by M. K. Gibson
“Does this truly work?” Astroth asked.
“Better than you could possibly realize. The glorious simplicity of it is, provided you create a two-party system, the masses will form themselves into warring factions, all the while remaining under the yoke of us powerful few.”
“Very enlightening,” Sabine admitted.
“Again, I thank you,” I said with a slight bow. As to this servant, he is still being trained. But he is a devout admirer of your kind and of the Night’s Noble Blood. I think, if nothing else, he sought to impress you.”
“Well, he does seem . . . fearsome,” Sabine said, looking Wraith Knight over from head to toe.
“I-I thank you, oh powerful creature of the night,” Wraith Knight said, placing one fist over his heart and bowing.
“Perhaps we should speak of business?” Astroth asked. “Your previous assistance those years ago in securing the Night Sisters to our cause was most beneficial.”
“Of course,” I said. “Please, lead the way.”
Both Sabine and Astroth turned and floated back towards the grand hall. As they did, the ball returned to normal, with the sounds of laughter and of people whimpering from the darkest corners.
Vampire parties. Always a hoot.
The master vampires took their seats on the twin thrones at the head of the main table directly beneath the crystal dome. From their seats of power, their station, and thus their power, was absolute.
“You secured the Night Sisters?” Wraith Knight asked under his breath as we walked towards the main table.
“Of course,” I told him. “I tried to tell you that I’ve had dealings with vampires in the past before you went on your little hissy fit in the carriage.”
“I . . . I’m sorry, Jackson.”
“One day you’ll learn not to doubt me.”
We took our seats towards the head of the table, to Sabine’s right with Astroth to her left side. Along the table, various vampire lords watched us. They ranged in size and shape from near human to the classic Nosferatu. And none of them were happy to have to move down a seat. Each of them took silent offense to the temporary reduction in station.
Well, tough titty. I was a god, whether these suckers knew it or not.
Without prompting, two servants appeared and bared their necks for Sabine and Astroth. The vampires bit down on their respective snacks, draining them of their life’s blood. Both of the mindless beings were shriveled husks in mere seconds. Two more servants appeared and carried the corpses of their former co-workers away.
Inwardly, I sighed. Displays of power are often a negotiation tactic, one I employ myself when the time is right. Well, maybe not drinking a person dry, but a power display nonetheless. Instead of reacting, I simply acted bored. And trust me, it wasn’t much of an act.
“Would you or your servant care for sustenance?” Sabine asked, wiping her mouth with the back her hand.
“I had a Big Gulp of O-positive earlier. I’m stuffed,” I said.
Sabine shrugged. “To business then.”
“Now, Jackson, what business brings you to Zahnstadt?” Astroth asked.
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” I said, lighting one of my cigarettes. “But you already knew I was here, seeing as you sent an invitation to the ball to the docks in Mondhafen.”
Wraith Knight, no longer in his armored form, looked at me with wide eyes. “We were invited?”
“Yes,” I said plainly. “It’s bad manners to go where you’re not invited.”
“You said you . . . forged it,” he whispered.
“No, I said Sophia forged it,” I corrected him. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”
“We knew of your presence in the lands,” Sabine said, while Astroth nodded in agreement.
“Uh huh,” I said crossing my arms. “But how? You owe me that much.”
“Owe you?” Sabine asked, raising an arched eyebrow.
“Yes. Let us not forget who came to whom for assistance in the past.”
The two vampires looked at one another, silently communicating through their mental bond. Sabine nodded and looked directly at me.
“We received a vision from the Dark Mother,” Sabine said.
“I thought so,” I nodded.
“She entered our minds and bestowed upon us a vision of you,” Astroth added. “And with it, a task.”
“So,” I said, snubbing my cigarette out on the table. “Good ol’ Branwen appeared in your dream. What did she tell you? That you were to capture and or kill me?”
“Yes,” Astroth admitted. “And to our surprise, you showed up here tonight.”
“Peculiar,” Sabine said. “You do not seem surprised.”
“No, I’m not,” I said. “Your Dark Mother is still mad at me. But the next time she appears in a dream, or in the reflection of blood, or however the hell she makes herself known, do me a favor. Tell her she still has my Blu-Ray of Young Frankenstein. Sure, there are digital copies, but this one was signed by Mel Brooks. Breakups. Am I right?”
“You mock the Raven Goddess?” Sabine asked.
“Sacrilege,” Astroth hissed.
“Whatever,” I said with a wave of my hand as I looked upward, noticing a flash of light in the night sky through the crystal dome. “Once you’ve done the things that Branwen and I have done to one another, you get a pass on being informal. But Branwen isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to deal with you two.”
Standing, I stared directly at the master vampires. “Give me the Fangs of the First. Now.”
“Or what?” Sabine purred, obviously excited by the idea of confrontation.
I smiled, then looked at the entire table of vampires and their respective retinues. “Or every vampire, underling, and undead-loving sycophant in this fucking house will face the true death tonight.”
Chapter Thirty
Where I Discuss Heist Movies, Compare Crazy Cat Ladies to Vampire Lovers, and Summon an Army
Okay, I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m up to. Mocking a room full of apex predators while I barely have any of my god power? What was I thinking?
Well, Simple Simon, since you’ve made it this far in the book, and since this is the third of the series, you should realize that I always have something up my sleeve. Maybe I should call you Wraith Knight Junior?
In order for my plan to work, I needed a few things. First, I needed the aforementioned Wraith Knight to not know my plans. It’s so much better when the reactions are real. Plus, it was super cute watching him prance around. Second, I needed these self-absorbed sanguine suckers to give their full attention to me.
In this case, I’m like a stage magician, without the eyeliner, the stink of self-loathing, and the crippling regret of my life choices. You see, in order to make your trick work, you have to get the audience looking at one hand while you’re pulling a fast one with the other.
Ever watch a heist movie? In the fun ones, there’s always a moment when the leader, usually the brains and face man of the rag-tag group, confronts the target. Meanwhile, the rest of the team is off doing the actual theft.
Oh, you forgot about Lydia and Myst, didn’t you? Tsk tsk. It was only two and half chapters ago. Gods above and below, put down your phones, turn off Netflix, and exercise your brain once in a while. I won’t even bother asking you if you recall that Sophia mentioned making modifications to the Umbra or the mysterious communications she mentioned back in Chapter 25.
You see, dear readers, being the brains and the face of the group comes with a sense of duty. A . . . composure, if you will. A sense of coolness under pressure must be maintained. Like a dance. And when the Shadow Master comes to dance, he picks the song.
Which was why I shoved Wraith Knight in the way when no less than seven lesser vampires, obeying Astroth and Sabine’s mental command, leaped over the table and tried to kill me.
“Better armor up,” I told Wendell, pushing him directly in the path of the first vampire.
“Bos
s?!”
“Less yapping, more clanking!” I yelled back as I dodged and spun away from the outstretched claws of another hissing vampire.
Wraith Knight was correct. In my reduced god form, I wasn’t much more than an enhanced human. But as these were not master vampires, it was a fair fight.
I hated it.
I slugged another of the oncoming vamps in the mouth with an overhand right, breaking its fangs, then spun around backwards, whipping my left elbow at the next one that came in. The strike connected, knocking the creature backwards. But the speed and ferocity of the vampires was not to be taken lightly.
Fortunately, Wraith Knight was anything but light. My armored behemoth slammed his armored fist into anything that wasn’t me. When a couple of the vamps tried to take him to the ground, he simply used a bit of the power I’d bestowed upon him back in the comic dimension to turn insubstantial. It was amusing to see the garishly dressed noble dead fall flat on their faces in a slapstick comedy style.
With the attention on WK, I slipped back a bit towards the edge of the circular grand hall and watched. Astroth and Sabine commanded the blood of their blood to attack Wraith Knight over and over. While I was limited in my power and scope, my minions were not.
As a mortal blessed by the gods—ahem, me—Wraith Knight met the attacks of the vampires with equal ferocity and power. Sure, if Sabine or Astroth got involved, they’d rip WK apart. But since it was only underlings, it wasn’t much of a contest.
Huh . . . I guess when fighting a weaker opponent, vampires looked cool and fearsome. But when fighting a giant man encased in heavy black armor and empowered by a god, they looked . . . prissy?
They deftly dodged. They aggressively attacked. They . . . hissed? I mean, they actually hissed. Like, a lot. Was this a battle or a cat fight?
Wow, I guess I never realized that until now.
Hear me out, as this thought just popped into my head. Sure, there was a battle going on, and it’s bad form to interject in the middle of an action scene, but I think this idea needs exploring.
Are cats basically vampires in a more human form? Not to sound sexist—well, more sexist—but perhaps that’s why so many women love them both?
Fangs? Check.
Nocturnal hell beasts that sleep all day? Check
Aristocratic snots who require your attention on their terms, while demanding your obedience? Check.
Would eat you if given the chance? Check.
The perpetual object of desire for certain women who “don’t want or need a partner,” but deep down desire one? Check.
Would you look at that? I’m not saying I’ve discovered the theory of relativity, but I think we are onto a working model here.
Cats are vampires and the gay best friend substitute. Something you can’t have and thus live vicariously though.
My apologies, dear reader, for the tangent. Where were we? Oh yes, Wraith Knight was kicking major cat—er, vampire—ass.
Amid the battle, I again saw a flash of light outside of the crystal dome. Two of them. It was time.
Stepping back towards the outer edge of the room, I summoned a fraction of my power and slapped my hands together. A massive but brief flash of sunlight lit up the entire ballroom. Immediately all eyes were on me.
“You dare!” Astroth hissed.
“Oh, come on.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t that much light.”
Sure, sunlight was the natural enemy of all vampires. But ancient ones like Astroth and Sabine were merely annoyed by sun. In fact, they could walk in it and only be mildly disturbed. Younger ones, however, feared the sun the way a ginger fears the beach. In fact, I was pretty sure a saw a couple piles of dust and empty petticoats over in the corner.
Oops.
“Okay, my apologies for those few over there. It wasn’t my intention to fry them, so . . . my bad. But back to my point, I think the fight is over. Like I said, if you stand down and give me the Fangs of the First, you’ll all walk out of here. Otherwise, it won’t be pretty.”
“Jackson,” Sabine said, “it is adorable, your little display. But the Dark Mother informed us you are not at your full powers. Aside from your formidable servant, it would take an army to beat us.”
I nodded at that. She was right—it would take an army.
“Like that one?” I asked, pointing up.
Both Astroth and Sabine looked up just as the explosives set by Lydia and Myst shattered the crystal dome with a cacophonous crash. Thousands of jagged shards of crystal rained down in a glittering display of my ability to plan, distract, and execute.
Flood lights from high above shone down, lighting up the room. Looking up, I saw the unmistakable sight of a naked, bluish celestial affixed to the prow of the Zenith Umbra, which was now floating above the grand manor. The attached dirigible balloon, which I argue was genre and setting appropriate, held my submarine embassy aloft in a way that would give Jules Verne serious writer’s envy.
Thick cables dropped into the room, followed by dozens and dozens of angry men and women rappelling into the vampire ball. Who were these crazy newcomers, you ask? Well, my loyal readers, if you want to kill vampires, whom do you send? A god and a nerd? A shapeshifter and a thief? No. You send in the experts.
Vampire hunters.
Chapter Thirty-One
Where I Greet a Trope, Call Out Bad Storytelling, and Get Rid of Some Dead Weight
In the blink of an eye, the room, if not the whole manor, was filled with the sound of combat. Crossbow bolts twanged. Silver swords sliced. Vampires . . . hissed.
Seriously, ladies, certain men, and other non-gender-specific-identifying human allies—what is it about these creatures that you like? I just don’t get it.
From high atop the remnants of the dome, I saw a person in black leather armor with twin swords on her back. The individual leaped from high above and landed in a superhero three-point stance before me.
“Hello Vitalia,” I said to the figure. “Aren’t those landings hell on your knees?”
Vitalia Grace ’un Thessalia removed her leather helmet, letting her white-blond hair fall in cascading ringlets. Despite the fighting around us, Vitalia looked beautiful in the light. Her ever-so-pale-blue skin highlighted her half-vampire nature, while her dark eyes held my form with a mix of gratitude and contempt.
“Shadow Master,” the woman said. “I have not forgotten it was you who engineered my people’s defeat in the Straga Wars.”
“And I haven’t forgotten that you refused to take my calls. I was completely ready to install you as the new power in the land. You, not me, were the one stricken with case of . . . yuck. Nobility.”
Vitalia, bastard daughter of Sabine, flashed me a cruel smile. Her baby canine teeth, more pointy nubs than fangs, still looked lethal. “I don’t deal with those who associate with vampires.”
“Yet here we are,” I said. “And look at you now. All grown up and leading a team of hunters. Lemme guess, you all are something like the Night Hunters? Or the Rising Cross? Oh, I know, the Order of the Dawn?”
Vitalia looked away, not answering.
“Holy shit, really? Which one?”
“The Order of the Dawn.”
“Wow, that’s horrible. So, are we going to have a problem, or are you going to be grateful that I got you closer to the vampire high court than you’ve ever been in your life?”
The dhampir pursed her lips. It was clear she was full of the same foolish pride all young people are. To be fair, she was over ninety. But in vampire years, even half vampire years, that was still a child. When she refused to speak, I cupped my ear and leaned in slightly.
“It’s easy,” I whispered. “The words are ‘thank’ and ‘you.’ Specifically in that order.”
“Thank . . . you,” said Vitalia.
“Aww, think nothing of it,” I said with a hand wave. “Go on, ya walking trope. Get in there and have some fun. Hope you get your revenge . . . or whatever it is you daywalkers want.”
&
nbsp; “After this night, Shadow Master,” Vitalia said, “you and I are once again enemies.”
“Right back at ya, white-chick Wesley Snipes,” I said, miming a pair of finger guns.
Vitalia, unsure of the reference, put her helmet back on and charged into the fray. Her swords, inlaid with both pure silver and petrified wood, carved a swath through the oncoming vampires. With each swing of her weapons, the noble dead met the true death.
“Oh, if you see a giant man in black armor,” I called out, “don’t kill him. While he totally wants to be a vampire, he’s just a fanboy.”
I watched the fracas around me with a modicum of interest. The vampires rallied back, fighting the hunters with their superior speed and strength. While the hunters were driven, they would ultimately fail.
Just like I’d planned.
Using a fraction of my power to make my appearance dim, I walked through the battle, found an empty table towards the back of the hall, and took a seat. Lighting a cigarette, I took out a small black box with a miniature Tesla coil on the back and extended the long silver wire. Stupid genre communications device. It reminded me of the cellular phones from the late eighties. I pressed the button on the side and squawked the device.
“Greetings, sir,” Sophia said, her voice sounding crackled and tinny. “How’s the party?”
“In full swing,” I said, watching the mayhem and slaughter. “I must admit, I didn’t think Lydia and Myst would find the fangs and set the explosives so fast.”
“Oh, and why is that, husband?” Lydia asked over the comm device.
“No offense intended, dear,” I said honestly. “Considering what we each respectively went through to obtain the other artifacts, I assumed it would take longer to find and obtain.”
“Well, you have a expert thief on your team,” Lydia said. Even over the comm device, I could hear her smug smile. I was so proud.
“You also have someone who can literally turn into mist and unlock any door,” Myst added.