by ZB Burroughs
The Consort
A Vampire Romance Novella
By ZB Burroughs
Copyright 2013 ZB Burroughs
The ballroom was lit brilliantly with crystal chandeliers, staving off the darkness of the night outside. Spacious and airy, except for the long staircase leading down to it few would have realized that the immense structure and complex that surrounded it were buried beneath the ground, so not even the threatening growls of thunder penetrated from the late night storm raging outside. The scent of warm bodies lingered with cold, the living and the undying waltzing side by side as the small orchestra played. It was a strange event, a combination of old world charm mixed with the modern bar against one wall and the occasional person surreptitiously glancing at their cell phone though there was no signal here.
A soft gong called the dancers to a halt, vampires gently guiding their living partners to a standstill as the orchestra fell silent. The pair framed at the top of the stair seemed for a moment like living artwork. Though the lean, clean cut man with dark hair and a dashing smile would have on any other occasion been a man who turned heads, it was his companion who commanded the room’s attention. An inch or two taller than her escort, the dusky skinned woman watched the room through deep set, strikingly pale eyes. Her slim figure was draped in blue silk that echoed the color of the Mediterraneansea, sapphires winking in filigreed silver at her neck, wrists, and earlobes. Her raven black hair was swept back into a French twist, ornamented only by a silver comb studded with the same kind of carefully matched blue stones that caught the light like stars seen from beneath the waves.
“Queen Ni Mylitta Tauthe and Consort, Emilio Santiago.” The herald’s voice rang out and the spell seemed momentarily broken, the couple gliding easily down the staircase as the orchestra struck back up. A few people seemed amused or irritated by the old fashioned title, Many couples returned to the dance floor, others wandering towards the tables set up along the walls or going to greet the new arrivals, the hosts of this grand event. As they made their way through the crowd to the throne-like chairs set up for them on a small dais Emilio leaned close to her, his lips nearly brushing her ear.
“Nimmy,” he purred the pet-name quietly, a slight smile playing across his lips, “would you care to dance?” She laughed, a husky sound, and patted his hand gently where it held her arm.
“Not now, Emilio.” She returned his smile and he kept hold of her hand as she sank into her throne, settling into the one next to her only after he was sure she was comfortable. Ever conscientious, it was one of the many things she admired about her lover of over a hundred years. How she had been so lucky she couldn’t even imagine. “Who is here?”
“Nearly everyone.” His response was prompt and quiet, business-like. “After all, who would reject an invitation from you?” His flattery just made her shake her head, letting her hand rest on top of his, the tips of her fingers gently stroking his palm as he turned his hand up beneath hers. “The shapeshifters have made a distinctive presence, obviously, as have many high profile human officials. The chief of police there, the mayor and her husband are on the dance floor.”
Though Ni enjoyed these kinds of events, they were, at their heart, business. So she watched the couples twirl on the dance floor, left her dais to charm and socialize when there was a pause. Though no real business happened, her sharp ears picked up the casual comments thrown out, alliances being tentatively offered. Each person in the room was powerful in their own right. The humans believed they were firmly in control of the city. However, they wouldn’t dare to double cross her court or even that of the shapeshifters though their power was less than hers. She knew some cities where the balance was different, but she had owned this city since its founding, and had made certain that they were beholden to the vampire court, and not the other way around. Still, she was willing to leave them to their delusions of power if it made them more amenable to her.
Finally as the night began to wind down, Emilia caught her hand and stood, tugging her gently to her feet. She quirked and eyebrow as he led her down the dais, hesitating briefly at the edge of the dance floor. However, the sparkle in his eyes and the start of a slow number made her incline her head, acquiescing to his silent request. They swept onto the floor amidst the remaining couples, her body fitting easily against his. They fell in to the measure of the music easily, long practice together causing their bodies to move as one, finely tuned to one another.
Ni resisted the urge to lean close to him and rest her head on his shoulder as they slowly spun across the floor. Though her affection for her consort was no secret, it still ran against her grain to show such open affection for fear of it being taken as weakness. She had groomed herself for conservative decorum, and even in good humor it didn’t leave her. She could hear, however faintly, the low murmur of her people in the back of her mind, whispers of emotions- hunger, lust, contentment, pleasure, and irritation. They hid nothing from her, except Emilio’s dark eyes which reflected her thoughts like mirrors. She didn’t need feel his mind to know how he felt though. She read it in the lines of his body and the curve of his lips.
A sharp spike of fear, a pinprick of panic that to anyone less attentive would have gone unnoticed caused her to pause in mid-step. Emilio noticed the sudden interruption, jarring compared to the former grace with which they had been dancing and without missing a beat he broke away from her, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. She let him lead, scanning the room with pale silver eyes. Then she saw the young vampire, hardly ten years dead, standing in the shadows of the great doors at the top of the stairs. Too low ranked to be invited to the ball, he lingered with news on his mind and blood on his lips, an interrupted feeding.
“I’ll go to him, stay here.” Ni murmured, sweeping away from her consort without looking back. Human heads turned away from her as she moved up the stairs, the pressure of her mind turning their attention elsewhere. Only her own, and other strong willed supernaturals noticed her sudden departure. She paused in the shadow of the door, resting her hands on the young vampire’s shoulders. “What happened?”
“Jon Carbine is in the city.” His words were rushed, quiet as though he did not have enough air to make them. “I saw him on Elm, just outside the Cue and Brew.”
Ni nodded slowly, feeling the panic of the vampire slowly recede in the face of her calm. “Did he see you?”
“Yes. I was… I was feeding, and he was suddenly there, standing at the end of the ally. He didn’t do anything though, he just walked away. I thought he was going to kill me.” The fledgling took a deep breath, a conditioned response still remembered from his years of life.
“You did well to tell me. The night is getting old, go to your safe house and rest, or you may take a room here if you would feel better. I know of Jon Carbine, he has passed through the city before and touched none of mine because we do not break human laws. As long as you have done nothing to cross me, you have done nothing to cross him. Do you understand?” He nodded. “Good. Tell others you see that he is here, and what I have said, and make sure they pass the word.” Ni released his shoulders. He slunk back into the shadows, creeping back along the labyrinthine hallways that would lead deeper, away from the public areas where the vampires occasionally entertained guests. Down to safety, the inner sanctum.
Ni immediately rejoined the party, only a rustle of silk heralding her return to the main floor. Emilio found her side immediately, taking her arm again as they made their way back towards their chairs. “What was it?” His voice was soft with concern, though his face was still alight with amusement, a mask over his true thoughts.
“Did you receive a letter from Jon Ca
rbine, requesting safe passage in our city?” Emilio shook his head and Ni sighed gently, a slight frown creasing her brow. “That is strange. Three years ago when he passed through hunting someone from another coven, he took great care to stay out of our way and ensure our cooperation. I think only one of our people saw him.”
“I remember. He passed through like a shadow, but at least he was polite. Perhaps showing himself like this is simply his way of showing he is here, in case we did not receive his announcement?” He gave a one shouldered shrug.
“Perhaps.” She nodded, accepting the explanation. “Tomorrow, send an envoy to ask him what his business is here. If there is another crazed creature loose in my city I would like to know about it.” She felt more than saw him nod, her eyes already drifting across the other people in the room, returning to the quiet assessment that she had been doing all evening. They mingled and danced for a few hours more, until she could feel dawn pressing heavily on her bones.
As if on cue, Emilio leaned close. “It is, I think, time to retire?” Ni inclined her head in agreement and as one they rose, making their farewells to the handful of guests who still remained. They moved beyond the lights left out for their human guests, passing into the shadows of the maze-like corridors that led to the deepest reaches of this city beneath a city, a stronghold against daylight. They finally came to the doors of her chambers and Emilio opened the door for her. “Is there anything else you need, Nimmy?”
She considered for a moment, suddenly aware of the faint ache in her parched throat, ignored during the many hours around the warm-blooded. “To feed, perhaps.”
“When you wake. It is too late now.” Her dark haired consort advised. She smiled and dipped her head to brush her lips against his, acutely aware of the pressure of his fangs beneath his lips, subtly altering the character of his mouth.
“I suppose that is better. Good night, Emilio.” She retreated into her room, listening as he closed the heavy door behind her and turned the key. The door unlocked from the inside, but there were only two keys to the door- her own, and Emilio’s though he never entered without her express invitation. The well-appointed suite would not have looked out of place in a high end hotel, except for the plethora of trinkets from all ages that littered every surface, treasures from her past. There were no traditional vampiric trappings, not even a coffin. She unclasped the heavy filigree jewelry and left it in a careless pile on the honey colored wood vanity and let her dress fall into a puddle of water colored silk around her feet, heels kicked off on her walk across the room. Freed of all the trappings of her station, she sank into the plush four-posture bed, sliding between sensual satin sheets before she gave in to the press of coming daylight and let darkness overwhelm her.
She wasn’t sure, at first, what woke her. She just knew that it wasn’t the normal gentle waking, like an indrawn breath. It took several seconds of lying still in darkness and silence for her to realize that she was not where she should have been. Her hands were trapped behind her, uncomfortably pushing the small of her back up. Panic rose in Ni’s throat when she tried to move them, and only the cold, quiet grate of metal on metal and the hard bite of cuffs digging into her wrists resulted.
Ni shifted, her wakefulness quickly transitioning to acute awareness. Her shoulders bumped the narrow sides of her confinement, and a heavy weight of metal pressed against her face, almost immobilizing her jaw. She could feel the straps holding it on around her head. She tested her strength against the bonds but found them holding fast, though they creaked and groaned with the strain. Straining upwards, she only rose a foot before her head smacked into the top and she sank back down, going still as she tried to calm her rising fear.
A coffin. She knew that’s what she was in. She closed her eyes against the complete darkness, concentrating instead on the minds of her people. Were they under attack? Everything felt normal though. She wasn’t even sure they realized she was gone. Ni locked the fear and anxiety out. She would not let it spill over to them, not until she knew what was going on. There was a loud clang and she jumped, again knocking her shoulder against the walls of her prison.
Metal grated on stone, and something thumped just on the other side of the wall next to her head. The faintest grunt accompanied the shifting of stone and the lid slid back. She breathed in deeply, ignoring the taste of metal to be grateful for the free air. Though it was not necessary for her, it helped calm the panic at being so confined, helpless. The halogen lamp resting nearby blinded her for a moment, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She made out the silhouette of a man leaning over her, a scarred bomber jacket thrown over a casual t-shirt, though she could see the press of body armor underneath the cotton fabric in the harsh light. His face leaned closer to hers, and the light caught his eyes.
Ni knew immediately who he was. Those who had struggled to describe the brilliant, cat-green eyes of the infamous hunter had been right in doing so. They defied description simply by being so out of place on an otherwise human form. She would not have been so disconcerted if he had the stink of a shapeshifter, already expecting to see hints of the inhuman. But his scent was warm blood, gun oil, and gasoline.
A long time ago, Ni thought she had accepted the idea that she would, eventually, die. Or rather, be killed. As he stopped above her, staring into her eyes, she couldn’t look away, stripped naked of her normal walls by the sheer cold dread of death. Dying like this, helpless, was not what she wanted. She struggled to speak against the metal muzzling the lower half of her face and began to thrash in her bonds again, struggling until the metal groaned in strain. She felt weak, drained. Hungry. She ground her teeth, feeling her fangs press into her lips. Slowly anger began to well up beneath the cold cap of fear. She welcomed it. Whoever had betrayed her, whoever had locked her here, knew she hadn’t fed recently. She was weakened by it and the very idea that one of her own had turned her over to the hands of a killer enraged her.
“Hold still.” His deep voice echoed of cold stone walls, and she hesitated, not willing to stay still for her own death. Something in his voice made her focus on him though, a brief moment of hesitation he took advantage of.. He reached down and she felt his hands on the side of her head, felt the tug of the straps and the grip of the muzzle loosened. He pulled his hands back and she shook her head violently as the first of her bonds fell away.
“Jon Carbine.” He nodded, settling back away from the coffin. She careful managed to work herself into a sitting position, drawing her knees to her chest to try and preserve some amount of dignity and modesty as she realized she was nude. “Why did you free me?”
“I haven’t yet.” He pointed out gruffly, leaning back against one of the small marble pillars. They were in a small mausoleum she could see now, one room and a flight of stairs leading up to a gate. The coffin she had been in was wood, set within a stone sarcophagus. “Who are you?”
“Ni Tauthe, queen of this city’s coven.” She tilted her chin up, meeting his eyes and daring him to challenge her claim. He only quirked an eyebrow.
“And how does a queen come to be trapped in a coffin?” He asked. This time, she did look away, fighting the animalistic snarl of rage that bubbled in her throat.
“Treachery.” She hissed. Sudden realization struck her and her head jerked up. “Oh God, Emilio. He’ll be in danger.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand.” Ni tried to tug at her bonds again as Jon talked, only half paying attention. “Why are you here, when I received an invitation from you to enter your city and kill a maddened vampire you had captured but were unwilling to kill yourself?”
“What do you mean? I sent no invitation. I certainly would have no trouble killing one of my own gone mad- it’s a mercy.” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “Besides, how do you know I’m not just some madwoman claiming to be the queen?” She reached out with her mind, trying desperately to pinpoint the presence she knew would be Emilio, though she knew it to be futile. His mind she had never been able to
touch.
“Your eyes aren’t crazy.” She paused from fussing against the shackles, looking up to realize he was suddenly in front of her, just outside the coffin. She hadn’t heard him move, too absorbed with trying to free herself. Ni found herself caught in his bright eyes, undimmed by the harsh play of shadows across his rugged face. Freckles and scars mingled freely on his face and neck, and she fought the sudden urge to touch him, to see if the texture felt as different as it looked.
The massive door clanged closed. Both of them jumped and she inhaled sharply, feeling a pang of sorrow quickly followed by cold anger when she recognized the smell of some of her own people. In the rush of air trapped inside the mausoleum with them.
Jon glanced back at the massive doors now between them and the outside then turned back to her. He took her wrists and she cautiously allowed him to pull her hands forward to the edge of the sarcophagus, where the lamplight shone brightest. “I have a feeling more than one of us has been betrayed.” He seemed completely non-pulsed by the situation, simply producing lock picks from an inner pocket on his jacket and setting to work on the lock that held the shackles closed. She found her respect for him growing in the face of his absolutely calm. At the same time, it made her aware of the seething anger in the pit of her stomach, and the burning hunger in her throat. She pushed back both feelings, concentrating on watching his hands as he worked.
They were large hands, rough-callused and scarred. She wondered what had happened to him to have caused so many scars- even in his profession it seemed strange that his hands would have been wounded so often. After a few minutes, the first manacle fell away. She shifted to allow him to reach the cuffs on her ankles, more concerned with having full movement then actually having the manacles off. She inspected the one she’d been bound with, frowning at the runes etched into the inside of the metal. She knew the make of these cuffs, but she hadn’t seen such as them in a long time.
