by Cory Barclay
As Lord Sunstone left the scene, he frowned and shook his head, his elegant demeanor wavering. “The things I do for this damned government,” he said to himself. He couldn’t believe he had committed fratricide against one of his own brothers. Dakathiel had not been a blood brother, but he had been an elf nonetheless.
He’d have words with Geddon when he returned to Overseer Malachite’s home for the wedding celebration.
“If Geddon is still alive, that is.”
“NO, YOU MAY NOT ENTER my home. And I will not ask you again to leave.” Mariana Lee spoke to four blackguards at her gate.
They had no lord or lady with them. The officer of the group said, “My lady, I have been ordered to inspect your estate for a ‘forest queen,’ as the Overseer put it. Now, please step aside.”
Mariana Lee bared her fanged teeth. Inside, she was frightened. She felt lucky Pua Kila was away with her husband, somewhere in the woods, searching for Charles’ body. At the same time, Mariana knew there were about twenty Nawao warriors housed in her abode. She couldn’t let them be found.
Their discovery would be disastrous. She had no doubt her twenty Nawao could terminate these four blackguards. But the repercussions would be devastating. It would mean the end of her reign as a Council member. And Constantin’s.
It had never been her intention to undermine the Brethren Council from within. But things were starting to head in that direction, she noticed.
She said, “Sirs, I don’t care what Overseer Malachite’s accusations are. I am a Councilwoman of the Brethren of Soreltris, and I far outrank any of you. If you want to come into my home, you will have to return with an equal of my rank, or the Overseer himself. Now, leave.”
One of the blackguards made the mistake of reaching out and putting a hand on Mariana’s hand.
“Ma’am—”
Mariana drew her hand inside the gate. “Touch me again and you’ll lose that hand.”
The blackguard had the decency to back away. He stared at his three comrades and shrugged.
The officer was put in an impossible place. He could anger a Councilwoman, one of the most powerful people in the three regions, or anger Overseer Malachite. He also had no doubt the vampiress in front of him could be quite dangerous.
It was late in the evening. He was tired, while Mariana Lee seemed refreshed and revitalized. She’d likely been sleeping all day. The blackguard commander was hesitant about pushing the issue any further.
Besides, Mariana Lee had a point. She outranked any of them. They had no legal warrant to search her house, only the supposed “command” from the Overseer.
The blackguard commander came to a decision.
“Let’s go, men,” he said. Turning to Mariana one last time, he added, “We’ll be back, madam. You can count on that.”
Mariana bared her teeth one last time and licked her lips with a smile. It unnerved the blackguard.
“I hope you will, sir,” she said, still smiling as the blackguards wandered off her property.
STEVE PUT THE PEDAL to the metal and listened happily as the cherry-red Mustang revved into gear. The car roared down the freeway.
Aiden seemed a bit frightened in the passenger seat. Steve was driving like Scarlet usually drove.
“Are we in a rush, mate?” Aiden asked, glancing out his window at the trees and freeway guardrail whirring by.
Steve shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, easing off the gas pedal. “I wanted to see what this thing can do. It’s been a while since I’ve driven.” Ever since he first left for Mythicus, in fact.
It was the wee hours of the morning, on a Tuesday, and the I-5 Freeway was not yet congested with commuters. He wanted to speed along while he still could, because if there’s anything he hated in life, it was traffic.
As they headed north, Steve turned on the radio and switched the tuner to 101.5 KGB. “See,” he said, “this is how you make a radio. None of that touchscreen bullshit. I can actually use this thing.”
Aiden said nothing.
The song playing was Steppenwolf’s “Born to Be Wild.”
The song seemed appropriate.
He put his foot down on the pedal and heard the engine rumble, giving him the power he craved.
Steve smiled and said to no one in particular, “Laguna Hills, here we come.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was the day of Annabel Lee and Tiberius Reynolds’ wedding celebration. The celebration was more for the Brethren leadership than it was for the wedding party. As such, it took place at Overseer Malachite’s castle in the hills.
The celebration began at noon. Guests arrived between then and 1:00 p.m. All eleven of the original Council members arrived in their best regalia, trying to outdo each other. The ladies wore crimson dresses with gold-trimmed skirts, fur coats, and floppy hats. The men wore their red-and-gold Brethren armor, looking more like royal bodyguards than lords.
Malachite had a ballroom on the first level of his castle. It was prepared in advance for this raucous occasion. Musicians played classical music in the corner of the room. On the other end of the room tables were set up with hors d’oeuvres and a full bar tended by a festive looking young man. Gold and red ornaments hung from the domed ceiling. The entire floor was open for dancing and mingling. Servants with trays scuttled in and out of the room.
Besides the lords and ladies of the Council, other lower-ranked members of the Brethren were there, too. These people were courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, military commanders, and specially awarded blackguards. There were enough people present to fill the room and make it lively, but not enough to overcrowd the place. Malachite made sure of that.
Malachite watched the activity from a raised dais at the head of the room, with an air of easy boredom. He sat on a throne-like seat and sipped a goblet of wine. He seemed completely relaxed, as if the celebration was in his honor, rather than the married couple’s.
A servant rushed up to him and knelt to speak in his ear. He whispered, “Two of the Vagrant Kinship commanders were removed from power last night, my lord. Krik the imp and Dakathiel the elf will bother you no more.”
The Overseer nodded thoughtfully. Those names meant nothing to him. But still, if they aided the Vagrants, it was better they were gone. “Who took care of them?”
The servant’s eyes wandered out to the ballroom, at a few particular guests. “Lord Obsidian extinguished the imp at his detective firm. Lord Sunstone snuffed out the elf in the woods not far from these hills, my lord.”
“Very good,” Malachite said. “Carry on.”
The servant dashed away, a nervous expression on his face.
“Wait!” Malachite cried out before the servant could get too far. The man froze in place and tensed. He turned and trudged back to his master.
“What about the Nawao woman, Poo Ancilla or whatever her name is?”
A noticeable sheen of sweat appeared on the brow of the servant. He hesitated, then said, “Your guards were not allowed entry into the Lee’s household last night, my lord. They were unable to search the premises for the forest warriors or their leader, Pua Kila.” He pronounced the woman’s name slowly, so maybe Malachite would remember it.
Malachite’s upper lip twitched. He growled, “Constantin would subvert my authority?”
“It was the wife, my lord.”
Malachite was shocked. “Mariana?” Then he remembered the power women used to hold in the Brethren Council. “They’ll need to be reprimanded and taught the error of their insubordination,” he said in a low voice.
The servant creased his brow. “Pardon, my lord?”
“Never mind, boy,” Malachite said, waving a hand at him. He continued staring out at the crowd and noticed something. Straightening on his chair a bit, he saw Lord Obsidian and Lady Chalcedony speaking with Lord Sunstone and Lady Moonstone. The group of lords and ladies had drawn a crowd of lesser gentry around them. At another part of the room, Lady Jade, the widow, told a story with her hands wildly gesticu
lating in the air. She had the rapt attention of five or six young blackguards, who looked upon her with smiles and open mouths. Jade was attractive, and Malachite scoffed at the sight of her attempting to seduce the young men. Or at least it looked that way.
But something was missing from the ballroom.
Furrowing his brow, Overseer Malachite said, “Where are those two?”
The servant didn’t respond, but rather raised his eyebrows.
“The Lees. Constantin and Mariana. This celebration is as much for them as it is for their daughter. They’re getting Named today!”
The servant pretended to search the room hard, his eyes bouncing from head to head. He knew the Lees were nowhere in the room. It was his job to know who was attending and who had arrived, and he knew the Lees were currently absent. Still, he put on a show, then said, “I do not know, my lord. Shall I speak with the front?”
“Yes,” Malachite said, a bit annoyed. “See if they’re arriving. It wouldn’t be right to begin the formal celebration without their presence.”
“Quite right, my lord.” The servant dashed off quickly, making sure he didn’t give Overseer Malachite the chance to call him back.
Malachite leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He drained his goblet of wine, then snapped his fingers at the nearest servant. “You, boy,” he sneered.
The boy’s face blanched as he faced his master. “Y-Y-Yes, m’lord?”
Malachite snorted. “No need to fear me, boy. And quit with the ‘m’lord’ stuff. We aren’t in the Middle Ages, are we?”
“Y-Y-Yes, my lord. I mean . . . n-no, my lor—master.” The boy was immediately discouraged. He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself. “We are not in the Middle Ages, Your Grace.”
Malachite stared at the boy for a moment, who refused to meet his gaze. The Overseer chuckled and motioned him forward. “Do me a favor and get me another goblet of wine. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”
“Yes, my lo—my master.” The boy cursed himself as he wandered away.
“Boy!” Malachite called, stopping the servant in his tracks. When the boy turned, the Overseer said, “Might as well make it a whole carafe, eh?”
ANNABEL WATCHED THE goings-on in the ballroom from a room on the second level of Malachite’s abode. It was a small room—more like a study—but it had a window with a perfect vantage to the ballroom below. She couldn’t stop fidgeting and fiddling her fingers. She clasped them in front of her stomach, trying to hide her nervousness. She glanced down at herself: she wore a red dress, much more elegant than her usual white dresses, but it was loose fitting. Father had made her wear the dress. She chose the style because it didn’t show her belly. Though her belly was still flat—at least she didn’t think she was showing—she didn’t want to take any chances. No one could know about her pregnancy. Not yet.
Where are they? she wondered, exasperated. Her parents should have arrived by now. Unless they are trying to time their arrival for a certain moment . . .
Tiberius stood at the other side of the study, drinking a mug of ale and pacing around. It was the first time Annabel had seen her handsome, disgusting husband act nervous. She relished the sight. Tiberius had never shown anxiety in the bedroom—in fact, he’d shown overtly excited passion. She wished she knew how to summon that skittishness inside him at will. Everything would be a whole lot better if she could control him, rather than the other way around.
Oh, well, she thought, shaking her head. It shouldn’t be long now until our marriage is null and void. Then I’ll never have to see his chiseled, boorish face again.
“What are you staring at over there?” Tiberius snapped, as if trying to pass his jumpiness to his wife.
“I . . . I think there’s something happening,” Annabel said in a low voice.
Tiberius closed the gap between them and stood behind her. “What are you talking about, silly girl?” He peeked over her shoulder and saw Overseer Malachite standing from the dais, raising his hands. From the corner of his eye, he saw his younger sister, Emilene, mingling with a young, broad blackguard. She looked beautiful, in Tiberius’ opinion, too beautiful . . . with her clinging dress and bouncing hair. She seemed so giddy, too, giggling and putting her hand over her mouth as she spoke with the young man in front of her. It made Tiberius fume.
“What in the three regions is she so happy about?” Tiberius said to no one.
Annabel furrowed her brow. “Who are you talking about?”
Tiberius scoffed and said, “Never mind.”
Just then, Overseer Malachite snapped his fingers and the musicians stopped playing mid-song. It was relatively quiet without the music. Before long, the low rumble of conversation ceased as everyone faced the Overseer.
“My lords and ladies, thank you all for coming today,” Malachite began, his hands still raised. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to my estate, for the celebration of the union between the Lees and Reynoldses.” The Overseer’s raised hand motioned up toward the study room.
All the faces in the ballroom turned to the window Annabel stared out from. She would have blushed furiously if she’d been able to. Instead, she felt dizzy from the attention shifting to her so abruptly. She instinctively tried to move out of the window’s line of sight. Tiberius grabbed her hard by the waist—his hands still hidden from view—and made her stay. Annabel felt humiliated as the congregation below began to politely clap.
“Now, as promised,” Malachite continued, drawing attention back to himself, “I have organized a special event for this special occasion. While the bride and groom descend the stairs and join us on the floor, please welcome my very special guest. She has come from Terrus, where she has made a worldwide name for herself. Ladies and lords, please welcome . . . Nersi Magdalin!”
Malachite threw his arms out to the other end of the ballroom, where a giant, red curtain fell away, revealing a stage. A few people gasped delightedly, while others shouted with glee.
A spotlight shined on the center of the stage, the disturbed dust motes dancing in the empty space. A moment later, amidst the pin-drop quietness, high heels clanked on the wooden floor.
Nersi Magdalin appeared in the spotlight, dressed in a red-and-gold skirt that barely reached her knees. She curtsied to the crowd, whipping her golden hair around her shoulders, then smiled at the crowd. The men in the audience groaned and the women sighed dreamily.
Nersi waved her hands in the direction of the musicians. They started playing without delay, the first, bright notes of a violin ringing out.
Tiberius said, “Let’s go,” and grabbed his wife by the shoulder.
As the violinist played a beautiful melody, other instruments joined in, creating a soulful tune. Nersi rocked back and forth to the rhythm of the slow percussion. Then she opened her mouth and started singing.
Tiberius guided Annabel out of the study and they walked down a hallway, toward a set of stairs. The entire time they walked, Tiberius had his hand gripped on Annabel’s shoulder. When they reached the stairs and the sight of the onlookers below, Tiberius released his hand from her and put on his finest smile.
Annabel, too, tried to smile, but she was much less practiced in the deceptive art of feigning enjoyment.
They made their way down the stairs as the musicians played a pretty song and Nersi Magdalin softly sang to the crowd. It was a magical moment, for everyone but Annabel. She still felt dizzy and out of place. The court of Overseer Malachite and the Brethren Council was no place for her. She couldn’t fake merriment.
When the couple reached the bottom of the stairs, kisses, embraces, handshakes, and smiles greeted them. Annabel tried to smile back at the people she was introduced to, but she hardly knew a soul.
The approaching crowd naturally separated Annabel and Tiberius. Annabel felt a wave of relief wash over her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Tiberius patting some lord or important person on the back. She made sure to keep going the way the crowd was pushing her, which
was away from Tiberius.
Before long, she found herself in front of the stage, staring up admiringly at Nersi Magdalin. The siren was belting out a smooth song that sounded like jazz fusion. Annabel was sure the lords and ladies of Mythicus had never heard anything like it before.
Nersi’s eyes met her own. The siren’s pouty red lips curved upward. She winked at Annabel, showing her recognition, and Annabel felt her heart fill. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive again. She didn’t feel trapped—Nersi’s music freed her from her unfortunate confines of life.
All she wanted to do was get up on that stage and sing along with Lady Magdalin.
To her amazement, Nersi must have sensed it. The siren bent her knees and reached out, twiddling her red-gloved fingers at Annabel.
Annabel’s mouth fell open and she smiled wide. She walked toward the stage like a woman possessed, unable to feel anything else in the room other than that primordial urge to take Nersi’s hand.
Then the large door of the ballroom flew open with a loud thump, jarring Annabel from her spiritual reverie.
A few lords and ladies looked toward the door. Even the musicians missed a beat in their music.
Nersi’s hand closed, the moment lost, and she went back to singing.
Annabel lamented and her heart sank. She angrily turned around to see what commotion had ruined her big moment.
Her mother and father stood defiantly in the doorway, a pull-cart of some kind behind them. A white cloth was draped over the pull-cart, covering some bulbous shape.
Annabel’s eyes bulged as she realized what must’ve been under the cloth.
Constantin spoke loudly and clearly, above the din of music, Nersi’s voice, and the congregation of lords and ladies.
“Overseer Malachite, I have arrived on this, my family’s Naming Day, to present to you utter proof of that man’s abhorrent and reprehensible actions!” The vampire pointed a finger down the length of the ballroom and people moved out of the way so it didn’t land on them.
