Ancient Blood: A Novel of the Hegemony

by Brian McKinley

  Now he’s on the verge of losing them. Geoffrey smirks and the others look a little puzzled. Iago seems to be biding his time, waiting for Sebastian to cross some invisible line.

  “I see that a few of you find this difficult to credit,” Sebastian says as if this was only to be expected, “so allow me to elaborate. These devices are not only many times more powerful than they were only a decade ago, they are also quite omnipresent. There is no aspect of the modern world which they have not infiltrated. What is the danger in this? Simply that these machines keep records of everything, tirelessly and ceaselessly. Humans can be bought, controlled. Paper records can be destroyed or kept secure. My Caroline is quite taken with these cunning devices and I have taken opportunities to learn about them from her and others who are knowledgeable. Fellow Hegemons, what I have learned has only increased my unease—”

  “I beg your pardon, Hegemon Blackwood,” Iago says, his weary tone somehow conveying, without being the least bit impolite, that Sebastian is raving like a madman. “But this session has already stolen many an hour and I still cannot even guess at your purpose.” With a dismissive cock of an eyebrow, the Judicis turns his attention to Geoffrey, leaving Sebastian to stand and look foolish. “Hegemon Plantagenet, you are quite familiar with the contemporary world. Were there some imminent danger from these machines, you would have informed us of it, would you not?”

  Geoffrey, of course, knows an opening when he hears one. “With all my heart,” he says to a small ripple of laughter.

  Julia isn’t laughing, however and the others wither beneath her attention. Sebastian inclines his head toward her in silent thanks. “May it please Your Exaltedness, I would continue and, by not so long a journey as you suspect, arrive at my destination. Many thanks.” It’s a subtle shift but you can feel it. Without Julia sabotaging Iago’s play, it wouldn’t have worked but Sebastian has regained the floor and closed the door to any further heckling from Iago.

  “I do not doubt that gentle Geoffrey would warn us if he were to behold doom hanging close over our heads. Indeed, were we all more like him—liberal of thought and attitude, dealing comfortably with humans and willing to surrender to every new whim of time and ‘civilization’—then perhaps we would also perceive no threat. However, the danger I warn of is more subtle and insidious than those to which we are accustomed. Computers now hold more clues to our presence, our plans and our weaknesses than has ever been known in any time previous. Any human with enough luck, time and skill can access all of it! Do not believe those who assure you that this information is protected by ‘your’ computers, for I am well informed that such security can never be absolute.”

  He stalks around the backs of the chairs to give them all that subtle sense of menace he’s so good at conveying. “As this world grows more organized, more interconnected and more complex, so is it also less and less amenable to our continued secrecy. There already exist computers which can recognize faces through any disguise or subterfuge by means of those elements which never alter—even after Creation! These machines, I am told, will also see subtle things such as body temperature, destroying any chance for us to camouflage ourselves among the masses! Imagine your face recorded by cameras somewhere only to be compared to another picture a century later and found to be unchanged—how will you explain yourself?”

  Geoffrey raises a finger just as Sebastian completes his circle. “Yes, yes, Geoffrey, I have anticipated your objection,” Sebastian hurries to assure him. “We do have the power to falsify these records and make our movements even more subtle in order to minimize this problem. I cannot help but wonder, however, if such thinking leads us down the correct path. In this past century, we have devoted more time and energy to keeping, altering and hiding records than ever before. Why? To hide from the humans we supposedly control!”

  His volume raises just enough to sweep everyone along in his strident tide. “In the last century alone, we have retreated further from the direct control of our Domains than at any other time. Why? To hide from the humans we control and minimize the risk of upsetting the spider web of institutions which, to human eyes, appear to steer the world. Iago’s decisions of late have also encouraged the decentralization of our individual power and as you just witnessed with Mongolia, supported the benefit of ‘the people we rule’ over our own!”

  Sebastian is now in direct opposition to Iago. He pauses to let everyone soak it in and cut a glance to where the Judicis sits, weary and wrinkled.

  “Friends,” Sebastian resumes. “We stand now in the early dawn of a new millennium and I say it is high time we reverse this base inclination toward passivity! I say it is time we once again took the reins firmly in hand, reins which are ours alone by virtue of Divine rebirth! Nay, more I say that it is time we take hold of humanity by the ears and show it the unabashed face of its master!”

  A shockwave rolls across the assembly. Sebastian is talking about throwing aside the most ancient law Vampyrs have. He’s talking about the entire race coming out to rule in the open.

  “Outrageous!” Draco shouts, first to react.

  The others mutter and whisper among themselves, while Iago sits forward. “Sebastian, have you lost—”

  But Sebastian presses his case before the shock wears off. “I do not speak of the impossible or the foolhardy! Together, we alone have the power and the wit to achieve this—we need only set ourselves to the task and it is done! Of course we shall proceed with all the care and planning which becomes such an undertaking but we must set our minds to it and see this subtle erosion of our power stopped. I pledge myself to this suit and would go so far as to challenge Iago for his place to see it accomplished!”

  Now he’s committed. He doesn’t look worried, however—he looks thrilled. He watches Iago rise from his chair like a mountain lion ready to pounce.

  “Your challenge is not unexpected, Hegemon Blackwood,” Iago begins, stating the obvious with severe dignity. “Though the substance of it ill-becomes even your recent descent into savagery. As I cannot entertain this madness you propose in any good conscience, I answer your challenge. The hour is late, however, so we shall begin the process tomorrow evening when we reconvene. This session is adjourned.”

  The Judicis walks out of the room, followed by Draco. The rest, however, stay for a few moments to offer Sebastian words of congratulations or small gestures of support.

  * * * * *

  “There you are,” Mrs. Kai said when I came into the kitchen. “I was starting to worry.”

  “I was just helping Ash out,” I said.

  She asked me to help her get ready for the post-meeting entertainment in the parlor, since Helmut and his staff were busy and the rest of the maids and footmen were having their dinner. I spent the next hour or so stocking the carts with the appropriate blood liquors and other refreshments and got reminders of how to serve each of the items. I was glad to be able to take my mind off the surveillance video and the fight with Caroline for a little while.

  Unfortunately, that only lasted until Valmont’s female Dhampir came into the kitchen with some specialty items to add to my cart. She treated me to a condescending show-and-tell of some new Vampyr narcotics, engineered to work with our physiology. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that we vamps even had our own designer drugs but as interesting as that concept was, it couldn’t hold my attention the way her blood-red leather jumpsuit did. It displayed just enough pale flesh to tantalize and stretched tightly enough over the rest to make her lack of undergarments obvious. The fact that I’d seen it all an hour ago only added fuel to my imagination. She was exactly the kind of girl I used to go for back in my wannabe days, even the snotty attitude and accent turned me on.

  When she left, I caught myself comparing her various attributes to Caroline’s and felt guilty. I tried looking forward to the distraction of playing waiter but when the kitchen staff brought the naked, bound and gagged victims out of the cleaning rooms in back, it brought me back to reality. What t
he hell was I doing worrying about a little girlfriend trouble?

  I followed the other footmen and their carts out through the butler’s pantry and into the morning room, so named because its large windows feature a view of the veranda and the little garden area. It immediately reminded me of Caroline again, since I could see her influence in the sunny yellow walls, the terra-cotta tile floors, the ceiling painted to resemble a spring sky, the fresh flowers and the white garden furniture.

  We continued through the ivied trellis arch into the parlor. The ceiling painting continues from the morning room but gets a fuller treatment. Textured wallpapers and mural painting have been used to make the walls look like the edge of a lush, Northwestern forest so lovingly recreated it’s like you can step off the hardwood “deck” and go for a walk in the sunlit woods. Potted plants add a touch of reality and there are no windows to ruin the illusion, even the fireplaces on either side of the room are designed to look freestanding. The whole décor is sort of a Hemingway, big game hunter look with bearskin rugs and solid, manly furniture in leopard- and tiger-skin patterns.

  During my training, when I’d remarked to Ash that the place was a little over-the-top, he explained that Caroline had redecorated it as an anniversary gift and made the patterns strong so Sebastian could enjoy it without color vision.

  The band tuned up in front of the cabinet that houses Sebastian’s sixty inch plasma screen TV. They’d pushed back the big grouping of chairs and side tables to make room but still had them arranged as if the Hegemons were all gonna sit and watch them like an audience. Yeah, right. I guess they didn’t notice the guys from the kitchen chaining up the newly-cleaned victims in each corner.

  Once these unwilling donors were tethered to the walls, the kitchen assistants wheeled in these little contraptions that looked like small coat racks holding dozens of loops of plastic tubing. Caroline told me that all Helmut’s “blood preparation specialists” had medical degrees or a few years’ experience as RNs and it showed in the way they inserted the needles into the major veins and arteries. The tubes were like IVs in reverse, containing some kind of valve that kept the blood inside the victim until you sucked on the end of the tube.

  Ash came in from around the corner as I got into position, saying that the Hegemons would be coming down in a minute.

  I was so fucking sick of all this! I was sick of standing around and playing servant while innocent people and babies got turned into snacks. I was sick of taking shit from people I couldn’t stand and having to bow and smile through it. I wanted to grab one of the machine guns from the rack in Ash’s office and shoot the whole fucking council. I wanted to grab our little recording and tell Sebastian that we were leaving the island and taking everybody in the cellar and staff who wanted out.

  Anita Blake wouldn’t just stand around and let innocent people suffer because it was dangerous to say something about it. Angel would have walked up to Sebastian and told him that no humans were going to be harmed in the making of this party. If Sebastian refused, well, then it’d be battle-axes and crossbows all around.

  Heroes don’t worry about getting killed for doing what’s right.

  I felt like a fucking coward. But Ash and Caroline’s arguments made sense. We had a plan that we were putting into effect. Hell, we’d just scored major points toward our goal.

  So why wasn’t I feeling it?

  The band started playing something that sounded like the theme to Masterpiece Theater. I heard voices in the entrance hall, so I tried to push away my anxieties and concentrate on the job at hand. Whether it was cowardly or just practical, I knew I wouldn’t accomplish anything if I got killed or whipped to a bloody pulp because I spilled somebody’s drink.

  Geoffrey came through the morning room first, closely followed by his Dhampir and Draco. Geoffrey had his Blue Tooth on again and was ordering mergers, buy-outs and assassinations while speed-reading the pages that his Dhampir handed him. Through all this, he also managed to slip consoling remarks to Draco, who was snarling his own detailed list of tortures he would one day inflict on “that motherless whore” for her most recent unforgivable insult.

  As they passed me, Draco glanced at me and I took it as a good sign. Geoffrey sat down on the sofa near my station and Bishop, his Dhampir, took the chair. Draco remained standing at Geoffrey’s arm and cleared his throat.

  Geoffrey held up his index finger while he finished something about arms sales to Palestine. “Right, one last bit. That oil platform scheduled for a problem next month? Right. Divert the insurance payment to the Hong Kong branch instead. From there, it’s to be deposited in varying sums into a set of bank accounts which Bishop will send you tomorrow morning. A copy of those transactions are to find their way into the hands of the Guoanbu. Twenty four hours later, tip off the local media but make sure they’ll have to dig for it. That’s it for now.” He pulled the headset out of his ear and put it away, looking up at Draco. “Satisfactory?”

  “The accounts?”

  “Two members of the Secretariat and an elder member of the Politburo Standing Committee. Their private accounts.”

  “The investigations should cripple her government’s function for months. It will suffice. The oil spill you mentioned…”

  “Sorry,” Geoffrey said. “I’ve already locked the cleanup bid for one of my companies.”

  Draco nodded and walked to the other side of the room. Geoffrey and Bishop began discussing something in another language and I turned at the sound of Sebastian, Julia and Valmont strolling toward the parlor.

  “Wine,” Sebastian ordered upon reaching my cart.

  I fought my nervousness and kept my eyes downcast. “Light or heavy, Your Majesty?”

  Sebastian searched me for any hint of disrespect but I was determined to be all business. “The Sixty-Eight.”

  He was hoping to trip me up of course but I’d made a point of memorizing all the drinks. The Sixty-Eight was a white French vintage that was the lighter of the varieties I had on the cart. As I nodded, Julia said, “A Cognac. And mind your aim this time.”

  Another test, since etiquette demanded that I serve in order of social status except in the case of Sebastian who, as host, should be served last. It would have been easy, except I couldn’t keep the images I’d seen on that disc out of my head!

  Speaking of which, I noticed Valmont behind me with the victim in the corner—he was giving the guy a fucking blowjob! The poor guy’s body was responding but he looked completely humiliated. Before the guy could even finish, Valmont took the tube that was plugged into the largest vein (yes, there) and sucked the blood out. The guy looked like he wanted to collapse but I remember they’d attached some kind of braces on the victims’ knees and hips to keep them standing.

  Somehow I managed to hold my nerve as I filled Julia’s glass to the proper level and handed it to her without meeting her eyes. Bored with my competence, Sebastian turned to make chit chat with Geoffrey and Julia took her drink over to where the band played. When I finished, Sebastian took his wine and headed over to join Julia. I hoped Valmont would do the same but after helping himself to a pinch of snuff (cocaine-infused blood reduced to a powder—they say it only does for Vampyrs what caffeine does for people), he took a seat beside Geoffrey. My station.

  This was the way my life at home with my stepfather had been, the way my few relationships had been and the way every job I’d ever held had been. Here I was, a vampire, immortal, better looking, stronger, able to think and react quicker. This should have been the realization of my every adolescent fantasy but I didn’t feel any different than I had working shitty retail jobs to pay my bills. Excep of course, I couldn’t quit this job.

  Even my relationship with Caroline felt more like mother/son these days than the lovers’ equality we’d shared only a month before. Would I ever get my girlfriend back, or would she just be my Creator from here on?

  I couldn’t keep whatever was left of her respect for me, or my own self-respect, if I continued
playing servant. I had to start pulling my weight. I knew the basic gist of our plan, so it was time I began contributing ideas and making some opportunities for us. I’d just hit on a workable but risky idea when Geoffrey called me over. I hurried over, determined not to lose my nerve when the moment came.

  One of the maids handed Bishop a regular drink and left as I stepped up. The maids served Dhampirs and could walk right up to them, while we men had to wait to be called and could only serve Vampyrs. That night, Geoffrey was in a medium gray suit and white pin-striped shirt with a tie and pocket square in burgundy. It looked fantastic and I made a mental note for the next time I bought a suit.

  “Majesty?” I prompted, careful to wait for Valmont to stop complaining about his problems running a “Domain of constantly warring tribes of Negroes.”

  “Bring me a glass of mineral water, room temperature,” Geoffrey said.

  I nodded but before I could leave, Valmont said, “Wait. Geoff, for the sake of whatever dying embers of delight still live in that mechanical heart of yours, at least have a martini. Better still, have two. This I beg you, as your friend.”

  Geoffrey glanced at him and then turned back to me. “Mineral water, room temperature.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I hurried back to my cart while Valmont moaned dramatically. This was my chance, the opportunity was perfect.

  I got Geoffrey’s water and handed it to him but just as I opened my mouth, Valmont turned his attention to me. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, my little glutton. I simply haven’t decided whether to publicly sodomize you for everyone’s entertainment or have you fellate me. Perhaps I’ll do both.”

  “Oh, Jean,” Geoffrey said, pulling a small packet of white powder from his inner pocket. “It’s beneath your dignity as a Hegemon to hold petty grudges against servants. If he misbehaved in some way, just pass it along to Sebastian and have done with it.” He added the powder to his water and stirred it.