“Weren’t you at war with the Turks?” Gillian asked, hoping now that he wasn’t influencing her mind that she had her Romanian history correct.
“Everyone was at war with the Turks, not simply my kingdom. They were a rampaging presence across the land, taking slaves, demanding tribute, slaughtering everything in their path.”
“So you did what you believed needed to be done to protect your people,” she ventured, knowing that before he went over the edge into Megalomania Land, Vlad Dracula had been revered as a hero in his homeland.
“I did that and much more,” he agreed.
“You still haven’t shared with me what it was that changed your opinion. Humans and Paramortals have always been suspicious of each other until the Compact and Legalization. What caused your level of hatred? Why advocate a superior/inferior structure of existence?”
Once again, he’d told her of his parents’ deaths at the hands of Humans. He talked about raising armies to defend his Country and being betrayed by both the Human clergy and some of his nobles. When he got to his own wife’s death, something dark and terrifying crossed his features.
“Long before my involvement with the mistress I killed, I was married to my own Elizabeta. Make no mistake, Gillian, I was truly and deeply in love with my wife. In their determination to rid themselves of the monster who ruled them, the Humans betrayed her. She had done nothing but be my wife. She was not even Reborn, just a beautiful, gentle presence who loved her Prince, his homeland and her children.”
“They betrayed her? How?” Gillian asked softly.
“She was sent word that I had been butchered during a battle and that the Turks were on their way to sack the city. Knowing that they routinely rounded up entire towns for slavery, and that they generally killed the ruling family—or worse—my beloved chose death over captivity or torture.”
“She committed suicide?”
“Indeed she did. If we had established a blood bond, I would have been able to tell her I lived. She died because she was frail. She died because Humans are easily deceived. She died because she was not a Vampire. I failed her in that.” His voice was barely a whisper, but his rage made the air around Gillian vibrate.
Beneath the anger, her empathy registered a depth of despair, loss, loneliness and hopelessness that even Perrin had been unable to achieve. Her Gestalt-therapist self couldn’t stand it. Vlad Dracula was a monster, a megalomaniac, the cause of a thousand nightmares and deaths. But he was also a man. A man who had mourned the loss of his beloved due to the duplicity and fortunes of war and what he believed to be a disability: being Human.
She reached out with her empathy and her hand. Grasping his forearm gently, she radiated sympathy and acknowledgment of his loss. “I am truly sorry that your wife killed herself because of lies, but I think it is more about the lies than about her being Human and fragile. I can’t imagine what it must be like to love someone like that and then learn that you’ve lost her forever.”
Vlad regarded the small hand on his arm, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. She was genuinely sympathetic, he noted to himself with some surprise. The loss of Elizabeta was still an open wound in his soul; he was not lying or exaggerating how deeply her death had affected him. Despite knowing what he was, in spite of being his captive, Gillian was focused on his pain, not her own; not the plight of every Human he’d ordered killed or converted. His pain.
“Why do you care, Dr. Key?”
Gill looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “I’m not sure what you mean. You are a Being who is in deep pain. I am sorry that you’ve had to feel that pain.”
“You are Human. Why do you care what a Vampire feels or thinks?”
“It’s my job.” Her mouth quirked into a slight smile.
“I do not think so,” Vlad replied. “I believe you truly cannot tolerate another’s emotional pain.”
“Maybe,” she admitted grudgingly. “It’s still my job to pay attention to what you tell me and to understand what you’re feeling.”
He settled back a little in his chair but didn’t remove her hand from his arm. “Gillian, you are an interesting Human.”
Gillian pulled her hand back, slowly, mirroring his seated position. “Not really. I’m like most of my species, if you would look a little deeper and consider us as more than a food source.”
“Indeed. Then have a look at this and tell me what you think.” He grasped a large leather-bound tome and flipped it open to a full-page drawing of a room with many unusual items in it. He wanted her opinion, but he also wanted to deflect her attention away from the roiling emotions clawing inside his chest.
Gillian studied the picture. The book was called Museum Wormianum, published in 1655. The room depicted was called Musei Wormiani Historia, representing Ole Worm’s cabinet of curiosities.
“If my memory is correct, a cabinet of curiosities was actually a room, like a miniature museum, which held unusual, rare and scientifically uncategorized items. They were most popular back in the seventeenth century.”
“Very good.” Vlad smiled at her. “I am impressed. What you probably do not realize is that there are a number of these still in existence, with all their creatures, devices, automatons, gadgets and artwork, scattered around the world.”
“And what does that have to do with what you’re after?”
“A great deal, as you will see.”
Gillian continued looking at the picture and flipped through some of the pages of the book. It was written in Latin, of course, and other than rudimentary psychological and medical terms, she didn’t have the language base to translate.
“So . . . we’re going to one of these cabinets . . . because you believe it contains something that can help you in your quest.” It was a shot in the dark, but she took it.
“No, I have already found what I was after in one of them. I have a device with me that can literally call the Beings of Light down from the heavens. We are simply traveling to where I intend to use it.”
“Beings of Light?” Gillian repeated. “You mean Angels?”
“Nephilim is what they were called in Hebrew, I believe,” he replied.
“The Nephilim were thought to be the ‘sons of god, who bred with the daughters of men,’ according to the Torah,” Gill stated for the sake of argument and because she thought she remembered enough Hebrew from her Midrasha school. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with this trip, or how I’m going to be able to help you.”
“There are allegedly three types of lesser Nephilim Giants who were bred from those unions, Gillian. ‘Giant’ referring not just to their physical size but to their powers as well. You have heard of them before in various Hebrew texts. The Anakim—those with graceful necks; the Emim—those who frighten; and the Rephaim—the dead ones.
“I believe that Osiris; Dionysus; Odin, who is Lord of the North; myself and a very few others are directly descended from the Rephaim: the resurrected dead Giants of legend. The first Vampires.”
Gillian was thinking her way through everything he was saying. She was absolutely certain he was no longer trying to influence her mind. What was boggling her brain at the moment was that what he was saying made complete sense.
There had been tales and legends of Vampires being the children of Cain, Adam’s son. No one had gone back further in their research than that. Vlad’s theory predated any form of religion or religious pantheons, and would certainly take into account that nearly every single culture worldwide had legends, stories and variations of Vampires.
“You believe one of these Beings made you. You want to contact them through an ancient device you have on board this plane . . . then what? What is it exactly you think is going to happen?” she asked as levelly as she could.
“I have told you, I want answers. I want to know why I was chosen, why I was given no guidance and allowed to go mad. As you probably know, one of the possible Hebraic translations for Nephilim is ‘those who cause men to fall.’ I wa
nt to know why I was chosen to fall.”
At Gillian’s surprised look, he smiled. “I am aware that I was quite insane and did very despicable things, my dear.”
“What am I here for?” she asked, her mouth going dry.
“You are a virgin,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.
“I know I’m not going to like this, but what does my physical state have to do with it?” She frowned at him, her entire body tensing up in anticipation of his response.
“You are my gift, of course. I shall be purified and forgiven, after my questions are answered, by offering you to the Rephaim as a sacrifice.”
“Shit, I knew you were going to say that.” Gillian slumped in her seat. Better and better. Yup.
CHAPTER 7
“DRACULA is interested in his origins. He was looking through at least the Torah and probably other Hebrew texts. His plane took off toward the West . . . We have to look further back.” Tanis handed another ancient book down to Aleksei from his position on one of the library’s ladders.
“He cannot possibly believe we are descended from Cain.” Aleksei was shaking his head. There was no rational thought process for it. Dracula wanted to confront his maker. Cain was eons dead and there was no known Bloodline.
The Romanian Lord raked his hand through his hair. It had to be simpler. They were missing something obvious.
“Rephaim. Aleksei, Vlad believes the Rephaim made him and the others. Gotta go.”
Gillian’s short-lived burst of thought in his mind was a golden wash of shimmering sunlight. He felt his heart literally leap with joy at her brief message.
“ ‘Rephaim.’ Does anyone know the term?” Aleksei’s deep velvet voice brought everyone in the room to a standstill. They were all digging through texts, maps and documents, trying to determine Gillian’s location and Dracula’s intent.
“The Rephaim are known as the unliving ones,” Osiris informed them. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Gillian sent word to me, saying that Dracula believes that we are descended from these Rephaim,” Aleksei said.
Osiris closed the volume he was holding. “That would make complete sense. Now I understand.”
“I do not.” Aleksei was too shaken by worry to think straight. Gillian was obviously alive, which was comforting, but why had she referred to his former Master as Vlad? No one in his memory was on a first- name basis with the Dark Prince . . . except Gillian. What the hell?
“Before the Gods, before us, there were Angels.” Isis came to stand next to her mate. Sapphire eyes glowed in a face too young, too delicate, to contain all the wisdom harbored in those blue orbs.
“The Nephilim were believed by the ancient Hebrews to be a variety of Angel that crossbred with descendants of man. Three races of Beings were only some of their progeny. They were the Emim, which were mistranslated as ‘fearful’ but were actually ‘the ones who caused ravening fear.’ There is some belief that these are the ones who caused the Shifter lines.
“The Anakim were ‘those with graceful necks’ but were actually ‘the noble ones,’ those who retained most of their true divinity in their appearance. They were beautiful, aristocratic, part of the nobility of the Angels themselves.”
“And the Rephaim,” Helmut finished for her. “The dead ones, or rather those who were dead yet lived on.”
“Precisely.” Isis graced them all with a spectacular smile.
“Then how do we find these Rephaim, and hopefully Gillian?” Aleksei asked.
“He must believe he has a way to get to them, or at least contact them.” Tehuti was deep in thought over several books with pictographs of old tablets. As the Egyptian God of wisdom, science, writing and magic, he was putting his considerable knowledge to the test.
“Here.” A long, elegant finger pointed to an indecipherable excerpt of ancient Greek. There was a drawing on the page of some sort of device.
“The Antikythera mechanism.” Tehuti’s eyes glowed with excitement over his discovery.
“Really?” Helmut moved to read over the Vampire’s shoulder. “I thought that device was used to plot the positions of the planets and stars.”
“That is the common thought, yes, but it was so much more than just a simple, primitive computer,” Tehuti assured him.
“But it was made thousands of years after the time of the Rephaim,” Helmut insisted.
“It was, yes,” Tehuti continued, “but its purpose was to determine locations in time rather than in the physical world.
“This tablet”—he pointed to another drawing in another ancient text—“tells how to use the Antikythera mechanism.”
“The Phaistos Disk?” Osiris had moved over to see what his son was reading.
“Someone wanted an encrypted record of how to use the mechanism. It was created a thousand years later and has never been deciphered. I believe I can figure out the language.”
“So you are saying that the Antikythera mechanism is for some sort of . . . what? Time travel? And that plaque is the instructions for how to run it?” Daed was very interested in anything having to do with antiquities, especially Greek ones.
“Not precisely time travel, more of a . . . communication device for any time period.” Tehuti kept scribbling notes, never looking up from his work.
“I believe I can help in that case.” Trocar’s velvety voice came from the corner. Everyone turned toward the Dark Elf. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the entire discussion. He was peering intently at the screen of Gillian’s laptop.
“If it is indeed both a ‘where’ and ‘when’ question, the Elves can help with this,” Trocar informed them. “I have sent out a call to look for Gillian, Dracula or any large gatherings of Paramortals. With luck, we should receive a response.”
Elves of all types had the ability to straddle both space and time, opening portals to other worlds, dimensions and time frames at will. The Doorways were generally used as portals of swift travel, for information gathering and history observance. The First People believed in the acquisition of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. If anyone could find Gillian quickly, they could.
“Why large gatherings?” Kimber asked.
“Because if he has broken his cover by kidnapping a high-profile Human like Gillian, then he has everything prepared and this is the final keystroke,” Trocar replied.
That bit of information didn’t sit well with anyone in the room. “Let’s hope he keeps her alive long enough for us to get to wherever they are, then.” Daed sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“He had better.” Aleksei turned and walked out of the room, down the hall and through the front door of the castle. He had to do something, even if it was pacing around the compound, or he would lose his mind.
He didn’t know how long he walked, but a mental call from Tanis sent him back to the castle in a swift stream of mist.
“Where are they?” Aleksei materialized next to Trocar, startling several Brownies perched on the chair behind the Elf.
“Here.” Trocar’s long, ebony finger pointed to a map on the computer’s screen.
“Egypt?” Isis asked. “Right under our noses?”
“Impossible.” Osiris stood to see where Trocar was pointing.
“Akabat: the land of many obstacles. It is remote; there is little life off the main road. Nothing but chalk and pyrite deposits. It would be the one place we would not think to look.” The anger in Osiris’s voice made the walls tremble. The Egyptian God seemed to fill the room with his fury. He was completely in control yet scary as hell even for the other Vampires in the room.
“Hey, Osiris, tone it down a little.” Even Daed looked a little pale from the force of the Lord’s power.
The Egyptian Lord ignored him. “My plane has been refueled and is ready to leave. Make whatever preparations are necessary and let us go rescue your lady. I will have a contingent of my people there, waiting for us.”
“I have also put out a call to th
ose loyal to me,” Dionysus added.
“There will be Elves, as well,” Trocar mentioned quietly to anyone who was listening.
Daed punched speed dial on his cell phone. “General Riven? Daed Aristophanes here. I need a crack outfit of Marines . . . Yes, sir, a mixed group would be fine or just Paras . . . In Western Egypt. Yes, sir, Akabat . . . Immediately would be best . . . Press coverage would be great. Thank you, sir.”
There was a long pause as he listened intently, then repeated, “Thank you, sir. I will take all precautions with my group here.”
He snapped the phone shut. Everyone was staring at him. “What?”
“I swear to the Great Spirit, Daed, if this is yet another goddamn photo op for you, Gill isn’t going to get to kill you, because I will.” Kimber casually examined her fingernails, then stared him down.
“Look, all hell is literally about to break loose. What you don’t know is that there is a small but very vocal resistance to the recognition of Paramortals as sentient Beings and to the Osiris Doctrine. Religious nuts of all flavors have cropped up and are calling for a reckoning. Don’t you people ever watch BBC news?” Daed’s black eyes locked with the eyes of everyone in the room in turn.
“And you were going to tell us this when?” Helmut’s normally warm Austrian accent was suddenly chilly.
“I wasn’t going to tell you at all. Most of the talk was just that: talk. Intelligence on both sides indicated that there wasn’t any real reason for concern, so nobody bothered organizing any structured procedure. We’ve just been keeping an eye on the situation.
“Word has now spread through Dracula’s people that Armageddon is virtually at hand. This isn’t just about Dracula and his nutty plans anymore. There are going to be all different factions, some pro- Human, some pro- Paramortal, en route to Akabat as we speak. There’s going to be a show-down of ‘us versus them’ that no one had counted on ever occurring.”
“Daedelus, if I had known this ‘unimportant’ information, Osiris, Dionysus and I could have found out much more than your spies and informants. Our focus has been on the wrong problem, based on what you are now telling us.” Aleksei was not a happy Lord and the room shimmered with his anger. Daed managed not to flinch under his icy stare.
Key to Justice Page 10
