by James Somers
I left his office in my dream, emerging in a field of flowers. Purples, reds and oranges bloomed for as far as I could see to the horizon in every direction. The church was no longer present. As dreams do, my surroundings had changed. I longed for my father to return—or rather that I could return to those simpler times. For all the power I now possessed, I had lost more in my family’s passing than I had gained.
When I woke at midday, Uriah was already standing at my bedside. I vaguely remembered hearing him call while I stayed in my dream, walking among the flowers. My eyes opened from that field of beauty to the same field recreated in my bedchamber.
A butterfly flitted by the end of Uriah’s nose. He shooed it away, surveying the scene.
“Sorry, Uriah,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“I’ve often commented on your overactive imagination,” he said. “However, I shall refrain this afternoon since I usually wander in to find rather more grisly scenery. I’m glad you had a good rest.”
My melancholy lingered while the flowery mirage faded away, leaving only my stuffy bedchamber behind. Uriah was correct. This phenomena had occurred with regularity as my power increased. My dreams, and sometimes nightmares, were cast upon my room. And though these phantoms held no danger, they had certainly startled Uriah and some of my other servants when they weren’t expecting.
“I’ve drawn your bath, sir,” Uriah informed me.
“What time is it?” I asked, looking out the widow.
“A quarter til three,” he said. “I’m afraid, we’ve not much time left before your meeting with Charlotte at the Tap Room.”
“Have our arrangements been made?” I asked.
“Redclaw assures me that he will be ready.”
I sighed. “Then we are as ready as we can be.”
Screaming pulled Tom back to consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he saw one of the giants squeezing a Lycan soldier’s head between his great palms like an orange. The soldier was in human form and bound to the wall by chains. He screamed as pressure was increased on him again. The giant man grinned mischievously at the pain he was inflicting.
Tom looked around him to find most of the other Lycan’s bound in a similar manner. At the other end of the long room, which was different than the storage room where they had been ambushed, lay four bodies—the remaining Lycans. He could see that they had been pummeled to death by the clubs often favored by the giants. Teeth and claws were one thing, but these were no match against a giant arm with a club the size of a small tree in its hand.
The giant released the soldier. Tom caught a glance of Thorn down at the far end. The Lycan captain had been beaten severely. His head hung limp with bloody saliva dribbling from his mouth. Tom felt bad for him, but they were all in a mess now and he could do nothing for them.
The giant guard towered over them all, walking down the line of posts with their captives bound to them. When he came to Tom, he grabbed his chin, pulling his face up hard to look at him. “Hello, magic man,” the giant said.
Tom did not recall this hulking man’s name—all of the giants looked alike to him—big and stupid. Though upon reflection, it bothered him that these brutes had just outwitted him and his Lycan companions. However, the title magic man was familiar. This was what all of the giants had taken to calling him while he worked for Sinister, masterminding the capture of mortals to be held at this castle in Greystone.
He decided to try his luck and play the hand he had been dealt. “How are you, uhm, Tiny?” he ventured. “Since you remember who I am, we can dispense with all of this unpleasantness. You can release me now.”
The big man stood there, contemplating Tom’s words. He finally smiled and then laughed out loud. “You’re still funny, eh?”
Tom made a weak attempt to laugh with him. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “That funny magic man.”
The giant laughed harder still.
Tom laughed with him, feeling his tenuous grasp on the situation slipping further away. “Ah, yeah, well…seriously, though, Tiberius sent me here to find out what happened to all of the humans you guys were supposed to be guarding for us.”
The giant stopped laughing. Tom adopted a more serious tone. “Tiberius was quite angry about the matter. So, if I were you, I would cut these bonds immediately. Let’s discuss this, and maybe I can smooth matters over with Tiberius for you.”
“Humph,” the giant said.
He turned away from Tom, walking down toward the end of the room to leave. Instead, he reached the door and opened it. A man stepped inside from the dimly lit corridor beyond. When the available lantern light shone upon him, Tom’s heart sank within him.
“Hello, Tom,” the man said.
Tom smiled weakly. “Hello, Tiberius.”
The prisoners had been brought into the massive dining hall of the giant’s castle. The Lycans stood beaten and bruised at the far end surrounded by hundreds of vampires. A dozen giants, the full compliment at this castle, stood among the vampires, all of them watching Tiberius.
One of the Breed warriors stood behind Tom, while Tiberius stood face to face with the elf, looking into his eyes. His bonds had been loosed. Tom understood that these vampires considered him no threat. Vampires were all physically stronger and generally more ferocious than elves.
Tiberius was one of the largest in attendance, though he was older than most. He stood easily a foot taller than Tom, an imposing figure who seemed only barely able to contain the blood thirst burning within. Tom was surprised that Tiberius now delayed the inevitable at all. They all knew what was coming. Why not just be done with it?
The tension in the room was palpable. The normally still vampires were waiting anxiously to feed. Only their leader kept them at bay. Tom was unsure why even that stopped them now. Only a tremendous willpower could explain it. Yet, he had seen them far more feral over the months he had been trapped here. And where were all of the thousands of other vampires, while these were here?
Tom decided he had nothing to lose. “I thought you would have gone crazy by now,” he said.
“Nearly all of Greystone is dead now,” Tiberius said. “Thanks to you, our people have killed one another for what food was available.”
“Thanks to me?” Tom asked.
“I know that you are the one who destroyed the Stonehenge portal, there can be no other explanation. However, I can’t figure out why you would trap yourself in the process. Blind stupidity, perhaps?”
“Are you joking?” Tom asked. “I didn’t destroy the portal. I only came here to warn you that Charlotte had been captured by Black!”
“Impossible,” Tiberius said.
“I saw her with my own eyes.”
“Yet, you never bothered to deliver this message. Why?” Tiberius asked.
“Because I’ve been running for my life.”
“Disguised as an emissary sent by my son?”
Tom didn’t have a good answer for this. He said nothing. But Tiberius seized upon his silence, taking a step toward him.
“And what happened to that emissary?” Tiberius asked. “Dead, perhaps? And is this the same kindness you have showed to my son by this betrayal? Does he yet live?”
“I did not kill Sinister,” Tom said. “I had not seen him recently before coming here.”
“Your alibis are convenient at best,” Tiberius said. “But now you are found with a troop of Lycan assassins sent by my enemy to kill me. Your excuses are thin indeed.”
Tom glanced at the surviving Lycans. Thorn was looking back at him. “They were only scouts, not assassins,” Tom said.
“They were caught within my city, attempting to poison my private stock of human prey in order to kill me,” Tiberius said. “We knew about these assassins before you arrived.”
Tom looked around Tiberius to Thorn again. The guilt in the werewolf’s eyes said it all. Tiberius was telling the truth. He and his Lycan soldiers had been sent by Lycean to assassinate the vampire leader.
“I
and my people have thirsted so long because of your treachery,” Tiberius said. “It is only fitting that you witness our fury firsthand as your comrades die. Then, after you’ve witnessed their horror, I will drain you myself.
He didn’t say anything further. Some unseen cue had triggered a reaction in the Breed. Even the giants, standing present among them, appeared to be surprised by the ferocity of the vampires as they leaped en masse upon the surviving Lycan soldiers. Tom barely caught a last glance at Thorn’s face before bodies piled on top of him.
They were overwhelmed in an instant, too weak to fight, with no chance to escape so many vampires all clamoring for a taste of their enemies. Tiberius had been right. Tom was horrified by what he saw.
However, he was not the only one. The giant men began to back away from the vicious attack unfolding around them. This action had the effect of triggering a reaction among the vampires. They turned from the torn bodies lying lifeless beneath them, leaping upon the giants.
The giants attempted to fight them off, but they too were quickly overwhelmed, screaming with deep bellowing voices, as more and more joined in on the bloodlust. Tiberius never turned to look at what was happening. Tom could see it in the vampire lord’s eyes: he had known this would happen all along. He might have even ordered his followers to eliminate the giants. Either way, no one but the vampires were going to escape this castle alive.
Tom realized he had only one chance. It probably wouldn’t do any good, but he had no intention of going to his death quietly. The manacles on his hands were not fastened, but they were still present on his wrists. He had something he could work with.
He seized upon the steel with his power, manipulating the metal, reshaping it. The metal appeared to liquefy and reform into a steel blade in Tom’s hand. He took his last opportunity, swinging up with the makeshift weapon, hoping to lay Tiberius’s throat open with any luck. It wouldn’t keep the others from killing him, but at least he would strike back at the smug vampire before he died.
Convergence
Our carriage pulled up to the front of the Tap Room in Downtown London near Whitehall. I exited with Uriah in tow, allowing our driver to go on. Patrons walked with us into the restaurant, none of them noticing Uriah’s true troll form. Still, he cut an imposing figure, standing a foot taller than me, even though I had grown to six feet in height over the past year.
I wore a dark blue suit, always hoping not to seem pretentious. I remained quietly respectful to those around me, but somewhat reclusive. Over the past year, stories about me had circulated far and wide among the social elite.
Some were critical, dismissing my importance because I had not been born to this station in life. Others regarded me with respect due to firsthand interactions, as I worked in the outer circles of the political process in London. My efforts with several foreign diplomats had particularly impressed those who were willing to accept a newcomer. However, money always opened doors no matter what anyone thought of someone’s social standing, and Oliver had left me with vast wealth.
Dining at the prestigious Tap Room was by Invitation only. One had to be on their list in order to have any opportunity of making a reservation. There were no lines outside. Waiting for an open table would gain you nothing. Neither could you offer money at the door with any of hope of obtaining entry.
The finest chefs prepared their food. The waiters were as snooty as any aristocrat. Royalty, heads of state and the super wealthy took their meals here. And those meals were so expensive that if you had to ask how much it was going to cost, you weren’t welcome to dine at the Tap Room.
We walked inside, passing through the Tap Room’s spacious vestibule. To the right, women congregated in a sitting room while their husbands resorted to the lounge near the rear in order to smoke with their companions. A separate set of glass doors opened to the formal dining room which had been decorated in an old English style this month, looking to myths of Arthur and his roundtable knights. The Tap Room had seen transformations that ranged from all over the world: Arabian Nights, Paris, and the Orient, just to name a few. All of this drew the wealthy from every nation to the experience.
Gilded gaslight sconces mounted to the mahogany paneled walls brought ample light to the Tap Room’s patrons. Tapestries, displaying conquering heroes and fallen foes, hung at intervals. And a quartet of musicians, including a flutist and lute player, kept the large room firmly anchored in the past when knights ruled the land, slew dragons and rescued pretty damsels. The Tap Room’s mortal clientele had no idea that much of these legends had a basis in reality.
A host escorted us to our table. Uriah walked behind me, keeping a watchful eye, scanning the room for enemies in disguise. Many of the Descendants happened to be from wealthy families and operated in the mortal world among the higher echelons of society. There was no reason to suppose the Breed had failed to ascend to high society status, as well, under various pseudonyms.
I had arranged for Charlotte, and anyone else in her party, to be admitted to the Tap Room as my personal guests this evening. After we were seated, I glanced at my pocket watch. The time was seven o’ clock precisely. Even though a specific time had not been set between us, I knew they would be watching me and waiting for my arrival.
Sure enough, Charlotte was escorted inside moments later. As she made her way, walking behind the host dressed in an elegant evening gown, I noticed that no one else had accompanied her. Uriah interrupted my train of thought with a finger tap on the table.
“What is it, Uriah?” I asked in a hushed tone.
Uriah directed my attention to several places around the room. First, I noticed the waiters. Upon closer inspection, I observed that they were vampires. The eyes gave them away, though it was a characteristic most mortals never noticed about them. A glamour they wore saw to this, though I had the ability to see through most.
More than a dozen vampires were operating inconspicuously around the room. Even the host, now escorting Charlotte to our table, was a vampire. I had been so focused on searching out Sophia that I had missed these enemies in disguise.
Charlotte arrived at the table. We stood politely as the host seated her.
“You both look very dashing,” Charlotte said, as the host left us.
We seated ourselves again. “I didn’t come here to be flattered,” I quipped. “Where is she?”
Charlotte indicated the back half of the room, near the door to the smoking lounge. There, a glamour dissipated, revealing Sophia sitting at a small table with a vampire nearly as big as Uriah. Sophia, the vampire and their table had appeared as nothing more than empty wall space a moment ago. Somehow, I had not seen through it, meaning someone powerful was at work.
The Breed had gotten here before us and were clearly prepared for any trouble they thought I might cause.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “This place reeks of garlic,” she said.
“Really?” I asked. In truth, I had made prior arrangements of my own. The garlic was only part of my plans for our security tonight. Many myths falsely claimed that vampires were repelled by garlic. However, the truth was less sinister. They avoided it because it disrupted their keen sense of smell. And that was what I was counting on.
Glancing around the room again, I said, “I see you’ve brought company.”
“It never hurts to be prepared,” Charlotte said.
“I thought all of the Breed were trapped in Greystone,” Uriah said.
“Clearly not all,” I observed.
Charlotte glared at us. “Alexander and his warriors were trapped in London when Black destroyed the portal at Stonehenge.”
I looked at the big vampire sitting with Sophia then back to Charlotte. “So, he’s the one who put you up to this? That explains a lot.”
“I didn’t need anyone to put me up to this,” she said. “I’m doing this for my people. For my father.”
“So how do we proceed?” I asked.
“That’s a question only you can answer, Brody,
” she said. “Open a portal to Greystone if you want the girl back. Otherwise, if you try to deceive me, Alexander is prepared to kill her.”
I watched the big vampire, Alexander. He was too close to Sophia to risk hitting him with a detonation or lightning. I might attempt to hurl him away first, but vampires were notoriously fast. There were so many in the restaurant already. It seemed a bad idea.
I looked into Sophia’s eyes. She wasn’t scared, but seeing me with her abductor clearly had her concerned. She knew what Charlotte’s demands would be. Sophia had been with me on several occasions when I had refused to open the portal. I decided I would not risk her safety in this situation.
“So, you just want me to open a portal in this restaurant?” I asked.
“I know you can hide it from the mortals,” she shot back. “Just do it.”
I glanced at Uriah. His expression gave nothing away. We had a contingency plan, but it appeared I had no choice except to make my best attempt.
“I’ve never been to Greystone,” I said to Charlotte. “However, I might be able to use you as a link.”
She nodded to me and to Alexander waiting next to Sophia. I closed my eyes and fixed my mind upon Charlotte and her people, upon the place where vampires dwell. At the same time, I began to touch the minds of those mortals in the restaurant, suppressing their awareness of the changes I hoped would soon take place around us when, and if, the portal link could be established.
I found a point of fixation in Charlotte and drew myself towards it through the spiritual plane. This seemed easier than I might have supposed. There was another power at work—as though from the other side, someone else was trying to establish the same link, open the same doorway from Greystone into the mortal world.
I felt a tentacle of power seize my very being, drawing me into Greystone. I immediately sought to stay my position, using my surroundings in the mortal world as an anchor. I vaguely felt the foundations of the restaurant shifting beneath my body.