Turn: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora

by Graceley Knox

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t promise him anything. These ancients live to extract impossible promises for what you want. It’s a dangerous game that few of their victims win.”

  I nod my head, but I wonder at the same time if I will fall prey to a creature that watched the dawn of mankind. He has to be a brilliant, kicking around for as long as he has.

  And I’m walking into his den. The thought does not comfort me.

  I put my game face on, but I’m as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What could an ageless, fallen god could do to a newbie vampire? It didn’t matter, because I am strong, proud, and a vampire queen, damn it. It’s about time I act like it.

  My feet kick among the cracked cobbles and tufts of grass that litter the pathway leading to the church. The door hangs off a broken hinge, leaving the building open to anyone who wants to enter. I scoot through the opening and look around. The roof has fallen in, leaving the top of the building open to the elements. There are no pews, and panes of glass no longer grace the window openings. A lone stone altar rises at the back of the space sitting under a circle that must have held at one time a magnificent window. Pigeons fly from rafter to rafter. I shake my head as doubt creeps in. We must have the wrong place. No one lives here.

  I turn to leave, more defeated than I was yesterday, when I hear a thin, reedy voice.

  “Why are you leaving?”

  Whipping around, I spot a tall man, thin and gaunt, rising from behind the altar. His hair is silver, not white or grey, but actual silver and a pale purple shimmers through it. The Aeos' torn and faded shirt and pants barely cover his lean frame.

  “Are you Leander?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Is there a reason I should answer you?”

  “If you are Leander, I brought you a present.”

  “Let me see.”

  I pull the Jameson from the paper bag and twist it so he can see the label. “It’s the best the village liquor shop had.”

  “Ah, I see. Spirits for an old spirit?”

  “Is that what you are? A spirit? I heard you were a god.”

  He scoffs loudly. “I haven’t been a god since shortly after mankind walked the Earth. It seems I acted badly. But that’s old news. Why are you here?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “And why would I talk to you?”

  I shrug. “Why wouldn’t you? Unless, of course, you don’t want the whiskey.”

  Once again I turn away hoping the promise of the golden liquor would sway an older than dirt ancient being to spill his guts to me. I wasn’t far wrong.

  “Bring it here, wench,” he snarls.

  I arch my eyebrows when I face him again. “I don’t know if you are up on current events, but we don’t call women wenches anymore.”

  “A woman?” he scoffs. “You are girl-child who pretends to be a woman.” He sniffs the air. “But you aren’t even that are you? Vampire? No, not just that.” He takes in another long breath. “Kresova,” he sneers, and his eyes narrow. “Newly turned. The stench of humanity still clings to you.”

  How charming. I walk closer to him slowly, and I notice he keeps his gaze on the liquor in my hand, not me.

  “We have a mutual friend in common. Mama Lisette.”

  “Ah! You are the Dria, aren’t you?” His eyes travel up and down my body. “What’s so special about you to be a new Vampire Queen?”

  I stop at the altar and put the bottle on the stone slab that makes the top, but I don’t take my hand off it. No way would I hand it over until I get what I want from Leander. But I shrug just the same.

  “Damned if I know. One day I’m an All-American girl, working a shitty job and struggling to pay the bills. The next I’m sucking blood with the rest of them. Maybe you have the skinny. I’m willing to bet you do, seeing you’ve been around longer than me.”

  “Why should I talk to a Kresova vampire?”

  “As the saying goes, you can pick your nose, but not your family.”

  Incredibly, the Aeos guffaws, though the noise is a screech that sends the pigeons flying about their roost nervously. Then he stares at me so intensely I swear he’s peering into my soul.

  “So, you are not one of those who wanted to be a vampire? You didn’t throw away your humanity for the vain promise of immortality?”

  “I’m just rolling with what life handed me. You know? Lemons and lemonade.”

  He mutters then, and I think I might have used one cultural reference too many.

  “You are all crazy. Go.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.

  “Okay, but I’m taking Mr. Jameson with me.”

  “I should strike you down where you stand,” he growls.

  “You did a good job on Lil’ Patti, that’s for sure. But somehow I think you are a cranky enough old bastard that if you could, you would have already. I think there is a reason why you don’t hurt supernatural creatures like me. And there is a reason you sent Mama Lisette that Tarot card. You wanted me to come here.”

  He mutters in a language I don’t understand. It sounds ancient with unnatural twists of the tongue, and his eyes burn with an eerie light that gives me one impression.

  Crazy eyes.

  I twist the cap off the whiskey and set it close to him. The aroma fills the space, and a dreamy expression comes over the silver-haired Aeos. He picks up the cap and sniffs it. I’m not sure why he can’t simply walk into the local store and buy a bottle himself, but I won’t argue with the advantages I get.

  “Ah,” he mewls. “Nectar of the gods. Fruit of the field transformed. Of all the creations of the Universe, mankind crafted this one, perfect thing.” He licks his lips as longing fills his eyes.

  I’m getting the heevie jeebies watching Leander wax poetic about whiskey. Sure, it’s tasty, especially when you want something to burn through you and carry you away to a special place where nothing matters. But this guy has it bad. I’d bet I know why he’s a fallen god.

  Yeah. Not a pretty picture.

  His eyes catch mine and I spot a burning desire for the liquor in my hand. I’m in more danger than I thought. I need information from him, and he’s ready to devour me for the Jameson.

  “Look, I’ll make this easy. Tell me how I can destroy the ring that Morana has—the Ring of Brigit.”

  “Brigit!” he wails. “Don’t talk to me about that royal bitch.”

  He’s shaking now, and I’m afraid he’s going to pull me apart. Maybe he can’t use magic on me, but I’ll lay money down that he’s stronger than he looks and can tear my head off my shoulders.

  Yeah. I'd piss Carver off if I let that happen.

  “Leander!” I snap sharply. “Look!” I tip the bottle over and let a quarter of the whiskey spill on the altar. He screams and then scrambles onto the altar and licks at the alcohol like a cat scarfing cream.

  I step away, horrified at the debauchery of a once grand being doing whatever it takes to get his fix.

  He laps the liquor quickly and then collapses on the altar whining like a hurt dog. I’ve never felt sorrier for anyone in my entire life.

  “Leander,” I mutter softly.

  He sits up in a bolt and folds his legs under him as if ready to meditate.

  “What?” His tone is angry, almost petulant like a child who knows they don’t have the upper hand in the situation. His eyes go to the liquor in my hand, and I wonder why he doesn’t yank it from me. But an idea comes into my head that this is how it is with gods.

  They can’t take what isn’t offered, and this is the power their followers hold over them.

  But what do you do if you are a god and you have no followers? You hang out on a piece of once holy ground and feel sorry as hell for yourself. Drinking yourself into oblivion.

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “You? Help me?” he says bitterly. “Wench, you better be ready to help yourself for the shitestorm coming your way.”

  “Okay,” I rub my forehead. “That’s a l
ittle harsh. My life is running brown water right now. But I’m trying to turn it right. And if you weren’t such a cranky bastard, you might be able to help me. I tell you what? If I arrange for a weekly shipment of whiskey to this address, would that persuade you to give up your intel? After all, you wanted me here. So what’s it going to be? Me walking away with this lovely bottle of nectar? Or you tell me what you brought me here to learn?”

  “Perhaps I just wanted to see your face when I denied you.”

  “Well, I guess I should go then--”

  “No.”

  He gives me a glance that could curdle milk, and I understood where the old stories of fae doing so came from. But in my case, he eyes the opened bottle in my hand greedily and nods slowly.

  “Every week?” he confirms.

  “Yep. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He sighs, and the timbre of his voice lowers. “To destroy that ring, you have to remove the two blessings on it that shield it from harm. Then you can destroy it with a hot blacksmith hammer.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “And I do this how?”

  “Don’t you know how to remove a spell?” he asks derisively.

  I shake my head. “All-American girl here. Never messed in magic.”

  He snorts. “And you are a vampire queen now? That’s a joke on us, isn’t it?”

  “Mr. Jameson, or not?” I say narrowing my eyes. I’m losing patience with the immortal jackass.

  “There are different ways, but this one will work best. First, you light a white candle. Then you take the ring and put it in a black bowl and pour spring water on it. When you've done that speak this spell over it three times. ‘I snuff the magic that enlivens you; I drown the light that fills you, I cast out the power within you.’”

  “That’s it?”

  “Then you can beat it to crap with the red-hot hammer and part of your troubles will be over.”

  “I swear, if I find out you are yanking my chain, you are going to be one thirsty Aeos.”

  “I have my own reasons for wanting Morana gone. The spell will work.”

  “Okay, but where do we find it?”

  “Find it? You haven’t figured that out?” He laughs harshly. “Morana wears it always, on a chain around her neck.”

  I groan. Of course she does. To get the ring we’ll have to get up close and personal with the bitch queen. Could my day get any better?

  But I’m a woman of my word. I set the bottle with a clink on the stone altar.

  “Thanks, Leander,” I say. “I’ve places to go.”

  He takes a long pull of the whiskey and then leers at me.

  “Want to make this a party?”

  Unbelievable. Just how many vices was this crazy Aeos slave to? If Brigit made the call to earth bind him, she made a good one.

  “Sorry, dude. I’m full up in the party department.”

  “Well, don’t forget the shipments.”

  “First thing on my to-do list. Bye.”

  I walk away with dread clinging to my frame. I’ve seen this guy half-crazy to get a drink in him, but I still don’t want to be around when he’s full-on drunk. An immortal being swimming in alcohol is not good for no ones' health and well being. What monster did I create here today?

  “Oh, yeah?” he calls as I got to the door. “One other thing.”

  I don’t want to, but I turn toward him.“What?”

  “About the vampire you call Abe?”

  “Yeah?” I ask cautiously.

  “When you get to the village pick up the Irish travel magazine. I forget what’s it’s called. But there is an article there you’ll want to see.”

  I think he’s half in the bag already and delusional, but I humor him anyway.

  “Thanks for the info.” I give him a small nod and keep an eye on him over my shoulder.

  Leander grimaces. “You are all loonier than fae under the influence of buttercup pollen. Get thee gone now, if you don’t want to party, and leave me to my good friend here.”

  Chapter 4

  “What did you find out?” Reina asks as I get into the back seat of the rental car.

  Honestly, the vehicles here are smaller than matchbox cars and my knees are squished behind Reina’s front seat.

  “About the evils of drink.” I click my seatbelt. “Seriously, I’m giving up all alcohol.”

  “Can we go?” Row asks.

  “We better. And fast.”

  “Why? Was there a problem?” Row meets my gaze in the rear view mirror as he pulls the car away from the church.

  “No. I don’t want any more than we have. That’s one crazy son-of-a-bitch back there, and I understand now why people said to stay away from him.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Row frowns.

  “No. But there was a price for the information.”

  The car hit a hard bump in the road, and Row swears.

  “Of course,” he growls. “What was it?”

  “We need to send him a case of whiskey every week.”

  “That’s it?” Row shouts incredulously. “He didn’t ask for something involving your soul?”

  “He was more interested in the whiskey than either of my souls.”

  “I don’t know if that is good or bad.”

  “Why is that, sweetie?” Reina twists in her seat so she can get a view of both of us.

  “If he didn’t get his price, he might have given her crap for information.”

  “I paid his price,” I say. “That’s one sick freak back there. It must suck to be an alkie immortal.”

  “Hmph,” Row taps his palm against the steering wheel, “Looks like it's not just ancient vampires that develops a fatal weakness.”

  Reina’s eyes grow wide. “Wow. That’s a hell I don’t wish on anyone.”

  “Right? I mean it's worse than a weakness to sunlight, or iron or anything else everyday. But a bonafide drug?”

  “Vampires believe they are immune to the long-term effects of drinking or using drugs, or even,” Row grins wickedly, “sex.”

  Reina smacks him on the arm.

  “Ouch,” he jokes.

  “Quit it. I know I can’t hurt you.”

  “Only my heart, love. But as I said, it makes you think. We might be more fragile than we give ourselves credit for. It might be the wise thing to forgo vices for our immortal health.”

  “What? You want to give up sex?” Reina shrieks.

  “No. I’m saying vampires shouldn’t engage in promiscuous sex.”

  “Oh,” Reina says softly. “Oh!” She yells again when the lightbulb in her head goes off.

  “You two settle the particulars of your love life on your own dime. Besides, it's obvious that you two are true love and forever fuck buddies, so why do you keep trying to kid yourselves?”

  Row frowns as I run a red light straight into his love zone. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? Forever meant something different to a mortal, than an immortal, and I peeled the scab off the real problem to true love for Row and Reina. Someday, and in a time frame that flies faster for Row than Reina, she would die.

  I would lose my best friend which would hurt forever, but Row would lose the love of his life which would be a kind of death I cannot contemplate. There just was a reason the vampires didn’t keep human lovers very long or profess not to love them. Talk about a sucky situation.

  Why not make Reina a Kresova? No. I won’t and I won’t allow anyone else to either. Even Row.

  This is too damn complicated and above my pay grade for the moment, so I steer the conversation to a more manageable subject—destroying the queen of all vampires.

  “So get this, destroying the ring is simple. All we need is the ring, a white candle, a black bowl, spring water, a few well-chosen words, and red-hot blacksmith hammer.”

  “Is that all?” Row asks in droll humor.

  “Yep,” I reply perkily.

  “And did he say where the ring was?”

  “Oh yes. Morana wears it, on a chain around her ne
ck.”

  Row hisses through his teeth, and Reina’s eyes fly open wide.

  “Well, that just makes it impossible.”

  “Hey, you know what the Marines say. The difficult we do immediately. The impossible just takes a little longer.”

  “That,” says Row, “was the slogan of United States Army Corp of Engineers in World War II.”

  “You sure, sweetie?” Reina asks.

  “I was there,” he says grimly as he downshifts to slow down as we grow closer to the village.

  Oh, hell, another land mine. Vampires pointedly did not like to talk about their impossibly long lives. I had to take a hard left to steer out of dangerous territory.

  “Is there any place around here I can get a magazine?”

  “Yeah, and some munchies,” Reina adds. “I’m hungry.”

  Row glances to her and smiles. “When are you not?”

  Reina frowns as she GPS’sed a shop that would fill our requirements. “Here. This place.”

  Row listens to the coordinates that Reina rattles off and changes his direction. One of the things we learned in this trip is that Row is a walking GPS. All we have to do is give him a set of coordinates and he brings us there. It’s kinda cool like a superpower, but scary too. What did one have to do to absorb all the longitudes and latitudes in the world? How did you make them work for you without the aid of a computer or a map?

  There’s a lot more to Row than being a bodyguard, that’s for sure.

  We stop in front of a little convenience store and Reina and I go in while Row stays with the car and keeps the engine running. Reina riffles through the snack section frowning at the unfamiliar choices while I find the magazine display. Behind me, the bell for the front door rings and I turn instinctively. A brown-haired man step inside, but I only catch a brief look at his face.

  Our eyes meet a microsecond before he turns away, but damn if it didn’t seem like I’ve met him somewhere before. I notice I’m curiously aware where he is in the shop as he moves, and I’m not paying attention to why I’m here. Shaking my head, I focus again on the magazines and move them around until I find a rag called Irish Traveller.

  One of the teaser captions along with an inset photo on the side is “Romania’s Premier Museum,” but it’s the photo that makes my jaw drop open. A full on shot of the castle that had housed Abe’s captured body, with the lede line, “The Castle of Romania’s Dracula?” One and one collided in my head to make two, and I knew to the core of my bones where Abe was.