Ancient Blood: A Novel of the Hegemony

by Brian McKinley

  - Dr. Caroline Ludlow, The Order: History, Structure and Purpose.

  From the Diary of Caroline Ludlow

  August 28, 1952

  I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since my last entry. Where to begin? Sebastian, of course. The tension between us has dissipated … for the most part. Sebastian says he has forgiven me for the incident with Mara and understands why I acted as I did but I know deep down he must still blame me a little for how it soured his relationship with Draco. Of all the council members, Draco was the only real friend Sebastian had. He always looked forward to those visits and though I was not allowed to take part, the time they spent together could raise his spirits like little else. Since Mara’s death, the struggles in Korea, Southeast Asia and Eastern Europe have intensified because of this new bitterness between them.

  Sebastian is using this witch hunt for communists to flush out any spies Draco may have planted in North America and he’s forbidden me to take any political action, human or Vampyr, without discussing it with him first. I’m being punished for my mistake. Fine. If he weren’t so old fashioned about “a woman’s proper place,” I might not have been obliged to circumvent him in the first place. I’ll just have to be more patient in bringing him around. Still, as his Adjutor, I’m finally able to put all these years of training and observation to use, even if it is only among his Governors.

  Outwardly Sebastian has changed very little since his “feralism” was confirmed last month. He’s still the same loving, handsome man I fell in love with. Sometimes his nails lengthen without his being conscious of it and he scratches a chair or a glass but so far it has been no more serious than that. The condition explains some of his recent irritability. He shrugs it off, though we both know it could prove to be a debilitating disease. There is no way of anticipating how it will affect any specific individual. Unfortunately, feralism is something Vampyrs simply won’t discuss openly, almost like cancer among humans. It has taken considerable digging just to find out the few scraps of information I’ve gleaned so far. Most of what I get is superstitious nonsense but it’s clear no cure is known. I’m ju [words blurred]

  * * * * *

  When we get back home, I’m going to make a thorough scientific study of his condition. I don’t think Sebastian would object. So far, no one but DeWinter and myself know of his condition, even the Vampyr doctor who examined him has had his memory altered and we have sworn to keep it this way for as long as is practical.

  I know Sebastian is frightened, though he won’t admit it. Such stubborn pride! He’s become increasingly dependent on me to help him understand the subtle sociological, economic and political elements at work in his Domain and I know such an arrangement can’t be easy for a man like him.

  I’m glad we’re almost done with our “progress,” as he calls it, so we can return to the island. Since we had to visit the Governors, while the mansion was being remodeled, we’ve tried to make it a kind of second honeymoon. He’s been more relaxed than I’ve seen him in over a year and has treated me as though he were courting me all over again. I’ve enjoyed romantic dinners, dancing, flowers and thoughtful little gifts, including some gorgeous pearls he picked up when we were in San Francisco. We’ve traveled all over the United States, Canada and Mexico and taken in all the sights and scenery that we can.

  Thanks to Ash, the remodeling is on schedule and meeting all my expectations. Have I mentioned Ash before now? With everything else going on during those horrible few months, I may have skipped his hiring entirely. Sebastian’s new Dhampir and Bailiff is an exceptional soldier and security expert but what surprised me was how easy he is to work with. I’m looking forward to speaking casually with him once we get back but in the meantime, his detailed progress reports have been an absolute godsend in helping me relax! Most everyone we consulted said the remodel would take six months to a year, minimum. Ash brought in supervisors from the Army Corps of Engineers and presented a plan to have it done in three months. The mansion has been gutted to its outer stone walls and completely rebuilt from the ground up. Heating, plumbing and electricity will finally all be up-to-date and we’ve tried to anticipate any future expansion needs for electricity and the like, since it will be decades before we’ll get a chance to do such a major overhaul again. I’m glad though that we’ll be back to see the finishing touches installed.

  I know he’s expecting me to redecorate it in the bright colors I like but I intend to surprise him by keeping it in his old world style. I can’t wait to see his reaction! The kitchen is entirely new with every latest convenience and I think he’ll especially love what I’ve done with our suite. I’ve apportioned a section for my office/study, so no more books and papers all over the bedroom but by moving Ash’s house quarters downstairs behind the security office, I’ve gotten back enough room for a luxurious bathroom complete with a spa-like tub for two. I can’t wait to try it out our first night back!

  Staying with the Governors has been the price we’ve endured for all this. I thought I knew them well enough from our periodic dealings at the house but was surprised what time and prolonged association could reveal. Governor Garcia was gracious but clearly views me as no more than Sebastian’s mistress despite my position and hence, of no real consequence. De La Vega in Mexico was even more off-putting. His inferiority complex is shocking in its native habitat. As for the obsequious Jefferson Tumbridge, all I can say is that his “Southern gentility” became more transparently condescending with every opinion I voiced. I get chills thinking about how he must treat his women in private.

  At least Executive Governor DeWinter was his usual genial self and I got to meet more of the family he’s so proud of. His Dhampir grandson, Jonathan DeWinter III, is especially impressive, having that rare combination of a politician’s smooth diplomacy and a spymaster’s cold, analytical core. He told me some of the most eye-opening tales about the founding fathers, the kinds of things they don’t put in the history books and he seems like someone who’s willing to work with me. I’m just glad he’s on our side.

  From the DeWinters’ Maryland estate, we finally made our way to Virginia and Burlington who, as always, has been the most gracious host and friend. He’s still the only one of the lot with whom I can sit and have a simple conversation. These last weeks with him have been the most enjoyable, with the exception of the nights that his New York Reeve, Faolan O’Connor, was also in residence. O’Connor’s lack of pretension and “roguish” charm were enjoyable at first, even refreshing after so many weeks of pageantry but became boorish after a long time spent in his company. I suppose what made it worse for me, was that Sebastian and Burlington seemed to find him endlessly amusing, with his dirty jokes and underworld anecdotes. Sebastian, especially, laughed more those nights than he has in the last six months. I suppose I just resented being left out of their “guy talk.”

  Well, dawn is approaching. We head back to the island tomorrow!

  Draco and his Revenants were right behind me. I heard other pursuers as well but tried not to think about them. Panting with exhaustion, I turned and ran down the corridors of the maze, trying to remember the routes Ash had shown me. As I turned a corner, I knocked over a table of crystal glasses and priceless China and panicked, knowing I’d be flogged or have my genitals cut off for it.

  That was the feeling I was left with as I woke.

  Caroline says Vampyrs don’t dream, or they at least sleep so deeply that they never remember dreams. Another vestige of mortality I’d soon outgrow. But dreams and nightmares were always a source of creativity for me, so I wasn’t sure whether this was something to look forward to.

  When I got back to my room after my shower, I found Mrs. Kai, the housekeeper, hanging a freshly-pressed suit on the back of my door. She was a pretty Korean woman only a little older than me but she had a calm, settled quality to her. “Ah, Mr. Avery,” she said. “I was just about to leave you a note. The Judicis has called down for his breakfast but he requested that you serve
him. So, hurry up and get dressed and go straight there. I’ll see there’s something ready for you in the kitchen when you’re done.”

  “Oh, okay.” I’d dried off in the bathroom, so I was in nothing but boxer shorts. I would have been embarrassed but I was enjoying the novelty of having a lean, muscular body and couldn’t help wondering if I was turning Mrs. Kai on. “Did he mention what he wanted?”

  “No. He seemed uncomfortable speaking about it over the phone,” she said, moving past me to leave. She shrugged, giving me a smile. “Maybe he just wants the privilege of your service.”

  I snickered. “Yeah, sure. Nothing but world class here.”

  “Just keep your calm and I’m sure you’ll do fine.” With that, she headed back downstairs.

  * * * * *

  Iago’s suite is interesting because it’s so ordinary. It’s located in the wing above the library and Sebastian’s study, along with Geoffrey and Jade Tiger’s suites. Jade Tiger’s is the largest, taking up the entire last third of the wing. It used to be Iago’s but shortly after World War II, Jade Tiger complained that her suite wasn’t large enough to accommodate her staff. Since Shen don’t sleep, she spends a lot more time using the space. She must have worked something out ahead of time, because Iago volunteered to give up his suite and move to hers. He claimed it was an example of how status and privilege should not be an impediment to simple practicality.

  Speaking of Jade Tiger, guess who I saw coming out of Iago’s suite? She was back in her contemporary red silk and strolled from Iago’s door to her own as I approached from the gallery. I waited, letting her get out of sight and added it to the mental list of things to tell Caroline the next time we talked.

  Continuing to Iago’s door, I knocked and lowered my eyes, rehearsing my “lines” in my head as the door opened. “Uh, hail and good evening, Judicis Medici. I was told you wished to see me?”

  “Yes,” Iago said, drawing the word out a bit. “Tell me truly, did your noble master instruct you to dawdle if, perchance, I should call upon you?”

  “N-no, sir—I mean, Majes—Your Exaltedness? Seba—Hegemon Blackwood didn’t say anything to me about anything like that, he just—I mean, I just got up and got dressed as soon as I found out you wanted—”

  “Peace, my good man,” he said, using his hand to try to hold back my flood of words. “I was curious but it is of no consequence.” Almost the whole Gathering, Iago wore the same gray satin Victorian suit with its darker velvet vest, white shirt and gray silk necktie. It was very wrinkled and even had patches of dust on it that he didn’t bother to brush off. Up close, I smelled the mustiness of his clothes and a faint odor of his own that reminded me of sun-faded leather. His sunken, smoke-gray eyes seemed to shine out at me with a speculative twinkle not unlike Geoffrey’s.

  I remember I kept looking for the fine lines and wrinkles that he should have but doesn’t. Like a seventy-year-old celebrity who just had the full round of face-lifts and Bo-Tox, there’s an unnatural quality to some Vampyr’s agelessness when you get too close. You can see their age in their eyes and perceive it subconsciously in some subtle quality of their movements and it’s unnerving. While Julia’s eyes are like an old person who’s still got all their marbles, Iago’s are honestly more like one of those prodigy kids who seem way older than their years.

  He stepped back a pace and invited me to enter his suite. With slight trepidation, I did.

  The place was as musty as Iago’s suit, if not more and looked like it hadn’t been dusted in months. The Victorian décor, with its heavy velvets and ornate woodwork and rich colors only added to the sense of decay and neglect. With the lighting as dim as he kept it, the place looked like a richly dressed mausoleum and I couldn’t imagine someone being comfortable in there.

  I also realized something else, Sebastian just let this place sit and rot aside from a few perfunctory dustings and Iago de’ Medici, Judicis of the Hegemony and head of The Order, just sat back and let him. Or didn’t have the power to stop him.

  And this was the guy we were resting our best hopes on?

  “You are quite new, are you not?” Iago asked as he shut the door, dropping the level of light in the windowless room to a minimum.

  “Yes, Sir. Uh, I mean yes, Your Exaltedness.”

  He waved his hand as he shuffled to an over-stuffed armchair and sat. “You may use ‘sir,’ if it pleases you. I do not feel particularly exalted this night.”

  A sense of irreverence beneath the weariness of that liquid baritone kept his comment from crossing into self-pity and made me like him.

  “You wanted me to bring your breakfast, sir?”

  “So I did.” He pulled a cameo broach from his vest pocket, motioned me over and held it for me to see. “I would have a young woman brought from the cellar, as closely resembling this portrait as can be accomplished.”

  The portrait was a miniature painting of a pretty, young woman with brown hair piled in a period style and eyes just like Caroline’s. Go down into that damn cellar again, I thought. Face those eyes again, just to drag some innocent girl up here, so she could be breakfast for some vampiric Mrs. Haversham?

  “I see you do not approve.” Long, bony fingers with long, dull nails closed over the broach. He studied me with those inquisitive eyes.

  “No, sir,” I managed. “I mean, that’s not what—”

  “It is passing strange,” Iago said, stopping me short. “But clearly I see in you the very seed from which our Sebastian sprang. That once fine man of my earliest remembrances…” He turned away and waved me off. “Go about your duty now, boy.”

  I walked to the door, turning back once to find Iago staring off into the darkness and left feeling more than a little confused. I didn’t want to think about his remark about me and Sebastian, so I concentrated on being pissed off about having to go down into the cellar again.

  * * * * *

  My mood didn’t improve when I crossed paths with Valmont on the stairs. His Three Musketeers costume was in a spectrum of blues this time and he carried a naked four-year-old boy in his arms.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said as I stopped on the landing. “I was quite put out when they told me you’d already been summoned by the Gray Eminence.” He continued up the steps, fondling the boy with one of his hands. The boy’s expression was happy but dazed, as if he wasn’t aware of what was going on.

  I stepped to the side but he changed course and kept walking toward me. “Do you like my aperitif? He is a delectable little morsel, no? So fresh and tender, he’s sweet with innocence and untainted joie de vivre.”

  I stepped back again until my back hit the wall and still he came forward. I smelled his flowery perfume coupled with the musk of recent sex and the talcum powder-and-caramel smell of the boy himself.

  My mouth began to water.

  I couldn’t tell whether I was going to cry or throw up but the power of his gaze held me. His eyes are dark green and sharp-looking, eyes that bring people like Leonardo DiCaprio, David Bowie and John Malkovich to mind: an intensity of confidence, a smoldering sensuality and a sparkle of gleeful malevolence. I was angry in a hollow, disconnected way, the same way my fear was a distant fear. In my heart, I knew what he was going to do to that kid but all my human life experience shouted that I was overreacting. I was frozen.

  Jean-Paul Valmont leaned forward and inhaled deeply, moving his nose around my face and neck. “You were fat prior to your Creation, weren’t you? A glutton.”

  It was such an odd non-sequitur that it broke my mental deadlock and I tried to move away. Valmont ignored my efforts, stepping to block my escape. “How you must detest forsaking all those wonderful flavors.”

  “Excuse me, please,” I whispered with a bit of a lisp, trying to force my canines back up into my gums.

  “No,” he said, blocking me again. “Do you know that this boy’s innocence imparts to his blood a flavor not unlike fine vanilla custard with the faintest hint of, oh, comb honey drizzled atop?” He
spoke like an experienced gourmet describing the perfect wine to compliment the evening’s dinner special.

  He cooed something in French to the boy, making him giggle. Everything in me wanted to beg Valmont not to do whatever he was planning, to shake him and demand to know why he could want to do something like this to such a gorgeous little child. But I knew damn well why he wanted to do it. After all, how many times have I laughed with Tom Cruise as he sang and danced around Brad Pitt’s misery at drinking little Claudia?

  Valmont leaned the little boy toward me, placing his soft brown curls under my nose. “Sample the bouquet of that soft spot just at the crown of the head. Is it not heavenly? Like the fragrance of love, joy and sunshine itself.”

  And, of course, I could smell it and it was wonderful. In my hunger the scent was everything he’d said and more. It was like baking bread or freshly cut grass on a summer morning or the smell of the grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup my mom would make when I was little and in bed with a cold.

  I turned my head away and squeezed my eyes closed.

  “Now, if it smells that good, just imagine how it will taste. I invite you to come and sample him with me. I promise a culinary delight unmatched in your experience. I’ll even instruct you in the proper way to do it, so there’s not a drop wasted and the boy feels nothing but bliss to the end.”

  As repulsed as I was by his offer, I was also stimulated and tempted, more tempted than I’d been by the girl in the cellar. Why didn’t I just shove him away? Hell, why didn’t I grab the kid and kick Valmont’s decadent, child-molesting ass to death right there on the stairs? I couldn’t have but I didn’t know it then. So why didn’t I at least try?

  It was him, pure and simple. I wasn’t the kind of person who believed in pure, capital-E Evil but I’d never met anyone like Valmont before. I could feel something different in him. Feel it in the way his persuasive power wormed its way into me and struck a resonance with those new genes in my body. He made me realize I was no longer the human being I had been and could never be that person again.