by DB Nielsen
Some of them began to sing in discordant tones. “‘The Devil’s mad and I am glad. Glory Hallelujah! He’s lost a soul he thought he had. Glory Hallelujah!’”
Grumblings could be heard from the others, and fear spread like wildfire.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Caleb groaned, even as he restrained the hysterical, conspiracy theorist. “Nik, I hope you have more of that stuff in your van.”
But Ford was already on top of it. “My friends, please calm down. You know who I am. You also know that we have nothing to fear from these good people. Let not suspicion taint your mind or take you down the dark alley of an angry fix. Don’t let the world see us as madman shaking dead geraniums. You may have doubted the shepherds sent to us, mistaking them for wolves since the whole world’s eternally battling and raging against itself. But we’ve passed through the crucible and been reborn. Join with me, friends, in this supernatural darkness and drink to our—”
Aislinn leaned in close to Caleb and Nikolaus, watching the rapturous faces of Ford’s brethren as they hung on his every word. “Do you have any idea what the hell he’s talking about?”
“No fucking clue,” they answered in unison.
“Oh good.” She sighed, in relief. “I thought it was just me.”
“Was he always this batshit crazy?” Nikolaus asked, shaking his head as the ginger-haired Malum began ritualistically anointing the homeless vampires in blood on their forehead, touching their Mark of Cain.
“No, he was always a perfectly normal douchebag,” Caleb replied, folding his beefy, tanned arms across his wide chest as he watched Ford preaching to the crazies. “But I think I like him more now. In fact, I might offer him a job.”
Chapter 25
As it turned out, Ford wasn’t quite as certifiably crazy as Psychic Seth and nowhere near as psychopathic as Dorian, though he was still crazy as a march hare.
The ginger-haired Malum had joined the abolitionist movement when he was a young man, supporting the freedom suits in Scotland in the late eighteenth century after being raised by his devoutly Protestant grandfather. He felt he had a choice and a God-given duty. He was committed to the righteousness of his mission. After the law recognized that slaves could seek court protection to leave a master or avoid being forcibly removed from Scotland to be returned to slavery in the colonies, Ford returned to England and almost immediately signed up as a redcoat to fight in the Napoleonic Wars.
Life in the militia was disciplined, regimented, and harsh. The spread of disease, severe punishments, and bloody battles weighed heavily on his soul. By the time the wars ended, there was an icy glow in his eyes, and he’d lost both his reason for living and his faith in the Almighty. It was then that his sire found him and promised that he could rekindle his passion. Ford accepted. His sire lied.
War was the only thing Ford knew, and he became a British spy so that he could stay in the shadows, both literally and metaphorically. Decades passed. He became a mercenary. But after his time serving in the special forces in Syria, he was suffering extreme PTSD, and on his return to England, he became addicted to a potent cocktail of blood and drugs to keep the night terrors at bay.
And that was when he encountered Black Magic.
“How did you manage to get clean?” Caleb asked.
It was after hours, and they were seated at the bar in the Nocturne. Cooper joined them while Lark and Mia dragged Cole along to a movie marathon at the Barbican Centre. As it turned out, he had never seen any of the “Star Wars” films, a gross negligence on the part of his maker. It earned Aislinn more than a few death stares from the millennials as they left the club.
Caleb topped off their glasses and waited for Ford to continue his story, which he’d already heard in pieces but not fully. Ford had always been a good soldier. It surprised him that he’d lost his way.
Ford ran a hand over the back of his neck, hanging his head sheepishly. “Not exactly of my own volition. I accidentally got trapped in a shipping container which ended up on board a cargo ship in the middle of the Sargasso Sea. Got sober pretty quick then, I can tell you. Especially when I ran out of food.”
“Cold turkey, huh?” Caleb’s dark brows spiked a couple of times. “That’s dangerous for a vampire. Surprised you didn’t end up mummified.”
He nodded. “There are enough whales in the ocean to feed on when necessary, and they pack a lot of blood. Not particularly appetizing, but beggars can’t be choosers. Gotta say, I’ve now had worse.”
Caleb suppressed a shudder. It was one of his worst nightmares, the vampire version of Jurassic Park. The thought of being stuck on a ship without enough food for the entire journey and having to live off the marine mammals made him nervous.
Nikolaus contemplated his drink and asked cautiously, “And you’re now living on the streets?”
Another nod.
“But you could have returned to the coven at any time once you got clean,” Aislinn said, trying to understand. “You’re a Malum. And military trained. Trust me, Julius would have rolled out the welcome mat.”
“Do you need a job?” asked Caleb. “Got a position to offer you.”
There was a short, heavy silence.
“No, thank you, sir. Mighty appreciated but no. Prima Aislinn.” Ford looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve found my calling. You may even say I’ve seen the light. Well, all the light humans cannot see. You’ve shown me the way. I guess I just needed an angel to push me in the right direction. There was a time when I gathered with the other abolitionists for a cause. Now I see the need for a Street Sanctuary where the lost souls can gather.”
Caleb began to rub the top of his bald head vigorously. It was a sure sign that his blood pressure was rising. “A Street Sanctuary for lost souls?”
“Yes, sir.” His dove-grey eyes were earnest. “There are many abandoned and derelict Tube stations underground we can use.”
“Holy Vlad,” Caleb muttered, too low for the others to hear except Aislinn, as he bent over his glass. It did seem a crazy notion—an Underground ministry for madmen in an abandoned railway station run by a born-again fundamentalist.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Aislinn said. Her tone suggested she was chatting with a crank from the mental asylum who was absent without leave. “You have my full support.”
Cooper raised his brows but kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. This guy Ford was a total Rambo nut job. He had no idea why Aislinn was humoring him.
But Ford didn’t pick up on the negative vibe the other vampires were giving out. “Thank you, Prima Aislinn. That’s most kind. It would be wonderful if you could visit us from time to time. It’ll keep their morale up.” He nodded gratefully in her direction.
“Yes, let’s send the daughter of Kayne to boost the morale of all the whackadoodles with Renfield Syndrome,” Caleb muttered, causing Aislinn to elbow him in the ribs to shut him up.
“Of course,” she said gently. “There’s just one thing I’d like to know, Ford. How did you manage to get hold of Black Magic? Who was your dealer?” Aislinn studied the ginger-haired vampire with a thoughtful expression.
Ford gave her a chilling smile. “I don’t know his name. I can’t even describe his face to you. He always wore a cowl to cover his features.”
“A cowl?” asked Aislinn, trying to keep her voice composed. “Did you notice anything else? Tattoos? A strange energy? Like a dark mage perhaps?”
Ford shook his head. “No, he was definitely a vampire. And if he had tattoos, I never noticed. But I wasn’t in my right mind then.”
He isn’t in his right mind now, Cooper thought.
Caleb leaned forward, encouraging. “C’mon Ford, you’re the intelligence expert, the super spy. What did you notice?”
He shook his head ruefully. “I really wish I could help you. I mean, he was odd. But then again, who isn’t around here?”
A chill fluttered through her. “There must have been something. Some small thing. A piercing
or piece of jewelry. The way he wore his clothes. His smell. His accent. Some strange mannerism perhaps.”
“Wait. Yes.”
“What?” she asked.
They all leaned forward eagerly. Waiting.
“His hands—when he handed me the packet.” Ford’s eyebrows furrowed. A couple of heartbeats passed, and Aislinn stiffened abruptly, suddenly alert. A flash of déjà vu. “His left hand had two missing fingers.”
“The Minter’s apprentice? Dominic?” Aislinn paused on the bridge and looked back at Caleb and Benjamin. “It doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t been outside in the real world for seven hundred years. Why not Stanislav’s ex-business partners?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a vampire has lied to us, now would it?” The bronzed, muscular Malum didn’t wait for a response, looking down into the teeming, murky waters of the Thames. “Besides, Dominic has easier access to ancient blood than anyone else we know.”
Benjamin shrugged, expressing his doubt. He’d accompanied them because he knew the Minter’s operations as well as anybody, having worked on upgrading their security system. “Well, you know my thoughts on the matter. A rigidly tiered social system where the elite authoritarians exploit the workers for their own benefit always provokes revolution.”
Caleb sighed, still looking at the water below with disgust, remembering a time when all manner of filthy things floated in and upon it. He gave a shudder, then briefly flicked his gaze up to the others and said, “One vampire rebelling does not make for a revolution, Benjamin.”
“You know so little about revolutions, my friend,” Benjamin retorted.
Benjamin was looking down at the river with disgust, too. He was fine with the darkness and snow and even the chill winter wind, which didn’t affect him at all. What he didn’t particularly care for was the need to go swimming in the polluted river where every bit of plastic and rubbish known to modern man was floating at the bottom of the Thames.
Aislinn guessed she’d been terribly naïve in ruling out the Minter’s apprentice automatically.
“But I still can’t see what would make him take such a huge risk,” she said instead. “Besides, how would he even know a mage? The Minter’s establishment is like the Tower of London or Fort Knox. You boys haven’t thought this through. Dominic is hardly able to invite someone round for tea and crumpets. Besides, Stanislav is notorious for leaving vampires without limbs and hands and fingers when they’ve pissed him off. But no, you lot seem to think a poor Nubes who lives the life of a monk is behind this. Whatever.”
She gripped the railing. And before either of the Malums could offer a reply, Aislinn jumped off Tower Bridge, executing a perfect dive into the murky depths of the Thames.
“That’s one way to end a conversation and make an exit,” Benjamin said. “A little dramatic for me though.”
“Oh, she’s a drama queen all right,” Caleb agreed, procrastinating.
Aislinn’s head, hair now darkened by wetness and looking more like a seal than a sea nymph, popped up briefly from the frozen waters below. “I heard that.”
He exhaled on a long, superfluous breath. “After you.”
Benjamin laughed and, with the ease and grace of a vampire, dived into the black waters below.
Access to the Minter was only possible by going through the hidden, underground tunnel system beneath sea level that crisscrossed the Thames. It was deliberately difficult to enter and exit.
Caleb followed the others through the heavy iron grille into the long, pitch-black tunnel. They swam until they approached a large solid metal hatch, from which no other exits existed, making it nearly impossible for criminal vampire gangs to raid and deterring thieves. Like the corridors to the private lodgings of the older vampires back at the manor house, there were no keypads or locks. Instead, the airlock automatically opened to allow them to climb up onto a small landing.
“But just think about it. Dominic has access to the blood straight from the head of our coven.” Caleb continued his conversation as if they hadn’t paused, gone for a long swim, and they weren’t now dripping wet, which had the others groaning.
“It’s not Julius’s blood,” Aislinn stated decisively, approaching the airlock to the adjoining tunnel. The rippling ultraviolet light through its porthole window made her look eerily like the Hollywood stereotypes of a vampire or malevolent spirit with her darkly dripping, long hair and pale, bluish corpse-colored skin. “It’s ancient, but it’s not pure. Not from any of Kayne’s disciples. I’m telling you, just wait till we speak to the Minter.”
Almost prophetically as she uttered these words, the ultraviolet light was doused, and astonishingly, it seemed to grow even darker on the other side of the airlock. There was a loud click to signal it was unlocked, and in one powerful motion, Benjamin gave the airlock a tug. “These doors often stick due to the difference in air pressure. Only thing I can’t stand about them.”
Caleb could think of a lot more reasons why he hated the whole contraption but was careful not to voice his thoughts to Benjamin, who had designed the mechanical beast.
The gentle drag of air whispered around Aislinn’s slender frame as she moved with the boys through the darkness of the tunnel at breakneck speed, reaching the other door. It automatically opened, and they all fetched up on the other side, just as the door whispered closed and the ultraviolet light flickered back on.
The tawny-haired, extremely pale Nubes greeted them. “Welcome back, Prima Aislinn. It is good to see you all return to us so soon. We have been anticipating your arrival.”
“Dominic.” Caleb’s voice was level and emotionless as he held his temper in check. It was evident to Aislinn that he would have liked nothing more than to tear the young apprentice limb from limb, but his years of military training stayed his hand.
The young Nubes moved out of the shadows, still wearing his customary Medieval garb: a brown woolen tunic, the sleeves long and close fitting, a leather belt clinched at the waist, and tight leggings.
“I am afraid we do not bring you any good news from the outside,” Aislinn said, frowning. It failed to lessen the beauty of her face which held the Nubes enthralled. Benjamin gave a secret smile. Wherever she went, Aislinn collected devotees which had nothing to do with her being the daughter of Kayne. “Please lead the way, Dominic. Perhaps it’s best if we have the rest of this conversation with the Minter.”
“Of course. Please follow me.” He nodded, retreating down the path that he had taken a few moments before.
Chapter 26
“Ah, welcome back, Prima Aislinn. And, of course, our dear friends. We have been anticipating your return, though we did not expect to see you quite so soon. Your investigation must have yielded fruitful results.” The Minter’s words were almost a repetition of his apprentice’s as he straightened from his task and indicated they should sit. “May I offer you refreshments? Dominic, would you care to go to the kitchens and request Elevenses be served slightly early tonight as we have guests?”
Caleb held up a hand to halt the young man. “Thank you, Minter. But if you don’t mind, we would prefer if Dominic is present to listen to what we need to discuss.”
The Minter acknowledged their request with a slight bow of his head. “As you wish. Dominic, if you wouldn’t mind taking a seat?” The stern-looking young man nodded once more to Caleb. “Please proceed.”
As succinctly as possible, Caleb explained the situation, never taking his eyes from the young apprentice whose face paled till it was ghastly and corpselike as he faced the beefy Malum’s accusations.
“I can assure you that Dominic is not this dealer whom you are searching for,” the Minter said evenly. “Indeed, Dominic has not set foot outside this establishment since the day he was brought here.”
“Seven hundred years ago,” Dominic confirmed.
“Dominic, I have warned you about your tendency to speak in hyperbole.” He paused a beat to let the meaning sink in. “Accuracy is everything in our
business. I’m afraid I cannot leave you in charge if you fail to appreciate this simple fact.”
“Forgive me, Minter, it won’t happen again,” he said with an embarrassed incline of his head. Then he turned back toward Caleb. “That would be six hundred and ninety-two years ago.”
The Minter nodded. “Evidently, you are mistaken. But we understand your concern.”
Aislinn frowned. “What makes you think that Dominic was here the entire time?”
The Minter gave her a chilling smile. “Before the advancements of technology, we monitored the movements within the Mint daily. Like monks or nuns, we would come together for work, meals, and meditation.”
“How did that work out for you?” Caleb asked, skeptical.
“Not unlike being in the army, I would think,” the Minter retorted. “We kept to a strict regime.”
Caleb gave a sour grunt. The Minter had him there.
The young Nubes smiled thinly. “Since the Industrial Revolution, we have installed and continued to update our security system. Benjamin, would you be so kind?”
Benjamin went behind the desk and brought up a schematic on the plexiglass screen. “The Minter’s correct about the new system. The internal surveillance system uses finely tuned sensors, the same as in the Carvery holo-chambers, coupled with UV-laser grids throughout the tunnels, preventing both entrance and exit from this establishment. And if they get through that, then we have sharks with lasers attached to their heads.”
“Really?” Caleb sat up suddenly. His senses were rattled.
“Benjamin, I have warned you about your tendency—” the Minter began.
“Right, yes. Sorry.” Benjamin shrugged awkwardly. “No, not really, Caleb. There are no sharks with lasers. But wouldn’t it be frigging awesome?”
“Benjamin, not helping,” Aislinn hissed repressively. The cold fire leaped in her eyes.
The Minter steepled his hands under his chin and sighed. “Benjamin could have saved you the trouble of coming here to ask these questions.”
