by Chanel Smith
…touching my weapons! Gaaaah!!!!
Since then she had begun to religiously stash everything of interest in her safe. She used her mobile phone for the Internet and no longer had a refrigerator so she wouldn’t be tempted to keep any blood at home.
Here’s to hoping that no one will be able to find me at this ruined old historic site.
There were plenty of visitors to the place during the day, but the dungeon she occupied was so old and forgotten that it didn’t even appear on any of the floor plans of the mission as it was known to exist at the time. At night, the property was well secured. No one could get in or out without the knowledge of the security team posted there by the historic foundation that managed the place.
Veronica sat on the tiny bed and put her face in her hands. The evening was just getting started and here she was without a case to solve, without an investigation to run, without a date to go out on, or even a lover to satiate her needs. Her mind wandered back to the golden gun and the cryptic message that had accompanied it.
Welcome to what club? How were the members of said club so sure she even wanted to join? More seriously, had her acceptance of the gun compromised her individuality or secretly committed her to something she knew nothing about? She grimaced at the thought of being manipulated. The package had been delivered in advance. Who would have known that she would be at The Beast for supper that evening? Was her stalker at it again?
If the person knew where she would be, then it wasn’t a stretch that they would know who or what she was and what she did for a living. A light gust of wind passed through the room, flickering the flames, scattering the light from the candles and sending strange shadows dancing all over the walls.
Welcome to the club, the voice in her head said again.
What club? Other hunters? Other vampires?
Suddenly Veronica was overcome with a strong feeling of caginess. She got up from the edge of the bed and double checked the safe. The handle didn’t give when she tried to turn it. Of course, she knew very well that if a fellow vampire applied just a little pressure to the lock, it would spring open like a Jack-in-the-Box.
She had to get out of there. The room seemed to want to close in on her and squeeze the very life from her body. She pulled on her black moto jacket and a pair of hiking boots, then set the strange note aside. Carefully, she emerged from beneath the huge stone that guarded the entrance to the dungeon. It was one of three that Veronica had located, and when she found two more exits from the underground chamber, but failed to locate where the caverns had emerged, she had discretely collapsed them. It felt like a night for flying so she stood still outside the entryway and looked to the sky, willing herself to rise into the air and be transported to her favorite perch for thinking: a dark, flat outcrop on Lobster Point that overlooked Lobster Bay on the back side of Santa Catalina Island.
As she landed and took her seat to look out across the dark, brooding waters of the Pacific Ocean, Veronica immediately began to feel that all was going to be alright with the world. She was content for it to be one of those nights where she sat and looked at the black waters until dawn approached before heading back to the mainland to hunker down for a good day’s rest.
What the fuck?
The feeling of serenity had lasted for three hours before Veronica saw something moving across the sky that almost made her drop off the cliff. It was black and sort of glossy and huge… absolutely huge. It flew like a bird… No, like an eagle across the sky, but with much greater speed and agility. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she got a mental flash of the creature.
It was ancient, primeval, powerful, dangerous, supernatural… and vampire, definitely vampire. The only comparison she could make of it was to a pterodactyl, the birdlike dinosaur she had seen in movies and books.
It seemed to be headed out to sea toward a tiny sparkling group of lights which she knew, from her many nights of ocean watching, to be a cruise ship. It was probably headed for Hawaii or Alaska. Her preternatural eyesight allowed her to make these discernments easily, even from the great distance and as she watched more carefully, she saw that the creature carried something, perhaps in its talons.
What is that?
She leaned forward and concentrated harder before gasping and taking a step back. It was a man; a barely struggling being that was dangling helplessly below the creature. Veronica watched in further disbelief as the creature hovered over the brightly lit ship and dropped its cargo on an upper deck, turned around and flew back in the direction of the mainland.
Chapter Two
“Ugggh!” Petronilla exclaimed in utter disgust. “This place is becoming positively overrun. Why are there so many people here?”
The question was rhetorical, of course. She didn’t care what the reasons were. All she knew is that quite suddenly she had to deal with the huge inconvenience of having to share all her favorite amenities in Agrippina’s huge Hollywood Hills mansion. When she went to the sauna, someone was always in there. Marie, Marcus and Bridget had become a bit of a threesome and took to having sex together anywhere they could find a door to close behind them. As a result, Petronilla had walked in on them twice already as well as once in the pool.
“Calm yourself, child,” Julia Augusta Agrippina said, knowing that the term of endearment would imbue even more rage in Petronilla.
She smiled and put an arm around the slender shoulder of her beautiful companion and gave her a huge hug.
“When you go to Louisiana to your beloved Raya and I am left here for months on end in the echoes of this house, I rarely complain, Petra. In fact, I relish it and retire to my rooms permanently, virtually closing down the rest of the house. So when it is full, as it is now, with so many of my friends and colleagues, I take the utmost pleasure in the company. I know it will not last long.”
“There are thirteen of us here, Julia! Thirteen!” She continued ranting. “When have all the Watchers ever been in one house? Certainly not since I was chosen and that was over eight hundred years ago.”
“You’re being overly dramatic, Petra. So many of the thirteen don’t even leave their rooms at all. The Empress Dowager and Takamori sit in her salon all night, sipping blood and talking about the old East. William and Bjorn are always either on the run or working out in the gym. Half the Watchers are weres who are active in the day and asleep while you roam about, so you’re just being spoilt.”
Petronilla made a childish, pouty face at her hostess and crossed her slender arms in front of her chest. Julia laughed. Petra reminded her so much of both her brother and her son when they had been young. Young and not so wicked.
“Why don’t we go out tonight? Just you and me.”
Petra laughed. She knew exactly why Julia was suddenly interested in leaving the serenity of her opulent home for the noise, light and excess of the city. It was so that she could possibly go into Los Angeles or the surrounding cities and somehow locate Veronica Melbourne. Julia’s investigators had been rather successful in finding her repeatedly through her last three changes of address, but she had eventually called them off the case. Each time they managed to locate where she was living or hovelling, whichever the case had been, someone had managed to trail them and had subsequently ransacked the young vampire’s dwellings. The situation had caused Julia great distress. She felt guilty for exposing Veronica, but the worst part was probably that she still didn’t know who was doing it.
“Sure thing, Julia. I could use a night out.”
They parted ways in the underused kitchen and Julia went upstairs to her rooms to wait for her dinner. It was only an hour or so after sunset and staff was just about to change their shift. The morning shift would have prepared the meals, the evening staff would see to the serving of it.
She stretched out on an ornate French chaise lounge that faced her Eastern window and as she looked toward the darkened horizon, she marveled at how old age could blur the lines between cynicism and morbidity.
Ju
lia laughed to herself as thought after thought went through her mind at lightning speed. When this happened it was akin to flipping quickly through the pages of an encyclopedia and seeing and remembering, ultimately knowing, everything that had passed by you. Amazing. But then, here was her age showing again; no one used encyclopedias anymore.
This was the second life of Julia Augusta Agrippina, or Agrippina the Younger, as she was often called. Julia had died her first death almost two thousand years ago and she was the oldest vampire known in the western hemisphere, and possibly the oldest of all the known supernatural beings as well.
She remembered the day she died like it was yesterday. Often when the thought of it came to her, she mused that it was perhaps because her memory was so good that she never took to the suicidal madness that she had seen claim so many vampires before her.
In 59 AD, her son Nero had the shipwrights of Rome design a ship for Julia’s birthday. A pleasure vessel that she and her court could take out and use to make crossings over to the Tyrrhenian Sea Islands that she enjoyed so much. He made a lot of fuss over the consignment and spoke about the magnificent ship constantly. So it was not a surprise to anyone that it was completed and delivered ahead of schedule.
But her son’s gesture was filled with tyranny and deceit, fueled by the words and encouragement of his married lover, Poppaea, who had all but convinced him that his mother plotted against him and his throne. He had the ship built so that it would open up at the bottom while at sea. Agrippina was put aboard and after the bottom of the ship opened up, she fell into the water in hopes that she would drown. But Agrippina swam safely to the shore, so Nero sent an assassin to kill her. Nero then claimed Agrippina plotted to kill him and when her plans had supposedly failed, she had committed suicide.
Her last words, which she felt as if she had spoken only yesterday, uttered as the assassin was about to strike, were "Smite my womb!" She had indicated to her killer that she wished to be destroyed first in that part of her being to rebuke her treacherous body for having given birth to such an abominable son.
She had been bleeding to death on the floor of the villa where she had hidden herself in Misenum when the vampire Quintus had found her. Of course, he had instantly recognized her and saw a long-awaited opportunity to turn Roman politics over on its ears. That night, he made Julia Agrippina into a fledgling vampire and then he taught her to slake her thirst on the blood of only corrupt Roman officials, of which there was a staggering amount.
The vampire Quintus had been a Watcher for many years by then. He had been busy for centuries, keeping a close watch on the members of each successive Roman Imperial family. He would seek out signs of madness, treachery, manipulation and any other forms of discord, and then he would do his best to weed it out. Sometimes that meant destroying a spouse or concubine, and other times a general or advisor; but of course, there were times when the emperor himself had to be eliminated. He never killed a ruler with his own hands; on such delicate occasions, Quintus would orchestrate coups in the senate or ambushes by barbarians; even deadly openings in the midst of a battle.
Under Quintus’ wing, Julia rose through the ranks of the vampire hierarchy in Europe, and by the time she was just over fourteen hundred years old, she decided to venture to the New World. With the Spanish Inquisition in full swing, Europe had fast become a place that was hardly safe for strange people, much less supernaturals and especially vampires. The overzealousness of the Catholic church had been a major concern for them for years by then. But when the sleeping place of the Watchers was razed by fire while the midday sun shone brightly above, it was clear that they had been discovered.
Agrippina escaped in a crated coffin filled with soil along with three of the remaining elder vampires. William Adelin and Petronilla de Aquitaine had come to the Watchers from England and been offered their protection from the Inquisition without hesitation. They had been public figures in their first lives, royalty in fact; and were well known, which posed the risk of being recognized and captured. They were also much used to the tasks and tactics of ruling. William Wallace had been an oddball choice, but Agrippina had felt the need to have some brutish protection for her group of adventurers. After all none of them knew what, or who, they would encounter in the New World.
As it turned out, the foursome had quickly encountered the Others, as they had called themselves, after their ship arrived near the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. Though naturally suspicious of each other, the two groups joined together and traveled the new continent far and wide. They acquired land and property, accumulated vast wealth and invested in business ventures over the next five hundred years. Though a few members had gone on to the final death, Agrippina had maintained the number of her council always at thirteen.
Presently, in the year 2014, they were a unique gathering of the oldest vampire beings that walked the earth and Agrippina always found it ironic that they had all been notable people in their past; perhaps that strength of character or superior breeding and bloodline had played a role in their particularly long existence when others like them had run to meet the sun centuries before. Julia’s companions, and then house guests, included Petronilla de Aquitaine, Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov and her brother Alexei, Bridget Bishop, witch of Massachusetts, Amelia Earhart, Marie de Guise, the bane of the English, Empress Dowager Tzu-hsi and Saigo Takamori, William Adelin, William Wallace, Bjorn Ironside and Marcus Antonius, known to most of the world as Mark-Anthony of Rome.
They were gathered in her mansion in the Hollywood Hills to discuss a disturbing matter. It was rare that a situation became so serious as to require the attention of the entire council. They had been gathered from every corner of the earth to come to a decision about a killer. A supernatural being that had gone mad had been abducting and murdering young women in considerable numbers all across the United States. The police had no idea of the magnitude of the case and the FBI were barely – if at all – interested at that point. Agrippina was in a state of complete distress.
***
Veronica just couldn’t help herself. She had to know what the hell all that was about. Unable to resist her curiosity and driven by the same nagging voice in her head, she decided that she would take a quick trip over to that pretty little cruise ship and ask the freshly vampire-delivered man a few questions. She closed her eyes and envisioned the deck he was on. White, slightly rough floors made out of some tough polymer, the glistening pool he now stood beside, the neat rows of blue lounge chairs, occasional umbrellas which were now closed to the evening breeze. Hardly a soul was around; it was dinner time onboard. As the vision became clearer and clearer, Veronica suddenly ‘zipped’ over to the ship, arriving on the pool deck just in time to see the man standing up from the ground where he had been dropped. As he tried to gain his legs, he stumbled repeated, then finally stood still, looked around and vaulted to the railing, vomiting profusely overboard.
With a wicked laugh flickering across her lips, Veronica floated into the air and perched on top of the railing beside him to watch the disgusting spectacle. When he had finished, he wiped his lips on the back of his hand and looked up. Veronica was surprised that he didn’t startle or yell; he didn’t even step back from her. Instead, he looked at her sadly and spoke quietly.
“Are you here to finish what she started?”
“What?” Veronica asked, puzzled.
“I’m unarmed. I can’t defend myself and before I allow you to turn a hunter of the Brotherhood of the Blade, I’ll throw myself off this ship.”
“Melodramatic much?”
“Huh?”
“Could you be anymore theatrical about the whole thing? After watching a giant bat drop you onto a moving ship and then being met with this malarkey about ‘brotherhoods’ and throwing yourself overboard, I’m about to start wondering if I’m in a damn Mexican soap opera.”
He smiled at her for a little, then looked out to sea again.
“I guess Sam didn’t send you to do her dirty wo
rk then. I don’t know why I even thought that, it’s definitely not her style. Leaving me out here with a warning never to return to L.A. was exactly it, though; exactly what I would have expected from her.”
Veronica didn’t have a clue what he was talking about and she decided that she didn’t care either. He looked shaken, dehydrated, miserable.
“Come on. You need a drink.”
“What? I don’t know about you, but I’m not even supposed to be here. I’d rather not hit the bar and draw unnecessary attention to myself.”
Veronica had had just about enough of his pitiful whining.
“Listen, buddy. You seem to know a lot more than you’re letting on about vampires and it’s obvious from the fucking predicament you’re currently in, that you’ve pissed off a few of them. It’s also clear that you don’t think I can help and even if I could, you aren’t sure you want any from me. But as of now, I have a way off this floating Mardi Gras and you don’t; so you can either let me make things more comfortable for you or I can just leave you to it.”
Veronica dropped one leg over toward the deck as if she would step down from the rail and join him, but then leaned back as if she would just as easily somersault backwards off the ship and disappear into the night.
“Your choice, man,” she said.
Rand held out a hand to her and helped her down from the railing. Their eyes locked for a moment and it seemed as if hours of conversation passed between them telepathically. The jolt was stunning. They stood regarding each other strangely until Veronica led him off the upper deck and down a flight of stairs, pushing him gently into a seat at a secluded bar.