“Insolent, yes, but I doubt that Sama fears you, Clive,” Saraqael answered as he sat beside di Specchio. “I doubt he gives much thought to you at all. Countess, that is a deliciously daring dress. I wonder what treasures lie beneath that tight satin. Shall I investigate further, later this evening, at midnight?”
The vampiress stroked the Watcher’s smooth hand. “I am yours anytime you wish, my lord, but our builder makes a point. Why would you expect to find Anatole anywhere near our gathering, when he has so often worked against us?”
“Sama is a complicated creature. I expect to find him nowhere and everywhere,” he answered.
The spirit being had dressed himself in handsome human flesh, selecting from a favourite pattern, based on a Wallachian prince, whom he’d slain in Bucharest many centuries earlier. His dark brown hair fell past his broad shoulders in loose spirals; his eyes were dark, his brows thick and arched, and his full lips sensual. As with his brethren, Saraqael always made his form taller than ordinary humans; this particular one stood just over six and a half feet.
“How do you like the new me?” he asked Serena.
“I’ve seen this one before, haven’t I?” she noticed. “At Versailles. King Louis’s ball in honour of Pietro Durazzo, Genoa’s Doge, no? 1685? Indeed, I remember this body as quite spectacular and endlessly satisfying, my lord! I look forward to reminiscing.”
“Then allow me to slake your thirst, madam,” he answered laughing.
The false human waved his left hand across the top of the carafe. The red liquid within the cut crystal shimmered as it transformed. “For you, my dear, I change wine into blood, and no need for a priest to mutter over it. Drink your fill.” He sat beside her, his long legs crossed, one over the other. “Now, as to Samael, I suggest that human limitations make it impossible for you to understand our motivation. My brothers and I operate within an entirely different set of rules and a broader collection of dimensions, which can make our behaviour inscrutable to those without spiritual eyes. However, there are certain herbs and plants which may be consumed that grant access to these higher dimensions. Why be limited to four, when six or even ten might be accessed?”
“Four? Are there not just three?” the baronet asked boldly. He’d not yet met any of the elohim princes, and Sir Albert had no idea of their capabilities.
Sara cast his dark eyes upon the newcomer. “And you are?”
“Sir Albert Wendaway, and I, for one, liked William Trent. The man is dead, and I will not hear his name slandered!”
“I admire your loyalty, but it is misplaced,” the Watcher answered patiently—an uncharacteristic moment for Saraqael. “To answer your question, time is the fourth dimension. One day, your scientists will try to solve its riddles, but they will fail. Without pharmakeia and ritualistic communication, humans haven’t the eyes to see the beauty of multiple layers. Time is nothing as humans imagine it. But, tell me, who last spoke with Prince Anatole? I’ve looked everywhere for my brother, but he has vanished from all the realms!”
The members glanced at one another. The countess started to reply, but a deep voice interrupted—booming into the room as if from another realm. “I saw him last.”
The candles flickered, and several paintings depicting gods in congress with human women rattled as though shaken by unseen hands. A low rumble shivered along the walls, and every human shuddered as the voice’s owner materialised out of thin air.
Saraqael merely smiled, for he’d heard Raziel coming long before he’d asked the question. The mischievous elohim offered Raziel a sardonic smile. “And when might that have been, Brother?”
The Watcher known to the politicians of English government as Prince Alexei Grigor took his brother’s wine goblet and drank it down, wiping his mouth as he sniffed the dregs. “You’re losing your touch, Sara. Too much iron.”
“Yes, but then I prefer acquiring blood the old-fashioned way. Directly, from the circulatory wellspring,” the elohim said languidly as he poured himself another glass.
“As do I,” di Specchio agreed boldly. “A beating heart provides the finest wine.”
Raziel placed a hand on the vampiress’s head, his long nails raking her scalp and drawing blood. “You might discover your own veins providing nourishment, if you do not measure your words more carefully, Serena. Our presence in London grows far too public. Sir William Trent’s actions led to his death. Is that what you crave? Eternal night in the Seven Realms?”
Di Specchio refused to be curtailed. “I crave what we all crave, my prince: power and transformation. How can we accomplish that without human blood?”
“We return to my original plan,” Raziel explained, taking a chair beneath a painting of Leto with her twin children, Apollo and Artemis. “To achieve it, we must accomplish two things. Release all our brethren, and then use their combined powers to unlock the gates. Sara, did you uncover the locations of the next two mirrors?”
Offering no reply, Saraqael’s mind had wandered to a new puzzle. He’d opened the door to the coat closet and was studying the looking glass from which he’d emerged. “Is this what I think it is? The carvings are very familiar—particularly the red dragon and ravens. Didn’t I use this one at the boy’s home?”
“He is no longer a boy,” the elder elohim argued. “Did you find the French prisons or not? I sent you there to uncover their locations, fool!”
“Of course, I found them,” Sara answered, his mind still fixed on the mirror. “They were just where we surmised. One hidden behind the wall of a crypt, beneath the old abbey at Goussainville. The other in Normandy close to that river—what is it called again? French is such a clumsy language.”
“Epte!” Raziel told him, clearly annoyed. “What’s so difficult about that?”
“I don’t know. It bores me, I suppose. Though, there was a bit of excitement whilst there. I saw an old friend of yours.”
“What friend?” Raziel glowered as he poured himself a glass of the ‘wine’.
“Oh, just a very powerful one,” the other teased. “One who once had your favour.”
“I know many of Redwing’s humans in France. Who?” Raziel asked again, growing more annoyed by the second.
“She is angry with you,” Sara told him, grinning. “Very angry.”
“She?” the Watcher asked, his interest now piqued.
“I’d not have thought it possible, but she is even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. I believe she’s changed her hair.”
“Speak you blithering moron, before I remove that sack of flesh from your worthless bones!” Raziel shouted.
The threat had no effect on Saraqael, and he idly ran his hand along the mirror’s frame, deliberately ignoring his brother. “I’m sure this is the same mirror. This scratch on the upper right corner happened when that fool of a footman tried to smash it with an ax.” He turned towards the other. “Did you just call me a blithering moron? That’s rather harsh, Raza. I might even say cruel, but I shall ignore it. And the friend is Antoinette. She wonders why we’re digging in her backyard. The woman is so very territorial!”
“Antoinette?” Raziel repeated, his face a mixture of surprise and delight. “What did you tell her?”
“Only that we intend to recover the prisons of two others in our little club. She’s quite interested in our endeavours, Brother. In fact, she offered to help us—for a small fee.”
“Yes, and I can imagine what that fee entails. No, she will try to control the entire project! I’ve no intention of allowing Antoinette Gévaudan to ruin this. We’ll have to find a way to remove the mirrors without alerting her. Perhaps, a distraction.”
“Who is this Gévaudan woman?” the baronet asked. “Is she another of your kind? I’d assumed you were all male.”
“Who are you?” Raziel asked. “I don’t remember smelling you before.”
“Smelling me?” We
ndaway complained, taking to his feet. “That’s a dreadful comment! I’ll have you know that I bathe every day, and my eau de cologne is the finest money can buy!”
“And the strongest,” di Specchio observed. “Who is this woman, my lord? I don’t recall hearing mention of anyone called Antoinette.”
“No one you need concern yourself about, Serena. I shall deal with Antoinette in my own way. Now, to the events of Sunday. Where is the vessel?”
“Vessel?” Sir Clive interrupted. “Forgive me, Lord Raziel, what vessel? A dish of some kind?”
“You truly do try my patience at times, Urquhart. I speak of the duchess, of course. We’ve spent centuries perfecting her design and blood, all so she could be mated with the one Sara keeps calling the boy. Sinclair is now a man, and he begins to remember his purpose.”
“And Samael serves as his champion,” Saraqael added. “I wonder, does Sama know something that we do not? His foresight is very keen. Perhaps, I should go and ask him.”
“You will do no such thing! Samael dared to mask himself in my own form on Sunday! He has forsaken us—forsaken his own kind to support the paltry humans of the circle!”
“And he slew Rasha, let’s not forget that,” the other Watcher remarked casually. “Though, it’s no great loss. I never liked that little guttersnipe.”
Surprisingly, Raziel agreed. “Rasarit was a failed experiment, a rudimentary first attempt. Practise, you might say, for when I assume control of England’s next king.”
Wendaway seemed perplexed. “Our next king will be Edward, surely. How do you intend to control him?”
Raziel glared at the slightly built human. “Who invited you to attend this meeting?”
Wendaway blinked arrogantly. “Sir William made me a full member over a month ago! It was a very unsettling ceremony, and my clothing had to be burnt, if you must know. Blood everywhere. I must say, I’m hardly impressed by any of you thus far. Trent had style, and I shall miss him.”
“Sir William is dead,” Raziel answered, his eyes glowing red and fixing on the baronet. “Would you like to join him?”
Wendaway appeared to shrink, and the Watcher continued, his eyes reverting to their normal icy hue. “Trent never understood Samael’s plans, but I do. Sama has been a step ahead of us all along, which makes me wonder why he permitted that idiot to steal the duchess in the first place?”
“Our brother plays a long and complex game. His vision of future possibilities has always been sharper than yours or mine, Raza,” Sara told his brother. “That vision makes him a master strategist.”
Raziel smiled. “Then, we create a new set of rules and ruin his game.”
“I could kill him for you,” Saraqael suggested, his cold eyes glittering in anticipation. “I’ve wanted to do away with Sama for a very long time.”
“My grievance is far greater than yours, Brother,” Raziel told the other Watcher. “Samael imprisoned you for a mere three decades, whilst I was held inside that cruel stone for five millennia! Killing Sama is not an option, for it would allow him to slay us in self-defence. I suggest a better strategy. Let us compromise our brother and coerce him into rebellion against the One. Sama would have no choice but to side with us, then.”
Sir Albert Wendaway had imbibed an entire glass of the altered wine and gone completely green. “Who is this Samael?” he asked, half choking.
“Samael is one of the greatest of the warrior elohim. He and I led an expedition to earth many ages ago. At first, he and I agreed on how to accomplish that mission, but we parted ways five thousand years ago. Sama reported my deeds to the One, and my punishment was to be encased within a living stone until the time of the end.”
“The time of the end? Do you mean the apocalypse?” Wendaway asked, his stomach heaving.
“Quite so. That time draws near, and my release came in 1871. In the years since, I’ve learnt that Samael has betrayed me even further, spying upon the humans who seek freedom from the One’s strict rules. He pretends to agree with our plans whilst reporting directly to the One. Samael may have ruled our family once, but he is a traitor!”
Wendaway started to laugh. “Family? You’re a bunch of fallen angels! How can that be a family? It’s ridiculous!”
All patience gone, Raziel struck the insolent human across the face, causing the hapless baronet to disgorge the entire contents of his stomach onto Urquhart’s expensive trousers.
“That, human, is the first and only warning you will receive!” Raziel shouted. “We are as far above you as man stands above the crawling things of this world. Where were you when I flew across the realms of smoke and fire? When I taught the gargoyles to fly? The ala to transform? I have seen civilisations rise and crumble. I designed the sphinx and taught the Egyptian priests to write. I have sailed the seas of oblivion and sat upon the thrones of Wussuru! The gods of wind and storm fear me, and those who sleep beneath the stones praise me, for it is I who seek their release! Who are you to ridicule one such as I?”
The baronet wiped his mouth and pushed to his feet, his manner subservient, but his mind aflame with rage. “I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”
Raziel shook his head, speaking with disdain, “You are a gutless worm, Wendaway.” Then to his brother, he returned to the problem in France. “Tell me more of your meeting with Antoinette. Did she ask after me?”
“She did,” Saraqael answered, playfully flicking the baronet’s hair with a long-nailed hand, causing the slight man to flinch. “She asks when you intend to repay the three million francs you owe her. Something about a bet, I believe.”
Without warning, Raziel threw a reproduction of a Ming dynasty vase into the fire. “I shall eat her heart!”
“Yes, she thought that might be your reaction, Brother. Nevertheless, she insists that you pay her or forget about excavating in her country.”
The Watcher opened his mouth to argue, but Saraqael held up a hand and drew him aside. “Let’s not squabble in front of the children. We can solve this small matter later. For now, I’d know just how you plan to use the duchess. As she is already with child, the boy is no longer necessary. May I not have him? Please?”
“No, you may not touch him. Not yet. Human babies are fragile and often die, do they not? We cannot risk any harm to him until we have two males of sufficient age. Leave the boy alone.”
“Boy?” Wendaway asked. “How can a boy be involved? What boy?”
“Keep out of this,” Saraqael told the imprudent baronet. “Children should keep silent when their elders speak.” He then turned back to his brother. “Is she carrying a male child?”
“I do not yet know. My vision is limited by many factors, but there is no doubt she conceived. If it becomes clear that the child is female, then we’ll simply start again.”
“Again?” di Specchio asked, filling her wine glass once more from the transformed decanter. “And how many times do we retry, if she continually conceives a daughter? It took four attempts before her wretched mother finally bore Elizabeth! Three useless sons, all killed and buried. A waste of time and energy, but the risk is greater to the vessel. The duchess looks weak to me. She might not survive even one miscarriage.”
“I might have a solution,” Collins suggested. “Sir William paid to add a special wing to our facility, designed to provide the duchess round-the-clock care as she enters confinement. We could move her there immediately—if we can find her, that is.”
“It’s a consideration,” Raziel agreed.
“And Sama?” Saraqael asked. “What of our traitorous brother? Are you sure I may not kill him, even a little?”
“I shall deal with Samael in good time, but Dr. Collins has given me an idea. Would you like a new job, Sara?”
“No, actually,” the younger Watcher proclaimed. “I prefer play to work. Why?”
“Because it will allow us to keep an eye on the vess
el. It’s time we found you a more suitable veil of flesh, don’t you think?”
“No, I must protest,” Saraqael complained. “I’m happy to help with your plans, Raza, really, but human women find this form quite pleasing. In fact, I’ve become a favourite at many of the East End brothels. They don’t even charge me.”
“You may continue to wear that form, if you wish, for private pleasures, but I’ve another in mind that will allow you to move easily amongst the monied of this city.”
“Who says I want to walk amongst the higher levels of London society? I prefer the seedy backstreets to those glittering ballrooms. And if I do choose to interact with a countess or duke now and then—or even a queen—I shall follow your example and pretend to be another. I might even pretend to be you, Raza!”
This time, the chief elohim’s hand flew against his brother, and the mortals in the room perceived a flash of lightning, as though a weapon of fire had briefly ignited.
Rather than submit, Saraqael drew his own weapon, a curved blade made from a dense metal that grew only in the shadow realms, and for precisely thirteen seconds of human time, the Empress’s salon erupted into chaos.
When the battle at last ended, Raziel stood over Saraqael, a sword at his throat. “Submit to me or die, Brother!”
Saraqael had never been one to conform or obey, but he was a consummate schemer. Casting his dark eyes upon his elder brother, the fallen angel smiled. “I swear to you, Raziel, by the blood of the ancient ones, who sleep beneath the stones, I am at your service.”
Raziel’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. He considered slaying his brother anyway, regardless of the rules amongst his kind, but he stayed his hand only because the fool might prove useful. He could always kill him later.
“Then, bow the knee and swear an oath to me, Saraqael, also known as Sariel. Lover of blood, Sabitu of the East, Possessor of the Salmu Stone, Guardian of Anur, Consort of Sarrat Gula. From this moment forward, you will agree to perform all that I command thee, immediately and without question, and if you fail in this, to forfeit your life to the eternal hunger of the Babu birds of the netherworld, who will consume your heart and blood, even as you have consumed those of others. Do you agree?”
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