The Champion

by H. P. Mallory

  “Ah, delighted to meet you, my good man,” Sinjin said in that way of his that made me roll my eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked like he belonged in the nineteenth century beside some immense fireplace in a Victorian home. “We are here to find an ancient magical portal. We shan’t be long, and we certainly shall not bother Her Majesty.”

  The guard looked at Sinjin as though this were a normal and reasonable statement, but it was obvious from the glazed look in his eyes that he was under the influence of a powerful vampire glamor.

  “Very good, Sir,” he said before letting us in with nothing more than a nod.

  As we all filed in behind Sinjin, he looked back at me over his shoulder and grinned. “Easy peasy,” he said.

  I could only smile as I shook my head and wondered at all the mysteries that had created Sinjin Sinclair.

  We kept to the edge of the castle grounds, not wanting to draw undue attention to our motley crew. It was easy to keep out of sight; there were so many ancient and massive trees to hide behind.

  “There’s the tower, ” said Mathilda eventually, and only then did we venture out from under the cover of the trees. We’d nearly made it when the most godawful racket broke out.

  “ Merde !” said Dureau.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked, glancing around, but I couldn’t see anything that appeared out of place.

  “It’s the horses screaming, ” Sinjin replied with a shrug. “They picked up my scent.”

  “And Dayna’s,” added Mercedes pointedly. “Damn. I forgot about the stables. Everyone keep a wide berth.”

  No sooner had she spoken, then lights came on in the section of the castle we were closest to and someone opened an upper window.

  “What is it, Philip? We heard an old woman’s voice.”

  “God knows. Probably that fox again, setting the horses into a panic.” The man raised his voice. “Stop that infernal racket, this instant!”

  The horses ignored him.

  “I think I’ll head down with my gun, Lizzie.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Phil. Come back to bed.”

  “Oh, very well.”

  And with that, the window was slammed shut.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bryn

  We made o ur journey to the south side of the tower without any further interruption. It was almost completely dark by now, the bats our only company. They seemed to wheel around Sinjin’s head in particular, which caused me some amusement. He barely noticed them.

  “This is it,” announced Mercedes. “This is the spot.”

  We all gazed up at the impressive coat of arms embedded into the castle wall. The arms were supported on either side by a unicorn in chains.

  “Why unicorns?” I asked.

  “The unicorn is the national animal of Scotland, dearie.” Mathilda beamed at me.

  “Are unicorns real, then?”

  “Of course they’re real!” Mercedes looked at me as if I were so stupid, she could hardly stand it.

  “They’re very shy creatures, Bryn,” said Mathilda. “Few have been lucky enough to see them. I’ve only set eyes on one once, many years ago, when I was but a girl. Usually it takes a severe crisis for a unicorn to reveal itself.”

  “Now if you don’t mind,” Mercedes spoke brusquely, “I need to concentrate, so quiet, everyone.”

  We all looked at one another. Audrey made a face that said Mercedes wasn’t her favorite person, and Damek rolled his eyes. But everyone shut up all the same.

  Mercedes stood directly in front of the coat of arms with her arms raised. She closed her eyes and began to mutter in a strange language I’d never heard before. Something told me the words were ancient.

  She began to chant, rocking side to side, her voice becoming louder and sounding more urgent as she continued. I stared at the unicorns, willing something to happen. It did seem, after a while, that the coat of arms and the section of wall around it began to glow ever so slightly. But the glow only lasted thirty seconds before dissipating, and even then, it could have been my imagination. Eventually, Mercedes opened her eyes.

  “Mathilda. Will you chant with me?”

  Mathilda nodded silently and stood beside her taller friend. When she raised her own arms, the tips of her fingers were as high as the top of Mercedes’ head. She joined her voice to that of the Prophetess, uttering the same incomprehensible language. Mathilda’s voice was thin and reedy at first, but then something strange began to happen.

  First a strong wind started to pick up. I instinctively looked around at the surrounding trees and saw that they were perfectly still. The wind was locali zed to the few square feet where we all stood. Then Mathilda’s voice began to change. It got deeper and louder, and after a time, it seemed other voices had joined it—other voices that were coming from inside her.

  She’s calling on her ancestors for help , I said to myself, not even sure how I’d come to that conclusion. This time the glow was definitely not my imagination. Sinjin and I gave each other a confirmatory look. I thought I heard another underlying sound, too—a grinding sort of sound—but after a few minutes, nothing else happened.

  Mercedes and Mathilda stopped chanting abruptly, as if in mutual agreement, and the wind immediately disappeared. Mathilda turned to the rest of us and smiled.

  “Not quite powerful enough ,” she said, appearing as normal and innocent as everyone’s favorite grandmother.

  Mercedes appeared drained. Frustrated, too.

  “Damn,” she said to no one in particular. “I was sure …”

  “Something was definitely happening,” I said. “The portal is there, all right. Maybe we should all try together?”

  She looked at me and nodded. “Yes.” Then she faced everyone else. “Everyone join hands.”

  But that was easier said than done. There was absolutely no way that certain members of the party were going to join hands with certain other members of the party. Audrey, for instance, made a show of putting a big distance between Sinjin and herself. I had to wonder what had gone on there.

  I remembered walking in on them in an intimate moment not that long ago—maybe that was why?

  Furthermore, there was no way in hell Sinjin was touching Dureau. As for Damek and Dayna, they were holding hands half a second after Mercedes said it, grinning sloppily at one another.

  I smiled at Dureau and held out my own hand. He took it and gave it a squeeze. We both knew now that there would never be anything between us, but he would still be my forever friend. And no sooner had I joined my hand to Dureau’s than Sinjin materialized at my other side, clasping my free hand possessively in his own.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” said Mercedes. “Can you just organize yourselves quickly! We haven’t got all night!”

  We hastily formed a semi-circle and raised our hands together before the coat of arms. Again, the spooky words rang forth, recited by Mercedes and Mathilda. This time, the wind truly buffeted us. The wall glowed whiter than white, and the grinding sound increased. But minutes later, nothing major had occurred. Mercedes and Mathilda lowered their arms in unison, and everything stopped. We all lowered our arms and looked at them for guidance.

  Mercedes sighed. “It simply won’t budge. I’m not sure why.”

  Mathilda reached up and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We tried our best, my dear. Nobody can ask anything more.”

  Mercedes nodded glumly and we all made our sorry way home.

  Sinjin

  “Of course I’m going! How can I not go? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Dureau needs me !” Bryn nearly yelled at Jolie as the two faced each other in heated anger.

  After our failure at Balmoral, we had returned to Kinloch, and upon the announcement from Mercedes that we needed to travel to New Orleans via aeroplane, Jolie had most staunchly opposed the idea of Bryn accompanying us.

  “It’s not safe!” Jolie responded.

  “Did you or did you not alr
eady give your blessing in the Green Room?” Bryn demanded.

  Jolie wrapped her arms against her chest as she faced her enraged sister. “No, I did not! I gave you permission to join Mercedes’ team to try and locate the portal at Balmoral, in Scotland ! Balmoral is a hell of a lot closer than New Orleans!”

  “So what?”

  Jolie shook her head. “I don’t see why Rachel can’t go in your place. It makes perfect sense,” the queen argued. “She can communicate telepathically, and she knows Luce’s tribe as well as you do. Besides, Rachel isn’t pregnant.”

  “Oh, don’t be so stupid, Jolie. You know as well as I do that Rachel can’t communicate with Dureau!” Bryn argued.

  Jolie’s eyes narrowed, presumably over being referred to as “stupid.”

  “Rachel can learn,” Jolie spat the words out. “Dureau and Rachel can have a few days of intense practice before they go.”

  “What do you mean before they go? They’re not going anywhere. I’m going,” Bryn pronounced, throwing her hands on her hips and glaring at her twin. “And how can Rachel recreate in a few days the telepathic bond that I’ve built up with Dureau over a lifetime? It’s impossible! Tell her, Sinjin.”

  “I …”

  “You’re not going and that’s my final word as queen!” Jolie yelled. “It’s too dangerous, and it’s… completely insane in your condition. Tell her, Sinjin!”

  I had encountered many dilemmas in my six hundred years as a vampire, but being asked to take sides between my mate and my queen was right up there with the most insolvable.

  “I would prefer to sit this one out, if you do not mind, ladies,” I said.

  “Careful you don’t get a splinter up your ass when sitting on that fence on the sidelines, Sinjin!” My hellion sounded quite vicious! Luckily for me, she turned her attention right back to her twin.

  “How would you have liked it if Rand had treated you like some kind of imbecile when you were expecting Emma?”

  “ I’ m not treating you like an imbecile, Bryn! Stop acting so dramatic!” She took a breath. “And I happened to love it when Rand was protective of me when I was pregnant!”

  Bryn all but snorted in disgust. “Well, Sinjin can come with me and be as protective as you like, if that’s what it takes to make you happy. Can’t you, Sinjin?”

  “I can indeed, my dear tempest.”

  I had not, for my part, agreed that Bryn traveling to New Orleans was such a good idea as she seemed to believe. But I figured that if she insisted, and if I were there to protect her, I should be okay with it.

  Furthermore, t here was no way I was allowing her unsupervised in New Orleans with that French fop.

  “Sinjin,” Jolie began, facing me earnestly, “please tell Bryn that she and the baby would be much better off here in Kinloch Kirk.”

  “My queen,” I began as I faced her and cleared my throat, “ I have observed that the act of telling Lady Bryn what to do merely causes her to do the exact opposite of my request. Furthermore, the stricter one is in imposing one’s will upon her, the quicker and the more strongly she will move in the opposite direction. Therefore, I must decline.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Jolie admitted as she glared at her sister. “Bryn is incredibly stubborn.”

  “It runs in the family,” Bryn responded.

  Then something extraordinary happened. The two sisters looked at each other and simply burst out laughing! I was quite flummoxed by the whole situation and confused, to say the least. How did they go from intense anger to laughter? Truly, the female sex was quite unstable.

  The baffling outcome of all of this was that Jolie eventually gave her consent for Bryn to travel stateside with the frog, in order to gain closer access to the dreamers of Luce’s tribe. I would accompany her, as would Audrey and Damek. We three were to provide protection to Bryn and the frog as they dreamed.

  I was quite excited about this impending trip, as I was inordinately fond of New Orleans. I had spent a great deal of time there during the nineteenth century, sampling the many delights of the city and its inhabitants. Its vibrant nightlife made pickings easy, and the city imbued within me a deep appreciation of jazz. It struck me that with my new respiratory system, I could now realize my ambition of learning how to play the saxophone. I always liked to develop new skills. Doing so was said to keep one young.

  It would be a tad awkward dealing with Audrey and her sullen ways, no doubt, but that could not be helped. I could hardly blame the poor girl. It stood to reason that one denied the charms of Sinjin Sinclair was bound to be bitter with disappointment.

  I was heartened , however, by the idea of travelling with my surrogate son, Damek. He was beyond excited himself at the notion of travelling to New Orleans. The only fly in his ointment was that he had not been permitted to bring Dayna with him. I warned him not to attempt to smuggle his hairy paramour in his suitcase. We did not want a repeat of what had transpired at Balmoral. Customs would be even less forgiving than Mercedes.

  Upon discovering that I had more than a passing familiarity with the city, Damek questioned me constantly about it, looking to me to verify facts he had learned from Google. He tended to say “wow” rather a lot.

  “Have you ever been in the French Quarter, Sinjin?” he asked on one such occasion.

  “Indeed I have, my dear Damek. And I had the pleasure of hearing the great Satchmo himself, Mister Louis Armstrong, play in a musical establishment on Bourbon Street.”

  “Who’s Louis Armstrong?”

  “Good Lord! Ask your friend Mister Google.”

  Which he proceeded to do.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed, minutes later. “And did you ride in a streetcar?”

  “I have had the pleasure, yes.”

  “Wow! I’d love to do that.”

  “Well, then you shall, my dear Damek. You and I shall ride in a streetcar together. It is my solemn promise to you.”

  “Wow! And can we go on a steamboat too?”

  “If the opportunity arises, I do not see why not.”

  “Awesome!”

  And there it was. The tiresome overuse, not to mention misuse, of the word “awesome.” The word was clearly designed to be employed when one was confronted with the prospect of a magnificent sunset or something similarly spectacular, not as a casual descriptor for the prospect of a ride on a common mode of transport. Children these days! Although I had to admit that Damek could scarcely be described as a child any longer. He was nearly as tall as me, and his five o’clock shadow usually appeared around three o’clock. Nearly a fully-fledged man on the outside, but inside, he was still just a babe.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sinji n

  Preparations were under way for our trip.

  Lucky I was such an expert when it came to packing, as my dear hellion did not have a clue. She just threw random items into the case provided, without even so much as folding her clothes! When I kindly offered to demonstrate how to fold, or rather, roll them correctly, she just laughed and called me an old woman. Me? An old woman?

  I did not even bother suggesting a packing list. I feared my darling Bryn was somewhat of a lost cause when it came to housekeeping . Perhaps she would never become a domestic goddess. Luckily, she was quite the capable warrior instead. I knew which one I preferred.

  The day of departure arrived, and we all duly gathered together at Glasgow Airport. Although only five of us were making the trip, quite a crowd had assembled from Kinloch Kirk to see us off, mostly to issue instructions. I did not do well at being instructed, but I made the appearance of listening patiently, especially to my queen.

  “Now, you know you’re not to let Bryn out of your sight,” she began.

  She had the good sense to utter these words out of the earshot of her sister.

  “That is my absolute intention, my queen.”

  “I know. I know it is. I’m just worried, you know. She’s my only sister.”

  “I understand. She is my only mate.”
<
br />   Jolie tipped her head to the side and looked sickeningly sentimental. “That is so sweet, Sinjin.”

  Good grief!

  I thought it was quite touching that Klassje had also come to bid us adieu. It was not really her style, practical girl that she was. But imagine my consternation when I spied her kissing Chevalier farewell—on the mouth, no less! Yes, Chevalier! The fop!

  The man moved from one woman to the next with such speed, it was a shock he did not suffer whiplash. As I watched the two, they appeared quite loved up, huddling together in a corner whispering to each other.

  What on earth was Klassje thinking? I would have assumed the girl had better taste —she and I had been an item, once upon a time. To rise so high, only to fall so low!

  Of course, I could not fault Chevalier in his selection, as he was getting a good deal. A vampire was always a sterling choice of mate due to our innate superiority in almost every way. But the frog! What in blazes did females see in him? First Bryn, now Klassje? Eminently sensible women in numerous other ways!

  I could only shake my head at the apparent absurdity of the whole situation. Would this bloody dandy remain a thorn in my side forever? Alas, it appeared so.

  I stole a glance at Bryn to see if she had noticed what was going on between them as well. I could tell from her shocked expression that she had. I sincerely hoped it was not jealousy that I detected in her countenance.

  Damek and Dayna were there, making idiots of themselves as usual. Young love was overrated, in my opinion. Mercedes and Mathilda were present, of course, handing vials of dream juice to one another and issuing advice as to how to get said vials through customs. Not only were we attempting to smuggle the vials through customs, but a plethora of weapons as well.

  “It is time, ladies and gentlemen,” I began as I addressed those in attendance. “We must advance presently in order to reach our gate in a timely fashion.”

  Those who were not traveling with us gradually dispersed. Dayna was the last to go. She was led away sobbing, Mathilda’s arm about her shoulders. Klaasje blew imaginary kisses in Chevalier’s direction, which only furthered my confusion. She caught my eye, and I shook my head at her in a reproachful manner. She just grinned in that irrepressible, cheeky way of hers. When she, too, had disappeared, that left but five of us: Bryn, myself, Damek, Audrey and the fop. We stood in a rough circle and looked at one another—or rather, I glared at Chevalier and Audrey glared at me.