by D B Nielsen
Julius spoke softly with a false gravity in his voice, sighing dramatically while acting the victim. “I am saddened by these events, brother. Marcellus forfeited his honor when he ran away from the coven rather than facing his death as a once-stoic Roman soldier. But even I would have never believed he would involve himself with the dark mages.”
There was more grumbling now.
With an effort, Aislinn bit her tongue and remained silent, frustrated at the lies and subterfuge playing out within the council chamber. Impatience with the council’s rules and their refusal to act made her grind her teeth together. She could barely swallow the drink Caleb pressed into her hand in her rising anger.
Grigori steepled his fingers and looked around the table. “These dark mages have powers that are unequaled. They feed off the lifeforce of those creatures they see as inferior—including us.”
“This is utter nonsense,” Aydin spat hotly. It was difficult for any immortal to believe that a human, even one with the powers of a mage, could feel in any way superior to a vampire.
“These powers are said to be strong enough to bring the dead to life,” Aislinn stated bluntly.
“That’s just rebirth. Even shifters can do that.”
Shang’s eyes gleamed onyx, accentuated by their exotic almond shape which gave him the look of a Cheshire cat, wise and patient. He raised his hands and waited for the room to fall silent. “No, it isn’t rebirth, not as we know it. It’s necromancy. They have coveted this power for eons, and now, perhaps, they have it. Where I come from, there is a legend of a book and an organization well practiced in dark magic of a kind unsurpassed. There have long been rumors of the bargaining of souls and the desire to bring the dead back to life through soul-hunting or soul-stealing. These dark mages believe they are all-powerful beings, even gods of sorts.”
There were gasps of astonishment and more angry outbursts around the table.
Ragnar from the Nordic Coven now spoke up, his voice melodic against the indignant cries. “My understanding is that the dark mages were exiled long ago from Esper. I heard they were hunted down and destroyed. The council decided that their treachery had to stop.”
“That’s just a rumor,” Aydin said. “I heard the council didn’t give a damn once they left Esper.”
“And what if they were not stopped?” It took an effort to keep her voice even. “What if they went into hiding on Earth? Or at least, some of them did?”
“You think it matters? Just who is this new god Belakane spoke of?” demanded Julius, staring at Aislinn as if she had the answers. She stared blankly back.
There was nothing more pressing than dealing with the Black Magic drug on the streets and its creators, the dark mages and rogue vampires, but her brothers chose to debate hypotheticals and argue politics.
“Maybe there is no new god,” Shang replied reasonably. “Perhaps the rumors are true, and there is some great evil hidden in Esper or Earth that awaits its return. It is a world of gods and monsters, brothers.”
“The threat of a new god can wait,” Elijah said. “We should concern ourselves with the immediate problem. This level of magic is dangerous. This new drug can spell our doom, act as an insidious infection and contaminate our species so that we are forced to hunt down and kill our own kind. We must take precautions to remedy this.”
Finally! Someone spelled it out for them.
Aislinn looked gratefully across at Elijah. Of the eleven, he was closest to her in age and head of the dynamic New World Coven housed in New York with their more radical, liberal values. The charismatic Malum wasn’t good looking in the conventional sense. His features were chiseled, and his aquiline nose dominated his pale face, but he had a bit of a rebellious, mischievous streak in him that lit up his eyes and attracted others to him.
“Precautions? It has long been in our nature to care only for ourselves,” Marduk stated abruptly. “Why should I be moved to act on behalf of the lazy and decadent millennials within your coven? With each generation, I see more parasites among our species. I say, let it stand. Consider it a cleansing.”
“And where will it end? If word gets out, there will be a revolution.”
Aydin demanded, “Then what are you proposing? Have you a motion for us to consider, Elijah?”
“If you do, please get on with it. It’s half past five. We adjourn at six.” It was the first time Dimitri had said anything except for demanding a drink from his attendants during the first session. The head of the Budapest Coven was a taciturn young man who preferred the battlefield to the boardroom.
“Dimitri is right,” Julius stated. “Let us conclude this sordid business and move onto more important matters.”
“And what is more important than what we are discussing?” Elijah demanded.
“The accusation against our nephew.”
Dorian stiffened. And even Aislinn was taken by surprise.
Yet somehow, Julius had a tight control over his madness and seemed to be more of the Roman general he once had been when human, coldly rational and focused. She did not know how he was able to stabilize his frenzied energy, but she suspected Dorian was supplying him with enough fresh infant blood to keep him sane in front of the others. Enraged, Julius was predictable—his anger controlling him rather than the other way around—but when he was like this, it was difficult to see the attack coming.
Wordlessly, Aislinn held his stare, nice and calm. Julius was batshit crazy and not to be underestimated.
Aydin’s brow furrowed. “What is this you speak of? What accusations?”
Before Julius could mislead the council with claims that Dorian was his spy, Aislinn spoke up, listing Dorian’s many violations against their species. She attempted to remove any partiality by leaving out his foul actions against her personally by emphasizing Drake’s testimony of Dorian dealing in Black Magic. “The Atum Council must not ignore the traitor in our midst. Dorian and the dark mages must be stopped.”
“We need proof. The word of a liar and cheat is no truth at all,” Julius pronounced, his voice cracking like a whip. He looked at Aislinn from cold, unfathomable eyes. “We cannot turn against our own kind. We would be no better than humans.”
There were murmurs of assent.
Aislinn refused to be intimidated. “Cole was also present. He will bear witness.”
“A jackass is more intelligent than Cole. Your firstborn is a half-witted imbecile.” Julius’s cold amusement was evident in his mockery. He took another sip from his goblet, his face flushing with the rush of warmth provided by the infant blood he drank to mask his madness. Sniggers echoed around the chamber in response.
Aislinn’s cool retort was blunt. “You may laugh, brother, but my firstborn is favored by the most dangerous demon on Earth.”
“A dubious honor,” Julius dismissed with a drawl.
Her smile did not reach her eyes. “I’ll be happy to pass on your warm regards to the proprietor next time I’m at the Styx Club.”
“Please do. Say hello to the dark mage who killed your human sister while you’re there.”
A tense silence fell over the assembled vampires.
They lived for this. The baiting. The annihilation.
The entire chamber held its collective breath, waiting for her to retaliate.
So much for familial bonds. Look alive, stay alive.
Julius’s words touched a raw nerve. Aislinn’s eyes flashed obsidian and she opened her mouth to brutally retort just as the bells began to toll the hour, interrupting her.
“It is nearly sunset,” Marduk said. “We must adjourn for now. This matter will rest until the dawn when we resume the third session.”
That was it. End of discussion.
Aislinn gritted her teeth in frustration as she pushed her chair back to exit the chamber before the others had even moved. Stanislav had warned her that she wasn’t equipped to deal with her brothers’ powerplays and political intrigues. Maybe not, but she prided herself on being a fast learner.
Chapter 30
He watched from the shadows, remaining cloaked in impenetrable darkness beyond the muted yellow pools of light cast by the streetlamps, a trick he had learned long ago. Casually leaning up against the brick wall, his lips twitched as he saw her storm out from the council chamber into the alleyway. She was alone.
He could sense her blood rage threatening to spill over as she vented her pent-up frustration on a discarded beer can, kicking it with enough force to send it clattering along the cobblestones where it fetched up near his polished leather shoes.
She was really ticked off by the officious fools in the council chamber. Their lack of action made her mutter invectives under her breath as if she would slay them with words if not weapons. He almost laughed at her outrage.
He had not felt such passion and feistiness for a long time. It almost reminded him of someone he used to know. Same coloring, same passion—but the memory escaped him, and try as he might, nothing substantial would form. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t worth his worry.
“Moonflower,” he whispered, deliberately stepping into the light of the alleyway, unveiling himself to her sight.
Her head shot up and her face brightened as she spied him.
“Father!” Aislinn exclaimed, running toward him. Her final steps ended with her launching herself at him, her hair rippling behind her like moonlight on water as he caught her to him.
She was a wisp of a thing, small and dainty next to his towering height and strength. He stroked her silky, waist-length hair in admiration of what he had created. Did God feel this way when looking on his creation?
A sharp crack resounded through the night air. There was a tingling sensation on his left cheek and his head reared back from the force of the blow which he hadn’t seen coming. Her sparkling cornflower-blue eyes narrowed murderously as she shouted, her voice a celestial, tinkling melody, “You bastard! I have a half-sister and you didn’t tell me? Didn’t you think it was my right to know?”
“No,” Kayne said coldly, stepping back from the fiery young woman warily. She looked like she wasn’t done yet, wanting to hit him again. She hadn’t hurt him, couldn’t hurt him, but he was still surprised at her vehemence.
“No? Seriously?” She was fuming. “Julius says that somehow your blood was used to create this experiment. Julius says she’s an abomination, like some Frankenstein’s monster, and you—”
“When have you started listening to your brother?” Kayne’s voice was arctic. “I will deal with Julius later. Rebekah isn’t your problem.”
“Rebekah? Is that her name?” Her voice went up an octave, making him wince.
“Leave the Immortal Huntress to me,” he said smoothly. His eyes met hers; one set as frosty as a blizzard in Lapland, the other as blistering as the Sahara in summer. If she was waiting for him to thaw, she had another think coming. “Stop glowering. It’ll give you wrinkles.”
She looked as if she’d swallowed a slug.
“My child, remember, we are evolved. Do not think like mortals, for they are not a reasonable race. They are too emotional. Vampires have an instinct for self-preservation. Our species is much stronger than mere mortals, and our will to survive is greater. There is life, and there is death. None of the minutiae matters except that you learn to embrace it or let it go.”
“But the stolen blood, this Black Magic drug—” she began heatedly, only to be cut off.
Kayne shrugged. “Why is this your concern?”
“Because—because it should be all of our concern. It should be your concern.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Since when did you care whether any of your brothers lived or died? Or Dorian? And that big bag of baked bean burritos, the Zooarians—do you care for any of them?”
She stared at him silently, her lips pursed. It was true. She didn’t give a—what did he call it?—a baked bean burrito for any of them, especially her psychopathic brother and son.
“Moonflower, when are you going to delight in the gift I have bestowed upon you and enjoy your immortality?” He raised a pale hand to her cheek. “Haven’t you learned anything at all in the millennium that you have been on this Earth? Valuing the power that a single moment can give you? Transcending the rules and boundaries?”
She may have answered, but he placed his finger on her lips, silencing her. Closing his eyes momentarily, he inhaled the scent of the wind.
Opening his eyes, he let out a piercing whistle. A call to arms. “Stanislav was right as always. He would put the devil to shame.”
A bloodcurdling howl rent the peaceful night in two as a gusty wind blew up from nowhere and tunneled down the alleyway between the walls of the buildings. It climbed up their feet and whipped her hair away about her face and shoulders.
“The time for a reckoning has arrived.” Kayne’s voice was flat and emotionless. His icy blue gaze instantly pricked against her skin. “This is your quest, not mine. Your fight. You were freeborn for this, trained for it. I shall not take this from you.”
In a heartbeat, she understood his meaning. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was something in it that lifted the hairs on the necks of the humans out walking several blocks away and instantly silenced their talk. “You shouldn’t be here. I would not want to have to seek vengeance for your sake, too, though I doubt the dark mages are a match for you.”
“Your concern is touching, but you’re right. I should not be here when your friends arrive.” Kayne’s mouth twisted in regret at the thought of missing a battle. “This I leave to you, Moonflower. Use my gift well.”
In the blink of an eye, the others arrived, and Kayne had disappeared as if he had never been. But she had never truly been alone. They had allowed her some solitude but were always close at hand. She was, after all, the daughter of Kayne, and there was a global gathering of the most important and powerful vampires. It was enough to attract any number of their enemies.
“What’s going on?” Caleb immediately asked, scanning the alleyway and buildings nearby, assessing the threat.
“Shapeshifters and dark mages. I’m not sure if they are acting together.”
But Kayne with his extraordinary abilities had given them enough time to ready themselves. The foul and mangy scent of shapeshifters had not yet reached them. They were still some way off from the council chamber. But the dark mages were more difficult to predict since at least one of them had the protection of Styx and could utilize the demon portal at will—the one she wanted and was waiting for.
“Where are my brothers and their attendants now?” Aislinn had expected to see at least several of her kin amassing for an attack.
“Standing by.”
She nodded. “Marduk will decide when to send them into battle. As firstborn, that right is his, but I cannot see my brothers remaining patient for long.”
Caleb’s phone began ringing incessantly, a shrill sound that carried into the night.
“That’ll be Benjamin,” Aislinn predicted, issuing orders. “Tell him to track the shifters. There’s at least a dozen of them heading our way. Send Stanislav’s men to deal with them.”
“We’ll wait until they’re closer to strike. The council chamber is fortified and there’s a well-stocked armory. Let them come to us,” Caleb said grimly.
“They would be foolish to attack this location when it’s at full strength with all of your brothers and their attendants here, and every one of them warriors,” Stanislav said, rubbing his stomach as if hungry for battle.
Aislinn raised a pale eyebrow. “Have you ever known a shifter to be smart?”
Caleb grunted. “Don’t underestimate the shifters. They’ve been around as long as vampires.”
“They’re a pack of dogs. Animals. It makes it easier to track them.” Stanislav bit off the end of a cigar and spat it out before lighting it up. “Their strategy depended upon the element of surprise, and that’s kaput. But watch out for dirty fighting. We grew up on the streets.
It’s what you’d expect.”
He was about to say more, but his attention was diverted by dark, oppressive clouds looming in the distance. Stanislav paused, eyes narrowing as he watched the storm clouds gathering. Following the path of his gaze, Aislinn also stopped in her tracks.
“What is it? Shifters?” Zhenya squinted into the distance, focusing on the darkened patch in the night sky which was getting closer every second. It drifted toward them like blackened smoke carried on the wind.
But Stanislav and Caleb made no response. Their gazes were locked intently, tracking the movement.
“Get Cooper and the archers. We’ve got incoming,” Caleb commanded, shouting orders.
There was a dozen of the winged creatures, flying at great speed in a widening cloud above London, wheeling and circling. Larger than normal wereraptors. Shifters of prey.
“Hurry!” Cooper cried, appearing on the roof of the nearest building, commanding the archers and a few snipers to form two rows and take aim. His urgent warning came not a moment too soon. Two werefalcons suddenly broke away from formation and dove toward them.
The warriors who assembled were mostly unfamiliar to Aislinn, many coming from her brothers’ covens, though she did recognize a few faces from Caleb’s boot camps. Most had seen revolutions, crusades, and modern wars. They were some of the finest soldiers who had ever lived.
“This is going to be an expensive battle,” Stanislav remarked, thinking not of the lives that might be lost but of the gold needed to kill a shifter. He shrugged casually as he puffed his cigar. “Too bad.”
The talking ceased.
The two werefalcons were brought down quickly and cleanly. Thank goodness they had the cover of night as it would have been difficult to justify human bodies suddenly falling from the sky. The vampires left it to the shifters to recover their own dead.
That was when the werewolves started to howl. She knew her brothers and their bodyguards would be mobilizing Underground, ready to engage in battle.
