by S J Williams
Effie raised her eyebrows at him, a shrewd knowledge in those jade green eyes.
“She doesn’t think all this is a bit over the top for a little party?” She asked.
Sebastian shook his head. “I shouldn’t think so. She delights in holding the record for using the most lights at a single party, even if she cannot claim it since she earned the title under a different name.”
“You know a lot about her decorating preferences, do you?” The question was only partly in jest.
He snorted softly. “Everyone knows about Sonya’s parties. She is not subtle and our community is not so large that reputations such as hers can be easily ignored. You will get used to following the ups and downs of Sonya’s society career in time.”
She pulled a face. “Immortality doesn’t look so appealing if you have to spend it side by side with the likes of her.”
They paused at the door as Henry handed over the invitations that had arrived for them, unnecessarily to Sebastian’s mind, earlier that day.
“As this is the first party we’ve been to in over two hundred years,” Sebastian said as they started moving again, “I shouldn’t be too worried about it. She doesn’t usually insist that we attend.”
Henry, walking ahead of them with Catarina, laughed at that. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “You could say that. Normally, she prefers it if there are no other immortals in the room. That way, she can wow the mortals without worrying about being upstaged. A little competitive, is our dear hostess.”
An immortal butler led them down a sumptuous hall lined with rose brocade walls with gold and white painted woodwork. Deep pink damask drapes covered what would have been floor to ceiling windows down one side, glowing richly in the candle light from the many chandeliers and candelabra which illuminated them as they walked.
Sebastian kept a tendril of his awareness out to monitor Effie’s emotions. Though her face was serene, he could feel the nerves that beset her insides. He tapped the fingers that were resting on his arm. She looked up at him.
“Everything is going to be fine.” He murmured, leaning his head in close as they walked so that only she could hear.
She allowed herself a tiny grimace. “I’ll believe you when this is all over.” She turned to face forward again, head held high, diamonds flashing at her neck and earlobes.
Superb, Sebastian found himself thinking. Effie looked like she had been born to walk these halls, even if she didn’t see it that way.
Their party was shown into a large and elegant sitting room furnished in a style nostalgic of the old French monarchs. The walls were covered with baroque paintings in the style of Watteau though, considering the company, they were probably originals. Effie was itching to get a closer look. A brightly patterned carpet formed the backdrop for an arrangement of delicate Louis XV chairs upholstered in red and cream and spindle-legged tables with glass and enamel tops. Like the hallway, the room was lit with a forest of candles that cast out an almost stifling heat.
Realising she was gawping like a ninny, Effie reluctantly turned her attention to the immortals waiting for them.
The sound of muted conversation rose from the two dozen immortals who had arranged themselves in strategic clusters around the room. Sonya was seated in pride of place in front of the elaborate marble fireplace in the centre of the room, her supporters placed around her. A roaring fire was lit behind her but Effie didn’t think the fire was about supplying heat. The firelight set off tiny golden sparks in her lustrous dark hair and made her deep burgundy gown glow like fine red wine. She looked like some primordial goddess, earthy and sensuous.
She looked up when they entered then rose gracefully to her feet, the lithe movement yet another reminder that she wasn’t quite human. Effie had to work very hard to keep her face relaxed. Now was not the time to show fear.
All thoughts of maintaining her poise fled, however, when she noticed who had been sitting beside Sonya. Sebastian’s hand tightening on hers told her the exact moment he too had noticed the unexpected guest.
Bartholomew.
The vampire showed no discomfort at being surrounded by his long time enemies. Instead, he was watching them with hooded eyes, a smug smile playing about his lips.
“What’s he doing here?” She hissed, glancing up at Sebastian before her eyes were dragged back to Bartholomew’s serpentine gaze.
Sebastian didn’t answer but the look in his eyes promised murder.
“She’s been working with him.” Henry said slowly, his fury a rising flame despite his lowered tone.
Effie clenched Sebastian’s arm.
“The medallion!” She hissed. They had given it to Sonya precisely to keep it away from Bartholomew. Had it just passed straight from her hands into his?
“Welcome.” Sonya spread out her arms and projected her voice richly across the room. “Dear guests, welcome. Please, make yourself at home. As soon as you are ready, we may begin.”
She sat back down again, apparently oblivious to the tension that had shot through Effie’s group as they reacted to the vampire’s presence.
Effie had to tear her eyes away from Bartholomew’s stare when she heard someone hailing them from across the room.
Nero, seated next to a dark skinned immortal and an immortal with the broad cheeked face of Mongolia, was waving at them. She could feel eyes on her as she walked but dared not look around to judge how they were seeing her. The confidence she had felt in her dressing room was seeping out of her like water through a sieve.
At least she wasn’t overdressed, she thought a little hysterically. Collectively, the finery currently being worn by the immortals around her was probably worth a cool million, not counting the jewellery.
Lucien strode ahead of them to greet Nero, clasping the hand stretched out to him with both of his. He nodded to the two others.
“Apollo, Zaya. Let me properly introduce you to Effie.”
He turned, beckoning for Effie and Sebastian to come forward. Effie was more grateful than ever to have Sebastian’s arm to lean on. “Effie, these are the councillors of North Africa and Northern Asia respectively.”
“Effie.” Apollo’s deep voice was a muted boom that resounded underneath the conversations in the room. Effie felt the echoes run throughout her body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She couldn’t imagine how so much power could be contained in one man. “Well met. It is always a delight to meet so lovely a lady.”
Effie took the hand that he offered to her, feeling it dwarf hers, and let him draw her into the seat next to him. Sebastian took the seat beside hers.
“You don’t believe that I am guilty of betraying immortals?” She asked, confused. Did she have more allies than she’d thought?
“When there is a vampire in the room, it focuses the mind on the true enemy.” Apollo muttered darkly, glancing up to where Bartholomew sat. Effie allowed herself a quick look.
He was still staring at her.
She jerked her eyes away to look, in an attempt at appearing casual, around the room. If it was supposed to calm her rising nerves, the move failed miserably. Eyes were on her from every corner, some curious, others hostile; none of them were friendly.
One face caught and held her attention. Oscar Mansfeld. Looking at him now, it wasn’t hard to see how a judge might have been convinced that he was the same man as the portrait. Not even the photograph Bartholomew had included in his book could do justice to the portrait’s accuracy. It had captured the blatantly avaricious look in his eyes perfectly. Now she was experiencing it in the flesh, she found it made her skin crawl. It felt like he was already cutting her up and weighing up her separate parts for their marketable worth.
“How do you like our unexpected guest?” Nero asked with a humourless smile.
“Unexpected?” Lucien raised his eyebrows at his friend. “You mean Sonya didn’t warn the council she would be inviting him?”
“I’m sure her clique knew. The rest of us got a nasty shock.”
>
“Why isn’t he dead yet?” Catarina growled.
Nero clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Apparently, we’re not to kill vampires anymore.”
“We’re not killing vampires?” Henry stared at Nero, dumbfounded. “Have we missed something?”
Nero glanced back at where Bartholomew was sitting. “Just a lot of empty words to pacify us. Sonya’s been holding us in suspense for the past hour.”
That might explain all the sour expressions Effie could see.
Sonya chose that moment to stand again, bringing her hands together in a gentle clap that silenced the conversations in the room. She seemed to grow in stature as all eyes were turned towards her. Effie gave her head a sharp shake when Sonya’s figure took on a golden hue, almost like an angel’s halo. It was like the firelight effect, only ten times more intense. Sebastian gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t worry. She has this effect. You’ll quickly learn to see past it.”
Effie cast him a nervous glance. Sonya could make people see her like some kind of divine being? She would have thought that gave her a very good reason to worry.
“My dear fellow councillors and esteemed guests,” Sonya said, smiling around her like a teacher greeting a class of six-year-olds. “Now that we are all here, we may finally begin.”
“Oh goody, she’s going for patronising.” Catarina muttered.
“This is truly a momentous occasion. Today marks the first day when vampires and immortals need no longer be at war with each other. We have before us a path towards peace and prosperity. I am sure you will be as one with me in gladly taking this path into the future.”
If she had been expecting rapturous applause, she was bound for disappointment. Her words were met with steely silence and grimly distrustful looks.
“What are you talking about, Sonya?” One voice rose out of the silence. Effie craned her neck to see who had spoken. It was a graceful, dark haired immortal with the large dark eyes and creamy skin that marked her to be of Persian descent. Her sceptical gaze was fixed on Bartholomew. “Vampires have never shown a willingness to cooperate in the past. What has changed?”
Sonya smiled, cranking up the wattage. “Patience, Nazarin. Today, I will reveal to you something which will help us carve out a new future. My colleague Bartholomew has kindly agreed to demonstrate for you the benefits of an elixir which will end their all consuming bloodlust and allow us all to live together in harmony.”
Stunned silence met her words.
Finally, someone broke it. “Impossible. That would change the very essence of what a vampire is.” A councillor sitting beside Nazarin leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he scrutinised Bartholomew. “I have never observed that vampires resented their need to drink blood. Quite the opposite, in fact. Why would they be willing to give that up?”
Effie glanced at Bartholomew, but the vampire didn’t seem perturbed by the suspicious looks being directed at him. Instead, his smile broadened.
“I think they will find the benefits of my elixir outweigh the sacrifices they will have to make.” He drawled.
“What about the sacrifices on our side?” Zaya spoke up, her voice, gentle though it was, made Effie’s hairs stand on end. “What about the many immortals who have died fighting vampires to protect ourselves and the rest of humanity? Will we have no justice for them?”
“I would say,” Sonya answered, giving Zaya a cool appraisal, “that those many losses would be an argument for ending the war between our races. We cannot afford to lose any more of our people.”
“What about potential immortals?” Another voice with a thick Australian accent called out. Effie craned her neck to look over Sebastian’s shoulder to see a heavily tanned immortal with a thick thatch of sandy blond hair who was seated with his chair leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he stared relentlessly at Bartholomew. “Surely we will still fight over them.” Effie felt more eyes on her at those words. Her anxiety spiked as heat rushed up her neck. Not even Sebastian’s fresh squeeze on her hand could stop the sweat that started to prick down her spine.
“As with any new beginning, adjustments will need to be made.” Sonya said simply, masking her ambiguous words behind a broad smile. Rustlings and angry murmurs around the room told Effie that Sonya’s attempt to reassure them hadn’t been successful. “Enough questions. There will be time for those later. First, you must see, and then, perhaps, you will believe.”
She stood back and nodded for Bartholomew to stand. He rose to his feet with languid grace, the movement so inhuman, Effie couldn’t understand how she had never guessed that Roberto Albini was not all he had seemed.
Turning to the side and slightly behind him, he beckoned someone. “Come.”
18
The room stirred slightly as a slim woman walked out of the shadows where she had been standing beside the fireplace. She was dark haired and had the dusky skin of a Mediterranean native. She carried a suitcase in one hand. Her eyes were glassy and blank. Controlled, Effie thought.
The girl stopped beside Bartholomew. He held out his hand again and she placed the briefcase handle in it. Her movements were a little jerky, as if she was still learning how to use her limbs. Effie put a hand over her mouth. If Bartholomew’s movements had seemed inhuman, the girl’s were just wrong.
“Thank you, Laura.” Bartholomew said.
Laura? Could it be the same Laura Effie thought had been sacrificed to Bartholomew’s rage? The girl Effie thought she had abandoned to her fate? Or was Bartholomew just calling her that to play tricks on Effie’s mind?
Still with that blank expression, Laura held out her arms so that Bartholomew could place his briefcase on them in lieu of a table.
Effie stiffened with outrage. She was not the only one if she was interpreting the renewed restless rustlings correctly.
Bartholomew stood back so the room could see what was inside the briefcase. Laid out in carefully shaped indentations were several vials, some empty and some full of what looked like muddy green oil. Bartholomew lifted one of the filled vials and held it up for all in the chamber to see.
“Behold, the elixir. With this potion, I have changed the dynamic between immortals and mortals. No longer must we scavenge at the edges of humanity, living out our lives as murderers and fugitives. With this potion, I have found a way to curb a vampire’s appetite so that he may control himself when he feeds and not bleed a human to death.”
Several immortals in the room murmured uneasily. Oscar Mansfeld stood up to more closely inspect the phial. “Your claim is strange indeed. How will you prove it?” The line sounded rehearsed. The smug look on the immortal’s face added to Effie’s suspicion that this was a staged intervention.
“I will complete the potion. Then I and another, lesser vampire, will drink from it and show to you that we are able to stop feeding at any time.”
“Hang on.” Nero interrupted. “You said you had the potion. Now you say it is unfinished?”
“The recipe requires one more ingredient.” Bartholomew admitted. He held up the medallion. Effie stifled her groan. She’d known that the medallion must have ended up in Bartholomew’s possession, but to see it felt like the final nail in the coffin. “You see here the only surviving copy of the final recipe. The ingredients are the herbs engraved around the outside. But there is one final symbol: the silver bird.”
Effie glanced around the room. The council might have started out sceptical, but Bartholomew now had them hooked. All eyes were on the medallion.
“And what do you think the silver bird represents, my dear cousins?” Bartholomew asked, in full ringmaster style. “Why, nothing less than the elixir of life itself. The lifeblood of a potential immortal.”
Effie jerked. That hadn’t been mentioned in the diary. Beside her, Sebastian stiffened. Other immortals were looking edgy too. Lost in thought about how Bartholomew might have found out what the silver bird meant, it took Effie a moment to notice everyo
ne was now looking at her. She froze when she realised. In this room, there was only one proven potential immortal.
Her.
“If my dear friend will oblige,” Bartholomew continued, gesturing to Effie, “I will proceed to complete the potion and demonstrate to you the benefits of the elixir on vampires. I promise you, the effects are instantaneous.”
“Have you tested this potion before?” Nero asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
“I assure you, the potion will work.” Bartholomew hedged. “The theory is sound.”
“So you haven’t tested it?” He pressed.
“What better time to test it but now, when you are all around and can drive a knife through his heart should he prove to be wrong?” Sonya asked, her voice almost purring with seduction.
Nero leaned back in his chair and shook his head angrily. He wasn’t the only one.
“We’re not going to let him bleed her in front of us.” Catarina hissed to Lucien. Sebastian’s arm had snaked around Effie’s shoulders, holding her close to him.
“It is a small amount only,” Sonya said coaxingly, “just enough to fill a vial. And this theory must be tested. If it proves to be true, it could save thousands of lives.”
“Where is the harm?” Another of Sonya’s supporters called out, a dark skinned man who looked like he came from Southern India. “We can stop the vampire from killing the mortal, as Sonya said.”
Where is the harm? Effie wanted to ask. It was her blood they were so casually talking about, even if it was only a vial’s measure of it.
But Sonya was already beckoning her forward and all eyes were turned on her expectantly, none of them kindly. It was a hard reminder that Effie was still a suspect in all of this. Some of the councillors might even suspect her of being complicit in this strange pantomime.
“Now, please.” Sonya pushed, a sharp edge in her voice as a fresh glow, this one more violent than warm, haloed her body.
Effie looked helplessly up at Sebastian. Apart from the immortals in her little corner, she had no friends here. Sebastian sensed it too because he gave her a tiny nod and stood up.