A Shade of Vampire 79: A Game of Death

by Forrest, Bella

  For once, I hoped we’d have a quiet evening, as full of grief and silence as it was.

  I couldn’t even enjoy the Rimian blood anymore, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the young prince. Thayen looked at us discreetly, his curious green eyes flickering with delight whenever Acheron spoke to him—the father-son bond was strong with these two, and it seemed to bother Danika a little. I doubted anyone else had noticed, but she glanced to the side, her nostrils flaring, whenever Acheron and Thayen chuckled about trivial things.

  “He’s such a beautiful child,” Sofia murmured, smiling at the young Aeternae boy.

  Indeed, aesthetically speaking, Thayen was a work of art. Taller than most kids his age, he carried himself with a certain regal composure. His green gaze pierced through pretty much everything, inquisitive and daring in its study. His hair was short and curly, in shades of blond and light brown, and he wore a gold band as his princely crown. He seemed to have gotten the best of both parents: his father’s nose, his mother’s lips and high cheekbones.

  On top of that, Thayen was also extremely polite and amiable, brimming with knowledge and always wanting to know more. We’d spent the better part of the evening so far telling him about Earth and the humans, and about how we, as supernaturals, had achieved global balance with their species.

  “Few people have seen him,” Valaine said to Sofia, smiling. “I suppose it is quite the privilege that you get to have dinner in his presence.”

  “Thayen is the heir to the Nasani dynasty and the throne.” Acheron’s voice boomed through the dinner hall, bursting with pride. “He will make a fine leader someday. Won’t you, my boy?” He gave his son a playful wink, and Thayen nodded convincingly.

  “I will do my best to lead the empire,” he said. “But I hope not to see that day too soon.”

  “Why do you say that, my love?” Danika asked. I could tell from the look in her eyes that she doted on the boy. He was probably spoiled rotten, but he carried himself with grace and dignity. A privileged young Aeternae, but not one to reek of entitlement. I had to admit, I was impressed.

  “Because that would mean you and Father wouldn’t be around anymore,” Thayen mumbled, his gaze dropping. Servants came around with pitchers of fresh blood, refilling our crystal glasses. He nodded thankfully and took a long sip from his.

  “How so?” Derek replied, the corner of his mouth upturned into a faint smile.

  Danika sighed. “One ascends to the throne when his predecessors are dead. Acheron and I would have to have passed for our son to take over.”

  “Meh! It’s not set in stone!” Acheron exclaimed, jovial as ever. “We can always change the laws, expand the abdication conditions… We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “All these niceties aside,” Petra interjected, “I thought you should all be made aware: there are six Black Fever patients now. One was discovered this evening, in the laundry rooms. A carrier has been identified and quarantined, thanks to Amal’s efforts. Hopefully, the Rimian girl was the only one.”

  Amal nodded slowly. “We will definitely need to run more tests over the next few days. The virus could still be in its incubation period. If we at least isolate the Aeternae she’s been in touch with, we might be able to prevent an outbreak.”

  “What are the odds, in your professional opinion?” Danika asked, her brow slightly furrowed. Thayen followed the entire conversation with renewed interest, but I could also see glimmers of fear in his eyes—not that I could blame him. No one would want to come down with Black Fever.

  “Rather slim,” Amal replied, and Petra exhaled sharply, leaning back into her chair. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but my studies so far show that the Black Fever spreads rapidly among the Aeternae. All it takes is being in the same room with the carrier, and you might be infected. It’s airborne.”

  Acheron and Danika looked at each other for a moment, then back at us. We weren’t giving them good news.

  “How is it spreading so quickly?” Corbin asked.

  “Spores,” Amal replied, and Petra nodded in agreement.

  “The virus replicates quickly. Amal’s microscopes are incredible. I’ve seen things I haven’t been able to see before. I’ve seen the black cells multiply. Every other hour or so, each cell releases a flurry of molecule-sized spores. Like a sneeze.”

  “Which then travel through the bloodstream and pass through the lung membranes,” Amal added. “They’re exhaled. Unnoticeable. Untraceable beyond that point until someone gets infected.”

  “And that is as far as we’ve gotten today,” Petra muttered, crossing her arms.

  Kalon gave her a soft and encouraging smile, squeezing her shoulder. “You’ve made it this far, you mean to say. Up until a few days ago, you didn’t even know the Black Fever moved through spores. I mean, spores! That alone is a groundbreaking piece of information, don’t you think?”

  “Masks would help, then,” Valaine said. She looked at Amal. “Right? If it’s airborne. Palace staff should all wear masks. And palace dwellers, too.”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled around the dinner table. It seemed like a common-sense solution—it wouldn’t stop the Black Fever, but it could very well slow it down until Amal and Amane got closer to a cure.

  “When is your sister coming over?” I asked, looking at Amal.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she said. “I’m actually looking forward to it. Our heads together will yield more progress, for sure. Her chemistry knowledge is slightly sharper than mine, I admit. I’m more on the medical side of things.”

  “So, you’re a doctor,” Thayen replied.

  “Sort of. Yes.” Amal chuckled. “My specialties are medicine, biology, and engineering. My sister, Amane, is an expert in chemistry, physics, and mathematics, among other things.”

  “And together they’re unstoppable,” Derek declared.

  “What progress are you making with the Darklings?” Corbin asked Valaine, clearly not that interested in the Faulty sisters. Valaine shot me a brief stare, then focused on her father again.

  “They’re definitely out to kill me, though we don’t know why.”

  “Have you taken any of them alive?” Acheron asked.

  Danika seemed tense, stiffly sitting in her tall chair with both hands gripping the gilded armrests. “I’m sure we would’ve heard something, if they had,” she said. “You captured Rimians, though… right? What are they called?”

  “Red Threads,” Valaine replied. “Rebels. Revolutionaries. They claim no involvement with the Darklings.”

  She wasn’t telling them everything—just like we’d agreed. There wasn’t much that Valaine and I could give them, since it all rested with Kalon and Esme now, and they were keeping their cards close to their chests, for the time being.

  “And you believe them?” Danika asked.

  Valaine shook her head. “No, Your Grace. We plan to begin interrogations in a couple of days. All the Red Threads we captured were severely injured. They’re under medical care as we speak. As soon as they start to wake up, we’ll begin taking their statements.”

  “It’s ludicrous,” Acheron muttered, visibly disgusted. “We brought Rimia to a whole new level. Gave them businesses and jobs and plenty of funds… and this is how they reward us.”

  “Darling, perhaps it’s time to invite the Rimian ambassador over,” Danika suggested. “I’m sure he doesn’t condone such behavior. We shouldn’t punish the many for the deeds of the few.”

  I was inclined to agree, but it wasn’t my place to speak. The Aeternae didn’t want us butting into their business, so we didn’t. However, if our business were to inevitably intertwine with theirs, then the entire conversation would change. Until then, I kept my head down and focused on our investigations.

  Esme leaned closer. “We’ll have to take it easy,” she whispered. “We need hard proof regarding Nethissis; otherwise, they won’t listen.”

  “Agreed,” I replied.

  Danika noticed us ta
lking. Her eyes became smaller, her lips pursing slowly. We had her attention, and I did not like it. “Any progress regarding your friend?” she asked. It was the one question we didn’t want to answer.

  Esme took the lead. “Nothing concrete so far.” Derek cleared his throat but said nothing. He and Sofia had agreed to stay out of this.

  “I doubt you’ll get much,” Corbin grumbled without even looking at us, his elbows resting on the table. “It was just a horrible accident.”

  Esme clearly wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Kalon, on the other hand, seemed to be in the mood to piss the master commander off. “Don’t hold your breath,” he said. “The investigation is barely in its early days.”

  It earned him a scowl from Petra, too, but Kalon didn’t care. He gave Esme a discreet, encouraging nod, then moved focus back to Corbin, whose eyes were hurling daggers.

  “We’ll see,” the master commander replied.

  “But if our guests here turn out to be right about Nethissis, I look forward to your apologies,” Kalon said.

  No one answered, but the atmosphere changed around the table. He’d touched a soft spot—the possibility that they were wrong, and that Nethissis had, in fact, been murdered on the palace grounds. I liked Kalon more and more. If he maintained his brazenness later down the road, then he was definitely a worthy ally.

  I could see why Esme liked him, despite her constant denials.

  Esme

  A couple of days went by without much ado.

  Kalon was busy looking after Trev, following his turning, so I hung out with Valaine and Tristan, investigating various aspects of the Darklings and the Red Threads. About ten of the captured Red Threads had succumbed to their wounds, leaving us with twelve left to interrogate. Unfortunately, most of them were comatose, their bodies taking a while to recover from the damage.

  Valaine had been on edge about this, feeling rather guilty, but both Tristan and I had assured her that she bore no blame for what had happened. The Red Threads had gone from trying to kidnap us to trying to kill us in the span of minutes—all we’d done had been solely in self-defense.

  Amane and Amal were together again, despite Ridan’s repeated objections. He’d wanted to come along. He’d even considered sneaking into the interplanetary travel bubble with an invisibility spell, but Kailani had talked him out of it. In all fairness, the only danger here was the Darklings. The Aeternae had been nothing but welcoming, despite their pride and obviously flawed empire. The twins were working double time now, focusing on both the Black Fever and the day-walking protein. We hoped to have results on both fronts within a few weeks.

  As night settled over the realm, I found myself wandering through the palace halls. I’d left Tristan and Valaine in the library to go over Darkling documents, hoping they might find something they’d maybe missed before. I doubted that, but it didn’t hurt to try.

  I’d barely seen Kalon since our group dinner with Thayen. I wondered how Trev was coming along. In fact, my curiosity regarding the turning process was reaching peak levels. Naturally, I ended up outside the guest rooms in the west wing, following familiar scents—Kalon’s, to be specific.

  I stopped outside one door that beckoned to me in particular. Rimian maids moved up and down the hallway, occasionally checking the empty rooms and changing the decorative flower bouquets as they pushed the floral cart along. They stole the occasional glance at me, but they didn’t object to my presence, even though I was just standing there, doing and saying nothing.

  Amber lights flickered in the shell-shaped wall sconces. They played with shadows along the silk-thread wallpaper, which repeated maritime motifs of triple anchors and foamy sea waves and elegant catamarans, each beautifully embroidered into the delicate fabric. These quarters were usually reserved for naval personnel, such as Aeternae ship captains and high-level Nalorean officials from both Nalore’s and Visio’s harbors.

  The time I’d spent away from Kalon had given me the opportunity to seriously think about him. About me. About what we were doing together and where it might lead. I had no answer whatsoever, only the hope that I would see Kalon again soon. He’d grown on me surprisingly fast. His personality was versatile, and it kept me on my toes. I liked it. I liked his sense of humor, too, and the way he always made me out to be the bigger and stronger and maybe crazier out of the two of us.

  I missed our sparring. Kalon didn’t cut me any slack in the training room, and I appreciated that, because he made me want to become a better version of myself. I missed our conversations, too, and I wondered what kind of secrets he was keeping—because Kalon was anything but an open book. I was perpetually intrigued by him.

  My thoughts had drawn me so far from reality that I hadn’t even heard the door open behind me until I heard Kalon. “Can I help you?”

  He startled me, and I yelped like a scared little dog, jumping back as if my ass was on fire. It only made him laugh, while I tried to catch my breath.

  “You should consider putting a bell around your neck so people can hear you coming,” I muttered, feeling the heat spread through my cheeks. It took him a while to regain his composure, but I waited patiently, already thoroughly embarrassed.

  “Sorry. Your reaction was just so funny,” Kalon finally said.

  “I wasn’t planning on standing by the door forever,” I replied. “I was going to knock.”

  Eventually.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern briefly shadowing his blue eyes.

  I felt bare before him, even though that wasn’t something he intentionally made me feel. It was all in those eyes, completely out of his control.

  “Nothing wrong. I was just wondering how Trev is coming along,” I said, glancing past him through the half-open door. “Is he okay?”

  He motioned for me to come in. “See for yourself.”

  I joined him inside. Trev got up from one of the sofas, wearing a black leather tunic with the Visentis emblem on his shoulder—a silver half-moon with a single sapphire in the middle. I’d seen it on Petra’s outfits, as well as on other Visentis family members I’d come across in the city and in the Blood Arena.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite your head off,” Trev said, then bowed politely.

  “I see you’re wearing the Visentis emblem,” I replied, smiling.

  “He’s part of the family now.” Kalon chuckled, patting Trev on the back.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  Trev straightened his back. “Amazing. Check these babies out,” he said, baring his teeth. The fangs came out with a pearlescent glimmer. “Oh, and these,” he added, putting his hands up to show me his retractable claws. His fingers trembled whenever the claws came out. “It still hurts a little…”

  “It takes some getting used to if you’re not born into it,” Kalon replied. “We’ve learned to ignore the aching discomfort. It’s part of who we are.”

  “Yeah, the same goes for vampires,” I said. “Weeks passed before I got used to extending and retracting my claws and fangs without whimpering in the slightest. What about the hunger? I’m told there’s great hunger when one awakens as an Aeternae.”

  Trev and Kalon exchanged conspiratorial glances, both equally amused.

  “I’d kill for some food right now, but apparently the urges will die out, eventually,” Trev replied. “I can only drink blood for sustenance now. I’ve got that under control, though.”

  “He won’t be going on a rampage anytime soon,” Kalon said. “It’s why I’ve stayed with him during this transitional period. With the right guidance and support, a newly turned Aeternae can resume their social life in a snap.”

  I nodded slowly, genuinely impressed. Trev did look a little different, too, besides the claws and fangs. His features had shifted, ever so slightly, becoming sharper. The shadows of his cheeks were deeper. And his eyes were no longer brown, but something closer to red.

  “What happened to your eyes?” I asked.

 
Kalon looked at Trev, then back at me. “Oh, it happens sometimes during the transition. The Aeternae gene sort of takes over and starts tweaking things here and there.”

  “For what it’s worth, my sight is infinitely sharper,” Trev said. “My senses are on fire. I’m hearing more, smelling more… It’s incredible. No wonder the Aeternae are exquisite predators. Their bodies certainly rise to the occasion.”

  “So does your body now,” Kalon replied.

  Trev sighed deeply and wrapped his arms around Kalon, pulling him into a tight hug. “For the umpteenth time, thank you, my friend… Thank you for this.”

  “Anything for you. And anything for Luna,” Kalon said quietly, awkwardly stepping back from the embrace. He wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, so seeing him like this was quite endearing.

  “Luna…” I unwittingly repeated her name, staring at the Visentis emblem on Trev’s shoulder. Kalon usually wore his on the belt.

  “Yes, she was named after our dynasty sigil,” Kalon confirmed, sadness lingering on his face for the briefest of moments. “So, Trev. Are you ready for the next step?”

  He definitely didn’t want to talk about Luna, then. Perhaps another time, I thought. Another day, when everything wasn’t shrouded in so many secrets and so much death.

  “I’ve reached out to my Red Thread contacts,” Trev said. “I’m meeting them tonight for an introduction to the Darklings. As soon as I have something, I’ll be in touch.”

  Kalon nodded and handed him a steel flask. “Just in case you get peckish,” he replied. “Remember, only a few drops. Just enough—”