The Red Circle: A Seven Sons Novel (Bad Moon Rising Book 2)

by DB Nielsen

  Aislinn nodded. Made sense. But still. “But with the Black Magic drug off the streets, things return to the way they were. That’s a win for you.”

  “Is it?” he asked with a mocking smile. “My operations can only benefit from this drug being available on the streets. The dead travel fast, as they say.” He paused, holding up and tilting his glass for her to see the glossy, ruby-red liquid inside. “Blood. It’s worth more than gold. Blood together with dark magic, can you imagine the value? And now add weapons into the mix. The demand for blood laced with dark magic can only lead to an increased demand for weapons. It’s the simple laws of economics. Supply and demand. That’s a win for me.”

  Fair enough, Aislinn thought. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.” She gritted her teeth. “But you don’t intend to be part of the supply and demand of Black Magic? Why?”

  Stanislav’s expression turned shrewd. “I have built an empire in the Underworld. It runs like a finely tuned machine. Like all empires, it has taken centuries for it to rise and for me to establish an absolute power. But it would not take nearly as long for it to fall. And I have many enemies. Even so. Do you think I’m foolish enough to make an alliance with a dark mage and a vampire who is willing to profit from his blood by betraying his own kind?”

  “I didn’t think you had much of a love for your own kind,” Aislinn said bluntly.

  “I could say the same of you, daughter of Kayne.”

  She shrugged. It was true. But like Stanislav, she shared a bond with her sister that demanded vengeance for the sake of honor and justice. “And what guarantee do I have that you’re telling the truth?”

  “None that would be acceptable to you,” Stanislav replied. He looked at Aislinn with intent focus. “At least, not at this time.”

  “Perhaps in the future then,” Aislinn murmured, considering the head of the Russian vampire mafia’s words. “So, what do you want from me?”

  He laughed. It was low and resonant, filling the vastness of his well-appointed office. “I want nothing from you. It’s what I can give to you.”

  It wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “Then what can you give to me that you believe that I want or need? And what has it to do with your brother and this drug?”

  “I am giving you that packet you’re still holding, which was found amongst Sergei’s belongings.” He unfolded himself from the chair to walk toward his desk. “Your friend, the young vampire with the chemistry set who likes to live so high above London just as I prefer to live below in the depths, may wish to analyze the drug.”

  Aislinn was stunned. Then her eyes lit with fury, flashing obsidian. “You’ve been spying on me?”

  Looking over his shoulder back at her, Stanislav smiled grimly. “Don’t flatter yourself, my dear. My organization spies on everyone. And I trust no one.”

  “So, what do you call this?” she said, referring to their meeting as she pocketed the packet of drugs.

  “It is not a matter of trust. It is a matter of common interests.” He removed something from his desk. “Forgive me, but I am accustomed to dealing with things on my own. It is an ancient habit.”

  “And Zhenya? Is she in your confidence?”

  He shrugged. “I do not believe I mentioned any exceptions.”

  “You’re a sly old fox, Stanislav,” Aislinn said as she eyed him intently.

  He smiled thinly. It was a dangerous smile. “Here. You will need this.” A small silver object flew through the air, spinning in an arc. She caught it in the palm of her hand, fingers curling around its unusual shape.

  She gazed up at him for a moment, annoyed. He had been throwing things at her since she first entered the room like she was a living dartboard. What the Vlad was wrong with him?

  Finally, opening her fingers, she looked at the silver object in her hand.

  OMV! What the fuck? It was a paperclip.

  Stanislav chuckled, and she could do nothing but endure his mockery. She winced. This was truly embarrassing.

  “Keep it,” he said, moving round to tower over the mahogany desk which now separated them. “It’s the key.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked with a grimace.

  “It’ll open doors for you in the Underworld.” Stanislav smiled. It was a thin smile. “You know how to stay alive. This will allow you to stay alive longer. At least, in my world.”

  “Why?” She was under no illusion that he was being benevolent.

  “Because I choose to. And because you owe me. My brother was an asshole, but he was still my brother.” Stanislav felt his muscles clench in fury. “I want you to find the dark mage who killed my brother—”

  “You want me to kill him?”

  He braced both hands on the mahogany surface and leaned over it in what he was aware was a thoroughly intimidating gesture. “No, I want to kill him myself.”

  Chapter 17

  When she was reunited with Caleb and Varya, she was grateful not to have to return to the carnage of the banquet hall. Instead, Stanislav escorted Aislinn to a long gallery where some of his guards were lounging around, smoking cigarettes, drinking, and playing cards. It was obvious they were off duty, but they still acknowledged the mafia boss with a great deal of wary respect.

  Beyond them, Aislinn spied Caleb and Varya in a state worse for wear. They looked slightly drunk, not surprising since the Russian vampires could drink everyone else six feet under. Their clothes were also bloodstained, and not just with human blood.

  “What the hell are you lot doing?” Aislinn asked through gritted teeth, shaking her head as Caleb aimed a SIG-Sauer P220ST at Zhenya’s head. It was William Tell without the apple, and with a handgun instead of a crossbow.

  “Settling things once and for all!” Varya snickered, her feet up on the table as she leaned back in her chair and watched the spectacle unfolding before her.

  Caleb pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot echoed loudly through the chamber. The bullet hit Zhenya between the eyes.

  “Go, go, go, go, go, go—” they all chanted in unison.

  Zhenya’s face was twisted in a grimace, black blood pouring from the wound, as she huffed and puffed, attempting to push the bullet out.

  Aislinn exchanged a startled look with Stanislav.

  “It’s a bullet test,” one of the burly guards explained in a thick Russian accent, placing a large bet on the card table. “Like in the movies. We play a drinking game. Can a vampire eject a bullet from the body like a splinter working its way out from under the skin?”

  What the Vlad? I leave them for five minutes, and this is what they get up to? Shit!

  “Go, go, go, go, go, go—”

  Caleb was roaring with laughter, pumping the air. “She’s losing it. She’s finished. Yeet! I’m declaring myself the winner. Boys, go get the bone saw.”

  “Nyet!” Zhenya put a large hand up, signaling for them to back off. By now, her face was flushed from both her exertion and the sluggish black blood oozing from the wound which was rapidly closing up. But suddenly, the bullet’s rim could be seen poking through the opening of the hole in her head. Then the copper casing followed. The bloody slug fell to the floor with a sharp pinging sound. She punched the air and, turning, gave Caleb the finger.

  “Back at you, bitch,” he muttered and cast her a filthy look.

  The stocky female Malum sauntered up to the group, took the bottle from the table, tipped it up, and drank straight from it. More blood flowed down her chin and onto the front of her clothes. The other Russians all erupted in cheers.

  “I’m going to make you all my werebitches,” Varya said with a throaty laugh. “This time, we’re going to try to catch a bullet with our teeth.”

  “No, we’re not.” Aislinn glowered at them furiously. She refused to look at Stanislav. Goodness knew what he was thinking. This was so embarrassing. She wanted to leave here with as much dignity as possible. “You may want to argue for an hour or three, but you won’t be shooting any more guns toni
ght. And you’re both paying for the Cleaner. Why not save us all the time and aggravation?”

  Caleb winked at her. “Just one more so I can win my bet.”

  “No more. I don’t care about your bet. I’m putting my fangs down.”

  “You what? Now listen here, kiddo.” Caleb’s face darkened, and his teeth snapped dangerously.

  Aislinn crossed the floor and picked up one of the guns, loading it expertly. “Good weight. Nice grip.” She then aimed it. It was pointed low, just below Caleb’s belt.

  He swallowed.

  “Was there something you wanted to say, old man?” she asked with a dead level, dark stare.

  Caleb let it drop.

  Zhenya snorted, giving an ugly smile. “Whipped.”

  Laughter erupted from the vampire mafia boss. He was clearly enjoying himself. “Zhenya, go and supervise the cleanup of the banquet hall.”

  The grin immediately fell from her square face. Caleb snickered.

  Sucking it up, she began moving toward the door, but she cast a mean look at the others. They didn’t dare laugh. Not even their lips twitched. She’d make them pay later.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Stanislav,” Aislinn said briskly, turning toward their host. “We’ll be in touch.”

  She was surprised when he pulled her into a crushing bearhug and planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. The other Russians cheered as she palely blushed.

  Aislinn gritted her teeth. She really couldn’t take much more of this. They were all just a little too passionately volatile for her. Gesturing toward the exit ramp, she said to Caleb and Varya, “Okay, kids. Say goodbye. Thank Uncle Stanislav. We’re going. Get in the car.”

  The Black Magic pills were burning a hole in her pocket. She felt the dark energy emanating from them and couldn’t wait to be rid of the extremely valuable packet that had cost Sergei his life. There was something unwholesome about them, and as soon as they were back at the manor house, she intended to track down Benjamin so that she could relieve herself of the burden she was carrying around and, in turn, relieve him of the task of babysitting her newborn offspring.

  But there was a commotion outside the great iron and stone gates which surrounded the property. As the limo approached, the driver slid down the partition separating them and said, “Looks like we’ve got a problem ahead. Just stay in the car, and I’ll get us through.”

  Aislinn nodded. From the tinted windows, it seemed like the London Coven was under siege. A large group of angry protesters, mostly students who were campaigning for greater awareness, were gathered with placards, banners, and signs which read: “#SaveTheSapiens”, “humanB+kind” captured in a love heart, and “B Positive: Show Some Heart”. They chanted slogans and were watched by a small group of stony-faced veteran guards forming a riot squad.

  “ABO positive not negative!”

  “Save the humans!”

  “We’re all human under the skin!” Their cries and drumbeats mingled every few minutes with the surge of the incensed crowd.

  “Vlad’s nuts!” Caleb muttered on a low growl. “Those asswipes! Zooarians!”

  The young activist vampires within the global network wished to save the humans by engaging in Zooarianism. They only feasted upon non-human or synthesized blood. Every decade, they would stage a massive protest in order to prompt the Atum Council to change the laws to assign greater rights to humans. Not that humans knew anything about it, but it was just another trend that the bored adolescent vampires indulged in. Eternity was a very long time to live.

  Luckily, their protests didn’t attract any media attention. The London Coven’s parkland extended beyond its protective borders. It was declared a UN heritage site as a wildlife sanctuary, and when the issues of climate change and global warming arose in the last century, it led to a deal brokered with some high-up government types being paid off to declare a no-fly zone. The Civil Aviation Authority had given permission to ban all aircraft, including drones, from flying within one and half miles of the parkland, so as not to spook the wildlife. But it ensured that the immortals had created a place where they would sustain themselves and be protected from the outside world.

  As no one could go in there and disturb the animal sanctuary, people’s interest often was piqued, but there were human rangers paid to maintain and protect the borders during the daytime as the coven had guardhouses every ten miles around the perimeter of the preserve. Inside, it was regularly patrolled by armed vampire sentries and vicious attack dogs, and state-of-the-art electronic surveillance equipment was used to guard against an attack by human hunters.

  “Wait a minute!” Varya exclaimed, staring out the window at the surging crowd ahead. “Isn’t that your fangirl, Mia?”

  Sure enough, up ahead, the slim Sanguis exchange student was gleefully waving a cardboard sign, declaring: “Save the Humans”. She looked like a Barbie doll or perhaps, more accurately, the Monster High dolls that human children liked to play with, sporting a black leather miniskirt, black knee-high boots, and dyed platinum-blonde hair combed up in a high ponytail. Under her thick black mascaraed eyelashes, her eyes were as vacant a blue as ever.

  “I didn’t think Mia was a Zooarian,” Varya commented.

  “She isn’t,” Caleb said. “At least, last night she wasn’t when she was drinking blood cocktails with the rest of her dim-witted friends at the club. I don’t think she’s suddenly converted.”

  “Then what’s she doing with this crowd?”

  “More to the point, what the hell is he doing with this crowd?” Aislinn asked, eyes narrowing in anger as she looked at a point past Mia’s shoulder. “I swear to Vlad, I’m going to give that boy root canal treatment!”

  Amongst the crowd, Aislinn’s firstborn was participating in a mock ritual, carrying an IV drip complete with a blood bag. The plastic tubes used for transfusions bound the vampires in front of him like they were in a chain gang. Beside him, some millennials were dressed as Dracula, doused in fake blood.

  “What the Vlad is going on?” Caleb spat. The rugged Malum’s jaw tightened, the veins bulging in his neck. He had no time for the Zooarians. Their new-age beliefs were bad for business.

  “I think I preferred it when vampires were being hunted with stakes and pitchforks,” Varya said dryly. “At least, I understood why the villagers were doing it. I don’t think I’m postmodern enough for this. Vampires saving humans? It’s just too PC for me.”

  It seemed that the activists were being whipped into a frenzy by the leaders spreading their fundamentalism from where they stood on a makeshift stage. The veteran guards forming the riot squad looked like they were ready to pounce, in time to disperse the radicals before the brimming violence erupted.

  Then someone in the crowd screamed and threw a bucket of blood at the riot squad. It acted like a trigger, and suddenly, there was pandemonium. The veterans were pelted with rocks and bricks in their attempt to disperse the crowd. Then, from out of nowhere, someone produced a flamethrower. It was a free-for-all.

  “Vlad damn!” Caleb stated. The Malum’s beefy biceps rippled as if he was about to throw himself into the fray. “Without our help, those two are gonna be toast.”

  “Drive!” Aislinn shouted at the chauffeur, instructing him to plow through the crowd as a body was thrown against the windshield, causing it to fracture under stress. The driver took off at speed. Through the spiderweb lattice of the glass windshield, they saw the Zooarians were now out of control. Some were alight, lit up like effigies on Guy Fawkes Night.

  Amid the chaos, there was hysterical screaming.

  Most vampires had the presence of mind to get out of the way as the car roared forward, while others were running and tugging at each other to move away from the riot squad or be savagely pulverized.

  “Stop the car!” Aislinn yelled, and the driver immediately hit the brakes. She threw open the car door, kicking one or two activists away. “Cole! Mia! Get in!”

  Chapter 18

  Cole was
struggling with another Sanguis, who punched him so hard he staggered backward and fell over onto his skinny ass. As the other Sanguis advanced on him, he grabbed at the IV pole he was using as a prop and began battering it repeatedly against the vampire’s head.

  “Do you think we should help him?” Varya asked, watching with some amusement as she unsheathed her daggers.

  “Nope,” Caleb answered, kicking a desperate Zooarian away from the car before turning toward another. “I’m happy to watch. I kind of know how the guy feels, listening to Cole’s poetry is like being bashed over the head repeatedly with a blunt object. Let someone else suffer for once.”

  “Caleb,” Aislinn said, shocked. “That’s mean.”

  “But true.”

  Someone knocked into the Sanguis attacking Cole from the side. He staggered into a burning Zooarian fundamentalist who went up in ashes in microseconds. It allowed Cole an opportunity to jump up and hurry toward the limo, which was being rocked from side to side as another vampire who was alight with flames jumped onto its roof in one lithe, easy motion and began clambering over the car.

  “I’m not paying for the damage!” the driver belligerently told Aislinn, cursing in Russian. She ignored him.

  Cole joined them, ducking away from the fiery Nubes on top of the car roof and throwing himself into the car. His clothes were ripped and bloody. There was a cut along his cheekbone which had bled and rapidly healed. But his eyes were sparkling with intense excitement.

  “I’m so glad to see you guys here,” he said in a hurried breath, though he sounded like he was having fun rather than fearing for his life. “Isn’t this incredible? I imagine this is what Demura is like.”

  Varya snorted. Cole had an overactive imagination and was too foolish to realize his life was in danger.

  “For Vlad’s sake, leave the stupid pole behind,” Aislinn instructed as Cole attempted to pull the IV pole into the car after him.

  But without listening, he wrenched it inside after him. The blood bag caught on the tip of Varya’s dagger and burst like a balloon, sending cow’s blood all over Varya and the backseat of the car.