Life was good. She was a vampire, but that was good.
She couldn’t have asked for anything else.
October 19th, 2000
9:20 A.M.
At 65 years of age, Victoria Palmer had held the position of Head Witch for the Twelve North American Covens for almost forty years. Not many had reigned for as long as she had and the witches under her tenure wished she could keep the position for another forty years if she could. The inevitability of time had taken away her youth, but she was still a beautiful woman. Her jet black hair had never turned white, her black skin had kept her face smooth, and her green eyes shone as bright as they did in her youth.
Witches weren’t immortal like the vampires and werewolves were, they were extraordinary human beings who'd been given the ability to control the physical universe.
For Victoria, her gifts involved sensing chemical imbalances in the brain that allowed her to feel when someone wasn't being truthful. In her Covens, when a witch could tell if someone lied, they called them empaths.
It had once amused Victoria how society believed witches owned magic because a preternatural force endowed them with this power in return for their eternal souls. Their magic wasn't based on the fantastic (like the atmokinetics controlling the weather, the ghosts becoming invisible or the deleters erasing memories); it was based on their ability to control matter. The physical universe still limited their world. They were not omnipotent.
What they could do was difficult to explain, and no scientist had ever proven any theories or tested their powers, yet the fact they controlled their world in a way the rest of humanity couldn't was still a fact. Witches were special, and as long as they channeled their powers for good, a blessing to mankind.
Victoria entered the Colorado Coven building through the newly installed glass sliding doors. The entire building was being renovated. It’d been built in the late 1800s and Victoria herself had suggested an upgrade to accommodate for the ever-growing technological world. With the help of the vampires, she would assure their technology was so ahead of their time it could last for another hundred years - or until the new Head Witch deemed it necessary.
There were workers all around the two-story building, and as she crossed the main lobby to reach her office, she greeted the men who were replacing the old ceramic tile for stone. It would still be a few months, perhaps even a year, before they finished the work they had started. It would be worth the expense and bother, she was sure. This was the legacy she was leaving behind for the next generation to enjoy.
Unlocking her office, she stepped inside her heaven. She'd owned the same office for almost four decades and it felt like a second home. Victoria listened to the soothing sound of the small fountain she'd had installed on the wall ten years ago. The water fell on the rocks being illuminated by a blue light. For this current renovation, her window was the first to change; she had long wanted to have a wider glass to allow the brightness of the sun to light her office. Untouched behind her desk, was a wide old bookshelf that held tome after tome of her collection of books which she used when she needed to learn, needed advice, or longed for a few minutes of relaxation.
Outside her window there was a garden with a row of pine trees placed in a way they hid their location from the rest of the world. The garden had new flowers, and she had purchased the quaintest little benches and picnic tables for the rest of the witches to use during their gatherings. The Colorado Coven met once every week, but the leaders of the Twelve Covens met to discuss their progress and to report their activities with the vampires once a month. Victoria made time to sit with each leader to discuss each witch as an individual, making sure they were in good health physically and spiritually. She made it a priority to make sure their lives had meaning, that their families and loved ones supported them, and to help anyone who needed the help of their sisters.
To Victoria, they were more than a series of Covens; they were family.
Victoria had learned a lot from Lucius, the leader of the vampire agency. She shared his philosophy and goals. Like him, Victoria believed their purpose in this world was to work hard to help solve humanity’s problems beyond their natural means, and to help them survive supernatural threats. During her regime, it had all worked well. Her relationship with Lucius was strong, their communication open, and their goals united. Vampires and witches working together in harmony.
And yet, something was bringing unbalance to the world around her.
She could feel it. She could feel it like she felt the tingling in her entire body whenever someone told a lie. Something was happening; something that disturbed her sleep. Ever since the werewolf had spoken at The Pecan, her feeling of loss grew stronger. She was an empath, and perhaps her power was broader than she ever knew because nothing terrible had happened before and these new feelings felt like an omen.
Or perhaps… or perhaps it was all in her imagination. Perhaps she was just growing older and her power was failing her.
She swung her long skirt from side to side as she walked around her desk. Dropping her purse on the table, she sat down; the first thing she did was make a phone call, taking the receiver to her ear. Her long-nailed hand, filled with rings and bracelets that clicked and clacked, dialed a number. She waited, but no one picked up the phone; she refused to worry.
Strange, she thought instead. She feared her dark feeling meant something real, but it was useless to worry before there was any evidence of a real threat. When no one answered at the Texas Coven’s main office, she tried the next number she knew.
“Hello,” a familiar voice answered. “This is Montana’s Bridal Shop.” A cover, Victoria knew. “May I help you?”
“Mary,” Victoria exhaled in relief when she recognized the voice. “How are you?”
“Ms. Palmer,” Mary sounded both glad and unsure about the call. “Would you like to speak to Ms. Barnes?”
“Oh, no, Mary, thank you.” Victoria was filled with relief. Deep down she'd expected no one to answer, which resulted in her hesitation with the young witch on the other end. “I’m sorry, child, I don't call for any official matter. I called to make sure everything was all right over there. I had a feeling, I-”
“A feeling?” Victoria hadn’t meant to scare anyone, much less Mary, the sweet girl who had the power to become invisible. “What do you mean? Is there something wrong? Maybe you do need to speak to Ms. Bar-”
“No, child. You needn't worry.” the Head Witch tried to use her calmest voice as she stopped the young girl from getting to the wrong conclusion. “I’m getting old and just wanted to check on you, that’s all. Please tell me you are all right and I will let you go.”
“As far as I know we are, Ms. Palmer,” Mary offered. She repeated her offer, “Would you like to talk to Ms. Barnes?”
“No, no. Don’t bother her.” She then had another thought, “Mary, would you be a dear and call the Texas Coven for me? I seem to have trouble getting ahold of them.”
"Oh, that’s because they’re having problems with the phone company," Mary was quick to explain. "They messaged us about an hour ago."
“I see.” Victoria had not gotten this message from Lily, her personal assistant. Either that or she hadn’t seen it.
“Yes, Ms. Barnes sent a message to Mrs. Gordon earlier this morning, and she answered back with a beeper message.”
This made her feel a little better. “Well, that’s all well and good, Mary. Thank you. You have brought peace back to my heart.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Victoria felt Mary’s genuine pleasure on the other side of the line. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Palmer?”
Victoria smiled, “No, child. Have a wonderful day.” With that, she hung up the phone.
For a minute, she sat there paralyzed staring at the phone before her. It was true she felt relief, but for some reason the sense of unease lingered. Deciding she wouldn’t be all right until she made sure the Twelve Covens were safe, she prepared to make m
ore phone calls.
Out of the remaining ten covens, four answered. Victoria would tell Lily to keep trying to contact them throughout the day. The situation was most peculiar. Perhaps it wasn’t just a feeling like she wanted to believe. Perhaps there was a part of her magic trying to warn her something was about to happen. Or worse, what if something had already happened?
Before calling Lily in, there was a number she hadn’t dialed. A number she knew by heart. A number she had used every single day for the past forty years.
Victoria Palmer called the director of the vampire agency.
October 19th, 2000
10:18 A.M.
“Tell me more about your past,” Rebecca said as she cut the hot omelet Dylan had placed in front of her. “Like, what was it like? You know? In the past? I mean, you lived in the early 1900s… that’s like, surreal.”
Dylan couldn’t help but chuckle. It was true, he was old. He'd been born almost a century ago; in 1904 in Manhattan New York. This wasn’t the first time Rebecca had asked him about his past and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. In the past year, she'd asked to talk about what his life had been like before he became a vampire. He'd been secretive at first, but once Rebecca became a vampire she forced him to remember what he'd forgotten. Every time she seemed to require more details about his past.
Rebecca enjoyed listening to the same stories over and over, each time with a little more. It was becoming his least favorite part of her, and he wondered if it was better if he asked her to stop asking. Not that he didn’t want to tell her, it was more because he didn’t care to remember. Couldn’t she see that? “I’ve told you what it was like many times. I was a cook. I worked at a hotel. New York looked like New York.”
“Except for the roads, right?”
“The roads, right.” Rebecca found that intriguing while Dylan found it dull. “As cars became more popular, we got more paved roads. That’s all. As I remember the city, it wasn’t much different from how it looks today. Maybe some of the new buildings look a bit more… well, modern, but there were buildings back then, too. Many of them.”
“And Broadway?” Rebecca asked. “When I lived there, I loved going to Broadway plays and musicals. I got the discounted tickets you get if you show up before the show starts. Did you have that then?”
“We had plays,” he replied. “I didn’t have money, so I didn’t go to any of those things. But there were theaters. More and more as the years progressed. I don't know how they decided theaters should all be built in the same general area, but ever since I was a child, they were there.”
Rebecca stared at him in fascination. Dylan couldn't understand why it was so important to her; he answered just because it made her happy. He answered because he felt he owed it to her to tell her what he'd neglected to tell her when she was human. But he was getting tired of the same questions. Would she keep demanding them if he told her to stop? Would she remind him it was he who took her away from her human life? Or would she bring up the reason why he'd chosen her again? A reason he didn't care to explain.
“I really can’t remember very much, just bits and pieces,” Dylan continued. Sitting down across from her in the tiny breakfast table, he pointed at her omelet in an attempt to change the subject, “Your omelet is getting cold.”
Her eyes lit up as if the vegetarian omelet Dylan had prepared for her had magically appeared before her. Eating a few bites, she returned to the topic at hand, “I wonder why you can’t remember your family. Weird, right?”
He shook his head as he finished what he’d put in his mouth. She didn’t give up. “I rarely saw them,” he started again after swallowing. “It wasn’t like today. Besides, we didn’t have a lot of money and I spent most of my time with my dad, working. I remember him - or at least, I remember parts of him. He took me to his hotel, and I became an apprentice cook there.”
“And your mom?”
“She stayed home. She was nice, I suppose. Becca,” he sighed, “this happened a long time ago.”
“I know,” she offered a quick smile. She knew she was getting on his nerves. “It’s just fascinating, that’s all.”
“What is? My parents?”
“That you’re so old,” she told him. “It makes me wonder what it’ll be like for me when I’m that old. I wonder if I’ll forget all about my past like you did.”
He didn’t think so. “It’s different. You have a picture of your parents right there on the mantel,” he pointed to the electric fireplace a few feet away, “You remember them because you see them there every day. When I was a child, we didn’t have pictures of our family at home. Pictures weren’t cheap. We couldn’t just go buy a disposable camera at the shop for a dollar or however much they cost.”
She considered what he said. “You have a point.”
“Besides,” he continued, “There’s TV, movies… all kinds of records of life now. I’m not saying there isn’t any record of the world when I was younger, but there is a fraction of what it’s available now. It’s better if you watch reenactments of the old times on the television, I’m sure.”
After taking another fork-full of eggs, she said, “I still wish I could have seen it.”
“New York?” he guessed. “You’ve seen it.”
“We should visit,” she said. “I’d take you to Broadway, we could watch musicals and, oh, the ballet. I love ballet.” She was now jumping in her seat. Dylan hated to admit it, but he found that adorable. Rebecca was still young, and there was a fire in her that still lived. The vampire in her still hadn’t changed her as it had him.
Dylan looked at her mischievously. “Anton lives there. He owns a building and lives in the penthouse. I could call him. We could stay with him.” He knew Rebecca hated Anton Mayflower, the vampire who had made Dylan, because he’d tortured her during the test the agency had put her through to allow her to become a certified agent. She hadn’t understood who he was when he was dropped out of a helicopter at the end of the test with the sole purpose of making her lose control of herself.
Dylan was certain Rebecca would have hated Anton even if she'd met him under normal circumstances. He was an arrogant socialite. If he hadn’t found him and turned him into a werewolf hunter, Dylan wouldn’t stand him either.
The unexpected answer came. “Sure. We can stay with him,” Rebecca agreed.
“You can’t be serious?” Had she said it to test him?
“Why not? I could use a vacation. We could use a vacation. Life can’t be living underground all the time. I became a vampire, not a mole.”
Her humor was refreshing. She'd lightened up, becoming the person he’d met when she was human. After everything that had happened with the werewolf, Will, she was still herself. He'd thought she'd changed after killing her first werewolf, but he'd been wrong.
Rebecca brought him back from his thoughts. “Come on, Dylan. When was the last time you went on vacation?”
A vacation. Dylan never took days off. In fact, having announced he would take a day off to be with Rebecca was something new to him. He couldn’t imagine taking a week off and disappearing off the grid. He knew he was a workaholic; he even worked during the weekends, and if there weren’t any werewolf threats, then he would spend the day training or at the shooting range. He always had something to do related to his line of work. Always.
Once more he reflected on how his life had changed ever since Rebecca had come live with him. Taking days off wasn’t the only change he’d made since he'd brought Rebecca to the agency. For one, he now ate three meals a day. Before Rebecca had come, he hadn’t eaten regular food since the 1980s. The only thing he had consumed was blood, which meant he spent many years without a night’s sleep. Who needed sleep with a broken heart and a-?
No. He didn’t even want to think about her. With Rebecca by his side, he’d moved on. The last thing he needed was a reminder of her, although the director of the vampire agency keep telling him he needed to talk to Rebecca about it. He needed to tell her w
hy it had to be her and not someone else who became his partner.
He wasn’t ready to relive the past. He couldn't predict how Rebecca would take the truth. The only thing he knew for sure was the more time he let pass, the more difficult it would become. But, how do you tell the person you love now she is a replacement for the one he loved then?
Besides, it wasn’t like he'd lied to her, it was more like he'd concealed a truth. That wasn’t lying. It wasn’t. Whenever he told her, it would be irrational for her to take it the wrong way. If every passing day Rebecca was more vampire than human, he hoped she would just dismiss it as an afterthought when he decided to tell her the truth.
It wasn’t a big deal, was it? Although, if it wasn’t, why hadn’t he told her already?
“Dylan?”
He’d heard a question, but hadn’t paid attention to her words. “Sorry?”
“I said, we should go to a movie.”
“Sure.” He didn’t want to argue, he had more important things on his mind. “What do you want to watch?”
“I heard there’s one about Dracula playing.”
He snorted in amusement. “You’re joking, right? You can’t possibly want to go see a movie about vampires.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re stupid, Becca, that’s why,” Dylan dismissed the suggestion, going back to his breakfast. He stopped chewing when he noticed she didn’t think it was stupid. Rebecca stared at him, clearly upset. “Oh, you’re serious?”
“I love vampire movies.”
He frowned at that, “You’re a vampire. A real vampire. What possible pleasure could come from watching a movie where the vampires will do things we don’t do?”
“They amuse me.”
Again, he didn’t want to argue. Except… “The last time I went to see a vampire movie I saw Nosferatu, and it was a horrible misconception of what vampires are. It was offensive.”
The Fall of Witchcraft Page 4
