by D B Nielsen
“It’s almost like finding the Holy Grail,” said Benjamin, gesturing to the slaughter stone at the center, which had been thoroughly cleaned so that the symbols could be seen clearly, deeply engraved into the stone. Unlike the standing stones at Stonehenge, weather had not eroded the markings on this stone. “We’ve analyzed its composition, which is intriguing. The symbols or ideograms carved into the stone do not appear to be Christian, Viking, or any known system of writing or rune symbols.”
Thin lines spread in a silver latticework across the screens, crisscrossing, converging and diverging, and paralleling one another. The only symbol Aislinn recognized was the one tattooed on the Druids. The others were unknown to her.
“So, you can’t read it? Can’t translate it?” she asked gravely.
“I can’t, no. Seth, on the other hand, seems to be able to,” he said rather smugly.
“Seth?” Caleb seemed surprised, as if he didn’t believe Seth was much good for anything. This was typical of the older Malum, who felt the millennials weren’t tough enough or practical enough to do anything useful compared to the older generations of vampires.
Benjamin nodded, proclaiming with pride, “When I discovered his ability, I decided to bring Seth to the surface slowly. He still prefers the disused railway tunnels, but I set him up with everything he needs here. It’s an exact replica of his Underground antechamber.”
“You had to use dried animal blood?” Aislinn’s tone held revulsion.
Benjamin smiled wanly. “He wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ideograms in Seth’s childish hand, intricate alchemical symbols, mathematical and scientific calculations, and every other crazy notion teeming in Seth’s unstable mind were scrawled in dried animal blood across the walls. Staring at it for too long still gave Aislinn a headache, but she was able to look at the display on the plexiglass screens without the same nausea.
“So, what’s so special about this thing?” she asked about the slaughter stone, distaste written on her expression. It was all wrong. Even clean and without the blood and pools of water, it felt wrong. The living energy flowing from the stone gave her the creeps, making her shudder.
“The stone’s alchemical symbols hint at its purpose. We believe that it’s—”
“Don’t tell me. It’s a stargate, like in the movie,” Caleb joked, thinking himself very funny. He pointed at a row of figures. “And these are star constellations.”
“Actually, that’s pretty damn close to the truth,” Benjamin conceded.
Caleb paused for a second. It ticked over. Then burst into loud guffaws. “Yep, right, you got me.”
Benjamin remained silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop and his friend to calm down.
Stunned, Caleb asked, sobering up, “You’re not kidding? Well, fuck me in the face with a porcupine.”
“Be my pleasure,” Zhenya said, coming to stand next to the burly soldier since the show was now over and Cooper was close by. “Now shut up so the handsome guy can continue.”
“We believe it’s a portal. Wait. Let me explain.” He held up his hands defensively, as if they were about to attack him. “I’m not suggesting this is legit like angel Uber or anything like that. This kind of transport to another realm—and I’d say that it’s at least able to transport a traveler between Earth and Esper—is seriously twisted. It requires a massive amount of blood through human and animal sacrifices, and from these symbols, we suspect that there’s some major spellcraft involved.”
“Like Harry Potter spells?”
“More like Dr. Strange spells.”
“Is this even possible?”
“I’m calling it the PS Theory, after our psychic friend here. We believe the proof is in the slaughter stone’s chemical composition. And the sonic and radiocarbon tests we’ve done agree with our initial findings.”
“So, it shouldn’t be too hard to get this thing to work.” Caleb walked over to the center of the room and looked down at the slaughter stone curiously. It seemed to radiate a discomforting, eerie sense of power from within. “We’ve got blood. How much do we need to energize it?”
“It doesn’t work like that. It demands blood sacrifice and dark magic.” Benjamin grimaced. “Any of you happen to be a practicing dark mage in secret?”
Aislinn didn’t appreciate the joke. “Does it say anything about the coming of a new god?”
“No, not that I know of. But we’re still working on the translations. Though, now that you mention it, there is an odd reference here.” Benjamin crossed to where Seth was now lying on the slaughter stone as if sunbathing, ignoring the vampire’s evident madness. “Well, under Seth’s right butt cheek. From what I can make out, someone or something with unimaginable powers was entombed or imprisoned. It doesn’t mention where or when or why, but maybe it has something to do with what you’re searching for.”
With a jolt, Seth sprang up. Wildly, he looked about him as if searching for something or someone. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the slaughter stone, jerking about as if experiencing a seizure. He began babbling in a low monotone. “‘Bull's eyes and targets, Say the bells of St. Margret’s.’”
“Chyort! This is absurd,” Stanislav burst out. “What’s he saying?”
“It’s his way of communicating,” Benjamin explained, exchanging a long look with Aislinn. “Let’s just say he expresses his visions in nursery rhymes.”
“‘Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement’s.’”
“I think I liked him better when he was just a surly gamer. Madness is not good,” Zhenya said gruffly, eyeing the mad, nonsensical Nubes. “We had many mad rulers in Russia—Empress Anna, Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great, his son—whores and tyrants. Better they are dead. Would you like me to take care of the Nubes for you?” She brought out her dagger, which glinted a deadly silver in the light from the plexiglass screens.
“No!” Aislinn answered quickly. “He might be insane—”
“And dirty and smelly,” added Caleb.
“And a thief.” Cole muttered a few oaths under his breath.
“Let it go, Cole,” Aislinn warned. “As I was saying, despite all those things, we need him.”
Stanislav shrugged, scratching at his stomach lazily. He understood need. In his book, it translated to manipulate and exploit. He assessed the skinny Nubes with hard, cold eyes.
“‘Pokers and tongs, Say the bells at St. John’s.’” Seth was unmindful of the rest of the world, continuing in his sing-song rhythm. “‘Here comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.’”
Stanislav smiled in sinister pleasure. “Yob tvoyu mat! My English may not be good, but that I understand. Da, I see the benefits of keeping this one alive.”
“A huy li? Seriously. This is messed up. Of course, it’s always a good thing to keep a mystic or prophet around” Zhenya muttered under her breath, her voice dripping sarcasm as she sheathed her dagger. “Just look how that went for the Romanovs.”
Chapter 29
“Are you expecting trouble?” Aislinn asked, feeling uncomfortable at the armed escort toting enough weapons to bring down a sizable army.
“Da, I’m always expecting trouble,” replied Stanislav, turning to face her. “So, I’m never disappointed when it inevitably happens.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “This was a bad idea. We’re not trying to start a war. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, his square jaw jutting out defiantly. “Starik, don’t talk nonsense. You need street cred. I am Russian mafia. End of discussion.”
There was no arguing with him. No arguing with any of them. It was as if she had her own vampire posse.
They had all insisted on accompanying her to the Atum Council, even knowing most of them wouldn’t be allowed inside the chamber. Almost all were here for her sake, except Varya. As Julius’s right-hand personal guard, she was on protective duty, and
Benjamin who ran surveillance.
Aislinn wondered how that was going to go, considering her brother hadn’t left the manor house in centuries and was now being forced out of his comfort zone. The London Coven’s council chamber was within the footprint of the old city, Londinium, built back when the Romans were fighting off the barbarian tribes. This was where they were headed.
She could feel the unavoidable tension building among her friends. Caleb was muttering and swearing to himself under his breath about the tactical fortifications of the council chamber, while Cole and Cooper inanely conversed about Harry Potter film sites as they passed Leadenhall Market.
“What’s worrying you, old man?” Aislinn asked him, her hand falling to the hilt of her skean as a matter of habit. They approached a part of London which was vastly different in medieval times, with the now-demolished old city wall, part of the Roman fortifications of the city, and the closer they got to their destination, the more edgy Caleb became.
“He is worried at the gathering of dons,” Stanislav said, barking out a quick laugh at her naivety.
“Dons?” Aislinn asked.
“The twelve children of Kayne are gathering in one place for the first time in centuries. Isn’t that a cause for concern?” Caleb muttered. “If I were a hunter, shifter or dark mage…” He left the sentence unfinished, the implications hanging in the air.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Aislinn told him. “So why upset yourself?”
But Caleb only continued to swear harder, complaining of the “tactical nightmare” of dealing with not only the Twelve elect but also their accompanying emissaries, dignitaries, and elite guards. He’d already spotted some of them, but they were able to blend in among the humans who were so used to seeing punks, goths, divas, and people going to costume parties, comic-con, and film premieres, they went unnoticed or were ignored. That was one thing to be said about living in the present age. It was much more tolerant than the past.
At the top of the steps descending to the council chamber, way beneath the Roman ruins, Aislinn paused, flicking her platinum-blonde hair over her shoulder as she turned to face them and issue last-minute instructions.
“Once I enter the council chamber, the doors will be closed to you all. My brothers and I are permitted to have two attendants each. As discussed, I will take Caleb and Stanislav. We will be sequestered inside. The rest of you—well, you know what you have to do.” Here, she gave Cole and Cooper a hard look, daring them to defy her orders like the last time.
Neither of her offspring had the balls to look her directly in the eye, knowing they were in the wrong, and sheepishly accepted her directive.
“There is to be no mingling and no chitchat before we convene, as tradition dictates. Any family reunions come afterward. I will take my place without engaging in conversation. The meeting will be quickly called to order by Marduk as firstborn, then handed over to Julius as is his right as host. Keep your wits about you—and Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat.” After she wished them luck in her native tongue, she turned.
Passing through the highest level of security, a retinal and DNA scanner, she descended the ancient stairwell into the dark corridor below with its marble-lined murals. It would have been impossible for a human to see more than a yard in front of them in the all-consuming darkness.
The darkness of the corridor finally receded before a pinprick of light which got larger the closer they approached the enormous open forum. Though underground, the forum covered two hectares and was three-stories high, like an Olympic stadium, the vast stone-hewn ceiling barely visible as they walked under its enormous structure.
Once, it may have provided her brothers’ armies a place to set up camp as the sons of Kayne met for protracted meetings every decade, but that practice was no longer observed. Instead, silence reigned supreme down here.
The massive bronze doors they entered through were mirrored on the opposite end, east and west. Tradition dictated the doors were kept closed in times of peace and open in times of war, but as the vampires seemed to always to be at war somewhere, the doors were almost never closed.
The space was designed to intimidate, causing Stanislav to give a low whistle. It was swallowed up immediately in the vastness of the space. Aislinn would have liked to gauge his thoughts on the opulence of their surroundings but abided by custom and remained silent.
The London council chamber was magnificent, modeled on the temple of Janus in Rome, known to the Romans as the custodian of the universe, gatekeeper and god of beginnings and ends, presiding over every entrance and departure. Illuminated from the lights of flickering torches and hundreds of candles, the gallery circling the room they entered disappeared into the lofty space above where the records of their species were kept, including the original copies of the Annals.
Aislinn didn’t bother to glance upward even once. She kept her eyes level and focused. She was the last to arrive and her brothers were already seated in readiness to begin. In some ways, this was a formality. Of all of Kayne’s children, only Aislinn did not have a vote within the council as she wasn’t head of a coven and wasn’t interested in acquiring one. The eleventh vote was always Marduk’s and was considered the tie-breaker. But she knew she wasn’t late, and they were not kept waiting for her, as the meeting would not begin until the bells tolled the midnight hour.
As she crossed the room, with Caleb and Stanislav flanking her, she surveyed her brothers seated around the large round table. Marduk looked grim, especially as his obsidian eyes betrayed his sudden anger at seeing Caleb with her. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring him along, considering he was the one who had burned down Marduk’s temple. Strategically, it could cost her Marduk’s support if he thought she was being insolent.
Well, what was done was done. She couldn’t change her mind now.
On the other hand, she had obviously scored Grigori’s approval for bringing along the hulking Russian mafia boss. Grigori himself did not bring any attendants since he preferred to rely on only himself and trust no one. She had always respected her Russian brother and had learned a great many things from him. Especially not to underestimate his ruthlessness.
Nodding briefly in his direction, she made her way to her seat, the black leather coat billowing around her calves as she strode fearlessly forward. She didn’t even break her stride when she spotted Julius’s attendants standing behind him. It was no surprise that Julius had chosen Dorian as his second attendant, but it wasn’t going to deter her from bringing a charge of treason against him nor initiating her plan to have him black-bagged after the meeting.
She was perfectly serious when she’d announced it was time for Dorian to pay for his sins, and she wasn’t going to leave it to her brothers to determine his fate. So when Dorian smiled smugly as she walked past, she returned his smile, staring him down.
Run, run, as fast as you can, but you can’t outwit the sly, old fox. I’ve got you, Dorian.
His smile faltered at her supremely confident expression, and he scanned the room urgently as if anticipating a coup. It almost made her laugh out loud.
As soon as she took her seat between Shang and Elijah, the brothers closest to her in age, the bells marking the slow passing of human life began tolling. As the twelfth and final stroke faded, Marduk stood to proclaim, “I, Marduk, firstborn of Kayne, chosen leader of the Cairo Coven, call this extraordinary meeting to order. There is on the table a motion made by the London Coven for the rest of our covens to consider.”
The second session had been going for hours without coming to any resolution, much like the first session which had ended in a stalemate as the council chamber had been filled with an outraged clamor, her brothers shouting each other down. Now Aislinn remembered why the meetings of the Atum Council had dwindled from once every decade to once every century, since as vampires, they could last days, even weeks, months or more without needing to take a break as long as they were supplied with enough blood sustenance to continue argui
ng. This was all before her time, and she’d thought it a myth that the longest council meeting recorded had lasted nine months. After all, even the most dysfunctional family should know when to quit. But apparently not.
Now she realized all the rumors were probably true, as her brothers shouted a gazillion questions at her and just as many accusations at each other. They filled the vast chamber with enough noise to drown out a rock concert.
“What you are suggesting is preposterous,” Aydin, head of the Istanbul Coven, growled at no one in particular. But he was keeping a close eye on Aislinn as he was wary of women in general and deeply suspicious of the youngest progeny chosen by their father.
Aislinn had very little dealings with her middle brother—a florid and robust, bushy-eyebrowed Malum who was whispered to have descended from the combination of a human child and the Kök Böri or Blue Wolf because his tribe were nomads. Aydin was forever trying to prove he was a true vampire and not a shapeshifter, developing a hatred of the other species due to his own insecurities.
He grabbed her arm, fixing her with his black eyes, and hissed at her. “Have you any idea the panic this might cause among our species?”
“Of course, I understand. This threatens us all, not just the oldest vampires from your dynasties,” she replied calmly, shaking off his bruising grip.
“Stolen blood! Why did you keep this from us, Marduk?” he demanded of their older brother.
Marduk’s eyes flashed obsidian, narrowing dangerously at the accusation. “You believe I would have kept this from you had I known?” Apparently, his eyes spoke volumes as Aydin quickly backed down, settling into a disquieted grumbling.
“Mais si, mais si, you would not have kept this from your kin. But our own kind turning against us, c’est choquant! Incroyable, n’est-ce pas?” Thiery exclaimed. As a Frenchman he was more emotional than the rest of them—or as emotional as a vampire could get. “Your own personal guard, Julius. This Marcellus, whom you even sired. How you must feel betrayed, mon frère.”
