Never Show Fear

by Nicola Claire

  He is nothing but a rogue. A powerful one with a nest of vampires at his back. But here he stands alone.

  In my territory.

  The House creaks and groans, and reaches out to touch me.

  And then the ground is rumbling, and crossbow bolts are firing, and magic rips the night apart.

  They are coming. Suzette’s Light is bright and steadying. The heartbeat I can somehow hear throughout the House sets the pace.

  I spin. The vampire strikes. Shadows slither across the walls. Screeches fill the night.

  I scrape the stake down his right cheek, and he slashes out with his claws, missing me only because the House — or Gaspard — shoots an arrow between us. It’s enough to make the vampire leap back, but I continue to advance; trusting Gaspard and the House to not kill me instead of the Evil One.

  We spin and fly apart. Blood taints the air and makes the vampire slather. His nestmates creep ever closer, but they allow their leader to feed first. It is an ancient ritual for hunting vampires — those who have a strong enough leader to keep a nest together when it hunts. Not many can, so it tells me much of the vampire I face off with. At one time, he was someone, something to be wary of.

  Now he is only frightening.

  We spin and strike and dodge and growl. The House does what it can to aid me, but it takes all of its strength to contain the Evil One’s nest. They hunger. The ground rumbles with the House’s disquiet. Sanguis Vitam battles with Light. Dark encroaches.

  I fear for the young ones. I fear for Suzette. I’m not sure I can beat this vampire. I’m well trained. But, simply put, he is better.

  The vampires cheer him on in their lyrical language. I do not need to speak their tongue to know what they are saying.

  The Evil One does not bait me with words; perhaps he does not speak my tongue, either. He is single-minded in his focus. Red eyes glowing. Fangs dripping with saliva. He does not pant for breath. He does not blink an eye. His heart is still beneath his breast.

  I aim my stake and fly.

  He bats me aside, sending me tumbling. The House screams its fury, hurling magic and stakes and silver-tipped arrows across the garden. The swish of the arrows as they flash past my face is disorientating. So is the lack of blood. His claws have found flesh. I am bleeding.

  It won’t be long now. Suzette will die avenging me. Gaspard and Yvette will hopefully think of the children, but it is doubtful. Gaspard is a hothead, and Yvette will not leave him. My only hope is that the House will protect Pierre and Fabienne until Gregor returns. The House tells me it will; it too is doubtful we will beat this vampire; we certainly can’t beat his nest.

  If I were kindred-joined, if I were matured and had come into my powers, if I had a powerful vampire at my side; perhaps.

  But I am only one man. A boy, really. An immature Nosferatin.

  And yet, I spin. I strike. I dodge what I can. I will not give up until one of us is dead.

  The vampire laughs. He knows he has me. Suzette screams in rage; I can hear her fighting the Evil One’s nest.

  It’s over.

  I have failed.

  I yell my fury and frustration up into the night and hear the House raging.

  The sky splits apart. Light blossoms from somewhere I cannot locate.

  And then the flap of robes reaches my ringing ears, and a swish of a blade cuts through the air as Gregor and Michel appear in the garden; already fighting.

  Metal rings against metal, and I realise the Evil One had not drawn his blade to fight me; he’d been toying with his supper. He thought himself invincible.

  But he had not counted on the Iunctio allowing two of its councillors to join the fight and defend us.

  Maybe the Champion is not aware Gregor and Michel are here. Maybe they will suffer her wrath afterwards. It does not matter. The vampires — my friends — fight without giving quarter. In minutes, what had seemed hopeless, becomes blessed.

  Nut watches. I have no doubt the Champion does, too.

  And then Michel hauls a battered and bleeding leader of the Evil Ones before me, forcing him to his knees.

  “Nosferatin,” he says. “What would you have of this vampyre?”

  I stare at the vampire before me; the one who laid waste to our nest and many before it.

  I am Nosferatin.

  He is Nosferatu. A rogue, no less.

  I step forward and press my stake to his chest, finding his undead heart, and cleaving it in two.

  He disintegrates in a shower of dust, and Suzette, Gaspard, and Yvette make short work of the others Gregor and the House have contained.

  In moments, it’s over.

  The House lets out a deep breath of air it should not be able to command. Suzette sinks to her knees beside the fish pond. Gaspard holds Yvette as she shudders with relieved sobs. I turn away as it hurts too much to watch their profound relief. And I notice, then, the devastation the Evil Ones have wrought. The House assures me; it will right it in due course. No doubt, when it has recovered more fully.

  I let out a stuttered breath.

  It was close. We almost lost. If not for the two vampires who stand in the middle of the garden and watch me; eyes shining brightly.

  The blood must affect them, but they do not show it. They are far from rogue.

  “Thank you,” I say, fisting my hand across my chest and bowing. “It is not nearly enough. But thank you.”

  They bow back, hands fisted across hearts, but say nothing.

  “If there is ever a time,” I say, feeling the House agree with what I have planned, “when you need my assistance, please do not hesitate. This House is for Nosferatin and their Kindred, but we owe you a debt we cannot pay.”

  “Perhaps,” Michel says in his steady and low voice, “there will one day come a time when we can both honour the House’s purpose.”

  I’m not sure what he means by that, but in the next heartbeat, the vampire is gone.

  I shudder at the amount of Sanguis Vitam he has at his command to effect such a seamless motion.

  I look toward Gregor, then. Is he as strong? He stares up at the House as the moon comes out from behind a cloud and illuminates the old brickwork. It looks stunning.

  “He will not reveal the House’s secrets,” Gregor tells me, eyes still on the House.

  “He may have no choice to reveal them to the Champion,” I counter.

  Gregor smiles softly. “You do not know Michel as well as I do. If it is necessary, he will banish the memories of this place from his mind. He will build a mental wall around them that will only fall at a certain time. He has plans, I think. He does not tell me all of them. But Michel Durand is a vampyre who will rule the world one day.”

  “How does the Champion feel about that?”

  Gregor laughs. “She covets what she cannot have and seeks to control that which she thinks she can.”

  I nod my head. Who am I to speak on such matters?

  “You will be hunted,” Gregor says. “Perhaps even in the Champion’s city. The Iunctio has not offered protection, only a place to stay. Be careful, Nosferatin, trust few, welcome fewer into your garden. I will not always be here to keep you safe.”

  “You’re leaving?” I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  “I have done what I set out to do. The House is bonded again. And I have a hankering to see Rome.”

  “Will you come back and visit us?”

  “Perhaps. I may even send trustworthy vampires your way. You will need to join with someone.” But not him. And not Michel.

  I have time. But an introduction would help smooth the way.

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that,” I say.

  Gregor nods, reaches out and touches the wall of the House, and then walks away. The gate opens for him. It shuts behind him.

  The House lets out a sad wail.

  “It’s all right,” I tell it. “We’re here now. We’ll keep you safe.”

  A flower blossoms beside me. I smile as I reach down and
pluck it, stem and all. Then walk across the still broken garden to Suzette. I lean down and offer her the bloom.

  She looks up at my face.

  “We’re safe now, aren’t we, Yves?” she asks.

  “As safe as Nosferatins can be in this world, ma chérie.”

  She blushes, lifts the rose to her nose, and inhales.

  Gaspard and Yvette step out of the House, then, carrying the young ones. Pierre squeals when he sees me. Fabienne claps her chubby little hands.

  “We’re home,” I tell them. “We’re safe.”

  “‘Ome,” Pierre says, snuggling down to sleep on Gaspard’s shoulder.

  “Home sweet home,” Suzette tells him, standing and slipping her free hand into mine, fingers lacing.

  This is my family. My nest. My heart and soul and everything. I will do my best to keep them safe, to care for them and protect them.

  I pull Suzette close, look up at the House, and repeat with conviction, “Home sweet home.”

  The House settles, the garden comes to life around us, the silver-tipped arrows and splotches of tar and blood are swept away.

  We came to Paris seeking a safe place and found it; found more than I could have ever thought possible. It is a miracle. We are blessed by our goddess.

  The House reaches out and wraps us up in its magic, proving just how much Nut blesses us.

  It’s a magic that comforts. And, I realise, as we make our way into the abode, that the comfort goes both ways.

  The House is alive with contentment, settling more and more with each passing day. House Nosferatin in Paris is not deserted any longer. It is open, and warm, and safe, and waiting for any Nosferatin who might need it to enter.

  And I’ll help it along its way.

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