by Megan Derr
When he found the bastard who had hexed Devlin and stolen him away, not even Devlin would be able to keep him from making a feast of the man. He'd not had such sustenance in a very long time.
Midnight had never wasted time feeling guilty about what he was or what he wanted. He was neither a vampire nor a goblin, yet craved human blood and flesh the same as those races. He was no zombie, soul stolen away by a sorcerer, yet his soul and his breath and his heartbeat were not his own. He was not one of the shapeshifters, yet he had that ability. He was bits and pieces of all kinds of nightwalkers, the sort of creature that even other nightwalkers called a monster. He was a living corpse, there was no way around that single fact.
That did occasionally trouble him, for he wanted Devlin badly. His feelings in regards to Devlin had never been simple affection, had never been what a son felt for a father. Even when he was too young to understand how he felt, he knew with a certainty he would never call Devlin father.
He had tried again and again to get Devlin to see it, until he had finally begun to hate his nature, for perhaps his being essentially a corpse was simply too much for Devlin to endure.
But that kiss… He wanted another one. He wanted a thousand of them, a million, and far more than kisses. Too many times to count he had dreamed and plotted, fretted and hoped and longed for the day he would finally overcome Devlin's damnable honor and sense of obligation and all that rot.
He wanted Devlin back. If he had to tear apart that damned priest and every other creature and man who stood in his path, he would do so. He preferred to hold the worst of his draugr nature in check, but despite the spell Devlin had so cleverly and lovingly crafted, Midnight was a draugr.
Devlin was his loved one, most precious to him. If Midnight had to feast upon a thousand souls in order to get Devlin back, he would do it, and lick the blood from his lips with relish.
Vampires
Midnight was stirred from his black, bloody thoughts by the opening of the door.
Barra cocked a brow at him. "The sky is not even wholly dark and you're awake?"
"I do not sleep well when I cannot feel him," Midnight replied, shoving his messy hair from his face. Throwing back the bedding, he slid from bed and allowed Barra to fuss over him, guiding him to a bath and then into his clothes. One of his favorite jackets, in fact. Midnight had been vastly amused to see that Devlin had never noticed Barra had packed for the three of them, even though Midnight had been ordered to stay home.
Knowing Devlin, he would never notice.
Midnight admired the jacket into which he was put. It was a red so deep it was nearly black, worked with a faint, subtle skull and roses pattern, the thorny vines weaving in and out of the mouth and eye sockets of the skulls.
His jewels tonight were rubies and onyx set in gleaming gold. Nestled in dark lace, they provided the final touch.
"So what do you intend to do tonight?" Barra asked. "I am afraid our daylight work has not turned up much, especially since—despite his protest—Neirin cannot yet move around a great deal, or for very long."
Midnight smirked and tweaked Barra's nose playfully. "I am certain you are providing the greatest of care, dear Barra. You are always attentive."
Barra rolled his eyes, but there was no mistaking his happiness.
Sobering, Midnight said, "I am going priest hunting tonight. I will find him, or find a way to bring him to me. If we find him, we can make the rat squeal and give away his master. I cannot think of another way we will be able to find the bloody sorcerer who took Devlin."
He started to say more, but paused when he heard the outer door open and close and noticed the way Barra brightened. Tweaking falls of lace into their proper place, Midnight tied his hair neatly back with a ribbon the exact color of his jacket then strode into the main room.
He sketched a playful but elegant bow to Neirin and Troyes, and Neirin returned the bow. "You are looking well rested, Master Midnight."
"As do you, Sir Neirin, especially given the recent insults and injuries inflicted upon your noble person," Midnight replied, grinning. "I guess wolf-elf tonic is a most noteworthy cure."
"Indeed it is," Neirin said, smiling, eyes hot as they looked past Midnight to where Barra stood behind him.
Barra growled low in amusement and embarrassment but did not shy away when Troyes padded toward him and butted into him playfully.
"So we are slayer hunting this evening?" Neirin asked.
Midnight nodded. "Yes, but be careful, Winsted is good at what he does, though I hate to say it. Even Devlin considers him dangerous."
Neirin made a face. "I see. I confess we were not able to deduce a good starting point. I've little experience with this manner of hunt, and while I am passingly acquainted with slayers, I have never encountered a sorcerer who could summon and control draugr. Why would anyone want to? Present company excluded, of course."
Midnight gave a half-bow in acknowledgment, then hummed thoughtfully. "Well, draugr have been summoned before in history. Ancient groups have been known to cause draugr to stir simply to use them as a cheap army, but it was risky since draugr have no concept of loyalty beyond protecting those things precious to them. The nature of these attacks does not seem to be in that vein. I cannot yet tell the sorcerer's ultimate purpose." He frowned suddenly. "At that, I do not hear the song anymore. Why would it stop?"
"Perhaps because the bastard has Devlin? He may be trying something new," Barra suggested. "I think the only thing we know, at this point, is that we know nothing."
Midnight grimaced. "So if I were an angry, self-righteous, pompous ass who had recently carried out a personal vendetta in the name of God, where would I be?"
"Scurrying back to London with all due haste, if you were smart," Barra replied. "Barring that, the sorcerer still has need of him, so he is likely about somewhere."
He wished Devlin were there. Longing for his Heartbeat aside, they simply were not the same without Devlin. Though Devlin frequently said he could not manage without their assistance, the truth was that they were only assistants. They supported him; Devlin was the one with the talent for such things. "I think," Midnight said at last, "that we need to speak with the territory Dracula."
Barra's brows went up. "That's going to be interesting. Haven't met many of those, and the circumstances are hardly ideal."
Midnight worried his bottom lip. "Well, Lord Tamor and the vampires trusted Devlin to see to this affair. Devlin has been kidnapped—that changes everything. The Dracula, and eventually our demon lord, need to know. I just don't understand to what purpose they took Devlin. That surely will cause more trouble than it is worth."
Neirin, silent until then, quirked a brow and said, "I should think that much is obvious."
"What do you mean?"
"You were brought here to deal with draugr, were you not? Draugr that are acting strangely, being controlled. Then the sorcerer kidnaps a witch who managed to create a draugr who, for all intents and purposes, is living and relatively normal? I think that answers the riddle of what is going on here and why they took Devlin."
Midnight would have paled if he was not already perfectly white. "Oh, no."
"Indeed," Neirin replied. "At least they will not kill him if they need the secret of your making from him."
"You don't understand," Midnight said, feeling cold and afraid, fighting a sudden urge to cry. "If it gets bad enough, if he feels there is no other recourse, Devlin will kill himself to keep the secret of my making." He placed his hand over his heart. "Breath for breath, heartbeat for heartbeat, soul for soul. When he dies, I turn to ash. If that is what must happen to keep my secret from the world, then that is what he will do."
Because if people learned how to make more of him…
His nature was simply one that would be too easy to abuse. The dead should remain dead, but too many people would see a chance to bring themselves back in the form of something like Midnight. Devlin had long ago sworn he would never share Midnight's maki
ng with another soul. When he died, so too would Midnight and any chance of ever knowing how he was made.
Troyes growled. "Find witch."
"First, we have to find Winsted, for he is our closest chance at finding the mysterious sorcerer we cannot seem to even sense. To find Winsted, I think we will need help. If it's true that there are forces attempting to make more of me, then we definitely need to go to higher powers. That means the Dracula who commands this territory." He worried his lip again. "Except, without Devlin, I am not certain he would deign to see us."
Barra laughed. "Oh, Midnight, that is hardly an issue. All know of Devlin's mysterious, rarely seen companion, and that he is strange even amongst the nightwalkers. If your being tied to Devlin's name was not enough, simple curiosity would compel the Dracula to grant you an audience."
Midnight was not so certain of that, but there was no point in arguing. "All right, then, let us go see the Dracula. He is some hours from here, is he not?"
"Not more than three hours, if Neirin takes Devlin's horse and the rest of us use other means," Barra replied. "Though we must take care the shiny one does not get seen."
Troyes growled in amusement and draped himself over Barra from behind, nibbling at his ear. "Pretty wolf-elf gets more looks than shiny one."
"That I doubt," Barra replied, face red.
Neirin smiled, then turned and retrieved the great coat he had draped over a nearby chair. "Come, we must be going. Three hours is still three hours, and daylight is not our friend."
Midnight nodded and led the way through the house. Once outside, he slipped into an alleyway with Barra and Troyes, and once there, reached into his power. Deep into the recesses of his mind he went, letting go of his human shape, tucking it away and pulling out the form of a cat. Dropping to all fours, he stretched and moved into the lithe, sinuous feline form. He mewled softly as it took, twitching his nose and taking in the familiar scent of Barra in wolf form, as well as the sharp, tangy and wild scent of Troyes in his true form.
They traveled quickly, leaving the village behind and striking toward the main roads, where Barra promptly took over the lead, and Midnight realized belatedly that Barra was the only one who knew where they were going. Neirin obviously would not, and Midnight had always left such things to Devlin and Barra.
The journey was thankfully uneventful. No one else seemed to be traveling that night, likely because they knew better than to wander dark roads at this hour for fear of the trouble they would find. Were he not so anxious about Devlin, Midnight would smirk at the thought that they were the trouble most feared finding.
He didn't know what he expected of the Dracula's home, but it was not the simple, subtly elegant, understated manor that greeted them. Old stone, old wood, with ivy and roses, marble statuary and cobblestones paths. It spoke of power without an excess of arrogance.
It felt strange to be here without Devlin. Midnight rarely went further than the bookshops without Devlin alongside him. Even now, he wanted to toss his head and say something to make Devlin smile despite himself, to ask him questions about this Dracula, because Devlin would have known everything for all that he claimed to care not a whit about the majority of the nightwalker world.
Swallowing his trepidation, reminding himself that while Devlin was absent he must represent Devlin and the Winterbourne name well, Midnight allowed Barra to knock for him.
The door was opened by a stone-faced imp. He was dressed well, and by his manner and appearance was clearly the butler. Once inside, he removed their coats and inquired as to their purpose by lifting one sharp brow.
Midnight placed one of his own calling cards upon the silver salver the butler held out and said, "Midnight, to see the Dracula in regards to the Duke of Winterbourne. The matter is an urgent one."
The butler bowed and vanished down a hallway. He returned sooner than Midnight expected, bowing again. "The Dracula is at present indisposed. However, the Alucard can see you immediately."
"Thank you," Midnight replied. They followed the butler through the hallways until they came at last to a massive set of double doors that proved to lead to a handsome library.
The old wood, numerous books, and smells of paper and leather and ink could not compare in splendor, however, to the beauty by the fireplace.
Midnight always managed to forget the impact of a vampire's beauty. Most species captured their prey with teeth, claws, venom, magic… Vampires simply played the flame and waited patiently while the moths came.
The more powerful the vampire, the more breathtaking the flame. This one was by far the most stunning Midnight had ever seen.
He had deep auburn hair that turned to reddish-gold at the tips, falling just past his ears in a simple, stylish cut. Delicate brows of the same red-gold drew attention to eyes the precise color of the square cut emerald nestled at his throat. He was dressed in dark greens and golds, accented with cream colored lace. Breathtakingly pretty, he was the sort of person artists salivated to capture upon their canvas.
"Good evening," the vampire said, standing to greet them as he set aside a snifter full of a dark liquid that might have been wine, save for the nature of the man drinking it. "I am the Alucard Seth Ashworth." He took in the four of them. "My, my," he murmured. "What an eclectic mix we have here. A mongrel wolf, and—if I am not mistaken—you are a du Lac, with your dragon. And you… The Mad Duke's precious corpse child." The Alucard placed a hand to his breast and gave them a half bow. "Your servant, gentlemen. You have come to speak of His Grace and said it was urgent. As he is, in fact, missing from your party, I can only surmise his absence is the problem. Care you for something to drink?"
He did not wait for their replies but turned and walked to the bar tucked into one corner of the library. Pouring two brandies into crystal snifters, he handed them to Neirin and Barra, giving them no chance to argue.
Then he smiled at Midnight and returned to the bar, filling another snifter from a pitcher of black crystal. He handed the full glass to Midnight, still smiling pleasantly. "A vintage most fine and rare, for my brother drinker."
Midnight stared at him in surprise, then returned the smile. No one had ever called him such before. Brother drinker… He still far preferred the way Devlin said his name, but that was still nice. "I thank you," he said, taking a sip of the dark blood, surprised to find it was still warm.
"Please," Seth said, motioning to all of them. "Sit and tell me of your troubles. I am afraid my father is… indisposed, as is my mother, but I can offer you the same assistance."
"We thank you for it," Midnight said, taking another sip of blood, enjoying the taste of it. Rarely did he permit himself such things, for with the spell he had no need of them, and most often he simply took a few swallows from Devlin or Barra.
Seth sat back in his own wingback chair and retrieved the snifter he had set down upon their arrival. "Is something wrong with His Grace?"
"He was kidnapped," Midnight said, explaining all that had transpired since they had taken up the case, with Barra filling in those parts Midnight had missed. "We fear they are attempting to make more draugr like me and, having realized I exist, have taken Devlin to learn the secret of my making."
"I see," Seth said and frowned, absently tracing a finger around the rim of his snifter. "If that is the case, then I wonder if perhaps Ceadda is not in some danger."
Midnight frowned and shared a look of confusion with the others before turning back to Seth. "Who is Ceadda?"
Seth's brows rose in surprise. "Why, my dear, did Devlin never tell you? That is a foolish question. I can see by your expression that he did not. How like both of them to leave it out, though of course that would be for safety's sake… I am rambling. My dear, Devlin alone did not make you as you stand before me. Half of your being is necromancy, and there is only one vampire with that sort of skill in this country. That is Ceadda."
"I…" Midnight scowled. "Devlin always said he made me, that he poured over tomes and moldering texts until his
eyes crossed and no one would come near him for the foulness of his temper. He never once said he consulted a bloody necromancer."
"I perhaps should have been more discreet," Seth said with a grimace. "It did not occur to me until too late that perhaps His Grace would have considered secrecy the best path to take, for the safety of all parties. However, the damage is done. At that, Ceadda keeps one finger on the pulse of magic. If we are hunting a sorcerer who likes to play with the dead, perhaps Ceadda knows of him." His eyes flashed with magic.
Shortly thereafter, another vampire stepped into the room—not a noble but a gentleman. He was not equal in beauty to Seth, but he was stunning, all blue-black curls and deep brown eyes, dressed in dark violet and rich brown. "This is my man of affairs, Keaton Barker." He moved quickly through the introductions and explanations, concluding with, "Keaton, have Ceadda fetched at once, would you please? Tell him it pertains to the Duke of Winterbourne and the secret they share."
"Of course, Alucard," Keaton said and vanished.
Flirt
Ceadda, as it turned out, was not to be immediately found. Keaton returned well over an hour later, sans necromancer.
"I left him a note, Alucard," Keaton said apologetically. "I will return frequently to see if he has returned, but I could find no sign of where he might have gone."
Seth nodded and frowned. "That is unlike Ceadda. He was always a reclusive sort, especially for a young one." He chuckled softly. "Not that I am so old myself, but Ceadda… Well, it is obvious his world is his books and studies. He will reappear soon enough, I should think. Until then, my friends, I think you are in need of proper sustenance. Midnight, would you care for more to drink?"
"Um—if it is no trouble," Midnight said, wondering if perhaps Devlin would be displeased to learn he had indulged so in human blood. "It's, um, very good."
Laughing gently, Seth motioned for Keaton to pour for the three of them, eyes flashing with magic again. "It is. We are well provided for by the humans in our territory. A great many of the families are old and know and appreciate the tradition of feeding their vampire lords. There are, of course, a great many normals, and those we leave alone for the most part." He turned as the door opened to admit the butler-imp who had first greeted them. "Ty, see that dinner is brought for our guests less inclined towards blood. It is also possible we may need to leave upon a moment's notice, so keep the horses at the ready. On the chance we do not leave, rooms will be required. See that one is prepared especial for Midnight that lets no sunlight breach it."
