by Quincy Allen
“It has to do with the visions of two oracles. The first was a telling I received when I was just a child. My people have a tradition, part of our rite of passage. When we reach the age of forty, a singer takes us to a sacred place and sings us a song. That song is the course of our destiny, and I believe that both you and the Lady are in mine. The other telling came from one of the High Oracles of Atheon.”
“The what?”
“Are you ready for a history lesson?” Shadowcat asked.
“If it’ll explain what you’re talking about, I’m ready to jump into a bathtub full of rattlesnakes,” Jake replied, his voice carrying a bit of frustration with it.
Shadowcat smiled. “Fair enough,” he said, nodding his head. “Far from here, across the Traleil Sea, there is a world ruled by the Lords of Atheon, a world of vampires.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No. I come from a world not far from there as the dragon flies, but as I said, I draw my lineage from a minor house of Atheon—a bastard son of a bastard son whose father fell in love with a daughter of faerie-kin. But I digress; for that is another lengthy tale having little to do with this one. This tale is about Orfeo ne Tsioch.”
“Who?”
“He’s known as Vlad now, but he was born Orfeo ne Tsioch. Sadist doesn’t even come close to describing his malice and cruelty. Orfeo was the eldest son of a Lord of Atheon. Over the years I’ve heard rumors of his demise and rumors that he still lives in a fortress deep in the Carpathian Mountains. He’s certainly not someone I would want to meet face-to-face, even now.
“Back then he was a horror; a living nightmare. He had long dabbled in sorcery, and through that he struck a bargain with a creature of fire some on your world call Ebliss. This would have been almost four hundred years ago. Orfeo went mad, hungry for power, gathering around him an army of vampires and demons alike. He believed he was better suited to rule Atheon than the Council of Lords.”
“I guess some things are the same all over,” Jake observed, shaking his head as he thought about President Cromwell.
Shadowcat nodded sadly. “The war that ensued was brutal, bloody. It nearly destroyed Atheon’s capital city, but in the end we stopped him.”
“We?” Jake asked. “I thought you said this was four hundred years ago.”
“That’s right.” Shadowcat looked perfectly serious.
Jake was awestruck. “How old are you?”
“The war ended on my two hundred and thirteenth birthday, and it was one hell of a party.” Shadowcat smiled.
Jake couldn’t believe that the man standing before him was over five hundred years old. It was impossible. Of course, yesterday he would have said that dragons were impossible, but he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around a man born on another world five hundred years ago.
“So how did this Orfeo end up here?” he asked. “And why the hell didn’t y’all kill the son-of-a-bitch?”
Shadowcat sighed tiredly. “There’s a law, a very old one, older even than the whole of human history. It is forbidden to kill a Lord of Atheon. It’s said that the Elder Gods passed down a curse of sorts, a promise of untold horrors befalling anyone who spilled the blood of a Lord … or one of his progeny.”
“Lemme guess, the Lords themselves passed along that little bit of information to their people.”
Shadowcat nodded, a wry grin on his face. “An effective means of protecting one’s seat of power.” The dark man pulled a cigar from a pouch dangling from his belt, mumbled a few words under his breath, and drew deeply on the cigar as the tip ignited. He blew out a cloud of smoke and plucked the cigar from his mouth, peering into the glowing end as if it were a crystal ball.
“If ever there was a double-edged sword.…” His voice trailed off. “Of course, many of us don’t believe the curse is real, but no one disbelieves it or hates any of the Lords enough to test the theory.”
Shadowcat glanced up a Jake, an embarrassed smile on his face, and then stared at the cigar once again. “Orfeo was tried and condemned, but they couldn’t execute him. Some of the Lords wanted to kill him despite the curse. In secret, of course. From what I’ve learned over the years, it was his father who intervened. The Lords came up with something they claimed was worse. Exile.”
Shadowcat took another pull on the cigar and stared up at Jake. “Orfeo was stripped of much of his power, becoming a shadowy reflection of what he once was, but still strong enough to defend himself in his place of exile. They also placed a curse on him, a spell as powerful as all the Lords combined could conjure. Should he ever step beyond the confines of his exile, his life force would be ripped from his body and spread across the Traleil. In this manner, he could live out his days and be responsible for his own death should he choose to leave.”
“Clever,” Jake said. “But why here? Why the hell would they dump their garbage in humanity’s backyard?”
“A fair question. That’s where the Oracle comes in. She alone selected this world, although no one outside the Council knows why. And in that telling she doomed the Lady Dănești … and perhaps this entire world.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, for the most part, the Lords of Atheon aren’t really corporeal. To tell the truth, they’re only a few steps removed from gods. They can take the shape of flesh and blood, and in that form they’re what we call high vampires. Most of the time they appear as nothing more than smoke and light. Because of this, the Lords needed to imprison Orfeo in a human body. The Oracle picked that, too. As I understand it, only the Oracle knows why.”
Shadowcat took another long pull from the cigar and let the smoke trickle from his lips like coiling serpents slithering into the darkness. “With Orfeo restrained in soul shackles, the Council brought him to this world and instilled his essence within a Wallachian named Vlad Ţepeș, a nobleman with a beautiful new wife and two sons.”
Jake could see the pain on the Shadowcat’s face.
“Lady Dănești,” Jake guessed.
Shadowcat nodded slowly. “She was born Doamnei Corina Dănești. She took his name when they were married of course, but gave it up when she escaped. She’s never spoken much about those years before the Lords of Atheon came … before the darkness of Orfeo took Vlad and Vlad took her. He turned her, you see, changed her into a vampire. But that was just the beginning. What had once been Orfeo held one last card up his sleeve.
“With Corina’s newly-turned vampire blood, he was able to inscribe the Book of Ebliss. It took months, months of torturing and bleeding Corina out, one page at a time. Ebliss had a hand in it, to be sure, but the sorcery necessary to create such a thing didn’t … couldn’t … come from Vlad. You see, there are Covenants that prevent Ebliss from directly affecting the affairs of mortals. He must act through agents.”
A knot formed in Jake’s stomach at the thought of Corina being tortured. “She mentioned something about a book,” Jake said slowly, “and raising an army of demon corpses.” Something occurred to Jake. “I thought you said Orfeo … err … Vlad had been stripped of his power.”
“That’s right, I did. The Lords don’t talk about this, but it can only mean one thing. Someone helped him. One of the Lords helped him.”
“Jesus.”
Shadowcat nodded.
“The father?” Jake asked.
Shadowcat shrugged. “It’s possible. Some say even probable.”
“Wait a minute.” Jake looked up at Shadowcat. “If Vlad had her and the book, why didn’t he use it?”
“Remember when I said she was one of the bravest souls I’d ever met?”
Jake nodded.
“She faced them down … well, sort of … during the first ritual to raise his army. His keep, Poenari Castle, was under siege by the Ottoman Empire. Wars were common in that part of the world, and I suspect Vlad wanted to use his first army of demon corpses to conquer the Ottomans. He could then use the book again to raise those dead and further expand his troops.
<
br /> “You see, so long as one possesses the book and Corina is alive, the ritual can be performed over and over again. Each time the bulk of Corina’s life-essence is torn from her and dispersed like seeds into the fertile soil of the dead. And each time it’s an agony for Corina. Vlad could then conquer the world. But during the attack, Corina managed to escape. She stole the book and ran from where the ceremony was being performed. She made it to one of the towers, and just as Vlad was about to get his hands on both of them, she leapt. It was several hundred feet to the icy waters of the river below. They call it Râul Doamnei, the Lady’s River, now. They named it after her.”
“And she’s been on the run ever since.”
“That’s right. There are those who know about the book and want to use it. It may be Vlad behind it all, or someone else. I really don’t know.”
“Why doesn’t she just destroy the book?” Jake asked. “I can’t imagine she’d just run around with the damn thing without a good reason.”
“There are two reasons. The first is that her life is bound to it. If the book is destroyed, so is she. I have no doubt that if it was just her own life she would have ended everything long ago.”
“What’s the second?”
“Vlad—or whomever helped him—bound his own life to the book as well, but in a very different way. If the book is destroyed, Vlad’s curse will be lifted, and he will be free once again to return to Atheon … and with his new army. What’s worse is that, like Vlad, neither Corina nor the book can leave the confines of this world. We can travel between the gates of this world, but if we went beyond, she would be destroyed and Orfeo set free.”
“Good god,” was all Jake could manage.
“The fate of two worlds may now rest in the balance of Corina’s destiny, and I now suspect yours as well.”
“You can’t seriously think that a man like me could make any difference in such things. I’m nobody. Hell, all I really know how to do is play cards and shoot these.” Jake patted the grips of his pistols.
“I think we both know that isn’t true, and I don’t believe your destiny is a part of this … yet. I merely suspect it. That’s why I need to speak with those who could divine such things. Once I get you all to Colorado, I must go places I haven’t been in over a hundred years.”
“What happens then?”
“I don’t know,” Shadowcat said slowly. “It will depend on what I discover.” He locked eyes with Jake. “What’s important is that you make sure Corina … and the book … stay safe. Can you do that?”
“You tell me,” Jake said sourly. “Magic, vampires, vampire gods? What sort of chance do I have?”
“You’ve done fairly well so far, Jake. Don’t sell yourself short. In your place, most men would have either given up or been killed by now. You’ve done neither.”
“What do I tell Corina? Does she even know you’re here?”
“You can tell her anything you like or nothing at all, and I’m sure she knows I’m here. If I could sense her, then she could sense me. The two of us have always had an affinity for one another.”
“Affinity?”
“It’s a long story.” Shadowcat smiled slyly.
“Y’all seem to have a lot of those.”
Shadowcat’s smile turned to a toothy grin, his canines flashing. “It comes with immortality. Look, I have to get back to my crew. There’s still much to be done before we leave. I’ll send someone for you as soon as we’re ready to go.” He placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Just remember what I’ve said.”
“Believe me, I couldn’t forget all this if I tried.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” With that Shadowcat faded before Jake’s eyes, melding with the shadows and disappearing completely.
Jake leaned back against a stack of crates and pulled out a cigar. He lit it, drew deeply, and blew a cloud of smoke up at the stars. It was a lot to think about, and complicated by the feelings he had for Corina … feelings for something that wasn’t human.
Jake smoked the cigar slowly, considering the events of the past few days and what might now lay ahead for him. He hadn’t signed on for a full-time job, but Corina’s story had touched him, almost as much as the woman herself. A short while later he dropped the butt of the cigar into the dirt, ground it out with his toe, and stepped out into the moon- and lamplight, letting the steady rhythms and strange music wash over him once again. There was really only one choice, and he’d have to talk to the Lady in order to be certain he could make it.
He made his way into the White Mare and up to his room to catch up on some shut-eye. He hoped it would be dreamless, mostly because of the bourbon he’d left in his room.
And when he woke up, he’d have to face down Corina one way or another, and the outcome might tear him apart inside.
Chapter Sixteen
Tears for the Sun
“I never told Jake this, but there were times when I thought he might have been bewitched by Lady Dănești. And I guess he was, just not how I thought.”
~ Cole McJunkins
Jake dozed against the headboard, a pillow under his back, his hat over his eyes, and a half-finished tumbler of bourbon on the nightstand beside him. An image of Corina filled his thoughts. She would come. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.
A lamp glowed dimly over the wide fireplace, and a gentle breeze sifted through open curtains framing a balcony. Moonlight glinted off a delicate-looking table and chairs made of wrought iron.
A sudden chill in the air told him to lift his hat and open his eyes. Wisps of fog took shape in the center of the balcony. They swirled, drawing together slowly, forming the curves of a small woman. In seconds the shape resolved, phasing from white to gray to a familiar green.
Corina stood motionless, almost pensive in the darkness outside. She wore a long dress of emerald satin and gray lace. A small hat perched upon her head, a cluster of pheasant and peacock feathers rising above her crown. A gray widow’s veil covered half of her face, and she’d forgone the glasses, her eyes glowing visibly behind the veil like white moons in a cloud-streaked sky. The spark in Jake’s chest kindled and warmed him, but he smothered it as best he could.
“Skeeter is truly a remarkable young woman,” Corina said, smiling. “She impresses me more and more with each meeting.”
The statement caught Jake off guard. “I reckon she is.” He stayed on the bed. “Is that where you just come from?”
Corina nodded in reply.
“What the hell for?” There was just a bit of a bite in his voice. He needed to set a tone for the conversation he was about to have.
Corina tilted her head slightly, startled by Jake’s tone. “I wanted to get to know her better. I believe she has a larger part to play in all this than I realized.”
“Do you?” Jake deliberately sounded suspicious, and his remark prompted an almost hurt expression from her.
“So, you just wisped over to her balcony, and then when you were finished with her, you wisped on over to mine, is that it?”
“Well, yes.” Corina sounded confused, not sure what Jake was getting at.
Jake stood, set his hat on the nightstand, and walked toward Corina as she stepped into the room. Jake felt the fire growing once again as he drew nearer to her, but he forced it back down.
He had to.
He set his shoulders and put a stern look on his face. There was one thing he needed to know, and he would have to press hard to be certain she was telling the truth.
Jake readied the first salvo and fired. “Can you do that, wisp in like smoke, because you’re a witch or a vampire?” He watched her face closely, looking for either fear or anger. He found neither. Instead she frowned gently, an almost relieved but nervous look on her face.
“Vampire,” she replied quietly. “I had little doubt Shadowcat would speak to you about me.” She paused, searching his face. “How much did he tell you?” she asked.
Jake could see she was anxious, but he couldn’
t tell if it was because she feared his reaction over learning the whole truth or if she had lied to him and feared discovery.
“He told me quite a bit, actually. A hell of a lot more than you told me last night … certainly more than I bargained for … maybe more than you bargained for.”
“I doubt it,” she replied, and the certainty in her voice gave him pause.
She steadied herself, stiffened her muscles, and took a single deep breath, as if she were preparing for a great exertion. She stepped close, grasped his hand, and moved out onto the balcony, pulling him along. He didn’t fight her, but he did fight the urge to pull her into his arms. She sat down gracefully at the table and motioned for Jake to join her. He settled into the seat across from her and leaned back, taking in every detail of her posture, watching for the slightest change in expression.
This would be one of the most important conversations of his life. He knew it not because of what Shadowcat had asked of him, but because of what he was prepared to commit to. He had to learn the truth about her motives, about why it was him sitting there at the table rather than another man. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but there was simply no other way.
“I know about the Lords of Atheon … and Orfeo … and Vlad,” he said slowly, noting an almost undetectable tremor in her cheek and a quick clench of her fist. “I know about your sons.” He could see that the words pained her as he spoke them, and he regretted each syllable. “I know what you were and what you are,” he added, letting his voice grow more terse as he spoke.
Her nostrils flared and her breathing quickened a fraction of a heartbeat.
“You never mentioned that vampires are blood-thirsty killers, and I mean literally blood-thirsty.” There was an edge in his voice now. Jake narrowed his eyes. “I’d call that an important detail … Lady Dănești.”
Her face was emotionless, but her jaw tightened at the use of her title. She unclenched her fist, laying her hand flat on the table. An emerald ring glinted from the lamplight inside, and her eyes focused on it. “You slaughtered that coyote on the trail, didn’t you?” The question was an accusation with iron in it. “And you fed on it.”
