Graves of Retribution

by Lina Gardiner

  “The cops that have taken over?” Britt asked. “Are they human?”

  Veronique leaned forward, as if she suddenly had a pain in her stomach. “I’m not sure. That traitor, Bernard, isn’t a vampire, as far as I know.”

  “Why take over the police?” Britt said. “Why does the Immortal want the cops out of the way? Especially if they’re not a threat to him?”

  “Unless, somehow they are a threat to him?” Jess said, jumping to her feet. “We need to see the prophesy. The whole prophesy.”

  “And how do you suppose we’re going to do that?” Veronique asked. “We have no way of finding it.”

  “Like I said, I’ve met Calmet. He knows about the prophesy, and for some reason, he seemed to like me. I’m guessing he might know more about it.”

  MORANA WENT HOME early again, to test her theory. No surprise, her father was nowhere to be found.

  She waited in his chair. After she heard the sound of a door creaking again, he appeared with a fresh bottle of peach brandy in hand.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  He held up the bottle. “Just went to the cellar.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. He was lying again. But this time, she’d been paying very close attention to where that squeak had come from. She got up and went to the back of the house and strode quickly toward the area in question.

  Sinclair followed her. “Where are you going?”

  “I thought I heard a strange noise down here.” She scanned the ten-by-ten room then opened the closet door. Everything looked normal inside. She shoved the coats to one side, looking at the clapboard wall from floor to ceiling.

  And then, she spotted it, a tiny silver button very close to the floor. She reached down and jammed her finger into it.

  The door swung open, and an ancient set of stone steps arrowed down into the darkness.

  She looked back at her father angrily.

  His face had gone sickly pale. “Don’t go down there, Morana. This is my private area of the house.”

  “This section is below our basement?”

  He nodded, but it was with obvious regret.

  “You have a room down there, and you’ve never told me about it? Why?”

  “I’ve told you I’m a Watcher. We have rites and rituals to perform. My family has held this prestigious occupation for a very long time, cherie. Never in all that time has anyone but a Watcher been down there. It would violate many of our laws. I’m asking you not to go.”

  She grinned at him in defiance and charged down the stairs. Sinclair must’ve turned on a light because the area illuminated before she hit the bottom step. It was massive down here. It wasn’t a sub-basement—it was a damned cave system.

  “Where does this go?” she asked. Demanded.

  He’d followed her down and was as close to her as he dared to be, in an effort to stop her from going further.

  She walked deeper into the system. After about a mile, she started seeing disambiguated bones in the walls. “This is part of the tunnel system. It leads to the city!”

  She saw a light ahead, glowing from underneath a door. She tried to open it, but it was locked. “Unlock it or I’ll rip it off the hinges,” she said in a vampire’s resonating voice.

  His hand shook when he held out an old iron key and stuck it in the lock. He slowly turned the key, then stepped out of her way, practically cringing. “You shouldn’t go inside. I’m warning you, it’s dangerous for you.”

  She made a cynical noise. He was merely trying to keep her out. This was where he made her drug—she’d bet her lack of life on it.

  She opened the door and stepped inside. The walls had been plastered ages ago, and some of it was now crumbling.

  Symbols in red covered almost all of the stone walls—weird sym­bols she’d never seen before. Power resonated from them.

  Is that why he said the room was dangerous to her? She felt the tingle and then a weakening in her limbs. Old oak tables were lined with vials, bottles, and glass pipettes. It looked like a school science room, not that she’d ever gotten to go to school. She leaned against one of the tables, literally feeling her energy ebbing away.

  “You have to leave here, cherie. This room is protected against anyone who is not a Watcher. It can kill you.”

  Unable to move another step and feeling her energy being viscerally torn from her body, she turned and practically snarled at him. “Get me out of here!”

  He ran to her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and threw her arm across his shoulders, then dragged her out.

  She felt her life force actually leaving her body—draining away like water out of a sink. The minute he hauled her back into the cave, she revived enough to stand on her own.

  He kicked the door shut, and after that, she felt some strength returning.

  Finally, she felt she could stand on her own, and she shoved him away. “What the hell are you?” she asked.

  He blinked at her. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. You would still be a wailing vampire baby if I hadn’t helped you to age. How do you think I did that, if I didn’t have skills that were beyond those of hu­manity’s understanding?”

  “I just assumed you were some sort of monk with a few potions. The power in that room is beyond imagining.” She saw him in a way she’d never seen him before. Not only did she understand his power now, but it also explained how he’d survived the injuries she’d caused him. He could have stopped her. She knew that now.

  She wanted out of this tunnel for now, but she had the feeling it ran all the way back to the city. It was part of the three hundred miles of tunnel systems under Paris. Why? Why did he need the tunnels? Why had his forbearers used them?

  “Maybe it’s time you knew the truth. I’ve tried to protect you from it, but you’d be getting curious soon anyway.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve lived a very long time. You know I am a Watcher. But what I haven’t told you is that I am Immortal.”

  Morana froze and stared at him. Immortal? Like the bastard leading the olde vampires! He’d live as long as she would. Damn him all to hell!

  Chapter Thirteen

  “SERIOUSLY BRITT, I think we need to talk to Calmet again. Hope­fully, he has access to the prophesy, or at the very least, maybe explain it to us. We need to have a better understanding of it. Twin vampires might have some part in it, but that can’t be all of it. There must be something else,” Jess said.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Calmet seemed to think I had some special ability to get through his protective binding. You might not be able to follow me.”

  “I’m damned well going to try,” he said. “I don’t want you going in there alone.”

  Half an hour later, they’d reached Calmet’s home. Jess had done everything in her power to make sure they weren’t followed, and, judg­ing by the sweat on Britt’s brow, he’d probably done the same thing.

  “It’s funny. The last time I came here, I didn’t see this decrepit building,” she said. “Maybe I won’t be able to get through this time.”

  Suddenly, Boyer appeared out of nowhere. “Monsieur Calmet has been waiting for you,” he said, turning an assessing gaze on Britt. “You, too, are welcome inside, John Brittain.”

  “Great,” Britt said, following both of them through the invisible curtain. “Nice place.”

  “My master will thank you for that, sir. He takes great pleasure in his abode.”

  “He must, since he’s hidden here for hundreds of years,” Jess said, then regretted her choice of words when she saw the pained look on Boyer’s face.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” And no way did she want to be kicked out now.

  “Come in,” Calmet’s voice boomed through the house the minute they stepped
inside. “I’m in the drawing room.”

  She followed the voice without Boyer’s assistance, Britt close on her heels.

  Calmet, in all of his handsome glory, stood to welcome them. He took her hand gently, then reached out and shook Britt’s hand, holding it longer than a man would do usually.

  “Ah, I see. Now I understand your connection to this wonderful woman,” he said finally.

  “Care to share your epiphany?” Jess asked.

  “In time, my dear. In time. Please, be seated.” He returned to his chair next to the blazing fireplace. Even so, it was cool in this room. It had been last time, too, she realized. Almost as if his protective bubble kept summer out, as well.

  Britt didn’t sit right away. He did the same thing she’d done when she’d first entered the room. He wandered from painting to painting, staring at them individually, as if trying to find a clue to the language barely visible within the feathers of the blackbirds.

  “How may I help you?” Calmet asked, after watching Britt look at his paintings, with his hands folded in his lap.

  Jess told them about what had happened at the police station. “We’d really like to know more about the prophesy,” Jess said. “Can you tell us about it?”

  Calmet raised one eyebrow while considering her request. He leaned his head back against the headrest of his chair and exhaled. “I must have it somewhere. If it hasn’t fallen to dust by now.”

  Boyer stepped forward as if Calmet had telegraphed his wishes to him. “Yes, sir?”

  “Please try to find the prophesy, Boyer. And if you do, be very careful with it. The document is so old, it might turn to dust when you touch it.”

  “Certainly sir. I believe it’s on leather, so it might have more strength than mere paper.”

  Calmet nodded and watched Boyer leave. “He’s a good man.”

  Neither of them commented while Calmet held one hand out to the heat of the fire.

  “What do you hope to find in the prophesy?” he asked gently, so gently Jess wondered if he’d suddenly decided not to share the infor­mation.

  “How specific is the prophesy? For instance, does it mention any­thing similar to what’s just gone on down at the police station?”

  Calmet’s mouth twisted while he tried to recall. “If there is, I can’t remember it. It wouldn’t be worded quite that way, at any rate, since the lawmakers of the time weren’t called police.”

  “Do you have a key code for the language you use in the paintings?” Britt asked.

  Jess sat a bit straighter, wondering if Calmet would answer.

  “If there is a key it has been lost to me in the overlapping of cen­turies.”

  “But you can read it?” Britt asked.

  Calmet nodded. “I can.” His attention shifted to the paintings on the walls, as if remembering how he’d devised the microscopic writings centuries ago.

  “JESS TELLS ME the people forging your paintings don’t know how to access the language. They merely copy it and use it as a call to arms.”

  “Access the language?” Calmet’s eyebrows rose in question. “I see you know more than the sloths in Paris who’ve recreated my works. They have no idea the language has a use other than art, but somehow, they must remember it was key in bringing unity to this city once. They just don’t remember how.” He sighed. “My work has become nothing more than a call to arms by the Immortal who rules the olde vampires. He’s trying to take over with my technology.”

  “And certainly not for the unity of Paris,” Jess said.

  “How is it you know about the language?” Calmet asked, tenting his fingers serenely under his chin.

  “We have had personal experience with some aspect of the lan­guage,” Britt said.

  Normally, they wouldn’t give up their secrets so easily, but Britt felt it necessary at this point. “Would you recite a phrase, Jess? We might learn something important, if you do.”

  Understanding sparked behind Jess’s eyes because Britt wanted to know once and for all if the language would halt Calmet, too. With Sampson’s undying devotion to Jess, he’d researched until he’d managed to figure out a phrase or two. Phrases that could momentarily halt vampires in their tracks.

  Calmet didn’t appear to be worried. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  Jess stood, stared at Calmet, and used the phrase that had stopped one of the most dangerous vampires she’d ever faced. Calmet main­tained his position in his chair while the words washed over him like a breaking wave and disappeared. There’d been no effect.

  “I’m not exactly a vampire,” he said. “It’s just a façade I use when I meet others. I thought you would have realized that yourself, Mr. Brittain.”

  Britt frowned at that. “Why would I . . . ?” He stared hard at Calmet. Was it his imagination or did he see a tiny blue glow around the man?

  “It’s something you either know or you don’t,” Calmet said. And that told them absolutely nothing.

  Suddenly Britt sat straighter and stared hard at Calmet’s aura. Real­ization struck him. He recognized that aura, and he felt the truth of Calmet’s being.

  Meanwhile, Calmet nodded his approval that Britt had figured it out. “I thought you had the ability to know. You’re fairly raw, though. Have you found your true self, yet?”

  Jess gasped while Britt held his breath for a second and wondered how much he should admit in front of her. He didn’t often talk about his angelic side. She said they were good and evil, and she didn’t feel worthy of him.

  “I’ve stumbled onto a few abilities by accident—that’s about it,” Britt said. “I’ve met two others like me, but they wouldn’t share any knowledge. They said I had to find out on my own.”

  “That is true. You have it in you to be good, but you also can turn to the dark. You’ll be powerful either way; the path is yours to take,” Calmet said, matter-of-factly.

  Boyer entered the room with an ancient leather map tube in hand. “I found it, sir.”

  “Many thanks, Boyer. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  The fact that the Immortal ruler was most likely another like Calmet, a Fallen one, stung Britt physically. Did he have that kind of evil inside himself, too?

  As if Calmet had read his mind, he said. “There are those of us who are bad, and those who are good.” He started unrolling the prophesy, which was written on stained and darkened animal skin.

  Britt couldn’t help noticing Calmet didn’t say which he was, him­self—good or bad.

  Britt looked closer. Damn, it was written in that same elusive vam­pire language.

  “This is no good. We can’t read it,” Jess said.

  “But I can,” Calmet said beckoning her closer. He pointed at the beginning line. “I’ll paraphrase since the language is antiquated and difficult to digest.”

  In an age when complex thoughts become one with man, and words float from one to another, vampire twins will be reunited in order to mark the beginning of a conversion for the vampire race. At this time, members of the law will be at odds with the power source, the outcome of which is unknown.

  If evil rules, the world will suffer.

  “I knew it,” Jess said, slamming one fist into the palm of her hand. “That’s why they’ve taken over the police. They want to stop them from halting their takeover—they want evil to rule.”

  “They being?” Calmet asked.

  “We believe it is the Immortal who is ruling the vampires,” Jess said. “Though we have no idea who he truly is.”

  Calmet ran a hand over his chin. “It would do no good for me to tell you who he is, since he could have taken many forms over the years. In my time, his name was Azazel.”

  “But isn’t that the name of an angel?” Britt said.

  Calmet nodded. “We all had
names like that back then. We were bold and brash and thought we could live here without impacting mankind. Only, living here meant we’d assume the characteristics of man, including their ways of thinking. That worked well for those who had darkness in their heart. At least sixty percent turned to darkness, and the rest tried to do good. Eventually, those who remained in His light couldn’t outwit those who darkened their hearts and knew no mercy. They had the benefit of the knowledge of light and dark, and it was like a drug for them. They ruled their people and allowed no others in.”

  “I thought Uriel was the only one left,” Britt said.

  “He might think that. We keep ourselves hidden from each other,” Calmet said. “We don’t know who among us is evil. We can’t read each other’s intent until it is too late.”

  “Why do you trust me, then?” Britt said. “Even you said I might be evil.”

  “Not if you are with Jess Vandermire,” Calmet said.

  Britt wondered which angel Calmet had been before he’d assumed his human role. But since he hadn’t offered his angelic name, it might be a sore point for him.

  Calmet reached out and touched Jess’s hand. “My dear, you are one of the twins and a police officer. The odds are that you and Britt are the good ones in the prophesy. And you say the police have been over­taken?”

  She nodded.

  Calmet wasn’t playing the odds, though, was he? Somehow, he knew who was good and who was evil. If it truly was Azazel ruling the vam­pires, he was far from virtuous . . . and very powerful.

  “How will we find him?” Jess asked. “How do we stop him?”

  Calmet shook his head back and forth. “I’m not sure, but I have the sense that you already have the tools you need to defeat him.”

  Britt’s gut twisted. “Can you be more specific?”

  Calmet’s mouth thinned, and he looked heavenward for a second. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I should not have even shown you the prophesy. It’s not for earthly eyes.”

  “You’re saying that it is a heavenly prophesy?” Jess gaped at Calmet. He didn’t reply.