A Shade of Vampire 80: A Veil of Dark

by Forrest, Bella

  Valaine exhaled. “I’m angry with Ansel, of course. I’ve known him since the day he was born. I’ve watched him grow up, like Kalon’s other brothers. It hurts to accept that he’d be willing to cut my head off as a sacrifice to the Black Fever, but… I can also see there is still hope for him. Young minds are impressionable and easy to sway back, too. Whatever dark path they’ve led Ansel on, I’m sure we can bring him into the light again.”

  “I wonder what Petra will think of all this.”

  “Oh, she’ll be furious,” Valaine said. “If Kalon doesn’t kill Ansel, Petra might.”

  “Seriously?”

  She giggled. “No, not really. She’s a mother, Tristan. She will suffer. She will cry. Then, she will take a deep breath and sit her son down. Sooner or later, we’ll get to hear everything that Ansel has learned from the Darklings. Believe it or not, his affiliation is actually a gift to us. The Visentis dynasty is strong. They would never let him slip away from them… not forever.”

  “So, you think his bloodline is stronger than his ideology,” I concluded.

  “If you put it like that? Yes. I firmly believe that. You see, Tristan, the Aeternae’s noble dynasties are ancient. Many of them, including Visentis, predate the Black Fever and the Darklings themselves. By a few millennia, of course, but those years matter.”

  “I find the whole concept of dynasties fascinating,” I said. “Especially when the main bloodlines seem to have consistently occupied the same positions within the empire for millennia on end. It denotes great societal stability. I can see how you’ve managed to keep both Rimia and Nalore under control for so long.”

  Valaine inched her Vision closer to mine, her gaze penetrating my very soul. “Crimson has always stood for blood. For violence. For sacrifice. Our family does what others will not. My father was hoping I’d take over from him someday.”

  “You… a master commander?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course, I’m not yet sure I want that responsibility, and he knows it. Which is why he’s trained Kalon, as well. Just in case I decide to disappoint him and open an orphanage for abandoned Rimians and Naloreans somewhere south of the imperial city.” She laughed lightly. “I’m not the only Crimson left, either. I still have cousins and aunts and uncles who might find the position appropriate. Point is, Tristan, we’ve always been around to defend the empire. To spill blood, if needed.”

  “I understand. Much like the Nasani dynasty has been around to rule over the empire,” I replied, occasionally patting the side of my Vision’s muscular neck.

  “Yes. Other dynasties have ruled over the years, of course, but none as well and as proficiently as the Nasani. I suppose it’s in their blood, so to speak. They were the first to rise as leaders, before the Aeternae were even an empire. They were the ones to lead the conquest of Rimia, then Nalore. They have overseen the longest periods of peace, as well.”

  “Gotta give credit where it’s due,” I muttered. I could see Corbin ahead, well past the battalion, his broad frame amplified by his Vision stallion—a monster of a horse with enough muscle to make me shake in my boots. “And the Shatal dynasty?” I asked, wondering if Zoltan was even the first Darkling in his family.

  Valaine clicked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “I knew you’d ask. To be fair, the Shatal dynasty has always been… balanced. Most of them occupied positions high up in the government. Zoltan isn’t even the first chief councilor. It came as a shock to everyone that even one of them would be associated with the Darklings. The Shatal Aeternae are what you’d normally refer to as goody-two-shoes.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess Zoltan was trying to break the mold, somehow.”

  “As for Visentis, they’ve always had at least one master of mazir among them. They don’t hold the monopoly over mazir, though. There are plenty of other Aeternae who practice the art, Valaine included. The Visentis dynasty have always held a leadership role over the use of mazir. They’re scholars and healers. Politicians. Caregivers. A diverse bunch, but always providing a high priestess or a high priest to serve the empire. There hasn’t been a non-Visentis high cleric in over a million years. Again, they’re a loyal bunch. Ansel is… well, he’s an anomaly.”

  Ansel’s situation was oddly familiar. I had seen it before, in other cultures, in other worlds. Given his age and, like Valaine had noted, his impressionable mind, it didn’t strike me as unfathomable that Ansel had fallen under the Darklings’ spell.

  “I don’t think he realized what he was getting himself into,” I said. “The Darklings offered him something; they filled a gap in his life, somehow. Maybe they promised him something. Or maybe loneliness pushed him into their arms. I understand that Ansel is one of the middle children, right?”

  Valaine nodded again. “He’s got two younger brothers. One is ten, the other is six.”

  “I thought Petra was a widow.”

  “Well… yes. It obviously didn’t stop her from growing her family,” Valaine replied, her cheeks as red as rubies. My face burned. “Obviously, she’s always been particularly fertile, though we’re not sure why.”

  “Point is, Ansel, as a middle child, was a perfect target for the Darklings. Always in between, stuck between elder, stronger brothers, and younger ones, the latter getting more of their mother’s attention, while the former get more of their mother’s praise. Ansel is basically a teenager, still looking for his place in the world. Whoever recruited him for the Darklings… they knew what they were doing.”

  Valaine looked at me, her eyes wide and glimmering with understanding. “I completely agree. So, you don’t think he should be branded as a traitor?”

  “No. But he should receive some kind of punishment. He has to understand that what he did was wrong. He turned on his own family. The empire. Everyone. There must be repercussions. That being said, he can still learn from these errors. With the right guidance and a lot of patience, I’m certain Ansel might one day become a productive member of the Aeternae society.”

  As the moon continued its voyage across the starry sky, I found myself wondering who had found Ansel for the Darklings, in the first place. I worried about Esme in his presence, too. She and Kalon were in danger, since there were bound to be other Darklings looking for Ansel. But I also had high hopes for the boy. Had he been fully indoctrinated, he would’ve poisoned himself. Esme had removed the glass capsule from his hidden pocket preemptively, shortly after their riverside stop. However, Ansel could’ve ended it before that particular moment.

  This told me that the boy wanted to live. That he wasn’t ready to sacrifice everything for the Darklings. It meant that there was definitely still hope for him, and maybe he wasn’t the only Darkling in this situation. How many more could we eventually reach out to and pull away from the faction’s radical hold?

  As we made our way up the Green Road, I kept that thought close for future Darkling encounters. Maybe, just maybe, we might save more lives in the process by talking them out of this madness before accusing them of treason and throwing the key away.

  Nethissis

  The more time I spent with Zoltan, the better I understood his motivations. The guy actually believed that he was serving the Aeternae empire. He thought that he was doing the right thing, while the rest of us were ignorant fools.

  One of his underlings had stood out, recently. His name was Veliko, and he frequently sought Zoltan’s advice and approval. They spent the better part of the afternoon consulting about Seeley, in his presence—which, of course, made everything all the more awkward for the Reaper.

  “Will you turn him?” Veliko asked.

  Seeley didn’t say a word, occasionally glancing my way, his galaxy eyes filled with meaning. Zoltan shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Veliko replied. “He’s a liability.”

  “We don’t have the space or the conditions we need to push him,” Zoltan explained. “Not right now. We need to focus on finding a new home for the ghouls we already have, some o
f which we still need to train.”

  Veliko cursed under his breath. “All this because of those strangers…”

  “I thought I had trained Ignatius better than that. I don’t know what in the world got into him with the snake lady,” Zoltan muttered.

  “Had Ignatius not killed her, the strangers would’ve just gotten their protein and left, none the wiser,” Veliko spat, standing up and taking out his scythe, its blade glinting beneath the milky moonlight.

  “What are you doing?” Zoltan asked, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on Veliko’s blade.

  “What you didn’t have the balls to do yourself!” the bulky Darkling replied. He stormed into a nearby cluster of ghouls and yanked the chain of the one who’d killed me. Ignatius. I recognized him with great ease, my entire spirit trembling and freezing as I remembered the moment he’d snapped my neck.

  This time, however, Ignatius didn’t frighten me. He looked scared as Veliko pulled him out of the ghoul cluster and dragged him forth. He clawed at the dry ground and pebbles, desperate to get away from the Darkling, but it was no use.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Zoltan warned him. “We need every one of these creatures for what lies ahead.”

  “You’re taking your frustrations out on a ghoul?” Seeley muttered, eyeing Veliko suspiciously. Something didn’t feel right about all this, and I grew increasingly anxious. There was something about this Darkling—maybe the simmering rage in his eyes—that made me uneasy. I found that I feared him and Zoltan more than I did all the ghouls put together.

  “I suggest you keep your mouth shut, unless you want to become the next Ignatius,” Veliko replied, and pulled the ghoul closer to Zoltan, while Seeley and I remained on the side. He raised the scythe and slashed at the beast. Wounds opened, ashes spreading outward as if spewed by a volcano. Ignatius wailed and screamed from the pain, but Veliko wasn’t done.

  “Oh, wow,” I managed, covering my mouth with both hands.

  Veliko kept cutting away at the ghoul. Every blow caused more ashes to spray outward. He hacked and slashed until there was nothing left of Ignatius but a pile of grayish dust that was quickly stolen by the wind.

  Silence fell heavily over our corner of Astoria. Other Darklings and black guards watched from a safe distance, their expressions sullen and darkened by discontent. No one liked Veliko, but they all feared him. No one dared to object to what he’d just done, but it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

  Seeley breathed out shakily. “This isn’t possible,” he whispered.

  The Reaper’s scythe was not supposed to work like that. Only Reapers could destroy ghouls in this particular fashion. What the hell was going on here?! Ghouls could be killed in their physical form by cutting off their heads, but what Veliko had accomplished here was something that had, until now, been a key characteristic of Reapers, as well as Death and her Thieron.

  People like Veliko were not supposed to be able to wield a Reaper blade like that.

  “That was a mistake,” Zoltan warned the seething Darkling. That was all he said regarding the matter, though. No punishment. Nothing else. I wondered if Zoltan feared Veliko, too, or if it was just a matter of respect. “Ignatius would’ve been useful.”

  “He was a shoddy tracker and a mindless soul-eater,” Veliko said, dusting the ashes off his scythe before he hid it back under his cloak. “He should’ve been terminated sooner.”

  “We’re a ghoul short, now,” Zoltan grumbled.

  Veliko pointed at Seeley, and my soul became paralyzed. “You can make this one more useful.”

  “And you can shut the hell up already,” Zoltan shot back. “I told you I’ve yet to decide what I’m going to do with him. You’re in no position to force my hand. I’ve already tolerated enough from you, Veliko. Don’t push it.”

  It hit me then that I was witnessing the beginning of a power struggle. Zoltan was the Darkling Scholar and leader of this entire garrison. Veliko was strong, intimidating, and obviously dedicated to the cause. He also resented Zoltan for what had happened to me—which actually made sense. It was only a matter of time before Veliko would challenge Zoltan. Today wasn’t that day, though. Veliko cursed under his breath and sat down, crossing his legs in front of Ignatius’s rune chain.

  Fiddling with its engraved links, he looked up at Seeley. “I take it you didn’t see this coming?”

  “This isn’t normal,” Seeley replied. “You’re not a Reaper. How are you able to kill a ghoul with a scythe?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Veliko sneered.

  “We should focus on our primary mission,” Zoltan interjected, equally unwilling to explain how an Aeternae was able to destroy a creature that only Reapers and Death herself had had the power to eradicate. “I’ve sent scouts back to the Green Road.”

  “And I’ve ordered the Darklings’ retreat from the imperial city,” Veliko said. “After the dungeon incident, I think we’re safer if we just let the foreigners run around until they get tired. Hopefully, they’ll leave once they get their day-walking protein.”

  “That’s wishful thinking,” I muttered. “No way GASP will let my death go unpunished. It’s just not in our nature.”

  Seeley wanted to respond, but he didn’t want to give my presence away. Instead, he focused on Zoltan and Veliko. “The foreigners won’t let Nethissis’s death go unpunished. I know them well enough to understand that whatever you try to do, it will end in miserable failure.”

  “See? We need to give them a scapegoat,” Veliko said, narrowing his eyes at Zoltan.

  “Why are you looking at me? Are you planning a coup, perhaps? They consider me responsible for the girl’s death,” the Scholar replied.

  Veliko grinned. “All options are on the table right now.”

  Zoltan stood tall, taking Seeley’s scythe out. “By all means, come at me, Veliko, and I will show you why I’ve been Scholar for fifty thousand years, and why you’re still a puny underling after a hundred thousand.”

  They stared each other down, and Veliko’s contempt was more than obvious. Even so, he didn’t engage Zoltan. I had a feeling he was definitely planning something, though. This frustration of his had been simmering on a low fire for a very long time. It was bound to boil over, especially since Zoltan had, in fact, pushed himself into an uncomfortable corner with Ignatius. For the moment, however, he seemed to have retained his authority.

  But Zoltan was also useful, at least to Seeley and me, and despite how much I hated him, he was still needed. Zoltan was the only thing that stood between Seeley the Reaper and Seeley the ghoul.

  “What about Valaine?” Veliko asked, staring at the runes on Ignatius’s chain. The tips of his fingers were smudged with ashes. “How do we take her out?”

  Zoltan sighed, settling back on the ground and leaning on a protruding rock close to Seeley. “I’m waiting for my scouts to give me her whereabouts, but I am willing to bet she’s looking for us. We left her new friend, Esme, in bad shape. Surely, Valaine will be out for retribution. It’s in her Crimson blood.”

  “I’m going to revisit this, so we’re clear. Are you absolutely sure she’s the one we must kill?” Veliko replied.

  “Her birth coincides with the end of the last Black Fever. And there are things about her that have always struck me as odd. I am convinced that she’s the source.”

  “Whoa… the what now?” I croaked, looking at Seeley.

  “What do you mean by source?” Seeley asked.

  I’d thought the Darklings were out to kill Valaine as a sacrifice of sorts, to appease the Black Fever and make it go away. That had been my understanding of this cruel tradition. Clearly, I’d been missing some important details.

  Zoltan raised an eyebrow at Seeley. “Why did you think we’re out to kill her?”

  “As a sacrifice,” Seeley said.

  Both Zoltan and Veliko laughed. “You fool. Do we really strike you as mindless fanatics?” the Scholar chuckled.

  “Well, you’ve got
the makings of a murderous cult, for sure. You terrorize innocent people. You abduct Reapers and force them into becoming ghouls. You use ghouls and death magic. You kidnap Rimians and Naloreans and sell them as blood slaves to fund your operations,” Seeley said. “I have to say, nothing you do speaks in your favor. So, yes, the idea of sacrificing Valaine in a bid to stop a deadly plague doesn’t sound that far-fetched.”

  “We do not sacrifice Aeternae. We don’t just go around killing people without a noble purpose,” Zoltan replied. “The Black Fever doesn’t stem from the Rimians or the Naloreans, Reaper. They’re carriers, yes, but they’re not the source. One of our own is. Every ten thousand years or so, the plague returns, and each time, we must find its Aeternae source and kill them. It’s what has stopped the Black Fever from wiping out all the Aeternae.”

  Seeley gave me a quick glance, and we both appeared to understand what this new development entailed. There was a possibility that Zoltan was telling the truth—in which case, Tristan and the others needed to know. I didn’t agree with killing Valaine, however. I imagined studying her blood might yield better, more permanent results.

  “And what is it about Valaine that makes her your target?” Seeley asked.

  “None of your business. You wouldn’t understand, anyway,” Zoltan retorted.

  Veliko smirked. “I’d like to know, Scholar. You’ve yet to share such details with us. Your faithful servants, might I add.”

  Zoltan waved him away. “I will not have my decisions questioned. Let us wait for the scouts to come back with intel, then we’ll discuss the next step. In the meantime, and since you decided to kill one of our ghouls, I’m tasking you with finding Ignatius’s replacement. We need a few trackers to hunt and raise alarms around the compound. Astoria won’t be safe for much longer.”

  Veliko thought about it for a while, a smile stretching across his face. He got up and walked away, disappearing behind several stone monoliths, their corners dulled by the wind, the rain, and the passage of eons since Astoria had last been inhabited.