Dominion Rising Bonus Swag

by Gwynn White

  SKIP: I don't know.

  NEBULA: What do you mean you don't know?

  Skip was silent.

  NEBULA: Was the Empire lying?

  Ted knew that wouldn't be the first time. They likely were going to intervene before this interview could be published.

  Again, Skip was silent.

  NEBULA: Did those battles even happen, Skip? Where did you go?

  Skip got up and left the room.

  END OF INTERVIEW

  Official Transcription: Girard, Guardian for the Northeast Council

  Transcriptionist: Ann Christy

  Girard: So, what do I do? Just sit here in this chair? The couch? This looks like a living room or something, except for the camera.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject is looking around, looking under couch pillows. Subject appears nervous.

  Lila: This isn’t the middle ages, Girard. Why not be comfortable? The Council really wants these transcriptions and…let’s be honest here…we need them. If we can get surprised by someone like Thalia, then being all secret-like hasn’t exactly served us well. We need to know about ourselves and our history.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Interviewer’s voice rises a little. Subject holds up hands to deflect then sits on a chair.

  Girard: You don’t need to convince me, Lila. That’s why I’m here. I get it. I do. I’m all for the right to privacy and all that, but we clearly don’t know enough about ourselves. I mean, vampires should probably know our own history. Being secret, never recording anything, never writing anything down…yeah, that didn’t work out so well for us.

  Lila: And I appreciate you doing this transcription for me.

  Girard: I thought you’d want Marcus first, not you specifically, but the Historians. He’s an ancient, after all.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Interviewer snorts and rolls her eyes, sits on chair opposite Subject. Appears disgusted and amused.

  Lila: Honestly, I’m glad he’s out of our hair for a while. Between the bad jokes and the eating and the long, revoltingly sweet conversations with his ex on the phone, he’s a bit much sometimes.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject chuckles and shakes his head.

  Girard: He’s not at all what I thought he’d be like. I mean, he’s the philosopher king, the great warrior, the organizer of the ancient world, but—

  Lila: But he’s a snorting, farting, belching, bad joke cracking pain in the butt.

  Girard: Not all the jokes are bad. Remember the tiny humans bit?

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject and Interviewer both laugh.

  Girard: I honestly thought I would pee my pants on that one.

  Lila: Me too.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Interviewer grins, looks crafty.

  Girard: What’s that look for?

  Lila: Well, I actually already got Marcus in here.

  Girard: You did? How did you manage that? Last time I heard this mentioned at dinner, I learned new curse words.

  Lila: Easy. I turned on parental controls.

  Girard: What does that mean?

  Lila: I set up a passcode on all the premium channels so he couldn’t watch all those sexy shows. All he could watch was sports and cartoons.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject and Interviewer both laugh. For an extended period.

  Girard: Wow, that was mean, Lila.

  Lila: And also remarkably effective.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject points to Transcriptionist and frowns.

  Girard: What’s she doing here? Why does she keep writing things down and staring?

  Lila: She makes sure that every nuance is captured for the actual transcription. Just pretend she’s not here. We have the camera, but the transcription is what matters. The camera is just for a backup. Faces and voices are still off limits, out of respect for any human families our bodies might still have living. So, just pretend we’re alone.

  Girard: I can’t with all that staring.

  Lila: You can. It’s just you and me here.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject glares at Transcriptionist, then sighs.

  Girard: Fine. So what do you want to me to? Start at the beginning? I mean, I’ve already done a transcription. It wasn’t like this.

  Lila: The Western European Historian sent me a copy of your only transcription. It was almost five hundred years ago. It was also very short.

  Girard: I was nervous. It was in a monastery and they were creepy.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Interviewer snorts and laughs.

  Lila: You also had a wretched case of lice. It says you scratched your whole way through the interview and that the interviewer had to stop because it was making him itch.

  Girard: It was frigging 1500 or something like that. Of course, I had lice. Do you know what inns were like during that period? Holy mackerel, talk about travel hazards. You don’t even know what we had to do to get rid of them.

  Lila: Hello! I was born in Jamestown. I know. Getting your head shaved as a girl is just about as embarrassing as it gets.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject and Interviewer both stop talking at once, then look at Transcriptionist.

  Lila: I wish I could say scratch that, but I can’t.

  Girard: Okay, then maybe we get down to business. I’ve got other business in the basement to take care of, as you well know.

  Lila: Right. Well, you don’t have to go back to the beginning. We’re trying something new. We’d like to get your transcription of the recent events while still fresh in your mind. With time and…well, after your visit the basement…your opinions are likely to change. Possibly the way you’ll recall the entire episode. So, we’d like to get your thoughts now. I’ll ask specific questions, but you’ll be allowed to speak freely as well. Will that work?

  Girard: That’s a little irregular.

  Lila: Yes, but as you pointed out, what we’ve been doing didn’t get us what we could have used recently. Lives could have been saved, both human and dual-souled—

  Girard: Vampires.

  Lila: Yes, yes. Vampires.

  Girard: Go on then. Shoot.

  Lila: During the course of the recent investigation, you met another ancient named Yadikira—

  Girard: Lila.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject uses a warning tone. Interviewer leans toward Subject and pats knee, appears sympathetic.

  Lila: It’s only fact stuff. I promise not to go there.

  Girard: Then yes. I did meet Yadikira.

  Lila: Given that we discovered her age to be significantly different from that recorded in the Council records, and the subsequent impact of that difference on the events that followed, do you have any specific thoughts on the disparity? On the possibility of such a disparity existing for other vampires on the Council roles?

  Girard: Ah, I see what you mean. Yes, I do. At first, it was a source of frustration, because really, someone from your branch—the Historians—should have been in contact with her. Later, it was a major source of trouble. As we were going over the census rolls here, it occurred to me that any number of those included could have the same problem. I mean, we don’t ask age because so many vampires don’t actually know how old they are. But we should know and by just talking to them, we could get a general idea. And as soon as I met Yadikira, I knew the rolls were very wrong about her age. It just seems a huge waste and a potential source of trouble to get something as simple as age wrong.

  Lila: And your suggestions?

  Girard: We value a right to privacy almost above anything, but we have to make some accommodations at this point. It’s a matter of survival. I mean, humans can’t make a national budget if they don’t have an estimate of how many people will pay taxes, so how can we make plans without knowing who we’re planning for? I think that we need to have personal visits with each vampire on the rolls. Nothing intrusive, nothing probing. Just a visit. Maybe we can deliver a welcome basket or something. Drop off some pamphlets. I don’t know. Just so long as one of us gets a look at them
.

  Lila: So you can see their eyes and guess their age?

  Girard: At least get in the ballpark. Obviously, we now know that doesn’t work with every kind of vampire, but you get the general idea.

  Lila: And your thoughts on the private ponds you found?

  Girard: Oh, I’m not going there. You promised.

  Lila: Not specifically about her and her ponds, but the general information. As far as I was aware, there were only historical ponds remaining in the United States outside of the Council compounds. But now…

  Girard: Yeah, now. Okay, in general, I think we have to take some control with respect to that. We can’t have vampires breeding litters all over the place in the wild without proper reproduction. That’s just dangerous. Some things require limits. I mean, humans aren’t allowed to build backyard nuclear reactors for house power. I don’t see a difference. Both are hazardous to everyone around them.

  Lila: Hard sell for the Council.

  Girard: Hence my desire to never be on the Council. I like having opinions of my own.

  Lila: Okay, next topic. Now that heresy is…well, no longer heretical…are you interested in learning more about vampires and vampire evolution or do you find it offensive?

  Girard: You sound like one of those political poll people who are always calling here.

  Lila: Wait, I do? You’re not doing me like you do them, are you? Answering with absolute craziness that you don’t actually believe?

  Girard: Nope, but if you don’t get to the point soon, I might.

  Lila: Point taken. Okay, I’ll skip that one. This is just for your free thought answer. Given what’s happened and all that we’ve learned, are you changed? Have the events of the last few months changed you?

  Girard: Wow, that’s loaded and absolutely unanswerable. Changed? Yeah, I’m changed. I think what’s changed me most is that I don’t feel so guilty anymore. I mean, I’m sad right now and I feel tremendous loss. I felt like we were floundering in the dark for most of the whole epic crap-storm. So, I don’t mean that I feel good, only that I feel less guilt.

  Lila: Can you elaborate? I’m not sure what type of guilt you’re talking about.

  Girard: Guilt for being alive at all, for living the last six and a half centuries. I don’t feel bad about the first fifty years or so because, you know, that was my first life. I mean all the ones that came after. I live—or rather, I lived—with guilt every single day of my life. It’s what kills so many of us, that guilt. I have every memory of the man who was born in this body. Every hope, every dream. I remember the joy he felt when his first child was born and how it filled his chest when he said her name to the nurse who filled out her birth certificate. I remember the wedding, the anniversaries. I remember and feel right now—right here in my fingertips—the way it was the first time he played his violin as a paid member of an orchestra. I also remember the pain in his chest, that knife-in-the-chest pain of drawing breath as he was dying.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Subject stops talking, looks into distance, rubs fingertips together.

  Lila: Girard?

  Girard: And then there was me. When I left my old body and went into this one, it was like a light turned off in one room only to come on in another. All the things from the previous body began to fade so very quickly. It changed from vivid memories of a life I had lived into looking through someone else’s photo album, of looking through snapshots that I wasn’t in. Do you know what this man’s last thought was?

  Lila: No. Tell me.

  Girard: His last thought was this; ‘Ah, this isn’t so bad. I feel better already.’

  Lila: That’s not a bad last thought.

  Girard: But it was a lie. He was dying. He wasn’t feeling better. I was taking him away.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Interviewer puts aside notebook and hugs Subject, then resumes seat.

  Lila: He was dying whether you were there or not.

  Girard: I know that. A young man on his way home has a heart attack. A million others have the same thing happen. I know that. But my first thought as he faded was, ‘Why me?’ Guilt. It was always there.

  Lila: And now?

  Girard: And now I don’t feel it. That’s what I’ve taken from this entire episode. The best gift we have ever given to our kind is erasing the laws against heresy. To know that I’m a part of nature, that what we are is a good thing, something so valuable to humans that even as we take a body, we advance an entire species—that is a gift beyond price. Yes, I wish this young man had been able to live a long life as he was, but I feel only the gift now. By keeping this body alive, repairing the heart, and being a Guardian, I have given back to the world. And by extension, to everyone this young man loved or might have loved in the future.

  Lila: That’s a powerful feeling to have.

  Girard: Yes. And even better, I’m sure this young man would have approved. After all, I know him. I am him.

  Lila: And also Girard, the Guardian.

  Girard: Yes, I’m that too. Always Girard, always the Guardian.

  Transcriptionist Notes: Transcriptionist calls a recess to the transcription in order to visit a bathroom.

  Thalia Rising

  Girard the Guardian

  Young Yadikira

  Wicked Witchcraft

  A Legion of Angels Story

  Ella Summers

  Dark magic is brewing at the New York University of Witchcraft. Witch-in-training Bella teams up with angel Harker Sunstorm to get to the bottom of it.

  Wicked Witchcraft is a new short story set in the Legion of Angels world.

  I usually found airship construction to be a fascinating subject, but after two hours of reading through technical manuals, I could hardly keep my eyes open. It probably didn’t help that I’d been up most of the night. It was exams time at the New York University of Witchcraft, and I wasn’t the only student who was feeling the pressure. Nor was I the only one doped up on Witch Coffee—that’s one shot of espresso per two shots of Magic Potion #38. One tiny cup was supposed to keep you buzzing for hours. I’d had five since breakfast. The empty cups were wedged between the sea of books that covered the big library desk in front of me.

  But at least I’d finished last night’s Chemistry project: a magical diorama of a battle between four elementals. Lightning flashed, earthquakes roared, rain storms raged, and fire flared as the water, air, fire, and earth elementals fought one another inside the miniature model. I’d used various potion mixtures to simulate the elemental magic effects. It had taken most of the night to get the look just right.

  I’d celebrated my success by preparing my Botany experiment. I was crossbreeding several plants in the hopes of creating something with new magical properties. And now I was studying for my exam in Steam Witchcraft, the science of magic steam that powered everything in the world. The huge Magitech walls protected the Earth’s cities from the beasts that lay beyond on the plains of monsters.

  Two voices trickled down the hallway outside the library. They were above a whisper, but in the dead silence of the library, they might as well have been screaming.

  “Are you quite sure I cannot be of assistance?” asked Aurora Bennet, the university’s head of Botany. “I would be more than happy to help in any—” She sighed. “Very well. I will get her.”

  Aurora stepped into the library. She was dressed in a dark green corset over a white blouse with a low neckline and puffy short sleeves. Her layered brown skirt kissed the tops of her knee-high leather boots.

  “Bella,” she said as she stopped in front of my table. “Are you free?”

  I shot my piles and piles of books a woeful look. “Not really.”

  “The Legion of Angels requires your help on a sensitive matter.”

  The Legion of Angels was the gods’ army on Earth. They were powerful soldiers—with powerful magic gifted to them by the gods themselves.

  “What do they need me to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Aurora sighed, her silve
r bracelets jingling as she set her hands on her hips. “They will only speak to you.”

  I could understand her frustration. She didn’t like being kept in the dark. As one of the most powerful witch coven leaders in New York, she was accustomed to knowing everything. But compared to the Legion, the gods’ hand of justice, even an extraordinary witch like Aurora was powerless. We were all powerless.

  Aurora leaned in closer, so I couldn’t even see the dozens of students staring at us. “It is possible the Legion is investigating the university,” she said in a low whisper. “We’ve been caught up in so much controversy lately.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating about that. A few months ago, the son of an important New York coven had joined a rogue vampire house. But that was nothing compared to the recent controversy surrounding Constantine Wildman. He’d once been the head of the university’s Zoology department. Now he was dead. He’d been a brilliant witch but a horrible person.