I guess I hadn’t really been paying close enough attention but I nodded like I remembered what she was talking about. “Right, like she was crowning Sebastian with Iago’s crown or something. I get it. So, then, doesn’t Iago giving Sebastian the world mean, like, ‘I surrender?’ ”
She frowned, shaking her head. “Come on, Avery, he was being ironic. Telling Sebastian the job isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, didn’t you get that?”
I sighed. “This gift-giving is insane. You do realize that, don’t you?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I agree but you need to start reading into things around here. Almost every Order custom has layers of meaning and can be used to express any number of things.”
“Okay,” I said. “So what’s the deal with Geoffrey, then? He gave Sebastian an antique bible. You said Sebastian used to be a bishop, so was that Geoffrey saying ‘I’m with you’ or, like, ‘you’re not the guy you used to be?’ ”
She smiled at me for the first time. “That’s the kind of thinking I’m talking about. I don’t blame you for being confused. Geoffrey’s gift was deliberately ambiguous. My clue, though, was that the bible was left open to Psalm fifty-eight. The first lines are:
‘Do ye indeed speak righteousness, O Congregation?
Do ye judge uprightly, O ye sons of men?
Yea, in heart ye work wickedness;
ye weigh the violence of your hands in the earth.’
Sebastian’s used that very Psalm dozens of times when speaking about the Hegemony, especially Iago,” she continued. “However twisted the rest of his mind has become, Sebastian still thinks he’ll be doing the world a favor by eliminating Iago and taking control.”
I watched her expressions while she spoke, the way she curled up a bit in the chair. She was uncertain and worried. “What’s up with Iago, anyway? I mean, he seemed kinda pathetic tonight but is he, you know, faking or what?”
“I hope so,” she admitted, toying with a lock of hair near her ear. “Something happened to him in the 1800’s, some personal catastrophe—Sebastian doesn’t know what and I haven’t been able to find out anywhere else. Since then, he’s been subdued, almost listless. In the years I’ve been around, he’s done what he had to and nothing more. Unfortunately, he’s our best hope. As Judicis, I believe it’s within his power to force Sebastian to Release us.”
“Excellent. So, what’s the catch?”
“He’ll want something from us in return.”
“Something that helps stop Sebastian from getting his job, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay,” I said. “What?”
“I have no idea.”
I smiled before I realized she wasn’t joking. “Okay, then, how does getting Released help us if Sebastian’s still running America when we’re done?”
She moved over to the bed and sat next to me. “It doesn’t. Iago’s plan to save himself has to involve removing Sebastian as Hegemon of North America. When that happens, Geoffrey will use his seniority to get himself appointed to North America—he’s had his eye on it since World War Two and I’m betting that’s what Sebastian will offer him for his support. The reason that we need to be the ones to tip the scales is that we can bargain for the freedom to move to one of Neutral Territories in South America. That’s the only place we’d be allowed to live outside The Order.”
“I was wondering about that. Guess I’ll have to brush up on my Spanish.”
She gave me a faint smile. “Well, that’s a long shot. Most likely we’ll have to remain in The Order, which means taking a position. I’m hoping to impress Iago enough that he’ll take us on as his Adjutors—hardly a stress-free position but safe enough. We’d get to travel the world too…” She gazed off for a moment, daydreaming.
With my highly-attuned Boyfriend’s Intuition, I determined that my girlfriend needed to be held, so I put my arms around her, careful not to mess up her hair or dress. She put her arm around my back and leaned her head gently against my neck.
“Any other options?”
She sighed. “I trade on my knowledge and experience with the Domain to keep my current position when Geoffrey takes over.”
“I thought Geoffrey only takes over if Sebastian wins.”
“No, he’ll get North America either way,” she said, hugging me. “Once Iago appears to be winning, Geoffrey will stab Sebastian in the back and pretend he was supporting Iago all along. Then he’ll use his seniority to take Sebastian’s Domain as his share of the spoils. Probably work a deal to give Valmont the U.K. so Julia won’t object.”
I just shook my head, feeling somewhere between amusement and disgust. “All right, this is assuming that Iago’s got some great secret plan to save himself. What if he doesn’t? What if he’s just as clueless as he seems, like maybe he’s got some Vampyr version of Alzheimer’s or something?”
“Then we’re doomed. If Sebastian becomes Judicis, tradition dictates that all Uninitiated Pupils be either Released or killed.” Her calm as she discussed these possibilities was eerie and I realized she was doing her clinical thing again, treating our situation like some hypothetical case. “We’d go to Geoffrey, of course but he’d make us sell our very souls before lifting a finger to save us. Then we—and our feelings for each other—would be used until we were of no more use to him. Then he’d dispose of us.”
And here I’d thought Geoffrey was the nice one! As scared as I was, I could only imagine how nerve-racking this must have been for Caroline. She’d been living with these possibilities and choices for weeks now and I could feel the tension in her body like a rubber band twisted almost to the point of snapping. I kissed the top of her forehead.
“You smell very nice.”
She laughed a little and kissed my neck. “Thanks.”
I eased her down onto the bed and propped myself up beside her.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Just making us a little more comfortable,” I said with a straight face. “My back was getting a little sore.”
“Uh-huh.”
I laid my head on her shoulder and draped an arm over her chest, both to keep her from getting up as well as caress the other side of her neck. “As you were saying?”
“Avery, we don’t really have time to get comfortable, we have to leave soon.” Even as she was saying it, though, she snuggled closer to me and rested a hand on my ribcage.
I kissed the softness behind her ear. “So, we’re gonna try to see Iago tonight, right?”
Sigh. “You’re not even listening.”
“Am so.” Kiss. Lick. Kiss.
“Mmm. No, you’re kissing.”
“I can do both.” Kiss. “I’m a multi-tasker.”
“Tonight we meet with Draco.”
The chill that ran up my spine snapped my head up to look at her. “What? Count Orlock? Did you see the look he gave me when he found out I was fair game?”
She caressed my cheek. “As long as you behave correctly, he can’t do anything without Sebastian’s permission. We need him to get to Iago.”
“How so?”
“Because,” Caroline said, falling into that Eva Marie Saint rhythm again. “Iago has no reason to agree to see us and plenty of reasons not to but if his trusted and very traditional lieutenant approaches him on behalf of Sebastian’s Uninitiated Pupils, I think he’ll be intrigued enough to agree. And why is Draco going to do this for us, you wonder?”
I nodded.
“Because he owes me a personal favor. Many years ago, I gave Draco something he desperately wanted—behind Sebastian’s back. Draco expressed his gratitude in the form of a personal favor before he discovered that it was me he owed. Not the type to go back on his word, Draco’s been waiting for me to find some way to cancel this debt without breaking tradition, which was next to impossible because I wasn’t allowed to speak or communicate with him in any way. But you are!”
Caroline’s the kind of person who gets excited by intellectual idea
s and possibilities the way other people get excited by sports. “Don’t you see? Sebastian gave us a very small lever when he allowed you to be treated as a servant and we’re going to see how much we can move with it!”
How perfectly ironic that Sebastian’s insistence on degrading me should prove to be the key to our escape! For the first time since our capture, I felt a welcome surge of optimism.
“I love you,” I whispered.
She pulled me closer and met me halfway, attacking my lips with ravenous affection. Her mouth was still sweet with the sugary blood of Helmut’s desserts and I kissed her like we’d been separated for years instead of mere hours.
When we paused to catch our breath, I felt her lipstick on my mouth and wiped it off with my handkerchief. Then I said, “Smeared your lipstick,” and wiped her lips clean.
“Avery,” she said as I kissed her throat and worked my way to her pulse. “We … don’t have … time…”
I licked the fine hairs in front of her ear and kissed the area a few times before taking the entirety of her earlobe into my mouth. “We should…” she moaned as I dragged the lobe between my teeth and manipulated the emerald stud with my tongue.
My hand found its way beneath the layers of her dress and slid up the length of a silk-clad leg until it reached the bare flesh of her thigh. “…leave,” she sighed. Then her hand opened my zipper and found what it wanted.
The caress of her hand sent a ripple of current through my body and I pressed into her, tongue seeking and thrusting. My hand slid up into the junction of her thighs and stroked her favorite rhythm.
Our kiss became a mutual feeding frenzy, as though we could taste our potential liberation on each other’s breaths. The possibility of discovery added something dangerous and exotic to our passion as we climbed higher together, our bodies, minds and hearts in perfect concert. We finished together, breathless and content in each other’s arms.
It was the last time we were completely happy.
* * * * *
After making ourselves presentable, I ran downstairs to get the bottle of blood liquor Caroline specified.
I took a deep breath as we reached Draco’s door and felt the same quivering in my belly that I remember from when I did the school play.
Caroline gave me a nod and I knocked.
A few seconds passed before the door swung open and one of the Revenants stood face to face with me. They smell like dog shit with rotten eggs mixed in and look exactly like the decomposing corpses they are. One had long, scraggly hair, while the other only had a few clumps left and a bunch of open sores. They were dressed in Soviet military uniforms with long, gray overcoats. Long Hair’s dull, clay colored eyes studied us while I waited and tried not to breathe through my nose. After a few sniffs of the air, the creature moved aside for its master.
Draco is about six feet tall and broad-chested. He wears these uniforms that look like Marine dress except jet-black with silver buttons, buckles, epaulet piping and embroidery on the high-necked collar. A black silk cape hangs from the epaulets down to the back of his knees and his charcoal gray trousers tuck into knee-high SS boots. They go nicely with the leather gloves he always wears.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lowered my eyes and spoke the first of the lines Caroline had made me memorize. “My apologies, Majesty, for the lateness of the hour but my Creator has asked that I deliver a message and this poor token of thanks for your patience.”
Keeping my head bowed, I held out the bottle and he took it.
“Type O Positive female blood,” he rumbled, reading the label. “Pure Sicilian ancestry, seventeen years of age. Infused with Chianti Riserva, Nineteen Hundred and Fifty Two and chilled to the proper temperature, I see.” He paused for a few tense moments and said, “I accept your master’s gift in the spirit given. Perform your charge.”
My heart fluttered and I had to swallow again. “My Creator claims the personal debt she is owed.”
There was another silence, longer this time, before Draco pitched his voice low. “Enter.”
Because of its location overlooking the entrance hall, the suite is two stories high and seems cavernous. The darkness adds to the effect by making it hard to define where the space ends. Taking a moment to let our eyes adjust, my attention was drawn to the upper loft where Open Sores watched us. I had no trouble believing he could leap down onto us anywhere in the room from that height.
An Italian opera played on a record player. I heard the scratching of the vinyl as it echoed across the space.
Beside us, a heavy tapestry hung suspended on a rod between the loft and the wall, acting as a screen that divided the large main room into smaller spaces. The tapestry features a panoramic view of some medieval battle in which both Revenants and Guaiwu were participants. Draco is depicted astride a gigantic armored warhorse wearing a black suit of spiked armor and a helmet with demonic-looking horns. His eyes glow and fire streams from his gauntleted hands.
A large, ornate fireplace sits on the angled stone wall with a small grouping of heavy Mediterranean furniture. The blaze from the fireplace was the only thing illuminating the blood red walls. It reminded me of the sets in Son of Frankenstein, expressionistically imposing to the extreme.
Caroline and I walked over to the fireplace where, as per her earlier instructions, I remained standing across from Draco’s chair. Caroline took the seat beside me and we waited while Long Hair brought a golden goblet and poured some of the blood I’d brought for its master.
Draco gulped the Chianti blood in a series of enthusiastic swallows. Holding the empty goblet up for Long Hair to refill, he belched and pronounced it, “A most excellent vintage.” He looked at me with the roaring fire reflected on the lenses of his sunglasses and gestured for me to begin.
It seems like such a simple thing to do, just stand there and say some prepared lines but I’ve told you what Draco’s presence was like. Here in his rooms, it doubled. The stench of the Revenants permeated the walls, the furniture and the air itself. I became conscious of Long Hair’s bony, clawed fingers and how quickly they could tear my throat out. Above his head, I saw Open Sores hunched at the railing, bathed in the faint red light of the windows, also waiting for the command to leap down onto me.
Draco is famous for having people tortured or killed for a perceived slight. For instance, about twenty-five years ago, he had one of Julia’s servants publicly emasculated and then forced to eat his own severed organ for smiling during an apology. The unfortunate servant is still in Julia’s household and his service continues to be requested by Draco whenever he’s in residence there.
I really wish Caroline hadn’t told me some of those stories.
“Hegemon Draco,” I began. “I come bearing my Creator’s suit that you should, uh, recommend to the Ju—that His Exaltedness, the Judicis, agree to grant my Creator a private audience.”
I felt Caroline take my hand in hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. Her touch steadied me, though I didn’t dare look down at her.
Draco settled back into his chair, which for all its intricately carved wood didn’t look very comfortable. Long Hair stepped back to a waiting position at his master’s shoulder, still holding the bottle. Draco sipped from his goblet and appeared to stare at me the entire time.
“Should I provide my own reason for this recommendation?”
Unable to avoid a darted glance at Caroline, I said, “No, Majesty. If it pleases you, you might, uh, tell His Exaltedness that he has an ally he, um, may not have known of within his enemy’s camp.”
I’d been speaking corny, formal dialogue like this for years in role-playing games but never with so much pressure to perform it correctly.
“Don’t forget, I would prefer his recommendation not be revealed to be the fulfillment of a debt, though I doubt he’ll want to tell the Judicis that anyway,” Caroline said, as if Draco wasn’t sitting right there. I turned back, my nervousness increasing but the older Vampyr just waited as if Caroline honestly d
idn’t exist. Another of those would-have-been-funny-if-I-wasn’t-ready-to-piss-my-pants-in-terror kinda things.
“Also, if it pleases you, my Creator would prefer that your recommendation not be revealed to be the fulfillment of a debt,” I paraphrased.
“Say this to your Creator in my stead: private matters between honorable persons remain so,” Draco rumbled. “I shall carry out your Creator’s request at first opportunity. Mark me closely tomorrow evening, for if the Judicis grants the audience, then it will be I who will play escort. If I make no call for your service that night, then your Creator’s audience has been denied and I am relieved of my obligation. Do not seek to press me further, for I will not be tolerant. Be gone.”
I made a quick bow and headed for the door, never happier to follow a command in my life. Part of me waited for Draco’s voice to boom out behind me, ordering me to come back, or worse, to feel the clawed fingers of one of the Revenants clutch my arm because I’d committed some deadly breach of etiquette. But I made it to the door intact and, despite my writhing intestines, retained enough of my inner gentleman to allow Caroline to proceed me out.
Once safely in the gallery with the door closed, Caroline and I both expelled the pent-up breaths we’d been holding and threw our arms around each other.
“We did it, Avery,” she whispered, burying her face in my collar. “God help us, it’s begun.”
I just held her, not trusting myself to speak.
PART THREE
The Order has always maintained that it is better to control groups than individuals. Since humans form groups to control themselves and others of their kind, this is entirely logical. Also, powerful individuals are often unpredictable and defiant, whereas the reactions of a “herd” are well understood by the Vampyr. For example, the North American Hegemon doesn’t control the President of the United States; he controls the Republican and Democratic parties from which all presidents are chosen.
Ancient Blood: A Novel of the Hegemony (The Order Saga Book 1) Page 8
