A Vampire's Rise

by Vanessa Fewings

  “He doesn’t have Jacob.” Sunaria’s expression flickered with anger. “He just wants you to think that.”

  “But we don’t know that for sure.” I tucked the locket into my trouser pocket and grabbed the head out of Benjamin’s hands. It was truly nasty. I wrapped it in my jacket and grasped Benjamin’s arm. With the head under my left arm, cringing with the feel of it, I dragged a bare-chested Benjamin out and back down the central corridor. With a shove, Benjamin climbed through the clay opening and I followed him out the other side. I offered the head to Sunaria for her to hold and she gave me one of her stares. I carefully placed it down.

  I pulled Benjamin over to the casket and forced him in. I reached for the lid with my other hand, grasped the edge, and dragged it over. I rammed it into position and sealed it in place.

  Benjamin banged on the lid. “You can’t leave me in here.”

  The locks flicked easily into their catches.

  “Why?” he cried. “Why did you lie?”

  “Because, Ben, I’m all out of nice.”

  Chapter 39

  INSIDE ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL, a few parishioners were saying their late night prayers.

  The gnarly, wet head had soaked through my jacket. I pulled Sunaria past the nave and down into the lower chambers. “This is where I first met Benjamin and Rachel.”

  The night of lies.

  “When I found the locket,” Sunaria explained, “I questioned the storekeeper. He didn’t remember Jacob.”

  “He needs help remembering.”

  “Perhaps Jacob’s living near the store?” She hesitated when she saw the crucifix hanging above the door to the chamber.

  I lingered just inside, recalling how Benjamin had reeled me in.

  Sunaria waited in the doorway. “Why the hell are we here?”

  I strolled over to the farthest coffin and prized open the lid. A corpse lay within, freshly wrapped. There was just enough room for the head. I laid it inside and closed the lid.

  “I never want to see that thing again,” Sunaria said.

  “I knew you never liked that jacket.”

  She gave me a wry look.

  Easily disguised as two late night parishioners, if scruffy ones, we walked up and out, back down the aisle. I stopped when we reached the ornate stone font.

  She looked irritated. “Now you’re really pushing your luck.”

  I leaned over the edge of the fountain. “You once told me that holy water can harm us.”

  “That’s what I was told.”

  “Where’s your curiosity?”

  “Can we go now?”

  “When was the last time you saw your reflection?”

  “An obvious question.”

  “You never told me my hair has a tendency to stick up.”

  “I’ll be outside.”

  “Humor me.”

  Sunaria gave a sigh, and stepped closer to the font. She gasped her surprise, and stared into the still water.

  “See how beautiful you are?” I asked.

  “How is it possible? I don’t recognize myself.”

  I shrugged. “Your misguided belief prevented you from seeing yourself.”

  “How does it work?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “We can’t see ourselves in mirrors, but we can in this?”

  I gave an incredulous stare. “You’re telling me this is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “I can’t work out who’s better looking.” She arched an eyebrow.

  “That’d be me.” I grinned.

  As she stared at herself in wonderment, I realized that there may be other things that she believed to be true that weren’t. Like a cure.

  Sunaria was still reeling when we strolled out under the archway of oak trees, their yellow leaves half bare. With London’s nightscape as our backdrop, we moved as mysterious shadowy phantoms speeding over the roof tops.

  * * * *

  Midnight, and all seemed quiet in the courtyard of the River Thames Inn.

  Buried in the heart of London, near St. Paul’s Cathedral, this modest hotel was a perfect place to hide out for a night.

  The skies opened and it poured, soaking our clothes.

  “Rain.” I tried to suppress my annoyance. “That’s unusual.”

  “What the hell are we doing here?” she said.

  “A little detour.”

  She gazed at the upper windows. “Benjamin overheard you, and he told Delacroix.”

  My fingers ran over my throat. My hand lingered.

  “You turned the girl?” Sunaria snapped.

  “Rachel, she’s Marcus’ sister.”

  “Why?”

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  Delacroix’s silhouette lurked at the window.

  She tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “Do you plan on turning everyone in London?”

  “There must be some way of stopping him.”

  “He’s a difficult vampire to kill.”

  “Daylight?”

  Sunaria shook her head. “You’ll have to weaken him first. Drain him completely. But . . .”

  I leaned in, hanging on her last word.

  “But it would mean . . .” Sunaria looked away.

  “What?”

  “He’s an ancient. Such potency would affect you.”

  “How?”

  Sunaria stared up at the window. “Daumia would no longer exist.”

  Chapter 40

  FEAR HAS POWER OVER US when we cannot foresee a solution.

  Standing in the rain, I knew that to enter that room could be my last mistake, but until I had my son in my arms, I had no other choice. Even if Delacroix didn’t have Jacob, he’d become too much of a threat. And he now had Marcus and Rachel.

  Sunaria’s words resonated. I wondered if there might be any truth in them, if drinking from Delacroix might irrevocably change me. Another warped myth, perhaps, though I had to admit, I’d occasionally experienced an invisible essence radiating from my victims, though nothing definable.

  Sunaria stayed in the courtyard and I flew up and onto the window sill and in. Delacroix sat in the corner. Marcus was hugging Rachel and I could see the similarity between them—their red hair, their English features, and the kindness in their faces, the innocence. The room was unbearably small, the décor bare—single bed, a chair, and a side table upon which lay a time-worn book with dog-eared pages.

  Instead of reading to Lilly, I murdered her.

  I swapped a glance with Marcus.

  Delacroix smiled.

  “Where’s my son?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  I wondered if I had the strength to tear his throat out. He read my mind and returned a stare that blazed with hatred and then he rose out of the chair and strolled past me. He gazed out of the window and his lips slid into a grin.

  Despite everything he’d done, I had to suppress my anger and let nothing distract my focus. “What do you want with them?”

  Delacroix shook his head in dismissal.

  “So why are you here?” I neared him.

  He smiled again.

  “Because you knew I’d come.” The realization hit me.

  Marcus signaled to me that he wanted to attack him.

  I gestured, No.

  Delacroix’s attention fell onto Rachel.

  “Let them go.” My tone remained calm, controlled.

  I glanced at Marcus and then back at Delacroix. “What’s going on?”

  A gust of wind caught the curtain and it billowed.

  “What have you done?” I felt a pit in my stomach.

  Delacroix peered out again.

  “Get out of my way.” My voice broke.

  He put his hand up, blocking me.

  “I take it you want your head back,” I said.

  His eyelids flicked.

  “You’ll never see it again.” I shook my head to make my point.

  He glared at me.

  “St. Paul’s, tomor
row night,” I said. “Witching hour.”

  “Sunaria’s as good as dead,” he rasped.

  “I’ll burn the thing,” I yelled.

  Delacroix’s dark stare was a fierce warning. He was gone.

  Marcus joined me by the window and stared down at the hooded figures surrounding Sunaria. “Who are they?” he whispered, and then stepped back, fearing he’d been seen.

  * * * *

  My feet left the ledge and I landed in the courtyard.

  Sunaria’s expression reflected her usual calmness, pride even. The Creda had tied her hands behind her back. The six shady looking vampires were huddled around her, all dressed in the garb of monks, their complexions ghostly white, their irises glistening in the moonlight. There was something vaguely familiar about one of them.

  He moved languidly. “Orpheus is what she calls you,” he said, “but that’s not your real name.”

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “Elijah.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “No.” He looked young, twenty-ish, at least he had been when turned. He smiled, but his eyes didn’t. He’d never pass for normal. In fact, none of them would. That would explain why they dressed as friars, wearing long, brown robes, their hoods pulled all the way forward to disguise their freaky pallor.

  “Go,” Sunaria said to me. “Get far away from here.”

  “Laws have been broken,” Elijah spoke softly. A lock of stark, white hair peeked out from under his hood. It contradicted his youth. His eyes moved under heavy lids and his pupils penetrated what he focused upon. He didn’t blink, the mark of an ancient.

  “Sunaria, his memory of you can be a good one,” he said. “Come quietly.”

  She avoided my stare.

  “I’ll get you out of this,” I whispered.

  She gave a subtle shake of her head. “I’ll find you.”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

  “They’re punishing me because I turned too many.” Sunaria looked back at Elijah.

  Thoughts of turning Marcus and his sister came to mind. “What’s the limit?”

  Elijah gave me a wary stare. “It’s not necessarily how many.”

  “Then who?” I asked.

  “They hid my daughter from me,” she said it quickly.

  In a flash, Elijah was right next to her. “And why did we do that, Sunaria?”

  I reeled with her words. “You have a daughter?”

  “Did,” she said.

  “You never told me this, why?” I’d never seen her this distressed before. “Why did you take her daughter?”

  His gaze shifted slowly to me. “Sunaria murdered her master.”

  “He tortured her.” I took a deep breath.

  “She broke our rules.” Elijah gestured to the others that he was ready to go.

  “And you’ve never broken them?” I asked.

  “No, I have not.” He neared me. “She wiped out our descendants.”

  Although Sunaria had revealed her capability for cruelty, I’d never imagined that the woman I loved could be this dangerous. “What happened to her daughter?”

  “We don’t know.” Elijah waved off the question. “And we don’t care.”

  “Let her go,” I said.

  “This doesn’t concern you.” He turned away from me, as though wishing I weren’t there.

  “Actually, it does.”

  “You can’t contain her.”

  “I won’t let you take her.”

  “Daumia,” he spun round gracefully, “it’s time for you to leave.”

  “I have information that could prevent your annihilation,” I said.

  Elijah’s stare seemed hollow, unworldly.

  “If you think Sunaria’s out of control,” I said, “you should take a closer look at Delacroix.”

  “And why is that?” Elijah asked.

  “He has a penchant for body parts.”

  From Elijah’s thoughts, I picked up images of two men, one was the count, and the other his brother, and I realized that the decapitated head had once been Delacroix’s brother.

  Elijah’s snapped his attention back on me, aware that I’d been rummaging around his thoughts.

  “The Delacroix brothers have formed an alliance with Lord Archer,” I told him. “They plan to wipe you out.”

  Sunaria glanced up.

  Elijah tried to access my thoughts but failed. He went on to say, “Roman would never betray his own.”

  “Apparently, he would.” I nodded, surprised at how easily Elijah let slip Delacroix’s brother’s name. “Roman’s desire for power matches his brother’s.” I nodded knowingly. Unless I’d seen it myself, I’d never have believed Delacroix was insane enough to try to attach his brother’s head to me. I cringed and looked up.

  Elijah was staring intently. “Why would the count arrange for us to be here?” Elijah grimaced, revealing stark, white teeth and a glint of the sharpest fangs. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It’s a ruse. He wanted to distract you while he takes another meeting with Archer.”

  “Archer will kill him.”

  “He’s setting you up.”

  Elijah’s expression showed emotion for a split second.

  “They’re selling you out,” I said.

  “Prove it.” Elijah swapped stares with the others.

  “I’ll tell you when and where they’ll be tomorrow night,” I said, “and you’ll give up Sunaria.”

  “Bring her.” Elijah signaled to the others.

  “At this very moment, Roman is spilling your secrets.” I reached into my trouser pocket and withdrew his gold engraved ring. “Here.”

  Elijah took it from me and examined it. “How did you come to have this?”

  “Roman invited me to join them.”

  Elijah turned to his men in silent conversation and then faced me again. “Why do you refuse me entry into your mind?”

  “Did you ask the same of Delacroix?” I said.

  “You’ll say anything to get Sunaria back.”

  “Then you’re on your own.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “It’s more of a war.”

  “Where no side wins,” he said.

  “You now have the advantage. Knowledge is power, after all.”

  “Where?”

  “Tomorrow. St. Paul’s. Midnight.”

  * * * *

  As quickly as they had appeared, they’d gone.

  I untied Sunaria. “Well, that was easy.”

  “What were you thinking?” she snapped.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “You’re out of your mind.” She shook her head, annoyed.

  “‘Why thank you for saving my life,’ was more the response I expected.”

  “What happens when they realize that all that’s left of Roman is his head?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. “Who did you transform that’s made them so mad?”

  “What does it matter now?”

  I rubbed her wrists, soothing where they’d tied her. “It matters to me.”

  “Where did you get that ring?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  She gave me that look.

  “I removed it from Roman’s hand. Delacroix keeps it in a jar.”

  Sunaria squirmed. “They won’t go through with this.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “They have no intention of just letting me go.”

  “You didn’t fight them,” I said, “didn’t try to run away.”

  “They threatened to harm you.”

  “I can look after myself. Why did you never tell me about your daughter?”

  Sunaria turned away.

  “Are you ever going to open up to me?” I asked her.

  “I’ve imbibed from each of their descendants. A great collection of information rests within me.”

 
; “There’s something else though, I can feel it.”

  She wrapped her arms around me. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “After this is over, you’ll tell me everything and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  She snuggled into me.

  “So the Creda’s descendants have really been wiped out?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t want to cross you.”

  “After that performance, I’m not so sure I’d want to cross you, either.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Fancy a trip to the country?”

  “You’ve been reckless enough. Let’s find a hotel.”

  “What’s that new place on Bond Street?”

  “The Cavendish?” she said.

  “Now that’s more us. Find somewhere for Marcus and Rachel to stay, will you?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “A quick change of clothes and then I have one final stop to make.”

  She read my mind. “That’s suicide.”

  “Book us into The Cavendish and I’ll catch up with you there.”

  “You’re not going.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Listen to me.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Right now, Delacroix, the Creda, and the Stone Masters all have an agenda.”

  Sunaria sighed. “And we’re right in the middle of it.”

  Chapter 41

  THE STONE MASTERS WERE RUTHLESS.

  Or so I read in the leather bound book I found while waiting in their library. This was the headquarters that Lady Bradbury had led us to. The secret society’s townhouse enjoyed its desired privacy provided by the extensive land that surrounded the building. Verging dense woods provided even more cover.

  Inside, a dying fire struggled to warm the room. Below the far window, a writing desk sat, and up against the three other walls were dark maple bookcases. Stacked along their shelves was book upon book on the supernatural. I pulled another off the shelf and turned to a random page of mishmashes of fact and fiction, distorted truths, documented by men who’d risked so much to gain so little. Through their investigations, they’d determined that vampires were evolving and mingling more and more with society. This was riveting reading.

  Someone approached.

  The door opened.

  The grey-haired man, easily in his forties, had a weathered face, expressing a lifetime of worry, and his tall, self-assured bearing gave away his background of privilege. He oozed old money. His hand remained on the door handle.