“So, he’s free?” Jack interrupts. “Trapped in the Forsaken realm?”
“That, my friends, is where things become trickier to explain. It seems in his freedom he began killing the Forsaken. Low-level demigods such as myself mostly–”
“Mostly?” Madison’s turn to interrupt.
“Yes, mostly. It seems that this man is far greater than what we may have taken him for,” I hesitate. The words that are to leave my mouth now are not words that have been spoken before. “And it is with an aching heart that I declare, he has killed Zeus.”
I give it a moment to let the implications of what I have just told them sink in. One of the most powerful Forsaken in existence was reduced to nothing by one man.
“And where is he now?”
“I can’t say. He’s entered the Bifrost.” I look between Jack and Madison. It seems he understands what this means, but she is perplexed.
“The Bifrost Bridge in Asgard is the portal linking the Forsaken realm to many various realms. We do not know where Victor has gone, for there is no tracking system. He was there, and then he was not,” I explain.
“Thank you for coming to us with this information. It’s good to know we have you on the Agency’s side in this matter,” Empty words from a soldier but I nod and accept.
“Ankh,” Madison speaks, “I’m afraid. What does he want?”
“I do not know,” I admit. “But you are lucky, Madison. You have a protector watching over you and Mason. He’s not a man that will go down without a fight.”
Chapter Five: Mason
Waiting.
Something that I have grown rather accustomed to in my time on this planet. Be it for minutes, hours, days, or weeks. It all blurs into one after a while. Time is not the same for those who live eternally. Time becomes a playground in which you find mundane tasks to do in order to entertain yourself. A vast wealth, immense power – it all grows ever more boring.
So, you learn to find peace while you wait. You talk to yourself, or rather, I do. Here I sit, three of me around, each one in still silence, waiting for one of us to speak. We’re all just waiting.
Daffyd is the reason they are here. His mention of writing down my previous lives. Had I not had this method to commune with past lives – the ability to physically contact dead versions of my own being – I may have found it a worthy task. A mundane, worthy task.
“Where is he?” one finally speaks. The one I usually have, my guidance counselor for the last hundred and forty odd years – or is it thirty with the ten I lost in the Forsaken realm – has not come. I do not remember the one clad in armor that I – and I may be mistaken – would have to date back to the Mongol times.
Genghis Khan.
Did I know him? I contemplate.
“He’s coming,” I reply, “Do you have no patience?”
“Patience,” another speaks. I’ve communed with him more recently and know his likeness well. The great Vlad Tepes. “Is something you will soon come to find, is all we have, Mason.”
“Then holding out a little longer won’t be too worrisome, now will it?” I add. Looking around, I try and place the third. He’s been silent. More than the others, in our ever-silent communication. He’s been here but said nothing.
Why? I wonder. A distant ancestor dressed in old ceremonial cloth. Paint splatters his face. His eyes sunken. His mind wandering. He is at peace with whatever goes on. This, I hope, is how I will be.
“Have any of you come for a reason? My guide is not with us,” I announce.
“We know,” Tepes replies. “Does there have to be a reason to our being? We are merely a part of you. If we so choose, we can show whenever we find necessary.”
The deeper understanding of these men is near impossible. One hundred and fifty-four iterations have come and gone. Moving now onto our next. It’s peculiar to think that in this time frame, my existence has been futile. Working for a king that I do not respect. What have I done? What have I accomplished?
Was I the first to accomplish nothing? Or did I, in my own right, bring some greater good to the world?
Not yet.
But in time.
And as I find myself considering the lives that have been and will be, I remember that I have a goal to accomplish before my next turn and I will be more. I will no longer be a single man. I will be a god. One of the highest order. No longer having to hold back my own existence. Forgetting those who were and those who will be. No, I will be.
It is on this philosophical journey through life eternal that the headlights of a beaten up and broken-down car come onto the driveway. I wait, still seated on Ankh’s porch. He gets out of his car, wide-eyed. I don’t believe he was expecting visitors tonight.
“You should really get something new for yourself. It’s not like money’s the issue,” I remark.
“It gets me from A to B,” he states. “That’s all I really need.”
Ankh comes in for a hug. I return the gesture. He unlocks his door and waves me in.
“What brings you around?” He walks directly to the kitchen. I follow him. He pours two glasses of whiskey. Not to my liking, but in good faith I sip at it anyway.
“I want to confirm the rumors you may have been hearing around town.” My reply comes from a good place. He nods his head, downing the glass.
“What of the implications this will bring?” His concerns have no grounding.
“What implications? It was an order by the King and Queen of the vampires. I’m just a gun for hire, don’t you know?” He pours himself the next. I’m still busy on the first.
“Right. Good. So, you’ve covered your tracks. There are big things brewing, Mason. I don’t think now is the time to get on anyone’s bad side. You don’t know what they can accomplish...” I chuckle.
“Ankh, you’re really stressing about nothing important. The Council was due for an upgrade, and so is the kingdom. Or should I say, ‘queendom?’ Brooke and I are working in tandem to get her into a position of power. Once this is done, things will go better for all.”
“What about Daffyd?” Ankh downs the next glass, putting the bottle away. Only enough to take the edge off and no more. We are the same in this way. We don’t lose control. This is why he worries. He believes that he must be in control of everything around him, pulling the strings. A quality that is necessary for some. Forever having your finger on the pulse.
“Daffyd is going to be offered up to the wolves. My way of apologizing for the death of Aliana and their daughter.”
For the briefest moment, I notice that Ankh sees the broader picture of my scheme. “I get it. So, you’re getting back into their good books to have the trust before you tear his kingdom to pieces? Clever.”
“Now you’re getting it,” I agree. “You said that there are things stirring. What exactly do you mean? I’ve been out of the loop, don’t you know?”
“That Victor guy? The one that killed the girl?” I nod to show my understanding. “He’s killed, Zeus.”
This I was not expecting. One of the most powerful Forsaken in their realm just dead?
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Ankh’s reply doesn’t help me in the slightest.
“I must go. Looks like I have some digging to do.” I smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone, somewhere must know more about this traveler. Who better to start with than me?”
Chapter Six: Daffyd
Standing before a great crowd has always been something I have enjoyed. A mass of energy produced solely for me. The one they have come to see. Their power resonates with me. Up until now, these faces have only been vampires. Vampires who come to kiss the ring and show their support to a cause that’s far greater than they are.
Now?
Well, with the shift in the paradigm, it seems that it’s not only vampires that have ventured out to witness the inauguration of the new Council. How they can be so brave to come stand out in the night
with vampires who would slaughter them without a second thought, I do not know.
The arrogance they display is due to the Agency’s backing. The fearless human hordes who believe themselves strong enough to face off against our kinds. What they (and up until recently) and I forgot, is that it was I who killed Van Helsing.
Peculiar how things work.
Here I stand before a tremendous crowd, each one crying out and calling my name. The humans are here to witness something new. The vampires, it seems, are here to voice separate concerns…
“Ladies, gentleman, welcome to the first inauguration of a new Council. With the tragedy that has befallen the last, we have to bring new light to the Council. Four men and three women. These will make up our new Council members. Each one adept in their skills, they will lead without hesitation. The old Council’s ways will remain the same. In order for them to attain their higher status, they will return to the Fortress, which is currently being renovated and changed by order of myself to accommodate them. Sadly, due to safety issues, we cannot have them here tonight. I do believe that their lives may be in danger if they step out into the night, and this is not a risk I am willing to take. Rebuilding what we have lost is now more important than losing anymore.”
Directly before me sit the twenty-four sector leaders. Behind them are a few high-ranking lieutenants. Then, everyone else. The sheer diversity in the front row alone sickens me. It makes me think back on before it all. Are we all so locked in our shells that we cannot even mingle with our own kind? The lower ranks are seen as nothing but a nuisance, but without them, we are nothing.
One of the sector leaders, GMT + 02:00 if I am not mistaken, stands from his seat. The crowd, in their odd excitement, is hushed by him, and they listen. I let him have his moment in the light. “And how do we know that Mason won’t strike again?” he asks.
The crowd roars with disapproval. I can’t tell if it is from him or if it is because of me.
“Settle down.” I’m standing on a stage. It’s small, with just enough space ahead, that the more important vampires and a few hundred low ranking ones could attend. It’s done in a clearing. The small stage is connected to a PA system that blares my voice over the crowd. “Mason will not strike again. I have it on good authority that this was very much a one-time strike. He wanted to send a message to the vampire hierarchy that just because he was gone for ten years does not mean he is, or has, forgotten. This act of rebellion was only to show that we cannot treat him as anything less than what he is.” I worked on this one for a while. I knew the question of Mason killing the Council would come up. Why wouldn’t it?
Mason definitely didn’t keep quiet about it. Spreading the story up, down, and across every channel he could. So, this fits my story for it. A man showing he still commands power from a group that has forgotten him…
Or at the very least, doesn’t care for his being anymore.
“The Council will take their seat on Sunday, the first of the new month. Their reign will extend until they become obsolete, or for one hundred years. The Council is no longer the all-powerful entity they once were. We are dividing power back down to you, my brothers and sisters.” This gets the crowd worked up again, and I can see among my sector leaders there is horrendous disapproval.
Things are going to change under the new rule of Daffyd Llanneli.
Chapter Seven: Romulus
The death of a Council.
When I first heard the buzz spreading, I couldn’t believe my ears. A powerful organization reduced to nothing by one single vampire. An Ancient, sure, but does that truly mean he wields the power to destroy the vampire hierarchy so simply?
If so, why hasn’t he?
And foolishly, in my rage, I acted on instinct rather than thinking all my movements through clearly. The bridges have been burned, so now I will not crawl back to him like some mongrel in search of a new master.
This does not mean that I am going to act so brashly again. With Victor seemingly dropping off the face of the Earth after our enormous victory over Torrine Castle, I found it surprising. Why bother to help if you will not stay to reap the benefits of your fight?
So, I find myself on a cliff face of Mount Umbra, where a small hold has been set up to house this new coven. On one end, the perfect shelter from the storm walled off the further you went onto the cliff. The other? A drop to your death. Nothing covering or creating a protective layer to stop those who plummet.
I find this interesting.
Odd.
On my entry, I am greeted by no one or nothing. No protective wards, as if they had predetermined my coming. Considering they are a new coven, perhaps they still don’t know about this. They have no guidance. Tit for tat.
I walk through a door that was left unlocked. Still, overlooking the cliff face there is nothing. Just an empty space. No grass, just bare land. I walk over to look down at where I can only assume some hapless fools found their peace.
And it’s here that I wait. I wait long. I will not budge until I have had word with the witches and warlocks that now inhabit this home. A door creaks behind me. The earth beneath where I sit begins to rattle. With the setting sun, the shadow cast over me expands off the cliff and even far down at the base of Mount Umbra I can see it.
“Wolf?” a dark, charming voice says.
“Indeed,” I reply.
“What brings you here?” he asks.
“I want to speak to your leader.” I turn to face him. A giant. Behind him stands a girl. She’s young. Not so young that she is not meant to be out here, but not so old that I can imagine her being any help in these negotiations.
But then she speaks, “You are looking at us.”
Her contribution to the conversation shocks me. A young girl and a giant are the rulers of a powerful coven? This seems unbelievable, does it not? This explains the lack of magic protecting them. They do not understand the ways of their people. The secretive lot that witches truly are.
“I am Romulus of the Sentinel pack.”
“We know,” the giant replies.
“My name is Venice, and this is my brother Atticus,” she replies. “What brings you to us, alpha wolf?” They are young but not brash. They show the respects due. I like this and in return, they will gain my own.
“I would like to extend the offer of a partnership between your coven and my pack. Like you, I have been wronged by Daffyd’s vampires.” I wonder if they know the history of their people. “He slaughtered my wife and daughter before my eyes for no reason other than a broken promise from an Ancient vampire. My actions have always been taken seriously, especially in matters of war and business, and I believe that standing together with the first coven to exist in years is the way to go.”
“You’ve done your research?” Atticus asks, and his sister strokes his arm to shush him. Giants are notorious for being on the lesser side of intelligent, this proven by an offhand statement that had no place in the conversation, and if it does, it’s not one that I find noteworthy.
“I believe what my brother is trying to ask is, you know about the oppression the witches faced during their enslavement years under the vampires? It’s admirable to ask us to join your cause, but without a true understanding of our kind and history, you may not understand the workings of the old coven ways. This is what we are trying to instill in our people. Give them the hope that our ancestors had–”
“With all due respect,” I interrupt her, “this is not the right way to go. I was married to a witch. Together, we spawned a hybrid daughter who was to someday claim alpha status and lead the pack to a new understanding, opening our doors to more than just one lifestyle. Reverting back to the old ways is not what your Coven needs. Yourself and your people do not need to feel the burdens that the ones who came before you had. They are not here anymore. Why rule in an old way when you already have a coven? More so, you would have to find one sect of witch to follow. You will have to research old ways that were burned to the ground by vampires in t
heir raids against your kind. There is no hope to return to the past. It is now time to step into the future. I may not be a witch, but I loved one deeply and learned more than you could imagine. Let me help you build yourselves a new place in this world. Not dropping the values witches and warlocks had, but using them to better build a new society for yourselves.”
I’m asking a lot. I know this. That doesn’t mean it’s not necessary. This pair has a lot they can accomplish together, just as long as they do not stray too far from the path. Given the right guidance, there should be no need to wander off the path.
“We will need time to deliberate,” the witch says. “We will come speak with you when we have made a decision.”
Chapter Eight: El Flamenco
“So, this is the dagger, man?” It doesn’t look like anything special to me. Just another normal knife with some fancily carved wooden handle. The blade is short. I wouldn’t say it can go much further than piercing the heart, so if I miss or don’t give enough force, Mason will walk. That doesn’t fit well with my agenda. After all, I still need to walk out of this as the champion.
“This is the one,” the dock worker claims. “A source gave me the location to pick it up. Some old guy. Seemed to know what he was talking about. You’ve gotta take off the head or get it in the heart to work, though. It’s the only way to stop one of these Ancient types.”
“Who was the old man?” I need to make sure of the source. Rushing blindly into something like this will only get me killed. And me? I like living.
“He and his wife live out on the mount,” the dock worker continues. “This Mason guy has been making them do work for him for years now. He’s been trying to figure out the answer to the riddle of how to stop one of them since he was a kiddo.” I nod, sipping my drink. “Wants to be rid of the vampire that tries to run the show. Live his last years with his old lady. Something like that.”
The Vampire Touch 3: A New Dawn Page 2