by DB Nielsen
And now Aislinn understood what this was all about. Her newborn Darkling. Cooper.
Warily, she nodded. “Yes, though as far as I understand it, he was not long in the field.”
“I see. But still. Such potential.” His manic smile widened, and he sighed in satisfaction. “A hunter in our coven. We shall be the envy of our brothers. And a Malum. Such prospective talent.”
Aislinn understood Julius’s interest and covetous nature. He sought to gain control over Cooper as he had Varya. The young, former hunter who was once among those sanctioned by the church to hunt her kind down and kill them would give the coven a tactical advantage in the ongoing conflicts between the vampires and the hunters with his knowledge of hunting and unique skillset. Even further understanding of the humans’ training, weaponry, and his former relationships with those skilled members of their race would make him a jewel in Julius’s crown, based on what they knew or had gleaned of the hunters’ main academy in Vegas. And Cooper was reborn a Malum, one of the strongest and most powerful of the vampire species, and one of the few who could competently turn humans.
It was easy enough to understand Julius’s mindset and his blood lust.
But she promised herself she would not allow Cooper to be exploited by Julius, her other ten older brothers, or the coven. Aislinn had no choice with Varya, who was not her own to surrender or protect, as the female Sanguis belonged to herself alone and was not Aislinn’s offspring. But it was different with Cooper. There was some small safety afforded by her rank and title and claim of guardianship.
“I would love to meet your fledgling Malum,” Julius said with sudden eager interest, almost in a coaxing tone. “In all my centuries of existence, as both a human and a vampire—why that’s almost two millennia. Time flies, doesn’t it?—I never dreamed that such a thing would transpire, that a hunter would number among our kind. We tried, of course. But the purity of their souls, their goodness, would not permit it. They all died before the transition was complete. Even at the bite of the strongest of us. We discontinued the experiments long ago. Before your rebirth, in fact. After all, if there was to be a turning, it should have happened with those closest to the Immortal Huntress and her corrupted blood.”
Aislinn had not known this. It had never occurred to her that her brothers had attempted to turn human hunters. And this must have been kept so secretive, especially with their continued deaths, that few knew about it to tell. If she had known, she may have thought twice about turning Cooper. But it was too late.
Aislinn’s cornflower-blue eyes narrowed. Her brother’s words sparked curiosity.
Since her brother was in such a forthcoming mood, she decided to ask, “What is wrong with the blood of the Immortal Huntress?”
Julius hissed in response, his thin lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp ivory fangs. “That abomination. A desecration of the purity of our blood.”
Aislinn chose to remain silent, waiting for him to enlighten her. He was working himself into a passion, so it wouldn’t be possible for Julius to hold himself back from decrying the human huntress.
“You can smell the stench of her blood a mile away. Contaminated. Corrupted.” A huge fist slammed down in sudden anger on the arm of the chair. Julius suddenly launched himself across the chamber, a streak of pale flesh, turning in an arc to stalk back. “It’s ludicrous. A preposterous legend. Yet our brother, Constantine, and I learned fragments of the truth on our return to Rome after a meeting of the Atum Council. My Rome, Aislinn—once my home—soiled by this foulness, this filth. You cannot imagine, sister.”
He paused as another hiss of anger and frustration escaped his lips. She nodded once in acknowledgement of his words.
“A woman,” he spat the word as if it poisoned his mouth. “Not even a true warrior. Not even a true hunter. Oh, do not look at me with reproof in your eyes. No woman of Rome dreamed of being a soldier for the empire. It was not allowed for any woman during that time. Women and children were left behind when we conquered Gaul and Africa. Emperor Augustus even passed a law banning soldiers from marrying to avoid distractions on the battlefield. Yet this Immortal Huntress who leads the human hunters is a woman. Like Boudicca. A barbarian.”
Aislinn tried not to grind her teeth. She could not hold back her questions any longer. “What do you mean?”
Julius looked thunderous. “An atrocity. You cannot know how the corrupt stench of her blood has offended me. Blood from vampire and shapeshifter comingling in her.”
So that was what she had sensed when she’d fought the Immortal Huntress on the night she’d killed the Druid. She had not been curious enough to pursue the bizarre thought since then, especially as the human huntress interested her far less than the dark mages, but—
A strange presentiment stole over Aislinn where she sat as still as an alabaster statue, remembering the familiar smell of the huntress. “Whose blood? Which vampire?”
Julius’s eyes shifted to her, sly and secretive.
“Aahhh,” he breathed the sound so that it stretched for what seemed an eternity, drawing out the tension to confirm her fear. “That would be the blood of our beloved dark Father.” It seemed that Julius took exquisite pleasure in telling her. Another twist of the knife.
She was saved from having to respond by a sudden knock and the double oak doors of the Inner Sanctum once again being thrown open.
Darius wheeled in a hideous, medieval metal torture device. “Your requested refreshments, my Lord.”
Holy shit balls! What the Vlad is that? Aislinn’s eyes rounded in surprise.
“Splendid.” Julius laughed merrily as Aislinn looked upon the large, upright sarcophagus being placed in front of them. “Your offspring gave it to me as a gift. Apparently, it’s all the rage. Styx has one in his basement. My dear nephew, such a thoughtful child.”
He’s gotta be Vlading kidding! This is so screwed up!
Dorian. Only Dorian could be quite this cruelly inventive.
Aislinn stared at the grotesquely ornate Iron Maiden with its living human victim inside, pretending an indifference she did not feel. When she looked at Julius, he gave a thin, hard smile as if he knew what she was experiencing. With her extraordinary hearing, Aislinn picked up the sounds of almost silent whimpers, shallow breathing, and a slow heartbeat. She couldn’t imagine the agony for the person inside. Dorian and Julius had always been sadistic and savage, but this took their viciousness to new levels.
“Come, sister, join me in a toast to your success,” Julius offered, wishing to celebrate the turning of Cooper with this fresh human fodder.
Aislinn barely repressed her shudder of revulsion. Though she was used to Julius’s excesses, as it was known that he preferred his meals fresh rather than served from blood bags and vacutainers, she could only be grateful that she could not see the human’s eyes, which would have been altogether too much for her.
Still, she knew with an abject horror that spikes were positioned specifically to penetrate the victim’s eyes, blinding them, leaving them alone in the darkness with their pain and their fear while they bled to death from the spikes placed on the inner surface of the double doors. Even now, the chilling Iron Maiden was doing what it was designed to do, since once the victim was inside and the doors were closed, the strategically placed spikes would pierce several vital organs. But as they were relatively short spikes, the wounds wouldn’t be instantly fatal, and instead, the victim would linger and bleed to death over several hours. This allowed Julius’s sentinels to collect the blood as it ran from strategically placed holes in the bottom of the sarcophagus and into a specially designed drip pan, like a macabre chocolate-fondue fountain.
Dorian must have known what a success his gift would be with Julius, who was archaic in his methods of torture and feeding, preferring the old ways. And Dorian also knew how to ingratiate himself with the head of the coven since his sole desire was to gain power—and there was no greater power within the coven than to become its leader.
She knew that Dorian would prefer to be elected Julius’s successor, though as Julius had no intention of retiring since vampirism lasted all eternity, he was not averse to usurping the coven’s present leader.
Julius dipped a silver goblet into the drip pan at the bottom of the Iron Maiden and filled it to the brim, handing it to Aislinn. Drops of blood fell onto the mosaic floor to leave glossy, ruby-red stains.
Julius lifted his goblet to his lips in a quick, rough motion, and blood sloshed unheeded over the side. He drained the draught down and apathetically wiped away the blood which dribbled down his square chin with the back of his hand as he feasted cruel eyes upon her.
Aislinn despised her brother. He knew how she felt about the need to feed on humans. She justified her kills as a service to humanity, ridding the world of vermin like rapists and murderers, restricting herself to the filthy monsters. She wasn’t like Julius nor the rest of her coven. She refused to feed on the innocent and the vulnerable or make a buffet out of the local hospitals and nursing homes. She could accept feeding on the low-life criminals who deserved to die but had never been able to accept Caleb’s belief that humans were like yum cha dumplings, a million varieties on legs.
Wordlessly, Aislinn held his stare. Cool and calm, nursing the goblet in her hands. It wasn’t going to touch her lips, but she wasn’t going to allow Julius to intimidate her either.
Julius smiled, his tongue snaking out to lick the excess blood from his lips. “Dearest sister. Is it too much to ask? Will you not introduce me to your progeny? I don’t suppose you could arrange that?”
Aislinn’s throat was tight with opposition as she desired nothing more than to throw the goblet of blood in her brother’s face and deny him the opportunity to meet her youngest offspring. But she held on to her emotions with a vise-like restraint and said sweetly, “I am certain that can be arranged. He has begun his training with Caleb, of course, but you are welcome to see him anytime in the Carvery.”
But she knew her brother preferred not to venture beyond the Inner Sanctum and his own private quarters and hadn’t done so within the last few centuries. In fact, to most of the younger generation of vampires within the coven, he remained an omniscient but absent figure, like the tales of the Boogeyman and Baba Yaga. And Kayne.
Good old pops. The slacker dad. And Vlad you very much for not telling me I had a mutant for a half-sister. It was a good thing she didn’t have abandonment issues.
No wonder the coven both feared and hated Julius.
“But,” she continued, her voice tinkling like crystal bells around the empty chamber, “if you prefer, I shall bring Cooper to you as soon as the first opportunity arises.” Which will be when they start serving popsicles in Demura. Aislinn finished with the thought, flashing her brother another brilliant smile that took his superfluous breath away.
Chapter 7
Nobody seeing Aislinn’s perfectly serene, strikingly beautiful face would realize the storm clouds gathering behind her expression as she crossed the Vestibulum toward the concierge desk. She had been hailed by Usain earlier and had rudely ignored him. Now she found it necessary to make amends. Not only did she like the young, Afro-Caribbean Sanguis a good deal more than most of the vampires in the coven, but he was also a strong ally to have around, and she didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship.
“Prima Aislinn,” Usain said in his deep, calming voice. He gave a slight bow as a sign of respect for the direct descendant of the Father of their race, and the dark red Mark of Cain on his forehead flared briefly. As if in greeting, Aislinn’s obsidian Mark of Cain blazed.
“Usain,” Aislinn murmured regretfully, her voice the trilling of a bellbird. “I apologize for my earlier rudeness.”
“No apology necessary. An appointment with Primus Julius must, of course, take priority over all else.” The concierge winked conspiratorially, and she knew all was forgiven.
“Thank you for settling Cooper into his quarters. I trust that he is comfortable.” She forced her tone to remain casual.
Usain understood too well Aislinn’s meaning.
There was no telling the amount of threats in the coven to a former hunter. Cooper would probably be the target of every power-hungry, rage-fueled vampire wanting revenge for whatever wrongs they felt or held against the hunters—not that vampires formed friendships or families as such, but they did form alliances, and their position in the coven was dependent on those alliances. Such a delicate thing, like the death of an ally at the hands of a hunter, could upset the balance. And it could be easily blamed upon the hunter that was in plain sight, despite being protected as Aislinn’s progeny.
Luckily, she had ensured that Cooper was never alone. Her friends took turns in babysitting the fledgling Malum by keeping him constantly occupied with necessary martial training and instruction in vampire lore. Although Aislinn hated rules and often broke them, she was as well versed in them as every other vampire living within the manor house.
“It is as you wished,” Usain declared.
“Thank you,” she murmured, placing a unique, gold coin on the counter. It gleamed enticingly under the light from the Swarovski crystal chandelier, the claret blood drop suspended in amber in the center of the flat, golden circle denoting its value as a pure Aurum Julius. She stared at Usain, holding his gaze. Her bright blue eyes were unblinking, intense, and extremely focused. He smiled in acknowledgement of her generosity.
“For you, Prima Aislinn.” Usain discreetly pocketed the valuable coin before he handed her two missives. “She was most insistent that I give this to you as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I was prevented from doing so.”
Aislinn frowned with deep consideration. “Thank you, Usain.”
Moving away from the concierge desk, she tore open the first envelope bearing Varya’s stamp, proof of its authenticity and that it was untampered with. The message was terse and frequently used the word “dumbass” since Aislinn had not answered her phone for days. Varya expressed an urgency to speak with Aislinn about some important matter, no doubt concerning her promotion. Well, Aislinn knew now.
She sighed. There was another bridge she needed to mend.
The next note, also from Varya, was written while Aislinn had been visiting her brother. Its tone was equally terse.
“Dear Dumbass. Join me in the Carvery. Prepare to have your ass kicked. V.”
The noise of fighting was muted behind thick, soundproofed walls, but with Aislinn’s extremely sensitive hearing, she was aware of the combatants in the middle arena. Caleb was drilling the new recruits and, numbering amongst them, was her youngest progeny.
Entering discreetly, she stood at the back to observe as the raw recruits gathered around the perimeter of the arena, cheering on Cooper and another fledgling Malum. They were sparring in the Carvery, located in the west tower, an area within the coven that housed the surveillance hub, war rooms, armory, and dojo.
Varya came to stand next to her, facing the fighters. “He’s good. He’s got a decent left hook, and his kicks have a lot of power behind them. But he needs to shake things up a little. He’s too predictable. Still fights like a human.”
Aislinn smiled. It was a wicked smile in an otherwise angelic face. “What do you say we speed up their learning?”
She flicked a glance over at her friend. Varya stared back for a few seconds, then cracked her knuckles. “Caleb won’t like it.”
“C’mon, you’re dying to wipe the floor with my butt. And I guess I owe you one.” Aislinn finished pulling her long, platinum-blonde hair into a high ponytail and faced the other female vampire. “But don’t think I’m going to make it easy on you.”
Varya laughed. Her tone, like her smile, was sharply edged. “Bring it on.”
Aislinn took a deep, dramatic breath and waded like a graceful swan into the crowd of new recruits, gliding past them. Varya was more aggressive. Tapping a large Sanguis on the shoulder who stood a foot taller than her, she told him tersely to, “Get the hell o
ut of the way.” He turned to argue, his expression belligerent, took one look at her, and backed off, stumbling back into a couple more annoyed vampires. They also turned to complain but never voiced a sound, also backing up. They parted before Varya like reeds in a gusty wind.
As they reached the boundary of the arena, the cheering faded, and voices petered out, falling silent. Distracted, the vampire fighting Cooper glanced over, lost concentration, and took a powerful jab to the jaw. He crumpled to the mat, a dead weight.
“Vlad’s nuts!” the mountainous drill sergeant said, crossing his beefy arms in front of his chest. “And what the fuck do you two troublemakers think you’re doing disrupting my training?”
“For the benefit of the recruits, the daughter of Kayne has agreed to show them what their vampirism allows them to be capable of doing,” Varya pronounced each word slowly and with apparent relish. She was enjoying herself. “Aislinn will play the part of herself, and I will play the part of the Immortal Huntress.”
Caleb eyed them both angrily. He ran a large hand over his bald head, his dark eyes impaling them both.
“Sorry, old man.” Aislinn, accustomed to his moods, shrugged.
He opened his mouth as if to protest, realized they had an attentive audience, and snapped it shut again. “Fine.”
In the arena, Cooper stretched a hand out and pulled up his opponent. The other Malum seemed more mentally rattled than physically hurt, and with Cooper’s arm across his shoulders, he was dragged out of the arena, clearing the space for Aislinn and Varya.
Varya gathered the recruits around again, winking at Caleb cheekily. “You are learning how to fight. Adaptation and improvisation are necessary skills. But you must not limit yourself. Do you think you are still human? That your body functions in the same way it once did?” She held the group riveted now. “Do you believe that you need to breathe? Sleep? Do you still think of yourself as mortal?”
