The Blood Is the Life

by Sharon K Gilbert

  Wychwright had been warned by her aunt and mother to refrain from indulging her appetite whilst at the ball, and she shook her head. “I mustn’t. Waltzes and a full stomach do not mix; so says my aunt. Is that what happened to you, Duchess? Your colour is very strange. I do hope you’re not getting ill again.”

  “No, merely overheated. Here’s Grandfather,” she said as the duke approached with Maisie Churchill.

  Drummond held the chair for Victoria’s friend, sitting beside her. “Now, this is a lovely gathering of beauties! Paul, we’re blessed to be the only men to share in their conversation. Princess, what ails you? You’re pale and flushed all at once.”

  “Too much waltzing,” she said. “I think I’ll take a short walk along the gallery. It isn’t far, and I’m sure it’s much cooler there. Paul, will you give me your arm?”

  “Of course,” he said, rising. “We shan’t be long, Uncle. Let Charles know where we are, when he returns.”

  He put his arm out for Beth, and she leaned upon him as they left the main ballroom area, strolled past two fountains, through an indoor garden, and into a quiet hallway lined with forty or more portraits.

  “I need to sit again,” she told him as they neared a line of chairs. “Thank you, Paul.”

  “It’s you I should thank, Princess. You plucked me from a very tight grip. Delia’s a lovely girl, but she pushes much too hard.”

  “It’s her parents who’re to blame. The baroness especially. Don’t you find Cordelia attractive?”

  “Not as a prospective wife, no. Besides, she’s far too young for me.”

  Beth began to laugh, and Paul stared at her. “Am I so funny?”

  “In a way. Paul, Cordelia is only a few years younger than I. She’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. I’m not even twenty-one yet.”

  “Well,” he muttered, not the least bit happy with her observation, “you’re more mature. I don’t generally think of you as that young, to be honest.”

  “My dear Lord Aubrey, you are hardly being honest! I think you admire the Lady Cordelia and don’t wish to admit it. Darling, I say this as your dearest friend. You could do much worse, you know. She comes from a good family, and she is very pretty.”

  “May we change the subject, please?”

  “Have I struck a nerve?”

  “You have struck no such thing,” he insisted as a footman neared.

  “Lord Aubrey?”

  “Yes, I’m Aubrey.”

  “Lord Salisbury asks to speak with you, sir. His note explains.” The servant passed a folded sheet of paper to the earl, who opened it, sighing as he read the contents.

  “Beth, I’m very sorry. It’s nothing earth-shattering, but Robert insists on meeting with me for five minutes. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. I’m content to sit and wait. It’s much cooler here.”

  “I shan’t be long.” He turned to the footman. “Have you a pencil and paper?” The young man nodded, and Aubrey scratched a note of his own. “Take this to Lord Haimsbury at once. He probably won’t know where the gallery is located, so offer to lead him, won’t you?”

  The earl kissed Beth and headed towards an upper level meeting room, as the note from the prime minister had instructed. No sooner had he departed, than Alexei Grigor approached, as if he’d been waiting to find her alone.

  “How lovely to see you once again, Duchess. It has been how long? Six months?”

  Elizabeth startled, for she’d not heard his footsteps. “Your Highness, do forgive me. I’m a little winded from dancing. Six months? Surely not. It was at Dolly’s, I think. You were visiting your nephew.”

  “May I?” he asked, sitting before she could answer. “Rasha had become besotted with you, no?”

  She lowered her eyes, somewhat embarrassed. “Razarit did ask permission to court me, but as my aunt explained, I was promised to another.”

  “Yet, you have broken that promise. It is not the earl standing as your husband tomorrow but this other. Haimsbury. Rasha is understandably disappointed, which is why he is not here this evening. Though invited, he felt unable to attend.”

  Beth’s ordinarily gentle manner bristled at the implication. “Do you think I misled your nephew, Prince? On the contrary, I gave him my friendship, and I thought that it was enough! However, he demonstrated his affections with far too much ardour, if you must know. Your family’s importance is the only reason Rasha walks freely today, for he forced himself on me, and when I did not respond in kind, he struck me!”

  Grigor feigned surprise. “Your Grace, that is indeed, quite shocking! Had I known, I assure you that I’d have insisted he pay for such insolence. I have no delusions where my adopted son is concerned. He is dear to me, but his behaviour often borders on cruel. I have always taught him to respect ladies. Why did you not write to me?”

  His eyes focused upon hers like a pair of dark lamps, lit from within by a cold fire. She hardly noticed when he took her hands.

  “I am sorry. Perhaps, I should have,” she answered as if in a dream.

  “It is easily forgiven,” the Watcher told her. “If you would but allow me one dance.” She stood, and he led her from the gallery towards a winding staircase. In a moment, they’d disappeared into the upper regions of the palace.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Why have you arranged this ball?” Sinclair asked Romanov. They sat in a conservatory garden, on a pair of marble benches, beneath the branches of an orange tree. Above them, the moon shone through leaded panes of clear glass, formed into a high dome, and silver played upon the tree’s leaves, casting dappled shadows along the floor tiles.

  “I find this space soothing, don’t you?” the Russian asked.

  “Hardly. I find direct replies informative, however. Have you any?”

  The handsome elohim smiled as a pair of lovers walked past. The duo showed disappointment at being discovered. The man bowed to Sinclair and the prince, then hastened the young woman away to a more solitary part of the garden.

  “He came here to propose,” Romanov said as the couple disappeared ‘round the corner, seeking privacy. “Her father will say no. The young man’s lands and titles include no money, you see. Pity.”

  “Is this all you can offer? A lesson in peerage romance?”

  “No, but rather a lesson in timing. Had you kissed Elizabeth in the Aubrey House library four years ago, her grandfather would have been forced to refuse you. Despite your heritage and despite her love for you.”

  “I was still married, Anatole. I would never have kissed her.”

  “So you say, but you were sorely tempted, were you not? I tell you that your friendship with the earl would have soured, and the duchess would now be marrying him, instead. Your child would be his child. Timing, you see. It is everything.”

  “What is your point?”

  “Merely that all opportunities in life, all choices, have consequences. One road taken, leaves another unexplored; and whilst some roads lead to delights, others lead to agony and regret. The birth of one child, may mean the death of another.”

  “Free will determines our lot in life. I’m aware of all this, you know. I’ve studied the Bible since I was a boy.”

  “But have you studied the truths that lie within the original language of that sacred book? Do you truly understand the encrypted plans inscribed within its pages?”

  Sinclair checked his timepiece, the words Beth had engraved within its case reminding him of her love—and his dependence upon that steadfast anchor. “Are you saying that both sides in the spiritual war have unknown plans that might yet be discerned?”

  “Yes! Yes, I am saying precisely that, Charles. You cannot yet remember it, but I spent two years teaching you. Two years of language lessons. Two years of explanations and revelations, and I did this to arm you for the battle ahead. I warned you, then, that a day would come
when your family’s enemies would seek to use you through trickery, and that day is here. Timing. And time. They intertwine about you, like twin snakes. These insideous serpents coil about you and your duchess, my friend. They will threaten and cajole, and use any means to gain your obedience to their cause.”

  “And what cause is that? World domination?”

  The angel shook his head. “No. World destruction. Controlling humanity is but a means to an end. The fallen realm seeks to return the world to what it once was: devoid of all God-created humans; a realm of wood and stone and spirit and demon-filled hybrids. A realm of utter darkness.”

  A chill ran down Sinclair’s spine. “How do I fit into this realm of night?”

  “The blood—your blood. It contains powers they require to propel a spirit engine. It...”

  Victoria Stuart interrupted the prince, appearing in company with Drummond, both flushed with fright. “It’s Elizabeth!” Tory shouted as she neared them, her pace quick. “She’s been taken!”

  Charles jumped to his feet, all colour draining from his face. “What do you mean? Taken by whom? Where?”

  “We’re not sure, but a footman saw him lead her up the western staircase.”

  “Saw whom?” the marquess shouted.

  Both Stuarts replied at the same time, shock and confusion written upon their faces. “Anatole Romanov!”

  Lorena MacKey sipped champagne, watching the two cousins as they pushed through the dense crowd towards the gallery. “How they rush to protect that foolish woman!” she said to her unseen companion. “I cannot understand the allure of that miserable duchess.”

  Trent laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  “Of her? Not in the least. She is but a small impediment. The prince needs her; that is all.”

  “He needs her in more ways than one, my dear Lorena. When once he had eyes only for you. Such a shame!”

  “And I once had eyes for him, but no longer. The earl, however, his form pleases me.”

  “I think such a distraction for the oh-so-faithful cousin would be quite helpful, but wait until tomorrow night. We must allow the prince to have his way—only for the present. Once Raziel and his brethren complete their rituals, I shall take my true place in the dark realm! For now, we must keep him on our side. We must be faithful to his plans. Do you understand the concept of fidelity, Doctor?”

  Her heart hammering from fear, Lorena slowly lowered her champagne and turned towards the shadow. “Yes. Of course. My life belongs to the fallen realm. Command me and see just how faithful I can be.”

  “Good. Remember this, my dear. Prince Raziel grew weak during his imprisonment. Others offer greater powers. A civil war brews below, and Redwing will soon have a new, earthly ruler.”

  She forced a smile, though her hands trembled. “You walk a dangerous path, Sir William. What you suggest requires an army. Have you one?”

  “My legions grow,” he whispered into her ear, his shadowy hand gripping her arm. “Soon, my armies will cover the city. Loyalty demands sacrifice. Do you wish to join me, Lorena? Are you willing to sacrifice yourself to eternity?”

  Two gentlemen in military dress walked past, and MacKey nodded as though completely alone. Both men clearly admired her considerable assets, accentuated by the dress’s low neckline.

  “What must I do?” she whispered, struggling to hide her terror.

  “There is a small task you must perform to prove yourself. Free will, my dear. It is a concept that will soon die, along with the world of men.”

  “Do you like this room?” Alexei asked Elizabeth. They stood in the centre of an elegant salon, decorated on all sides by mirrors. “I call it my observatory.”

  The duchess replied slowly, as though half asleep. “You watch the stars? I see no opening to the sky.”

  Grigor had veiled himself so that he looked identical to Romanov. It was a trick he’d employed many times since emerging from his stone prison in 1871. He’d grown to despise Samael during those five thousand years, and such guises deflected blame from one elohim to another; absolving the true perpetrator but also confusing humans and twisting truth. And who better to blame than the elohim who’d imprisoned him?

  “Do you know me?” he asked her, removing the gloves from her small hands. “Can you say my name?”

  “Anatole,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “I have brought you to this room because I would show you something quite remarkable. Do you wish to see it?”

  “Yes,” she answered in a monotone.

  Whilst talking with her in the gallery, Grigor had waited until no one observed and then clothed himself in the form of Romanov. When a footman neared the area, Grigor/Romanov deliberately took her by the hand and led the duchess through a connecting archway and up the western staircase. He knew the footman would report his actions to the Stuart clan—and that the real Romanov would be charged with the act.

  What Grigor did not know was that the Russian prince had been sitting with Charles Sinclair at that very moment, absolving Anatole of blame.

  Turning his captive towards the northeast corner of the hidden chamber, Grigor pointed to one of thirteen mirrors. It stood nine feet high with a breadth of three; its face black as any night.

  “Touch it,” he commanded.

  Obediently, Beth placed her hand upon the surface.

  “It’s warm,” she whispered.

  The highly reflective, volcanic glass shimmered with midnight blue lights, but strangely, the chamber’s chandelier and candles could not be seen. It was as if she looked into a doorway to another world; a realm of eternal night.

  Still pretending to be Romanov, he enticed her with sweet words. “The perfection of this mirror is unsurpassed. It is made from the finest obsidian and anointed with many incantations and spells.”

  This caused a shudder to overtake her delicate frame, and he held her more tightly as if to bring comfort. “Fear not, little Veta,” he cooed in imitation of the Russian. “This mirror does not reflect the material but shows the spiritual. It is a doorway into my realm—a hidden kingdom that will soon reveal itself to all the world of men. Look into the glass, Elizaveta. Look deeply.”

  “But, I…”

  “This is the kingdom to come,” he told her. “And you shall be my queen. I’d planned to give you to my son, but Rasha’s actions reveal imperfections to his nature, which make him unsuitable for such a lofty position. We shall choose a new king. Do you love your Captain? Would you have him rule this realm of shadow? Rule amongst the dead? If so, then you must do as I command.”

  He moved her closer to the mirror and whispered into her left ear, as he stroked her hair. The darkling mirror rippled like water, and she began to perceive her own face; her head crowned in spiralling branches of willow. The ball gown changed into diaphanous robes, and her eyes turned from dark brown to icy blue.

  “The mirror transforms you, my queen. This is your true self. Do you remember my voice in your mind when you were but a child? I spoke with you in the copse, inside the hidden cottage, and as you grew, it was my voice whispering into your dreams.”

  “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must not listen, I must not.” She closed her eyes, shutting out the tempting vision; her mind screaming for her to wake up, but his voice was like the softest velvet. Charles, think of Charles! Do not listen to The Shadow!

  “Gaze deeply into the mirror, and see how much I love you—have always loved you. My desire for you reaches beyond the light of all stars! How can you not know it?”

  Her mind resisted, images of her Captain replacing the implanted falsehoods and revealing the true face behind the mask.

  She gasped. “Liar! You are Alexei!” she cried, squirming out of his clutches and racing towards the door. As quick as thought, he appeared before her, preventing her from reaching the exit.
/>
  “Sinclair’s bond with you is strong,” he laughed. “Another proof of his blood’s power. But my will is stronger yet. Look at me, little mouse! Look at me—now!”

  Charles and the Stuarts reached the long gallery within less than two minutes, but there was no sign of Grigor or the duchess.

  “Which way did you say they went?” he asked the footman.

  “Through the archway, sir. As I told His Grace, Lord Aubrey had asked me to look in on the duchess whilst she remained in the gallery, and I arrived in time to see Prince Anatole take her up the western staircase.”

  “The prince couldn’t have taken her, young man,” Drummond answered in as calm a voice as he could muster. “He’s right here with us.” The duke turned to point towards Romanov, but the Russian was nowhere to be found. “He was just here. I don’t understand. Didn’t he come with us?”

  Charles felt panic overtaking reason, and he pushed towards the terrified servant. “Where do those stairs lead?”

  “To the state rooms, sir. I called out, my lord, but neither the prince nor the duchess turned. It seemed to me that she accompanied him willingly. I saw no indication of reluctance.”

  “What on earth do you mean by that?” Haimsbury shouted.

  The footman seemed to shrink, bowing his head as he replied. “Only that beyond the state rooms, is a private staircase, sir.”

  “And where does that lead?” Aubrey asked, anxiously.

  “To the upper level apartments.”

  Charles began to run.

  “Please, let me go,” Elizabeth begged her captor. “I’ll say nothing, Alexei.”

  He stepped closer, touching her face. “Of course, you won’t,” he hissed. “Do you know why I brought you here, my beautiful one? For the same reason that my brother declared himself to Eve. Free will. I could coerce you, yes, but the One’s rules require your consent. Of course, there are loopholes within that contract, through which one might slither. I must tell you the truth, but there is no law against a minor twisting of that truth. At least, not as I interpret those laws.”

  “It’s so warm,” she said, as his arms drew her into a serpentine embrace. “So...warm…”