At Death's Door (Wraith's Rebellion Book 1)

by Aya DeAniege

  “I am Margaret,” the woman said. “You must be Helen. Quin, I apologize. Had I known, I would have selected her for something else. Helen, you are a descendant, which is why everyone keeps sniffing. A descendant is blood-related to released stock. Your stock was mainly claimed up when they were disbanded four hundred years ago. Obviously, your line slipped through the cracks.”

  “Really?” Quin asked, turning to me. “I didn’t recognize that.”

  He must have thought there was another reason why the others had been sniffing around me. I had to wonder what that reason was but decided not to ask about it then. I’d just have to try to remember to ask later.

  Or hope the conversation led that way.

  “It’s the smell. Savoury, the rest of us bred sweet. He is the only one that bred something darker and deeper. They mainly became Council stock.”

  Quin stiffened. He turned to me, looked me over, then sniffed twice.

  “I’ve never had the pleasure,” Quin said. “Need I be concerned?”

  “Goodness no,” Margaret said. “She is still protected by the Council. No worries, the chances of interviewees being descendants are quite high. It won’t change much. Though after the interviews are complete, I may be in contact with you. Your scent is rather strong.”

  “Can we finish what you called us for?” another vampire asked. “My interviewer has been working ten hours. He should sleep.”

  “Yes, of course,” Margaret said, moving to the side.

  She was tall and not exactly lean. That wasn’t to say she was large, but that she had curves. Her form had hidden an empty pedestal from the rest of us.

  Quin swore again in that other language.

  “Humans?” another asked.

  There was no placard on the pedestal, no indication of what was missing. There wasn’t an acrylic case over it as there had been on other ones. No wires to protect it. From those facts, I could only assume that what had gone missing was something that shouldn’t have been able to move.

  Otherwise, there’d be no need to call everyone in.

  “No mortal would survive, not even while wearing gloves,” Margaret said. “Even a vampire would be severely ill. Wraith became very sick just separating the head and the staff.”

  “I think I’m supposed to ask what’s missing,” I said, drawing the glaring looks of everyone in the room. “You are under no obligation to answer, but humans love this sort of thing.”

  “Mysteries sell well,” Quin said.

  “This particular artifact was half of a weapon,” Margaret said. “It will kill any mortal who touches it and is capable of killing vampires when it is conjoined with the staff.”

  She didn’t know that Quin had said there was only one way to kill a vampire because she hadn’t been there. Which meant that this weapon—that had gone missing just months after the vampires came out to the world—was the only way to kill a vampire.

  “The staff is held in a different location, I’m guessing?” I asked.

  “Yes, very few know where the staff is. The weapon can only be used by two vampires. Any others who touch it become ill quickly.”

  I felt like there was a lot that Margaret was leaving out. Centuries of history, however, are hard to sum up in a few sentences.

  “Death and Wraith,” I said.

  Again, I made an assumption based on what I had been told before. I assumed Death because of the title as well as Quin’s previous comments. Wraith was an assumption because that name had just been mentioned as one who handled the blade and didn’t die.

  Margaret arched an eyebrow but nodded.

  “She’s too smart,” Quin said.

  “I had to comb through thousands of applications to find her,” Margaret said in a chastising tone. “If she were stupid, you’d get bored. Too sweet and you’d be sick of her, or break her. It’s quite difficult, finding a mortal who meets the requirements of dealing with you and not ending up crying for the rest of their lives.”

  “He’s already dictated how he was turned,” I said.

  “Get the basics, then go back and make him tell you whatever else you feel comfortable asking about. His Maker is not the typical vampire. We do not encourage Lu to interact with mortals.”

  “Or other vampires,” someone else in the room muttered.

  “So, if the two vampires who can use the weapon are still alive, why is the weapon here in the archive instead of with them? The other items all have dates, which I assume mean they’re for vampires who are now dead.”

  “Death has not been seen in four hundred years. When Wraith brought the weapon to the Council, Death hung up his mask and cape. As he served at our whim, we took that as meaning that he was giving up his duties.”

  Death had been missing for four hundred years, and that was when my family was supposedly released? Did that mean that my ancestors had been bred as blood banks for the big mean monster called Death?

  “His Progeny, Wraith, refused to take up the task. However, under the guise of accepting the role, Wraith returned to Council Chambers and tore the head from the staff, rendering them half of a whole.”

  I saw Quin’s head shake out the corner of my eye. I even caught Margaret giving him a scathing look for a moment before she turned her attention back to me.

  “Doing so unleashed a sickness among the vampires. Fourteen of us were claimed, even Quin was ill for a time.”

  Claimed may have only meant that fourteen vampires fell ill, not necessarily that fourteen had died. However, had fourteen vampires died at the separation of the head from the staff, that would make it truly dangerous.

  Quin, though? Ill? Why wouldn’t he have said something about that earlier?

  I glanced at Quin, who seemed to grit his teeth. It was harder to tell what was going on inside his head, what with the full beard covering his jaw.

  “Since then, the two have remained separate. A vampire may have removed the item, but I’ve called all that are known to be in the area. Do any of you know of visitors?”

  “Androgen is here,” a small woman with a soft voice said from the back of the room. She had to step around another vampire to be fully seen. “But with mortals coming to the Archives I’d rather not cause anxiety and force the issue.”

  “Androgen would have nothing to do with this,” Margaret said. “The poor creature barely survived the encounter with Lu.

  “If any of you hears from another saying they are in the area, we need to know. Death does not tell anyone where he is going, or when. Wraith was last noted as being in Egypt, saying he needed time alone to contemplate.”

  “I should check on Lu,” Quin said.

  “It’s been three hundred years, don’t bother with the old man.”

  “Wraith swore to kill him. As much as I’d like that, you know that the bond won’t allow me just to walk away when my Maker is in danger.”

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  As they argued, I drifted off, confident that the tablet around my neck would pick up the conversation and I could transcribe it later. I moved to the back corner as the vampires watched Margaret and Quin bicker with one another.

  On the wall was a mask. It had once been white, made of some glazed porcelain. Over the centuries, it had taken on a yellow colouring. There were cracks in the mask, darkened by something unidentifiable. There were holes for the eyes, but the rest of the face would be completely covered.

  There were no decorations on the mask at all. No lips painted on, or blush added to give it a more lifelike appearance.

  Underneath it was a little card with a ‘made on’ and a ‘used until’ date. The artist’s name was there, a name which I didn’t recognize.

  The mask must have been replaced over time. I stared up at the porcelain and felt a chill wash over me.

  For the people of that time, those three centuries the mask was in use, the white face would have been terrifying. Walking an unlit path or street and suddenly seeing that white porcelain caught in a bit of
moonlight?

  I wondered what the face of Death would look like in the twenty-first century. The featureless mask was still frightening. Its yellow colouring would harken to days of old, yet also spoke of the terror of horror movies of new.

  In the other back corner of the room was a hooded robe on as manikin. The white, featureless face of the manikin was clearly visible, as if to reassure visitors that it was not Death peering out at them.

  All Death needed was the weapon.

  “If I were you guys, I’d be finding people to protect those who know where the staff is,” I said, raising my voice loud enough that the vampires could hear me over the continued argument.

  “Why?” Margaret asked.

  “Would Death or Wraith need to break in to get the items?”

  “Wraith would,” Quin said. “He’s not exactly welcomed, since refusing to take on the duty. Death could walk in the front door and would be granted entrance.”

  “So, someone stole the head, but it’s not complete without the staff. Neither of them knows where the staff is. Someone on the Council, I’m guessing knows. I’m also guessing that the head alone won’t kill one of you, but it’d hurt like a bitch.”

  “She’s too smart,” Quin said.

  No, Erin liked to watch mysteries and dramas. I had watched way too many television shows to just play along like an idiot. Who would go through something like that and just think there was nothing to it?

  I looked over the vampires and realized that I was standing in a room full of people who would do just that. They weren’t stupid, couldn’t have been if they had lived that long.

  I suspected it had something to do with the fact that, to survive, most of the time all they had to do was wait out the trouble.

  “We already have them under surveillance,” Margaret said. “Would you care to point out the obvious again?”

  “The mask was made by some master, were others before it made by the same sort?”

  “They were, yes, but that mask is still usable.”

  “If it’s Death who took the head, he’ll be commissioning a new piece. This would still work, but the culture has shifted a great deal.”

  “I’ll ask my contacts,” Quin said.

  “He’d come back for the mask,” Margaret said. “And it’s not Death. He was a valuable member of the upper hierarchy. We would welcome him back with open arms. There would be no need to steal the head.”

  There was a trill sound. Loud and annoying.

  Margaret pulled a phone from her cleavage and answered it in another language. The conversation took a quick turn. Her tone was acidic enough to make the other vampires in the room back away. She hung up the phone and glared around the room.

  “Councillor Flavius has been attacked in his home. Quin, take her to Sasha’s if you need to drop her off somewhere.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Does Quin know where the staff is?”

  “Quin is the one who hid it,” Margaret said. “Call Lu then, if you must. If the old man will even take your phone call. Try not to come crawling to me in two hundred years, sobbing about how daddy broke your heart again.”

  Quin motioned to me. I followed him out of the room, a little surprised at how quiet he was.

  The first night of the interview and vampires were having a petty feud.

  My life’s in danger, but it sells well, I suppose.

  Quin whipped out his phone and made a call as I drifted from item to item.

  As one of the first mortals to visit the archives, I felt more than a little underwhelmed. Almost all the items were in climate controlled acrylic boxes. They were the sort of stuff I expected to find in my grandmother’s attic. None of it was historically significant from a mortal’s perspective.

  Because the items were from vampire history, and they never died and rarely forgot, they didn’t need signs explaining what the item did or where it came from.

  I suppose I was expecting them to have the items of historical figures or magical items. Just laying around, even. Or to have more items instead of the few spread throughout.

  “These are all of the vampires Death has killed,” Quin said, leaning over my shoulder as I bent to study a golden hand mirror. “The cool stuff isn’t kept here, and no, mortals may not see the other areas.”

  “Is the head magical?” I asked.

  “It’s been so long. No one knows if it is magical, or if his powers haven’t simply been flowing through it all these years.”

  “Do you think it’s magical?”

  “I do, I strongly suspect it is,” he murmured.

  Quin slid a hand around my stomach. He bent and sniffed my neck, then straightened and looked at the hand mirror.

  “She was a friend of mine,” he said quietly. “Magdalena, she was a kind woman. Death didn’t like her, though. She crossed his path one day when he was in a rage going from the Council Chambers. So, he killed her. Bethany was turned to replace Magdalena.”

  “He’s not a hero, I’m guessing.”

  “No, he’s not,” he muttered, setting his chin on my shoulder. “The Council believes he has a purpose and value. They have to, even though he’s been missing so long.”

  Why the touching?

  I could have asked him to stop, but it was comfortable, standing there with Quin like that. His arm around me was not controlling in the least. Simply there, around my stomach, his fingers splayed out.

  Vampires had only been allowed to take mortal lovers recently.

  That was significant. It was a fact that women the world over wanted to know. Some men as well. Okay, a lot of men. Vampires couldn’t pass on disease and couldn’t get you or other vampires pregnant.

  So how did...?

  “Ask,” he growled.

  “You can have sex, but can’t get others pregnant,” I said. “I understand the sex since you have a heartbeat. Therefore, that can happen.”

  “That would be a question for Margaret, I would say. I don’t know how it works, only that it does. It may be based on the same premise as to how we cannot get sick.”

  “Except you did get sick, and didn’t tell me about it.”

  “We met two hours ago,” he grumbled.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your tone of voice is the angry lover,” he said, pulling away.

  “It’s just conflicting information, is all,” I said. “It’s not lover scorned so much as frustrated interviewer. If you say one thing now and another thing later, it’s suspicious.”

  “I said I was healthy as a mortal.”

  “True, but getting ill after being turned is significant, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose. Unless you consider the fact that vampires can become ill, a fact we don’t share with mortals,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Someone heard a rumour that Death is looking for Wraith. I need to see him. He’s freaking out.”

  “Wraith, or the someone who hears a rumour?” I asked.

  “Both. The only pair with a more fucked up relationship than myself and Lu is Death and Wraith. Like me, Wraith was immune. Like me, he had a child before he was turned. Death only turned Wraith to remove his immunity from the human genetic pool. Death brought sickness around Wraith in an attempt to make him sick. When it was discovered that we both had descendants, it did not go well. Lu was supposed to destroy both lines, but he didn’t manage it. Death swore revenge.”

  “Sounds like Lu knows Death.”

  There was a moment of hesitation. Quin stared off, in a cloud of his own making as I turned slightly. He stiffened and glanced at me sheepishly.

  “Lu has referred to Death as ‘brother’ on more than one occasion, meaning they both have the same Maker. Which, given their similarities, isn’t hard to believe.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “I had a sister and a brother. Both older than me. Upon Lu’s failure, Death killed them both. As a warning, you understand. It was bad enough that Wraith and I had a child each before we were t
urned, but the bad blood later only made things worse.”

  “Why does it matter that the pair of you had children, besides because it’s forbidden?”

  “It’s our immunity,” he said. “Death has power. Obviously, he is a death bringer. If humans ever knew a vampire existed, outside of stock, he would sweep through and kill them all.”

  “Justinian plague.”

  “Bubonic is a specialty of Death. It also kills a lot. Spreads fast, hard to trace. Sometimes he doesn’t use it. Sometimes he uses something else. Like I suspect he did with the plague that struck my family.”

  He was starting to separate humans and mortals. My heart did a giddy little flip in my chest. I know it’s your stomach that’s supposed to do that, but I swore it was in my chest instead. I wasn’t going to ask about it, but I made a mental note.

  It may have been that he was trying to adjust his language to what I had used, to make communication easier.

  I couldn’t let the connotations carry me away.

  “If Death decided to resurface after all these centuries, could it have anything to do with coming out to humans?”

  “It could, yes.”

  “Which would mean that he could be coming back to clean up those who know about vampires.”

  “That would be difficult, but possible.”

  “Why would it be difficult?”

  “Sickness is a tricky thing. It travels well in places that have poor hygiene, where waste might collect. With fleas, rats, in other animals and insects. In the first world, that’s a great deal more difficult.

  “Or take the Zika virus. It’s in one particular kind of bug, a bug that cannot live this far north. It’s simply too cold. In that case, the disease would die without being delivered to the largest majority of people possible.”

  “You’ve really thought about that, have you?”

  “It was a possibility brought before the Council before we came out. Many flew in to the conference. We know the risk we are taking, but do not believe that he would attempt such a thing.”

  There was something he wasn’t saying. Something that was being danced around now and I didn’t know enough to ask a question and redirect the conversation.