Bloodcraft

by Amalie Howard

  Christian brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. “So I guess it’ll be like when we were dating in Maine, sort of.” His light tone took her by surprise, but she grasped at it like a lifeline.

  “We’ll see and talk to each other every day. This is what I came here for,” she reiterated. For some reason, she needed him to agree, to support her decision, to let her know despite being apart, that they were going to be okay. She needed to hear it from him.

  “I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “What am I going to do without you?”

  “The same as I am—think about you every single minute we’re apart.” Christian smiled at her response and wound his arms about her.

  “So when do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said, her heart sinking at the thought of being away from him so soon. As such, she was completely unprepared for Christian’s wicked answering smile.

  “Perfect. Let’s go upstairs and see what else I can compartmentalize.”

  SEVEN

  Truths Unveiled

  Christian entered the boardroom on the top floor of the Tour Areva in La Défense, Vampire Council headquarters, and nodded to David, who was waiting with four other men, whom Christian recognized as the shell corporation’s attorneys. Two of them were vampires, the other two human, although they could well be vampires for the ruthless way they operated. They greeted him and he sat down. As always whenever he met with Council members, Christian looked the part he was expected to play—that of vampire royalty. Dressed in an expensive, tailored navy suit, he wore no jewelry, save for a heavy onyx ring emblazoned with his ducal crest in gold, which he twisted on his finger as he waited for them to begin.

  “Your Grace, as you are aware, Lord Enhard Markham has left his entire estate to you, which comprises a number of commercial and residential properties across the world, including several here in France. It also includes a substantial cash settlement. The value of the estate, including all assets, is approximately forty billion Euros.” The attorney paused and Christian nodded for him to continue. “As is customary, the Council will receive thirty percent of the liquid assets and thirty percent of the property, at your discretion. The total of the liquid assets due to you is ten billion Euros.”

  Christian didn’t bat an eyelash at the staggering sum. One of Enhard’s fondest passions had been playing the stock markets across the world, and the value of his portfolio and cash liquidity came as no shock to Christian. He was, however, completely stunned that Enhard had left his entire estate to him. As a Council Elder, Christian had assumed that Enhard would have bequeathed his entire estate to the Council itself. It wasn’t as if Christian needed it. He had more money than he could ever want or need for several lifetimes over.

  Still, Enhard’s parental gesture left him in a state of curious emotion. The closest thing he’d had to a father, Enhard had taken him under his wing, teaching him most of what he knew, and had saved him from himself countless times. There’d been instances when Christian had the distinct impression that Enhard was hiding a secret, something related to him, but it was always fleeting and the moment had always passed before Christian could ask him about it.

  The thought of never again seeing his face or talking to him when the need arose was a sobering one. Enhard had been one of the only Council members he could trust with his life. He clenched his fingers as a spasm of pain rolled across his insides, but kept his face composed—displaying any emotion in his position was tantamount to weakness. His thoughts were interrupted by the attorney’s voice.

  “Lord Markham left you a sealed envelope, to be opened upon his death,” the man said, pushing a manila envelope across the table. Christian noticed that David was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, but it disappeared before he could process it. The rest of the meeting passed quickly as they finalized the rest of the estate transition. For the most part, Christian’s own asset management team would handle the bulk of the transfer into his portfolio.

  As the attorneys filed out, Christian held the manila envelope between his fingers, lost in thought, not realizing that David hadn’t left the room with the others until he sat heavily in the chair to his right. Christian regarded him in silence. Like most vampires, David was youthful, his boyish looks preserved for eternity, but his eyes were ancient. Those eyes had seen a lot. Christian waited for the old vampire to speak.

  “Enhard’s death was a great loss to us,” David said after a beat. “I know you held him in high regard, and he felt the same about you.” He hesitated, staring at the envelope that Christian held. “What you will find in that envelope will not be easy to understand. You’ll have many questions.” David placed a cool pale hand on Christian’s sleeve. “I am at your service, Your Grace.”

  “Please call me Christian.”

  “Do you know how old I am, Christian?” David asked.

  “Several millennia, I imagine.”

  “I have lived over two thousand years,” he said with a sad smile. “I have seen so many beginnings and ends, ups and downs, and the rise and fall of many great things and many terrible things. And still, in our world, there are vampires that are so much older and far more powerful than I, ones who have become the fabric of legend.”

  “The Reii,” Christian said, his voice soft. Had Enhard been Reii? he wondered briefly before dismissing the thought as improbable. Enhard would not have been killed so easily if he had indeed been Reii. No, such vampires did not exist.

  “Yes, the Reii.” David said. “The father of who we are.” Christian remained silent, wondering what David was getting at. “How much do you know about them?” the old vampire asked. At Christian’s raised eyebrow at the suitability of the time and place for a mythology lesson, David interjected, “Humor me, please.”

  Christian conceded after a glance to the timepiece on his wrist. “Not a lot other than the stories we all know. They are said to be powerful with dark magic abilities and live in seclusion for hundreds of years at a time. I fail to see the point of this,” he added, an impatient note creeping into his voice. He had a lot to do and sitting in a darkened boardroom with David discussing what constituted vampire folklore was starting to grate on his nerves. A strange light settled into David’s eyes and he leaned forward.

  “How long since you last fed?”

  “I don’t know. The usual, a week or so,” he responded in a bland tone, although he was taken aback by the abrupt and improper question. But even as he said the words, Christian realized that he was wrong. He hadn’t fed in over three weeks because it had been three weeks since Victoria had left. He hadn’t thought much about it. He’d been so busy with the daily Council meetings and working with the task group assigned to the vampire murders, that he’d barely noticed any signs of hunger. And yet, here he was, as strong as ever with no feeling of deprivation. Perhaps it was the stress of the murders combined with Victoria’s absence, but it was baffling.

  He frowned. “Perhaps longer,” he admitted. Vampires were driven by their constant, consistent need for blood, especially ones as young as he. In his world, at barely two hundred years old, he was considered a fledgling, and blood would remain the center of his universe until his strength evolved with age. His frown deepened as his gaze snapped to David’s. “Why do you ask?” he said, suddenly wary.

  “It’s already happening, isn’t it?” David said, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward to peer at Christian’s eyes. “Did you always have those?”

  “What are you talking about, David? You’re speaking in riddles,” Christian said, forgetting decorum. He had no time for games, not even with an Elder.

  “Your eyes. Those black rings,” David said. Christian blinked, inhaling sharply as David bent closer, nodding to himself. “Curious. I distinctly remember your eyes being gray.”

  “Why does this even matter?” Christian evaded. “It’s insignificant.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. When a vampire is transformed, our ph
ysical traits do not change. How did you come by them? Or, more importantly, when?”

  Christian rubbed his brow with the heel of his hand. After Enhard’s death, David had been the only one to know of Victoria’s true identity, but he didn’t know the exact circumstances of what had happened in that room in New York City or the fact Le Sang Noir had completely possessed Christian, a vampire, with no qualm or consequence.

  He sighed. To refuse to explain would put him in the untenable position of lying to an Elder, one whom Christian trusted, but he had no idea what recriminations the truth would bring. In few words, he explained to David what had transpired in the tunnels in New York and watched as the aged vampire collapsed back into his seat.

  After several minutes of tense, fraught silence, David spoke. “Well, that would certainly explain a lot of things,” he said. He stared at Christian and shook his head. “You took Le Sang Noir. No wonder … so accelerated, unprecedented ... given who you are.” David could barely string the words together, rambling almost to himself. “Do you have any idea?” He broke off, shaking his head in disbelief again.

  “It was nothing.” Christian didn’t blink an eye. He didn’t know what David was getting at about “who he was.” The fact that he was a royal had no impact on the effect of Le Sang Noir. As far as he was concerned, it was no longer inside of him and had left no permanent damage, thanks to Victoria.

  “I fear, my boy, that it is a little more than just nothing. Open the envelope, and as soon as you’ve read its contents, we will talk then. There will be much to discuss, I expect,” he said as he stood, effectively ending their unexpected tête-à-tête. Christian looked up at him in surprise. After David’s cryptic response, he’d expected a lot more than “open the envelope and we’ll talk later.” But that was exactly what he got as the door swung closed behind the Elder.

  Christian stared into space, recalling the odd conversation that had just taken place. Obviously the contents of the letter had to do with who Enhard was or some secret that he’d taken great pains to keep hidden, although not from the other Elders it seemed. At least not from David. He twisted the parchment in his hands.

  The envelope was formally addressed to him: To His Grace, Christian Thierry François Devereux, Duc d’Avigny, from Lord Enhard Markham. He took a deep breath, wondering what in the world Enhard would have kept from him, and opened it in one swift movement. Naked pain slashed through him as he recognized Enhard’s familiar script. It was precise and scholarly. The letter was dated the day before he died. Clenching his jaw, Christian began to read.

  Christian:

  If you are reading this letter, then things have not turned out as carefully as I had planned. Obviously, I have not lived to be thousands of years old, nor am I living in carefree vampire retirement on an exotic island with a harem of beautiful people at my beck and call. Although, I am hopeful even in death, if I am lucky, that it will be more of the same – at least, that is my fervent hope. What else do we have to live for, as vampires, if not an afterlife of hedonistic pleasure?

  Christian bit back a smile at Enhard’s twisted sense of humor. He was as straitlaced as they came, but on the odd, infrequent occasion, especially when he was uncomfortable, he had a blasé way of phrasing things that would make Christian choke in mortified surprise. The ironic hilarity bubbling in his throat fizzled as he continued reading the letter.

  There are so many things left unsaid, important things that I meant to tell you, but missed our windows of opportunity. I convinced myself that you were still too young and that there would be time. But alas, time has come and gone. And here we find ourselves – you reading this hasty, poor excuse of a letter, and me, gone to some other place where I am unable to fulfill my duty as your guardian. But so be it. I can’t change the past nor alter the future.

  Christian paused, swallowing. His palms were clammy, his heart pounding. He couldn’t imagine what Enhard’s secret could be, but given the circumstances, he instinctively understood that it had to be something vital, something important. Breathing hard, he continued.

  I am writing this letter because I do not know what will happen in the next few days, but I will protect you with everything in me if need be. My life is yours. There are so many things I wish to say, but there are two above all that must take precedence here.

  Firstly: Victoria. She came here tonight to save you and to solicit my help despite my earlier, less than acceptable, treatment of her. If I hadn’t seen the depth of her love for you with my own mind, shared in that brief moment when she linked our thoughts, I never would have understood. It is astounding … and humbling. She is strong, as is her love. Protect it, guard it, defend it. For most likely, you will be forced to in the coming days. You have my every blessing for your happiness together.

  Secondly: Your legacy. You may not recall it, but when we found you near death and changed you nearly two hundred years ago, unlike your brother, you rejected the vampire blood from your maker. I’ve never told you this, but it was my blood that you rejected.

  Christian paused, the letter almost dropping from his bloodless fingers. Enhard had changed him, or not, as he seemed to be implying. Christian forced himself to finish reading.

  Your refusal as a human to change was unprecedented amongst our kind and your spirit was indomitable, fighting my blood as if it were the devil itself. I had never seen its like. You fought for weeks, alive but not, somehow caught in a shadow world between life and death. Your condition was too unfamiliar, too unnatural, and many of the Council Elders were afraid of what you represented – a worse kind of fiend than we were. They wanted your execution. But someone did save you, Christian. Someone saved you, as I could not.

  Your maker’s name was Sezja.

  As the name filtered its way into his chaotic thoughts, Christian felt an odd sense of knowing, of familiarity. Sezja. The name itself meant “protector,” he knew. He closed his eyes, focusing on the name. Shadowy images flashed through his vision, as if summoned, and his body jerked with each vivid memory.

  A striking olive-skinned face with dark, intense eyes, red lips, and long black hair resting like a silk curtain across his chest … eyes so ancient, they tore through him … the gentle murmur of her voice, musical, calming, mesmerizing ... a conscious choice made in seconds, soft acquiescence … a sliver of pain at his neck … pure consuming pleasure … the feel of warm blood on his lips … the dark earthy taste of it … and then so much burning agony that his entire body twitched with phantom recollection.

  Sezja.

  His maker.

  When Christian opened his eyes, his hands were gripping the sides of the chair so tightly that the steel beneath the leather had distorted like putty, the letter resting forgotten on the table. He held it with shaking hands.

  She was the one who changed you, possibly the only one who could have reached you where you had gone. She gave you her gift. In case you have not already guessed, Sezja was Reii.

  In complete disbelief, Christian had to reread the last sentence, and then reread it again. A Reii. How was that even possible? His maker was Reii. He didn’t believe that they existed, but obviously he was being proved wrong. If he took Enhard’s words for truth, then he was made by one of them. It was unfathomable. In a daze, he forced his attention back to the letter.

  Inasmuch as you must be shocked, do not be. The Council summoned her at the time because no human soul had ever rejected the gift of immortality so fearlessly, so viciously. When she made her offer, you took it. If you hadn’t, you would have died.

  And so you became a child of the Reii, an immortal son of Sezja, born into the mantle of the most exalted, and the most revered, in our world. As far as memory serves me, you were the first vampire that she has sired in over five thousand years, and your rebirth was the first and last time I ever saw her.

  So this, my son, makes you a child of the Reii.

  From the little I do know, in the Reii world, it is said that you wi
ll inherit their memories and their strengths in some form or other after several hundred centuries, when your vampire body can withstand the transformation, when your mind is strong enough to control and command the dark magic that binds you to them. In your case, that will not be for a long time as you are relatively young, but you must still be prepared.

  In my absence if it is so fated, David will help you understand what to expect. You may not know it, but he is only three generations removed from the Reii and has gone through a watery version of the change himself. Yours, I fear, will be much more powerful as a direct descendant, but still, he has promised to be there for you in my stead.

  I know you must be confused. Please believe that I did not intentionally mean to conceal this from you. The time was never right, and now, if you are reading this letter, it is too late for both of us. For that, I apologize. I wish I could be there when the time comes, but I will be there in spirit. You are born to lead, Christian, born into a power that ordinary vampires can only dream of.

  Despite not being your true maker, it is my hope that some small part of me still exists within you and was not lost. I am so honored and proud to have been your mentor and friend. I love you, my son.

  Enhard

  Christian slumped back into his seat, drained and utterly devastated. His throat was clogged with emotion at Enhard’s last words. My son. He inhaled deeply and reread the letter, considering the facts before him. He was a Reii, or would be in a few hundred years. Unless …

  Christian sprang to his feet, suddenly understanding David’s earlier cryptic comments about when he’d last fed and that something was already happening.

  Because something was happening!

  But that was impossible. Enhard had written that nothing would happen for several hundred years, until his body was strong enough to withstand the transformation from vampire to Reii. He closed his eyes and her name brushed across his senses like silk … Victoria.