“We’re working together. Let’s not forgot that.” I glanced off toward Alistair.
She followed my gaze. “He’s just standing there. Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”
Sensing danger though unable to define why, I tried to reach into his mind. He’d shut down his thoughts.
Ingrid pointed to the cufflink. “What do you think that symbol represents?”
“Not sure. It’s Newtonian.”
“Sir Isaac Newton?”
“Yes. Newton used planetary symbols for metals and standard symbols for common substances.” I handed it back to her.
She tucked it back into her pocket. “What if it fell off one of the members of Sovereign?”
“They were the only ones allowed in that chamber,” I agreed.
Alistair headed into the midst of a small clearing and turned in our direction. “Inspector Jansen!” he called out.
I tried again to slip past his mind’s defenses but his thoughts were still closed down.
I grabbed hold of Ingrid’s arm. “Follow my lead, understand?”
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” she said and strolled off toward Alistair.
Warily, we joined him in the clearing.
“I’m assuming you’re not following me to discuss joining our society, William.” Alistair said.
“We just want to ask you some questions,” Ingrid began.
“Then why not just come to the office?” he asked, his tone scathing.
I scanned the area trying to confirm we were alone.
“What are you doing out here?” Ingrid asked.
He buttoned up his coat. “Since when did police officers start associating with the undead?”
She stood her ground.
“William, if that really is your name, when you came to my office you hid your affliction well.”
“Affliction?” Ingrid asked.
“Vampirism,” he said flatly. “Immediately after you left my Porsche was stolen. Only a vampire would survive crashing a vehicle into the Thames.”
“Perhaps we could explain,” Ingrid said.
He gave a look of annoyance. “One can only assume you’ve tasted your friend here, Inspector.” He gestured to me. “Which would explain your wayward behavior.”
Ingrid tried to hide her reaction.
“I can see you have from your expression,” he said. “Taste the blood and you taste the power. Vampires must be annihilated. They threaten humanity like no other contagion.”
“But the Stone Masters don’t feel that way,” I said.
Alistair ignored me. “William seduced you, Inspector. You didn’t stand a chance. Don’t blame yourself.”
“It’s not like that,” she insisted.
“He’s designed that way, you see,” Alistair continued. “His ability to lure so exquisitely makes him the perfect predator. His victims are actually grateful when he takes them into his arms and drains them.”
“That’s why Sovereign broke their allegiance with the Stone Masters,” I persisted, ignoring his rant. “You hate their plan to bring back joint vampire and mortal rule.”
“A significant disagreement.” His smile thinned. “Inspector, shall I give you a moment to say goodbye to him.” Alistair held out his hand to her. “I’ll help you escape him. That’s what this meeting is about. We’ve been waiting for you to return to us, so that we can save you. An opportunity has arisen. I’d take it if I were you.”
“I don’t need rescuing—”
“William’s brainwashed you.” Alistair wasn’t letting up.
Ingrid folded her arms defiantly.
Alistair seemed calm, too calm considering the circumstances and the arrogant air he wore so well seemed out of place.
“We’ll get you to a safe house,” Alistair said. “You’ll never have to see him or his kind again.”
“Within this very hour you’ve imbibed vampire blood,” I said. “Something tells me you’re addicted.”
His right eyelid flickered, though his expression remained unfazed. “A small perk.”
“Your ethics are skewed,” I said.
“What do know about Dominion?” Ingrid asked.
I shot her a look but it was too late, the words were out and she’d stepped toward him, insistent on getting an answer.
“Why do you think the Stone Masters are a dying breed,” he asked, “and yet Sovereign are thriving?” He made a sweeping gesture to make his point. “We evolved.”
“Sovereign’s sole purpose was to protect Dominion,” I said. “Your reward for keeping him safe was his blood?”
Alistair shook his head. “We were promised that, yes.”
“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said.
“You’re not meant to,” he replied. “None of this is your business.”
“Let me share with you what we do know,” I said. “Members of Sovereign were commissioned with the task of watching over Dominion. And then someone messed up.”
Alistair snapped. “And yet not one member of Sovereign tasted Dominion.” He raised his head high.
“You took your blood from other sources,” I said, “other vampires.”
“But never once drank from the promised fountain of bliss,” he said.
“Dominion himself,” I murmured.
Ingrid and I must have been sharing the same thought, remembering the engraving of Dominion on his tomb, the image portraying the vampire feeding two members of Sovereign. Though we weren’t going to share that knowledge with Alistair.
Alistair seemed distracted by something far off along the tree line. “Two hundred years ago,” he said, “my predecessors discovered a terrible revelation.” He shook his head. “The monks guarding Dominion’s sarcophagus gathered the confidence to open it after their brothers had watched over it with a blind obedience. They cracked the seal, breaking their vow to protect it. And when they peered in . . . what they saw changed everything . . . forever.”
The realization touched me like a blade. “The tomb was empty. Dominion . . .”
“Was gone.” Alistair took a shallow breath.
“So all that time they were guarding nothing?” Ingrid asked, her tone confused.
“Nothing but a lie,” said Alistair. “Have you any idea of the lives that could have been wasted standing watch?”
“What became of the monks?” Ingrid asked.
“They knew they’d be blamed for Dominion’s disappearance. They fled Cornwall.”
He was telling us too much, and I was plagued with the distinct impression we weren’t the only ones in the park.
“We were betrayed,” Alistair continued. “By the very men who’d commissioned us to guard over Dominion.” His eyelids widened. “The Stone Masters stole our beloved Dominatio. Though we had no idea of when. Then, they turned him against us. The Stone Masters threatened that Dominion would slay every last member of Sovereign. The very servants who’d offered their lives to protect him. The threat went further. Once we were all decimated, the job done, Dominion would be crowned the next Stone Master.” Alistair spat the words. “An abomination.”
“That’s why you’re hunting him?” I asked. “To get to him before he gets to you?”
Alistair’s lips formed a sinister smile. “When we find him he’ll regret his betrayal. Dominion will beg for forgiveness. None shall be given.”
“Why are Sovereign poisoning vampires?” I asked.
“And with what?” Ingrid asked.
He tapped his temple. “The answers.”
Alistair flew backwards with my fangs lodged in his neck and my lips pressed against his throat, blood bursting into my mouth . . . The taste peculiar.
I’d attacked him too rashly; fulfilling his will.
I shoved him back. The metallic tang reached my throat and raged on into my nostrils causing me to wretch. Having not swallowed I’d barely saved myself from the poison.
Alistair looked surprised. “How old are you?” he muttered, nerv
ously.
Hinting that the older the vampire, the more likely they’d be to taste the blood was tainted. But not the younger ones, the more vulnerable.
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, staining the cuff scarlet. “You’re trying to control vampires before they control you?” I asked, having stolen the answer.
He stared at me as though hoping the poison would take effect. Though soon realizing that wasn’t going to happen, he slid his right hand into his jacket and removed a small pistol.
Terror shot up my spine when he pointed it at Ingrid.
“Inspector, you’re coming with me,” he said. “I’m here to save you from yourself!”
“Put the gun down.” She raised her hands in defense.
“Are you refusing?” he asked, his demeanor insistent.
“I won’t go with you,” she said.
“William.” He glanced my way. “Let her go.”
“That’s not my decision,” I said.
“Please, Alistair,” Ingrid tried to get through to him, “let’s discuss this.”
“My orders were clear,” he said, “no negotiation.” His finger squeezed the trigger.
A shot rang out.
I swept Ingrid up and dived to our left, shielding her, twisting my torso, but the bullets found me, piercing between my shoulder blades, burning holes on their way through. Ingrid had slipped from my grasp rolling several feet way. I crashed to the ground and lay motionless, paralyzed.
Stillness filled the air.
Stunned, I stared up at the low lying branches vacillating in and out of focus, the warmth of pooling blood beneath me.
Alistair loomed over me and said, “Silver bullets. Very reliable.” He wiped his neck and studied his blood stained fingers.
My words gurgled and made no sense as wave after wave of agony gripped me, snatching my breath away. My mind slipped into darkness and the futility of consciousness mirrored my fear that my body was giving up.
Or giving me over.
Death, I’d faced it before. Not a mortal’s passing but something altogether different, a miraculous transcending of time and space as though reaching the very edges of infinity, only to be dragged back, pulled by some immortal coil and snapping back into flesh and bone, reanimating my being with a fierce pulse.
I could feel my legs again and the sensation rippled upward allowing me to fill my lungs and take a breath. The contractions where the bullets had left were settling.
Ingrid was sitting up on her heels staring wide eyed into the barrel of the revolver that Alistair was pointing at her.
I grabbed his gun and threw it. “Silver bullets only work if they stay embedded.”
Alastair staggered backwards, his face twisted in fear. I shoved him up against a tree.
“What’s your blood poisoned with?” I wrapped my hands around his throat.
He curled his top lip into a grimace, his face reddening as he muttered. “You didn’t swallow any of it. So you may be unaffected, but that also means you saw nothing.”
“I saw enough,” I said, bluffing, “You stole an entire collection of scrolls from the Stone Masters.”
His face twisted in misery. And I read from his expression that Sovereign had no idea what was on them.
Westminster Abbey leaked from his mind, a momentary lapse in an otherwise secure mind.
“Are the scrolls in Westminster Abbey?” I tightened my grip.
His furrowed brow deepened. “Why are they of any interest to you?” His expression changed. “That’s all you saw. Useless.” Drops of spittle came with the words. “You have only one value and that’s to serve us.”
“The scrolls,” I snapped, “where are they?”
A whipping sound flew past my ear and a warmth sprayed against my face, but there was no pain . . .
Alistair slumped to the ground, his head matted with blood and skull fragments. He’d been shot through his right eye with an arrow.
Chapter 28
SHIRT OFF I LEANED over the sink, washing off Alistair’s blood.
Ingrid was silent, leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her thoughts racing.
This small, modest sacristy paled in comparison to what lay beyond the door at the far end of the room, London’s thousand-year-old Gothic monastery Westminster Abbey.
Buttoning up the clerical black shirt, I fiddled with the dog collar.
Ingrid approached and assisted me to position it correctly, her hands still shaking. “I thought vampires had to steer away from anything religious.” she said.
“You’re thinking of Bela Lugosi.” I took her hands in mine, trying to still their trembling. “You’re still shaken from flying.”
“Were they aiming that arrow at us?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Alistair failed his mission to persuade you to go with him. Maybe Sovereign didn’t approve.”
Her face was flushed with horror. “We just witnessed a murder.”
She seemed too shaken for me to bring up I’d almost seen hers.
“Westminster Abbey flashed through Alistair’s thoughts,” I said. “There’s something significant here. I have to find out what that is.”
“Are the scrolls here?” she asked. “Is that what you saw?”
I shook my head. “His thoughts were too blurry to get anything of substance.”
“What if he was trying to mislead you?”
I picked up the soiled shirt and shoved it to the bottom of the corner wicker hamper. “Let’s find out.”
We headed into the Abbey.
“How old is this cathedral?” Ingrid asked, her gaze wandering.
“Over a thousand years old. It’s the resting place for history’s artists, poets, kings and scientists.”
In any other circumstance she’d have found the medieval coronation throne fascinating, or perhaps she’d have paused longer before Charles Dickens’s memorial, or taken time to pay homage to William Shakespeare’s sepulture; but neither these nor any of the other veritable monuments of English History could shake Ingrid from her disquiet.
Finally she spoke again, her voice a whisper. “We just left his body lying there.”
“We had no choice,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have left the scene.”
“Then the next arrow might have found you,” I reasoned.
“Alistair worked for them.” She shook her head. “And they killed him in cold blood.” She stepped back, shaking her head woefully. “What am I caught in the middle of?”
“Perhaps now you understand why I wanted to keep you at arm’s length.”
“What if Alistair thought of this place merely as a ruse?”
“I know what I saw,” I insisted. “There’s something significant here.”
“What did his blood taste of?”
“Metal.”
“Obviously it disgusted you enough to make you spit it out.” She sighed deeply. “Sure it wasn’t garlic?”
I gave her a look. “He’s deliberately ingested or injected something.”
“Something that poisons vampires but doesn’t harm mortals?” She grimaced. “We could be in here for a week and not find anything.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “He was our only lead.”
“I’m sorry.” I ran my fingers through my hair, sharing her frustration.
“Oh no!” She grabbed my shirt sleeve and guided me back the way we’d come. “Alistair’s blood.” Her pace sped up.
Twenty or so school children flocked around us, slowing our return to the vestry.
Once inside I went straight over to the linen basket where I’d discarded my shirt soiled with Alistair’s blood.
It was empty.
“How could I be so stupid?” Ingrid cringed. “It was right in front of us.” She threw her hands up in the air.
Lost in our own thoughts we headed back out into the Abbey.
Taking a seat in the front pew, Ingrid looked miserable. “I need to focus,” she said.
/> I tried to find the words to reassure her.
“We can’t afford any more mistakes,” she continued.
We sat in silence, watching the crowds swarming each monument only to move on again, though soon replaced by other tourists, all eager to experience a small piece of England’s history.
“Look at them,” Ingrid said, “they have a living relic in their midst and they have no idea.”
“That’s the way I like it.” I peered down at the bibles stacked along the back of the pew.
“And yet here sits the most remarkable artifact!”
“Not sure I want to be considered a relic,” I said.
She turned to face me. “You’ve probably met half the buried men in here.”
“Not exactly.”
“Had I not seen your transformation myself, witnessed it firsthand . . .”
I broke her stare.
“I fell in love with Jadeon,” she said softly, “loved him more than I’ve loved anyone. And I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as Orpheus.”
My focus turned to the ceiling with its intricate design and I wondered what it must be like to paint upside down.
“Does Jadeon still exist?” she asked. “Does he know it’s me?”
I took her hand. “Yes.”
“You invited me back to your castle. Remember? God it was so romantic.”
“I opened up to you in a way I’d never done before,” I admitted.
“I feel like I’m betraying Jadeon in some way.” She gave a shrug. “Do you really believe there’s a way to reverse this?”
I braved to reach inside her mind, daring to find the answers that seemed to linger on the lips of everyone close to me: that I, William, was temporary, merely waiting in some kind of metaphorical no man’s land, half-loved, half-hated, with everyone eager for me to die.
With me out of the equation this situation might just be better for everyone.
Ingrid squeezed my shoulder. “We need you, William. I need you.”
Her intuitive words struck me to my core.
Such tenderness was too much, her affection burning through me like the sun I no longer knew, and unwilling to surrender to this moment and to her kindness that I didn’t deserve, I eased her hand off.
“Are you going to break my heart?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
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