Kieran was consumed with bright light.
“El sueot,” Kieran spoke as the light continued to float around him. Taking a deep breath Kieran continued, “Sueot, eux mans trinity.” A few seconds later, the light that was coiled around Kieran tore into three separate sections. Two shot off in opposite directions, one hit Andrew, the other hit Roman. Kieran stood amongst the light that remained as it slowly began to filter into his body. Andrew and Roman’s faces regained their colour as the light that hit them entered their bodies.
All three of them took long deep breaths, the ritual itself was over and all three of them were showing signs of the stress.
Andrew looked at Roman and smiled, both of them seemed pleased to no longer carry the extra part of the Trinity that they had to bear after the death of Wendy. Their smiles fell upon Kieran who looked strained. His eyes were wide open and his jubilant smile was etched from ear to ear. He had read many accounts of what the ritual would entail and what it was going to feel like to bear a third of the Trinity. The words he had read offered him little comfort now. He could feel the energy burning up inside him; he struggled to keep it buried and not unleash any unwanted spells. All of his senses seemed to be heightened and every nerve in his body was tingling. He had never felt so alive!
“How are you feeling?” Andrew said as he moved towards Kieran.
“If I said high, like ecstasy high, would you think badly of me?” The two men sniggered and patted him on the back.
“You will need to do some spells, it will relieve some of the pain,” Roman said as he noticed Kieran rubbing his chest.
“It’s just a matter of time, it will get a lot easier,” said Andrew.
Kieran knew that what they were saying was true, he had read the accounts of all the past members of the Trinity and each had described the discomfort he felt’ it didn’t help him now though.
Through gritted teeth, he looked at the pair, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
…
- Chapter Nine -
Soon to be Slain
Navigating the streets of London during the day wasn’t an easy task for any courier, but for those employed by the Order the job entailed added risks. Dodging past cars and whizzing through the odd red light, it didn’t take David long before he was making his way across the river. His destination was a prestigious gallery on the south side owned by Isobel O’Hara.
After a twenty-minute ride, David soon found himself parking his bicycle and walking up the long and beautiful stone steps to the entrance to Isobel’s home. Not only did she work there, it was her place of comfort, her refuge. The gallery was unlike the Order’s headquarters or, indeed, any of the Order’s buildings. It was far from the drab and basic concept that most designers of the Order’s buildings were tasked with when planning the exteriors of those properties.
The gallery was large and grandiose both within and without. The exterior was made from an astonishingly white marble with several lighter colours, red, blue and yellow, running through it. The front entrance consisted of four large pillars with a huge door in the centre. The pillars were made of the same remarkable marble as the rest of the building and the door was made out of a combination of Bocote wood and rhodium and platinum metals. The metal covered most of the door and it beautifully reflected the light away from it, as if it was a sign that light wasn’t welcome inside. The large window above the pillars appeared to let through lots of light as did the two windows either side of the door. David thought to himself that they must be tinted. It was a well-known fact to the members of the Order that there were several forms of tinted windows that allowed vampires to see the sunlight, to see the sun rise and set.
The thought of not seeing the sun set or rise again directly quickly played out in David’s head. It saddened him. For him it was one of the many reasons why being a vampire was so undesirable. Edging closer to the door, David’s eyes fell upon two large golden knockers. As he reached to knock, his eyes flicked towards a small sign with a buzzer underneath.
‘Do not use knockers. Please ring the bell.’
He immediately stopped his hand as it gripped the left knocker; slowly and quietly he removed it. He then hit the buzzer. He could not hear the loud ringing that played out behind the doors, but he sensed that the buzzer worked.
The left door opened creakily and to David’s surprise, there was no one there.
“Hello?” he said as he peered through the opening.
“Enter,” said a soft male voice from within.
David did as he was told, although his intuition told him not to; fear attempted to freeze his walk, but his limbs still moved. The room into which he entered was large and open. There were several people working at the far end, lit by the sunlight coming through the windows. Walking in a few steps, the door slammed hard behind him and his heart jumped into his throat.
“Can I help you?” said a man, dressed in a dark blue suit and walking toward David.
David moved slowly, the man’s voice was disarming. With one flick, he unstrapped his bag and swung it around into his hands. In one swift move, he pulled out the envelope.
“I have a letter for Miss O’Hara,” he said, stretching out his hand, keen to maintain his distance.
“Oh!” replied the man, intrigued. He took the envelope from David and examined it intensely.
“Is she here? I just need her to sign for it,” as David said this he pulled an electronic pad from the holster on his side.
“Maybe. Who is it from?” questioned the man.
“It’s from the Order of Light. I have been told to make sure she gets it,” David said importantly, puffing out his chest slightly.
“Okay, she will read it, don’t worry. I will make sure of that,” the man sounded untrustworthy to him and as intimidated as he was, David stood his ground.
“I’m sorry sir, but I need her to sign this herself and I cannot leave until I have her signature on record.”
The man eyed David up and down. He knew he was just like every other Order employee: obnoxious, self-important and defiantly persistent.
“Fine. Don’t move,” growled the man as he turned and walked off.
Standing there on his own, David began to look around the building. For a gallery it appeared to be very bare. Only two portraits adorned the walls. They were of a man and a woman, both old in appearance. It was clear to him that they were vampires. The woman’s eyes seemed to have a lock on him and something about them sent a shiver down his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Frozen to the spot, he found it hard to move his eyes from the woman’s. His gaze only broke free when a stern female voice echoed in his ears.
“Hello? Thank you for the letter. I’m told I have to sign something?”
David stood there for a second, blank. Isobel O’ Hara had a presence about her that would make any room stand to attention. David found her attractive, which was strange, he thought, not because she was a vampire, but because of her age. He knew that she was one of the oldest vampires around today.
“Hello?” she repeated, waving the letter in front of his eyes.
David shook himself, “Ah, yes. Sorry. Sign here please.”
She signed it quickly and then gave him a little nod as if to ask if there was anything else. As he slid the pad back into the holster and made his way back towards the door, he glanced up at the paintings again and said, “It’s a bit bare in here isn’t it? For an art gallery I mean.” He then pointed to the portrait of the woman and asked, “And who is she?”
“Oh,” Isobel said as she glanced over her shoulder to the painting. “This is just the lobby. There are one hundred other rooms in this building and I can assure you that our collection fills them all quite substantially. That woman, my inquisitive young friend, is Passel, one of the original vampires of this world.”
David glared at the painting for another ten seconds as if the connection was remade. He had heard of the famous vampire of course, but had never s
een a painting of her.
“I’m sorry, but if you would like a tour you’ll have to book; there is a long waiting list,” as Isobel spoke she pointed towards the door.
David took the hint and began moving in the same direction as Isobel had indicated. As he turned back to say goodbye, he saw Isobel talking to the suited man he had spoken to earlier. As he stepped through the door, he quickly glanced back again and had one last look at the painting.
Isobel ran her hand along the envelope as though reading a hidden message trapped within the paper.
“It’s from him isn’t it?” questioned the man.
“I believe so,” she replied. She ran a long, pretty black fingernail along the seam of the envelope and slit it open. She quickly but gracefully pulled out the parchment from within and read.
Isobel,
I am sorry to have to put my request in writing; I know how you frown upon it. There are several things I urgently need to discuss with you. If you are able, I would like to meet you at our place tonight (10:30 pm).
Yours
Jon
Isobel clutched the letter in her hand and brought it to her side.
“Are you going to go?” asked the man who had read the letter over her shoulder.
“To not would be a mistake,” she replied. With that, she left her companion and made haste to her office. She read the letter another ten times before disposing of it in her fireplace.
…
The sun had set only a few minutes ago but already Isobel was in her car, making her way to meet Jonathon Paige – Head of the Order of Light. They had met several times in the past, secretively. Both of their affiliations would disapprove of such meetings, but for Isobel and Jonathon, it was important to ensure that a line of communication was always open between the two sides.
The long summer days had quickly come around, Isobel thought. Summertime, to most vampires, was the worst time of the year. The sun was not only stronger in its intensity but it stretched longer and higher in the sky. As the centuries had passed, vampires had made many advances in avoiding the sun and getting around the rules that governed their deaths.
As the car pulled up, it parked on double yellow lines. Isobel stepped out and signalled to her driver to do the ride around the block. She could see the faces of the clock tower of the houses of Westminster. From across the water, the lights of the houses reflected beautifully on the river. As Isobel gazed upon it she stood in admiration; democracy was one of the human concepts she greatly admired.
Looking across the road, she could see Lambeth Palace, the home of the Archbishop of Canterbury. It sent shudders down her spine as the images of Christ looked down at her from afar. Vampires were not affected by the church but the concepts of God repulsed many. Walking over the grass, her heels did not dig deeply into the mud, as it was dry from the constant rays of sun.
Jonathon’s silhouette was clearly visible from where she walked and as she got closer she could see his dark, greasy hair. Within seconds, she elegantly slid next to him on the bench where he sat.
“Nice view, isn’t it?” she said.
“There are better ones,” replied Jonathon.
Isobel crossed her legs and wrapped her coat tightly around her body.
“Well, it is one of my favourites,” she said, pausing for a second, “so why have you broken our routine? What could be so urgent that you couldn’t wait another fortnight?”
Jonathon pulled out a file and without making eye contact, slid it into her soft, pale hands. “I love how cliché this is,” he smiled.
“Well, you do like to keep to your beliefs of hiding things in plain sight!” she grinned back.
As she opened the file Jonathon spoke, more sombre than before, “Her name is Tanya. And she turned a week ago.”
“Is this the attack of the fifteenth?” Isobel asked.
“Yes. You were aware of it then?”
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “The whole Council were made aware. We were naturally concerned. I was charged with the investigation. But I must congratulate you on your excellent cleaning-up skills,” Isobel closed the folder and returned it to him.
“Thank you. So will you take her off our hands?” Jonathon said, still not making eye contact.
“Of course. We would never turn away one of our own. I suppose you are asking me to keep this from the Council?”
“Could you?” Jonathon requested, with a tone that conveyed he was sure she would.
“Yes,” she replied, “I do not see it as a major problem. I will send a car for her tomorrow. It will have to be a secret location. The Council monitors your headquarters.”
“Yes. The Hampstead house will be sufficient, I think?” he looked at her and nodded.
“Agreed. So what else?” she asked, looking at her watch.
Jonathon considered asking her about Oliver, to see if she knew anything, to examine her response. Questions popped into his head about Leceth. He considered asking them, but the conditions of their meetings ruled out espionage. She did not like to be asked direct questions about Council members. She was a true lady, never asking questions about the Order. She always followed the rules that they had set up seven years ago when they had had their first meeting together.
“Have you learnt about the death of Oliver McKenzie?” he asked, turning to watch her expression.
“The Council has been informed. I’m not sure when. Môn’ark was asked to start an investigation. I too was asked to look into it. The Council is worried about your response, but I tell you this: they had nothing to do with his death,” she said darkly.
“What about Leceth?” as the words left his lips he regretted them.
“If he is behind it, then we are in trouble. If you want the truth, I do not know if he is. Following Leceth’s activities is dangerous, especially for me. We do not see eye to eye on a lot of issues within the Council. He is more than suspicious about my activities and, given the chance, he would gladly see me replaced,” as she said this, she looked at Jonathon with gloom. Jonathon mulled over her expression and wondered if it was more from sadness than fear.
“Really?” Jonathon considered just how dangerous this meeting was for her.
“Well, I am an asset to the Council,” she said with more confidence, “I am clearly the most knowledgeable person in the Council with regards to the Order and the Treaty. Leceth might wish to remove me, but he does need me. So, as you can imagine, we have an interesting working relationship,” she took a long look around.
“Well, perhaps we should meet somewhere else in the future? Cliché or not, this is not very secretive,” Jonathon replied as he too looked around.
“No, this is fine. If we keep to the usual dates it should be okay,” she rose to her feet, sensing that the meeting was nearing an end. “The car will arrive tomorrow at 2am. How is the woman anyway? How is she coping?”
“She is okay,” Jonathon, replied less than enthusiastically, “she is disorientated and scared, but I have told her about you and the work that you do.”
“Good. Well I have lots to do, Jon. I have several sisters to show around the amazing works of Gastro Sinclair. One of the more appealing vampire artists of the seventeenth century,” she began to walk back to her car as it pulled up just at the right time.
“Goodnight,” he said, but Isobel was clearly too far away to hear. He said it more to himself really. He looked at her and smiled. Perhaps it was a vampire thing but she looked so graceful as she moved towards her car and slowly stepped in. As the car drove away, he turned his attention back to the Houses of Parliament.
He took the view in again. Well if it is one of Isobel’s favourite views, who was I to argue? he thought.
…
Days soon turned into weeks and before Kristian could really gather his bearings, five whole weeks had passed and he was still no closer to completing his investigation than when he started. He had visited all thirty-nine locations laid out in the mission file, from bars and
dark magic bookshops to warehouses and factories. Not one of the sites produced any leads, not one scrap of evidence was found.
Each day he reported to headquarters, generally phoning in at around five in the evening. More often than not he reported to Rachel. A couple of times Jonathon had logged his reports, he often sounded very weary. Kristian’s investigation was not the only one that was not going as well as had been expected. Sam had told him that Zhing was also having trouble. Tom was always one step ahead of her, skipping from country to country by any means possible. She had managed to track him down in Edinburgh and had a brief scuffle with him, but due to the risk to members of the public, Zhing had backed off and he had once again escaped her grasp and vanished without a trace.
Everything seemed to be an obstacle in the Order’s day-to-day running at the moment. Jonathon found it difficult just chairing the simplest of meetings of late. Both Zhing and Kristian’s investigations played heavily on his mind. His train of thought often drifted and as the days went on he became more and more concerned for their well-being. To top it all off the worst date in his calendar seemed to be approaching more quickly than it had ever done in the past. The days and weeks flashed by and the meeting between the Order and the Council of Tivernal had crept up on him filling him with a bilious feeling as he readied himself for the event. The half-year Amendment summit was a half-day affair when the Order and the Council would meet to discuss the events of the past six months and the future six months.
The second meeting for this year was as bad as Jonathon had imagined it would be. It was the first meeting he had attended without anyone from the Phoenix Legacy with him. Their presence at these meetings always symbolised the strength of the Order and was viewed by the Council as the Order’s greatest weapon. Representing the Order of Light was Jonathon, Peter, Dr. Gambon, and Andrew. The Council had sent four delegates as well which was the standard protocol. Leceth headed his delegation, which included Isobel O’Hara from one of the Noble Vampire houses. She was named the Keeper of Knowledge and was a prominent member of the Council.
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