All things considered, though, I was glad to see him. Sally and he apparently had history. What that history was, I didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell me, and I had a feeling that Colin would sooner demote himself to janitor than talk to me. Regardless, there was a definite aura of dislike between them. For now, that meant whatever venom Sally wanted to unleash upon me and my roommates, she’d most likely redirect at the well-dressed vampire lackey before her.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Colin,” she replied. “I didn’t realize your choke chain reached this far. With James back, shouldn’t you be fetching him coffee or something?”
He tittered in response. “Sally, you do so amuse me with your lack of understanding for my station. Oh well, it’s to be expected from one of your ‘standing.’ Assuming you do stand, of course. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you performed all your duties on your back.”
Ooh, massive burn from Colin. I reached Sally just in time to see her eyes turning black. I put a hand on her shoulder and then stepped in front of her.
“Hey, Colin,” I said in my best cheerful voice. “Long time no see.”
“Freewill,” he spat back, as if the word tasted bad.
Cutting straight to the chase before an office brawl ensued, I said, “James is expecting us, I believe.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re correct, and he is not a vampire to be kept waiting. Please follow me, and do pick up after your pets. We have a standard to maintain here, after all.” With that, he turned on his heel and began walking.
I heard Sally utter a snarl behind me. I spun, looked her in the eye, and said, “One word: behave.” Before she could knock me through a wall, I gestured for Tom and Ed to hurry up. I then turned and began marching after Colin, Tom’s continued whimpering of “I can’t believe he bit me” following in my wake.
♦ ♦ ♦
The last time I was there, James wasn’t around, so we got no further than Colin’s desk. James's outer office was the one place there that seemed to conform to my expectations for an undead lair. Whereas the rest of the building was a typical office in most ways, this area had a much more sinister feel to it. I had little doubt it was on purpose. When one had rank, one often wanted others to know about it.
With the exception of a small waiting area, this part of the office looked as if it had been carved out of the rock around us. Considering we were underground, I realized that was likely the case. The tapping of our feet on the obsidian tiled floor echoed off the walls as we approached the double doors just beyond Colin’s desk.
“Holy ... well, batcave, Batman,” Ed whispered behind me, taking in the surroundings.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
“He’s expecting you,” Colin said with a sour grin from behind his desk. Now that he had gotten in a dig at Sally, he seemed content with dismissing us. He reached under his desk, pressed something, and the doors to James’s office clicked, letting us know they were unlocked.
“This should be good,” I whispered back to my friends. I could only imagine what kind of medieval torture chamber awaited us. I was expecting to find something worthy of a James Bond villain. Perhaps there’d even be a shark tank in which to dispose of his enemies. That would be so fucking awesome.
I really need to stop psyching myself out, I thought once I had stepped through the doors. Whereas the outer chamber was decorated in early sixteenth century Vlad the Impaler, the inner sanctum couldn’t have been more of a contrast. It was like stepping into an archeology professor’s office. The room was well lit with a fairly simple desk at one end. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls, all of them filled with a variety of knickknacks, most of which looked a lot older than me – no doubt a testament to James’s nickname of the Wanderer. Off to one end was a coffee table and a well-worn, but comfortable looking, couch. Upon it sat James, a cup of espresso in his hands.
He stood as we entered. “Sally, Dr. Death, a pleasure as always.”
“James,” I replied as way of greeting. “These are my friends, Tom and Ed.”
“Ah yes.” He turned to them. “Dr. Death’s human friends. He’s told me all about you. Especially you,” he said to Tom. “You’re the one with the fetish for ... what are they called ... transforming something?”
“Transformers,” I clarified. Several months back, Tom had somehow imbued an action figure with a small portion of his life force, essentially turning it into a weapon against vampires, much like Peter Cushing might have used a cross in the old Dracula films. It had gotten broken during the course of that little adventure, something he never failed to remind me about.
“Fetish is such a strong word,” Tom replied, no doubt forgetting that he was talking to a six-hundred-year-old vampire, one who could kill him as easily as he could a gnat. “I prefer the term collector.”
“Kindly forgive my transgression,” James replied amicably enough. He was truly an odd duck amongst the older vampires I had met. Somehow, through all of his centuries of existence, he had managed to hold onto his sense of humor. Most others of our kind hadn’t mastered that feat. Hell, I doubted most of them had even tried.
The pleasantries aside, James walked to the door. “Colin, be a good chap and grab some coffee for our visitors. Perhaps some lunch, too. Send one of the thralls out to a local eatery, would you?”
Having given his instructions, he closed the door, although not before I caught a glimpse of Colin’s furious expression. Heh, the fucker had just been sent on a food run. I was beginning to understand what Ed had been saying about Sheila. No matter what the station or setting, an assistant could become a glorified gofer at any given time.
James turned back toward us. “That’ll assure our privacy for a few minutes at least. Alas, despite the formidable construction outside of my office, the doors are pitifully inadequate at keeping sound from carrying.”
He pulled a few chairs from his desk over and we all sat. “I trust the First Coven’s envoy has brought you up to speed?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Alex gave us the rundown on the Grendel,” I replied, using his word for them.
“I haven’t heard that term used in a while. Alex, you said, correct?”
“Yeah, you know him, right?”
“I’m afraid not. Sadly, even with my current standing, I am not privy to all of the First Coven’s inner thoughts.”
That was surprising to learn. Considering James was in the running to join their merry little bunch, you’d think they might’ve been slightly less dickish toward him.
“Well, he seems like a nice enough guy,” I replied.
James nodded and said, “I’m sure he does. Nevertheless, I would highly recommend you keep your guard up around him at all times.”
“You don’t trust him?” Ed asked.
“As I said, I don’t know him. I neither have reason to trust nor distrust him. However, what I do know is that he would obviously be a person of significant diplomatic skill. Otherwise, the First would not have chosen him. Such an individual would excel at coming across as likable.”
“So you’re saying he probably has his own agenda,” Ed surmised.
“Undoubtedly. He follows the will of the First and their machinations remain their own.”
“But we’re all on the same side here, right?” I asked.
“You’re almost cute when you’re stupidly naïve, Bill,” Sally commented.
“Her thinly veiled insult aside, Sally is quite correct. While I believe the First want this peace conference to be successful, there are no doubt nuances at play that will make it more or less successful by standards of which only they are aware. Should all other factors align in their favor, don’t assume they wouldn’t consider your loss to be an acceptable outcome.”
Great! I so loved being cannon fodder. Nice to know that if the Bigfeet said they’d accept peace, but only if they all got to take turns sodomizing me, that the Draculas would be all gung-ho for that plan.
“I would h
ighly recommend,” James continued, “that you all watch one another’s backs continually and assume that anything that is said to you is of dubious intent.”
“Not to be rude or anything, but why are you telling us this?” Tom asked. “I mean, aren’t you up for membership to this group of backbiters?”
James arched an eyebrow. I knew I should’ve made Tom wait in the car.
“Nice knowing you, jackass,” Sally whispered from the corner of her mouth.
However, rather than eviscerating Tom as a lesson to the rest of us – a deserved lesson, in all honesty – James instead shrugged and replied, “Fortunately for you all I haven’t ... what’s the phrase ... ah yes, drunken their Kool-Aid yet. Besides which, I have grown fond of Dr. Death here. Irrational of me, I know.”
“Cool,” I replied, trying to steer the conversation away from Tom, lest he say something stupid again. “It’s good to know you’ll have my back, too.”
James looked me in the eye and gave an apologetic glance. “Alas, that may be a problem.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“Define problem,” I said in a calm tone, despite a sinking feeling starting to permeate my gut.
“Normally I wouldn’t discuss this with outsiders present,” James began. “However, since it is painfully obvious that you tell your friends everything that goes on in the vampire community, I see no reason to play mum.”
I gave him a sheepish grin back. I didn’t look at Sally, but had little doubt of the eye-roll she was probably making.
“As I have said, there are other candidates being given consideration for ascension to the First Coven.”
“I remember,” I interrupted. “That’s the reason why I’m conducting this crazy train. You can’t run the show and keep watch over your own backside at the same time, right?”
“Exactly. Unfortunately, it’s become even more complicated than that. I have since learned that my chief rival is a vampire named François. He and I have a bit of history with one another.”
“So what’s the deal with this guy?” asked Sally.
“The deal is: much like I currently hold jurisdiction over the covens of the Northeastern United States, François likewise holds a sizable area under his direct supervision. Shall I give you a hint as to where his power extends?”
There were knowing nods all around the room, except from Tom, who asked, “Okay, what’s the hint?”
Ed let out a heavy sigh. “Where are we going, stupid?”
“Canada,” Tom replied uncomprehendingly for a second before adding, “Oh, I get it now.”
“I highly doubt that,” Sally spat.
“It leaves me in a difficult position,” James said, ignoring the exchange. “François neither requests nor wishes for my involvement in this summit. Truth be told, there is little love lost between us. As someone who has had firsthand involvement with the Alma, by rights I can participate regardless of François’s wishes. However, I must be careful. One false move and the balance of power could tip in his direction. That would be bad.”
“For you?” Ed asked.
“For everyone.”
Tom said, “I don’t see the big deal. Bill’s told us about you. It doesn’t sound like you have much to worry about from some French surrender monkey.”
James once again raised an eyebrow. “Despite your somewhat unique way of putting it, you’re actually far more apt than you realize.”
“He is?” Ed and I blurted out in unison.
“Yes. You see, under different circumstances, there wouldn’t be much question regarding inclusion into the First Coven. Usually the oldest and strongest are picked. It’s tradition. François is by far the oldest of the hopefuls, besting even the Khan by a quarter century.”
“Then why isn’t he already one of them?” Ed asked.
“There are safeguards in place to deal with unusual circumstances. You,” he said, turning toward Tom, “mentioned the overused joke regarding the French and surrender. Well, François went much further than that. During World War Two, he was an active member of Hitler’s SS.”
“Whoa!”
“Indeed. He is a nasty character even amongst our kind. Supposedly, he bought into their rhetoric quite fully. Not only did he join, but he revealed himself to their upper ranks.”
“So he was punished?” Sally surmised.
“Not for that, no. He was too old to be reprimanded for such a thing. If that were all he did, this tale would have a much different ending. François didn’t stop there, though. Whether deluded or mad for power, he decided to aid their scientists’ efforts to create a master race. As such, he allowed them to experiment on vampire blood. Even for one of his age, such a crime is considered quite serious.”
I could feel pinpricks of sweat break out on my forehead. If they found out what Dave and I were up to ... oh boy.
“So what happened?” Ed asked.
“Near the end of the war, one of the First perished at Nagasaki. François was all set to ascend to the ranks of our leadership when his actions were brought to light.”
“And that’s when the Draculas brought the hammer down?”
“Exactly. François was too old and had too many supporters to be outright killed. However, he was passed over for membership, allowing my sire, the Khan, to ascend. As further punishment, he was removed from Europe and given his current post.”
“Makes sense,” said Ed. “How much trouble could he cause in the frozen tundra?”
A thought hit me. “Just out of curiosity, did the person who exposed François happen to be nicknamed the Wanderer?”
James smiled. “Very astute, Dr. Death. I will admit a little bias in seeing my sire ascend. It didn’t exactly hurt my standing amongst our kind.”
“Hold on,” Sally interrupted. “I’m not getting the politics at play here. If this François guy was punished, why is he up for consideration now?”
“It’s quite simple. He has survived and managed to stay out of trouble. For all intents and purposes, his sentence has been served. Regardless, due to the severity of his crimes against our kind, the others are leery of automatically promoting him. Rather than judge by seniority alone, the remaining twelve have decided to pick the new member based on accomplishments. François has many, do not get me wrong, but he has to prove to the elders that he has learned his lesson. If he can do that, he may very well ascend to their ranks.”
“And this peace conference would be a major feather in his cap,” I said.
“Yes it would.”
“Is it just me,” Ed asked, “or does anyone else find it a bit suspicious that the Khan, the guy who bumped François, got killed and then suddenly a peace conference is happening in this dude’s backyard?”
“Without hard evidence,” James replied, his tone stern, “it would be considered highly insulting within the vampire community to insinuate such.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”
“However,” James continued, “as you are not a member of the vampire community, you may insinuate as much as you please.”
“So that’s why you have to tread lightly,” stated Sally. “If you say anything, you look like you’re trying to set him up and then you’ll lose.”
“And a French neo-Nazi nutcase suddenly becomes one of the most powerful vampires on the planet,” Tom added. My God, he really did want to get us all killed.
“More or less, yes on both counts.”
The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill Book 3) Page 10
