Shadows May Fall

by Corcoran, Mell

  Lou could think of a dozen instances right off the top. “The day after my party, at the lake.”

  “Right!” Caroline clapped her hands in excitement. “So the next time that happens you do it! Don’t think, just do whatever your gut is telling you to do or say! Rip that bandage right off and get it out there!”

  “Let me get rid of some of those fears of ‘what if’ for you.” Niko grabbed her by the hand. “We are not leaving. He is not going to run away screaming, get that out of your head. He is not going to have Frank wipe your memory so that he doesn’t have to respond. The worst thing that might happen is precisely what’s going on now! You two avoiding each other, so you don’t have to deal with it.

  “Actually...” Dillon butted in again. “If I may make one suggestion?”

  “Please!” Lou insisted.

  “Tell him, and then leave.” Dillon’s short, but sweet, suggestion made them all stop and think. “I don’t mean forever! Leave the room, or the immediate area after you tell him. So that you don’t have any expectation of a response and he has time to digest it, think about it and act appropriately.”

  “Genius.” Niko agreed. “Max is a thinker; he doesn’t have a hair trigger.” Niko paused a second. “Well to anything but where you’re concerned, that is.”

  “Let’s keep it supportive, Niko!” Caroline warned.

  “Yeah, okay. Dilbert is right, though! Say what you have to say then walk out. That way you won’t chicken out, or over do it and you give him time to process things and then the ball in his court! You’re off the hook.”

  “Off the hook of what?” Lou didn’t quite understand, nor should she. She didn’t know what had been going on in the other camp and Niko was not exactly going to betray Max any further by telling her.

  “Off the hook for any mixed signals or ambiguity. He can’t use you as an excuse for waffling.” Niko tried to articulate as best as he could.

  Lou looked like she was going to throw up and didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity to them. “So what’s the worst thing that could happen? He behaves just exactly as he has and we get on with our lives, right? At least then I would know and could move on.”

  “Right!” Caroline agreed. “But darlin’ we all know that ain’t gonna be what happens.”

  “No?” Lou couldn’t think of anything else happening but that.

  “No.” Niko shook his head. “But be prepared for silence for a bit while he figures out how to handle himself. You need to remember it’s been centuries since he had real feelings for anyone. Even then, it was nothing like this for him. These are uncharted waters.”

  “That is so ridiculous!” Lou snorted. “The man has women drooling all over him wherever he goes!”

  “And that got old after his second pair of shoes.” Niko knew she wouldn’t understand, and it wasn’t his place to explain. “Max has been all about our people for so long. Hell, the only reason he has any real luxuries is because Abby takes care of it. Lou, this is the first home Max has ever had built, ever. He never put down real roots anywhere. He had four different apartments and a few townhouses in D.C. and before that, it was a flat here, a shack there. The toys and cars and planes, all that is for the Aegis and efficiency, not just because he can.”

  There was so much to take in, Lou was having a hard time breathing. She wasn’t sure what to say or do, but the last thing on her mind was her current case. It was then it hit her. If everything they were saying was true, no wonder Max had left. He had years to get used to his role and deal with everything before she came along. Her assignment as Principate, learning all about the Sanguinostri, trying to figure a way to juggle things without even adding her feelings about Max to the equation had all made her want to run away. How could she blame him for needing a break?

  “I think I need a drink and some hockey. I need time so that I can process all of this.” She told them. “I need to get my head on straight and focus on the cases and right now, my brain is mush.”

  Niko got up and put his arm around her. “I think that’s a good plan.” He led her inside with Caroline and Dillon in tow and for the next hour they didn’t say a word unless it was to yell at the television over the game.

  For the rest of the night, they put everything away and Lou let her subconscious settle with the revelations from the discussion. There was nothing she could do about any of it right then, so she needed to set it all aside. Tomorrow things would be clearer. Her head was on straight enough to know that her current case was the first priority, then it was the Black Blood trade. If Max did have feelings for her, it was because of her dedication to her job, not her behaving as a blithering idiot, love struck bimbo. She wasn’t about to behave like one now.

  Sanguis -inis m. (and sanguen , n.) [blood]. Transf. [blood-relationship, race, family, progeny; life-blood, strength, vigor] Noster -tra -trum [our , ours; of us, to us, for us]; m. Pl. nostri, [our people].

  The Sanguinostri have existed for thousands of years in secrecy and every corner of the earth. Long ago, before there was an Iraq or Kuwait, Syria, or Iran, between what we call the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, there was a small village where thirty or so humble peasants lived. They farmed, raised sheep, wove fabrics, and lived a simple but happy life. No one can say what happened for certain, even those who remain cannot recall what transpired with any accuracy. Some say it was a meteor, some the hand of Fate, but what is known is a fire fell from the sky burning the land and air with such fierceness that no one believed anything could have survived. But there were survivors. Any evidence to explain what took place had turned to dust, was blown to the stars or washed away with time. The surviving villagers grew critically ill. Some who had been off trading in the city during the firestorm returned only to find the dying and the dead. No prayers or medicine would help. Of those that did not perish in the scorching blaze, only a handful hung on until the new moon. Again, whether it was by Fate or a freak accident, no one will ever know, but one sister cut herself while tending to her dying brother. The blood from her wound falling on his lips as she washed his burned flesh. The unthinkable happened. His moans of agony ceased, his breathing grew stronger, his charred flesh gave way to new, healthy skin. The sister didn’t think; she just acted, forcing her wound to flow directly past her brother’s lips. The more he drank, the faster he healed. She raced to tell the others, and while some followed her lead and cut their own flesh to heal their loved ones, some refused. They cursed them all and fled, leaving their families to rot. Those who stayed took turns several times a day but even though their wounds appeared to heal, only a handful survived. When the moon once again vanished from the skies, only a dozen had survived. Though food sustained them as normal humans, without blood for prolonged periods of time, they would weaken, eventually falling ill again. Animal blood would stave off any further decline, but it just did not heal them or restore them the way the blood of a human had. They were at the mercy of those who would shed their blood for them. It was sacred and precious, as were those who shared it. From the purest form of love.

  So the process of learning came. In this pursuit, the villagers learned that they not only survived, but they were better than before. Stronger, more agile and focused, adapting far easier and faster than they had ever been in the past. They also learned very quickly that outsiders viewed them as cursed, demons, and tried to kill them. It was then they discovered they would not just heal faster than ever thought possible; they could survive mortal wounds. Even regenerate chunks of flesh. The more blood they received, the faster they would heal. Even severed fingers and toes, if held in place, would knit back eventually. The only thing that was sure to kill them was cutting off the head and keeping it away from the body. For without the mind, the body withers and dies. It was when outsiders discovered this type of immortality that they began to be hunted and slaughtered. When only seven of the survivors remained they realized they could no longer stay in their ho
me. They needed to hide and keep their condition a secret.

  Some fled to the larger cities to try and learn anything they could to help them survive while the others were nomads for a time. They discovered that not only did they heal but they did not age, unlike their family members who so selflessly saved them and sustained them. Through trial and error, and the whim of the Fates, a few learned that their condition could be shared under a very particular set of circumstances, and even then it was a fifty-fifty chance of surviving. In the end, only one family member remained unchanged so they knew they had to find others who would understand, help them and protect their secret. The thirst for understanding was far greater than any thirst for blood. The seven original survivors set out to learn all they could about what they had gone through. They split apart with carefully selected stewards and traveled to far away lands in search of understanding. They agreed to meet back at their old village after the passing of thirteen full moons. When they did, they had a much greater knowledge of their changed selves, their capabilities and weaknesses. They also understood where their place in such a tumultuous world was.

  Through an inordinately difficult learning process, one fraught with misguided trust and fatal mistakes. They learned through trial and error that some people they turned grew power hungry and greedy with the changes. Those few believed they were superior and elite. That average humans were only valuable as servants and a necessary source of sustenance, nothing more. The original seven, the elders, saw this very quickly and knew those corrupted were a danger to them all. There was no disputing the need for removing the threat they had created. It was from this realization and understanding that laws were set to stone. A vow was made to protect each other and humankind first and foremost. Each was sacred and dependent on one another, even if by tiny threads. Thus, the Sanguinostri, the sacred family of blood was born.

  Since that time the seven and their progeny parted ways to learn and grow wherever the winds carried them. They found places in the shadows but always in a position of influence, within the greatest empires humanity has ever known. As the empires fell and others rose, the need for growth, additional laws and enforcers became necessary. Ultimately the original seven chose six more and formed the Senatus Imperium, the counsel of masters. Each member of the Senatus was sent to govern, protect and provide for each empire. Those individuals are called Dominor and are the supreme rule over the Sanguinostri in their region. They have their own Aegis Council, who are the lieutenants. Soldiers who answer only to the Dominor and the Senatus as a whole. They hold the laws of man sacred as their own, but their own are above all. To protect the sanctity of humankind and sanguine-kind, even from themselves.

  That was Maximilian Augusta Julian’s charge in this long and magnificent life. It was his privilege to serve his people and up until recently he thought he had done so with dignity and diligence. As he stood on the wooden deck of the Alaskan retreat, looking out over Indian Cove and the rain washing the snow into the sea, he remembered his history and his fierce passion for serving his kind. He remembered his childhood as a slave and the first pair of shoes he ever purchased with his own coin. He remembered the very day he met the man who would become his Dominor, one of the original seven survivors of that fateful night. After all those years, all the torture, pain and humiliation he had overcome in his old life. After working so hard for so long, to making his way up the ranks out of pure gratitude for the change in his circumstances, he now felt ashamed. How could he even consider stepping down over a transient moment of insecurity. How shameful to squander all that he had been given just because he was unaccustomed to having deep feelings for someone. What a coward he was.

  “My Dominor.” A quiet voice spoke from behind him.

  “Yes, Malcolm?” Max smiled at the small, weathered man.

  “You’ll find the larder fully stocked, and there is dry wood at each hearth.” Malcolm had gone through his mental list before he spoke again. “Dinner will be ready shortly if you’d like to freshen up. I’ve taken the liberty of scrawling down a menu for your lunch meeting. If you could run through it and let me know of any changes or further requests?”

  It had been a very long time since Max had heard anyone use the term larder. It made him smile. Malcolm was an old and trusted Steward that Max had always been quite fond of. He had made the trip from Scotland to Alaska ages ago and lived on the estate in a small cabin on the north edge. Malcolm was a poet and a fisherman and enjoyed the reclusive lifestyle that he had been afforded. It always struck Max as odd that the man didn’t live in the main house but opted for the small cabin. They rarely made the trip to Juneau, so it seemed like such a waste of space. But, Malcolm liked working in the house, just not living in it. For whatever his reasons, Max was just glad to have someone he could rely on to take care of things.

  “I’m sure everything is perfect, Malcolm. I apologize for the short notice on the visit.” Max had only called him on his way to the airport.

  “Not at all, my Dom! Everything was prepared, save for some groceries. I was do for a trip into town anyway.” The man was quite jovial. “I do hope you will stay a few days? Anik is quite excited to try out his culinary skills on someone other than me!”

  Max grinned. “I won’t be leaving before Thursday. Tell Anik to have fun and I look forward to his creations.”

  “Excellent, my Dom.” Malcolm smiled brightly. “Oh! I almost forgot! The secured satellite is better than ever so all of your gizmos should be in tip top working order!”

  “Thank you, Malcolm. But I think the point of being up here is for me to un-plug for a while.” Max Looked back out over the water.

  “Well, I will leave you be, sir. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” Malcolm started to leave when he remembered something else. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing and some Jameson 18 on the table by the fire. The dogs won’t be botherin’ you either. I’ve got them at the cabin.”

  “Oh please don’t lock them away on my account. You know I’m quite fond of the animals.” Max remembered Malcolm always had Irish Wolfhounds roaming the place. “Perhaps they would accompany me on a walk, if the rain lets up?”

  Malcolm flashed a sunny grin. “They would love that. I’ll let them be then. If they become a nuisance, just yell.”

  “They’ll be fine.” Max watched the man head out the door and listened to the crackle of the fireplace. It was extraordinarily peaceful there, and he wondered why he didn’t make the trip more often. Everything seemed much clearer to him now, and the suffocating ache in his chest was almost bearable.

  He would meet with Peter Radisson in the morning and brief him on their blood trafficking problem. Hopefully, Peter would be a pair of fresh eyes on the situation, and they could formulate a plan of attack to root out any traitors among them. For now, Max had more time to himself, without distraction or complication. He walked to the bookshelves and examined their contents, selecting a first edition of Yeats. After pouring himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, and a dram of the Irish, Max took a seat in the large wingback chair adjacent the huge fireplace that crackled and snapped. He carefully opened the First US Edition of Yeats’ The Wild Swans at Coole and began reading, only to find it was the worst possible thing he could read in his mood. He promptly returned the book to its proper place and just sat and enjoyed his whiskey, the warmth of the fire and the view of the rain on the water. He didn’t need to read about green eyes; he would think about Lou later. For now he would sit and enjoy the rare moments of solitude while he had them. He would confront his beloved demon soon enough.

  The seduction had become a little too easy. Men. Impudent, repugnant toads were so predictable. After all the planning, all the preparation, hooking the fish had been the least satisfying part of the hunt. Anticlimactic, if you will. The trickiest part was staying off the grid but being visible enough that they just could not resist when she dangled the bait. Researching their movements, sta
ying a safe distance, finding the right spot, the right time, just on the fringe so no one would ever take notice, that was the thrilling part. At one point in her reconnaissance, she found herself humming “I know something you don’t know”. That was powerful, intoxicating and addicting.

  Her love of sports growing up, and in school, had been her training for these moments without her even knowing. Soccer then softball, how could she have known back then how valuable all that strength and stamina would be to her later on? Back then it was all about not having to go home. Practices, games, being invaluable to the team so that she always was required to be there. Getting the scholarships to get her as far away as humanly possible. Sports were her ticket out. Recently, however, she had been focusing on yoga. Lean muscle and endurance were the keys, and she had been religious in her new training. It also helped to keep her physique slight, rather than muscular. Men liked gymnasts, not weightlifters, her mother always preached, when she could form a sentence. As if she truly gave a shit what men wanted. Her mother had cared, look where that got her. She was nothing like her mother. Men were the prey, not the other way around.

  After securing her hair under the plastic cap, she zipped up her coveralls, donned her rubber boots and good old playtex Hand-saver gloves. Josh Rawlings sat lazily on his red leather couch, but he was starting to twitch which meant it was time to get the show on the road.

  “Josh?” She called his name to get his attention. “Oh, Josh?”

  “Yes, mistress?” He was articulate and compliant which meant her dosage was perfect again.

  “Are you ready for me?” She asked though she knew he never could be. At least not for what she intended to give him.