“What did you have Milo do?” Francis whispered, his whole body trembling as he stood to his feet again.
Cicero’s gaze glinted. “We will reintroduce the world to the glory of the Darkness. You’ll see. I thought it appropriate to gift the Vampire’s charge with the first copy of Volume Two…since her guardian’s bloodline stems from one of the seven houses. They deserve to know the second secret.”
His grin was crooked, cracking his marble features, making him appear even more sinister.
Francis felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Valek was an elite? He tried to curl his mind around the idea.
“This addition to the seven volumes, I’m pleased to say, was pieced together by one of our very own.”
He gestured grandly to Ophelia who smiled.
“Valek will never bow to your whims.” Francis scoffed. “He is younger, yes, but his strength bests yours. He doesn’t want any part of your extremism.”
“You’ll see. The girl will come here of her own accord. Soon, you’ll understand that I am only helping her and Valek—putting them both in a position of power so that no Elf, no Wolf, no single obstacle will be able to challenge Valek, nor Charlotte, ever again.
“The mortals fear the very thing that will become their salvation. Lord Price, the Regime, they have no use for mortals. They will stomp them out like cockroaches. We will be their salvation. We will harvest blood. We will turn the ones worthy of being turned. Vampire was a name given to us by the uneducated poets with romantic ideas. But the ancient Mother and Father know the truth….”
“Do you understand what we really are, Francis? Once mortal, now immortal…however all shaped in His image?” Cicero pointed his first two fingers together toward the ceiling. “Cursed by the ultimate Dark?” His other hand pointed two fingers toward the floor….
“You don’t really think—”
“We are the fallen, created for a much larger purpose than just stalking and hunting and being illustrated incorrectly by writers and daydreamers. Our power is real. The elites…the lucky ones…we have the power of angels—of gods. The fallen ones. The curse of Lucifer. The facts are real. History will support it. Vampire is just a child’s term to describe what we really are. Blessed with the Gift by those others who possessed it before us. I’m talking hundreds of thousands of years, Francis. Do you think this is some mistake? Do you think we are here by some accident? No! After all, mortals have their own thirst for blood, don’t they? They kill each other. They destroy this world. We are here because of a deal made between the Devil and Mircea I. Mortals are blind to their own self-ruin. It is time they are put back in their place! They are no better than children who need looking after.”
Francis gaped at Cicero, his extremities numb. He could not believe what he was hearing.
“I still do not understand what my part is in all this,” he whispered. “Yes, I destroyed Vladislov. He made my life a living hell.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
He gulped thickly, tensing his muscles to control his shivering. Cicero Drăculești suggested he was a god—a demon. He was suggesting Armageddon. Hell on earth. And he didn’t see anything wrong with that. There was no reasoning with someone like him. Instead, Francis realized needed to speak his language. Play along.
“If something as important as preserving the human race is at stake, what could I possibly do to assist you? My work is done.”
Cicero sat back down and rested his chin over his knuckles. He shrugged. “Valek and his girl do not know where we are. You will guide their way. I don’t want her traumatized. I want her to believe this is a safe place, do you understand? Valek is smart. But, you and I together, we can outsmart him.”
“But…why?”
“He single-handedly led your coven to take down something as powerful as the Regime. But that was a small battle compared to the much larger war looming on the horizon. The Dark Ages will return. This I promise you.”
“If you know so much about what’s coming, why didn’t you just take care of them? We are so god-like, after all. The Parliament seems more than capable to handle a couple of Wizards.”
“Vladislov’s cunning was not something to take lightly. The Court of Myrddin is just as great as our own Order. Just as the source of our powers is divine, so too is theirs. And they still outnumber us. The Regime is vulnerable, but the Light is still great. We must build ourselves up, and strike when we are stronger.”
Fury erupted from Francis’ core, but he held it in. Though, he was more than ready to rid himself of such wretched company.
“Several hundred of our kind perished, do you understand that? The Parliament is supposed to be a symbol of resilience. You didn’t bother once to come out of hiding to help us,” Francis accused.
“You are very bold to address your Liege in such a way.” Oslo drummed his claws on his chin. His silver glare sliced right through the heavy shadows.
Francis fumed. “I’m sorry, but beloved members of my own family died when you could have easily used these new powers to help destroy Aiden and his army.” He blinked furiously. “Just because some half-baked plan of yours demands you sit on your hands while—”
“Enough!” Cicero bellowed. The fire behind him cast him in a long, terrible silhouette over the length of the hall. “You will not disrespect me any further, nor will you disrespect Ordo Draconum. Abide by me and you will not face destruction. Heed what I say and you will gain the infinite power we possess and be an elite member of the Parliament. This I promise.”
Francis, struck cold with fear again, only nodded once.
The fire behind them calmed to a glister.
“We need the one you created. Valek Ruzik. The rogue. The dreaded. The natural leader. His bloodline belongs to the House of Bethlen, the sacral prince. He will shepherd us in this war against the Light. And you will be our messenger,” Ophelia instructed coolly.
Cicero noticeably seethed, but worked to calm himself. “If Valek could take your tiny coven of misfits and overthrow the leader of the entire Central European Magic Regime, then he will be the best fit to lead our army toward the rebirth of this world. The rest of us lack the kind of willpower he possesses. Such an internal strength is exceedingly rare.”
“Valek Ruzik is shaped by the Devil, as we all are, but he has the heart of God inside of him,” Francis whispered.
“He has the potential we lack,” Oslo added in a high, clear voice. “He is the ultimate pioneer. We’ve been watching him for a very long time. And while the girl has no real place in our new order, she will become crucial. We’ve delivered her invitation. The plan is in motion. If you do not comply, it will result in your immediate disintegration…above ground…at dawn.”
“Fine.” Francis breathed at them, his glare moving between each fierce face.
Cicero had succeeded in backing him into a corner. As he leaned back in his seat, the head Vampire looked pretty satisfied with himself.
Conflict twisted Francis’ guts into a knot, but then, a newer and cleverer idea crept into his mind—a realization—a memory of a little detail he’d long forgotten. It was precarious, but if Francis took this risk, it just might save them all.
“There is something else you must know.” He leaned forwarded with his elbows on his knees. “A different kind of secret. One Valek has been keeping for a long, long time. It is the reason he fled the Parliament in the first place. It is something he’s never told anyone…anyone but me. There may be another pawn in this game—one you’re not aware of. And if you’re not careful, that pawn might just take out your king.”
First Snow
Valek heard his name being called from the front of the house.
“Valek, look!”
Frantic steps thumped down the hall.
Stopping his work with a splint and a roll of bandage, Valek sighed, albeit, happily.
“You’ll excuse me, won’t you?” he said to a Forest Spr
ite perched on the edge of a gurney.
At the back of their large, baroque home, Valek worked in an annexed room designed specifically to house his medical practice—a room with white walls and stark countertops, with a large desk, jars of cotton, a gurney, a ticking wall-clock, and old drawings in picture frames.
“Of course.” Ludo smiled. His forearm dangled at the elbow—nothing but a snapped tree branch. It hung on by only a few thin vines, and though Valek could not empathize with a man comprised of bark and leaves, he imagined an injury like that must have been quite painful.
Charlotte burst through the office door, eyes brighter than they’d been the night before, her smile wide over cheeks rosy and freckled. “Valek! Would you look outside? It’s snowing!”
He chuckled, setting down the instruments he’d been using to bind up Ludo’s arm. “Lottie, I told you I’d be working for a bit, today….”
“I know. But—” She stopped, craning up on her toes and sideways to peer around where he stood, giving a short wave to the other fellow in the room. “Hi, Ludo! Sorry, Valek, but it’s finally the first snow and you haven’t seen it in ages. Well, not in the sun at least. Please? I don’t want you to miss it! It’s so pretty in the light, and everyone’s outside, and—”
Hearty laughter exploded from Valek’s chest loud enough to roll over her prattling. She subsided looking haughty and folded her arms.
“Good. Go join the others, then. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“But—”
“Come, now, Valek. Not to worry! She’s right,” Ludo added with a nod of his leafy head. “Go, on. My arm isn’t gonna sprout back next minute. It’ll still be broken when you return.”
Poor Ludo. Guards of the Central European Magic Regime had more than just tortured the inhabitants of the Bohemian Occult City during their relentless effort to capture and kill vampirekind some mere weeks ago. Tyrannical leaders of Europe’s magic societies sought them out, bent on seizing Charlotte and slaughtering Valek for what he was: Dark. A blood-feeder.
Heathen, they called them. Leaches. Scoundrels.
For decades, the Regime denied vampirekind from their usual human-hunting pursuits, which brought about the beginning of a war between the Light and the Dark. Anyone who refused to relinquish information regarding the whereabouts of Valek and Charlotte was to be physically punished…or worse.
Though his arm had been the most minor of his injuries, Ludo was one of the lucky ones. At least he was still alive.
“But, you must be in pain,” Valek insisted from the doorpost, wincing as half of Ludo’s branchy arm rotated clockwise by one green tendril.
The Sprite shrugged. “Not too much. Whatever meds you’ve given me seem to be working.” His daft grin made Charlotte giggle.
Valek threw a dark look at her from over his shoulder. He sighed again and said, “Very well.” He turned once more to the wide-eyed redhead in the hallway. “But just a few minutes.”
“Great! A few minutes.” She wrapped her warm hand around his and tugged him down the hall.
Beyond the foyer, past the wooden doorframe elaborately carved with the many faces of creatures and beasts, Valek could see their group huddled together on the porch landing.
The gaggle of Vampires watched the snowfall with content silence. Each set of shoulders was draped with a different-colored scarf knit by Sarah, the Witch who lived with the coven of misfit monsters in their house at the edge of the forest.
Their city of magic remained secret from human societies thanks to nothing more than some dense woods, a false graveyard, and a few magic spells.
“See?” Charlotte sang again. “Everyone’s been waiting.” She towed him by his sleeve over the threshold, weaving their way to the front of the group. “Look! Beautiful, right? You haven’t seen this for…what? Like, a hundred years? In the sun, I mean.”
He sighed, but offered a smile down at her as she waited expectantly for some kind of enthusiastic reaction.
Every day since their homecoming, every chance Charlotte got, she wanted to reintroduce Valek to the world in daylight. Unapologetically, she’d tear him from his record-keeping so they could watch the sunrises together. She’d break Valek from some deep conversation with Jorge to force him out on a trek through the wood some quiet afternoons to hear the birdsong.
But he didn’t mind. Because it was everything he ever wanted. Though, he couldn’t settle on why his chest still felt so tight and heavy.
It had been over a century since he’d seen the sun, having been condemned to a life of damnation and the terrible curse that came with his immortality:
With the sunrise, Vampires returned to their deathly state—their true form—a corpse, only enchanted by the power of night and the curse in their blood. Each daybreak, Valek suffered the same horrible demise…damned to die over and over again. Agony. It meant burning from the inside, suffocating and starvation all at the same time.
But the Regime and the powers of Light kept a dastardly secret locked away for centuries. Vladislov, the ancient Wizard and lord over the Regime oligarchy, had concealed this knowledge from other occult sects for centuries:
He held the only cure—the only antidote for the Vampires’ strange affliction. Blood. Blood of the Light. Blood of the royals. The Elves, and anyone who presided within Light realms of magic. Vladislov’s secrets would have died with him if it hadn’t been for Valek.
The rogue coven attacked the oligarchy—they drank from them—thereby revealing the guarded paradox.
Now, the group of undead stood in the sharp light of midday, totally unscathed. For the first time in nearly one hundred years, Valek did not die with the daybreak.
Charlotte was right, of course. The snowfall was worth seeing. Blankets of fine powder glistened in mounds, sanded diamonds under a late-afternoon sun.
Light streamed across the lawn in bright-yellow beams breaking through the wintery clouds. Thick flurries of snow spiraled down over their house, the speckling of trees, and the city square beyond the narrow path. Snowflakes clumped together in large, cottony tufts as they fell, a few landing in Charlotte’s autumn hair.
“It never gets old,” Jorge, a younger-looking blond Vampire, spoke from the porch’s second step. His sweater-clad arms folded over his chest as he leaned up against a column.
“Never thought I’d see it again,” added Dusana, a female whose face was mostly metal for the piercings along her lower lip, her eyebrow, her nose—even pewter studs in her dimples. She effortlessly balanced herself over the thin banister, shaking choppy black hair out of her eyes. “I could watch it all day.”
“I only wish Andela was here,” Jorge continued.
The beloved member of their clan perished during the uprising…caught by fire. Though Valek got the feeling Andela had been ready to die.
“She would have loved this,” mused Sasha, a baleful male with beautiful ebony skin. He towered nearly twice the size of everyone else, though was probably the least formidable.
“We should make snow angels,” chanted the twins, Ana and Aneta in slow, eerie unison.
A sudden white blur whizzed past Valek’s nose before it smashed into the side of Jorge’s head.
Deep and bellowing laughter sounded from the far corner of the lawn as Lusian threw his head back and slapped his knee. “It’s been decades!” he cried, wiping the corner of his eye. “Nailed you!”
Jorge did not look amused.
If any of their group fit the typical human expectation of what a Vampire should be, it would have been Lusian. He wasn’t the largest, but there was just…something about him. A certain restlessness lived in his eyes—in the way he carried himself, always hunched over, casing a person, a place. Like…he was always…thirsty. Always. Like killing never fully left his mind, even when he was satiated. Though, the noise of Lusian’s mind was usually just filled with arrogance.
“Do you like it, Valek?” Charlotte whispered up at him. “You haven’t said anything.”
&nb
sp; He squeezed her firmly into his side and planted a kiss at the top of her head. “Brilliant,” he whispered down at her. “But you are even more so.”
She was quite odd in her own right—the only mortal in a family of monsters. Valek found her, an infant abandoned by her human parents in the gutters of Prague nearly two decades ago. He’d brought her up in this world of magic. Took care of her. Watched her turn into the woman standing before him. Nineteen years passed in less than a second.
“Cocoa!” the Witch’s voice sang from behind them.
Sarah jived her way between Vampires toward the front of the group, careful not to spill frothy liquid from mugs occupying both her hands. The drinks looked festive, topped with swirling foam, garnished by red and white peppermint sprigs.
Smiling, she handed the first to Charlotte before clanking hers against it. “Cheers!” And then she swilled a large gulp, the foam leaving a bubbling white mustache under her nose.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “These look—”
“I’ve added some cognac,” Sarah added in a very audible whisper, winking quite obviously.
“What about me? My twigs are frosting, over here!” Ludo called, still within the foyer, but emerging out onto the deck with the rest of them.
“Of course!” Charlotte swiveled out from the crook of Valek’s arm and dashed to hand Ludo her mug. “Have mine. Sarah and I have to finish up in the kitchen anyway.”
“Shouldn’t be on your feet yet,” Valek half-scolded, but Ludo didn’t hear him. Or, rather, chose not to hear him.
He took the mug in his good hand. Pushing it up over his head, the Forest Sprite said, “Cheers, to such lovely…er…friends!” before throwing it back.
“I’m not sure cognac is going to mix well with your medic—” Valek started again, but then resigned himself to a, “never mind.”
The drink went down Ludo’s gullet in a blink.
Of Blood and Magic Page 5
