human then. These are older, more experienced. Between them they were a far greater threat than a beast like Ataro. But you went through them like butter.’
‘I’m owning the power of the Darak more all the time.’
‘Clearly.’
‘If Joseph comes again, with ten Kin, or twenty, or fifty, what then? However powerful I might be, there are odds I simply can’t stand against.’
‘I think Joseph might lick his wounds for a while at least,’ Silhouette said. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. We have to go, before people come to investigate.’
