by Peter Dawes
As such, I pulled out my sunglasses, affixing them to my face now that the spell had been broken. With that, I retreated to the guest room, mercifully alone.
After locking the door, I sloughed off my suit jacket, draping it across the back of a chair before sitting on the edge of my bed. Kicking off my shoes, I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, still clothed otherwise, but not inclined to take my chances again. I hardly noticed when I began to doze, but daytime came and passed in a heartbeat, bringing with it another evening. I greeted the night with a shower and a change of clothing, and lingered in the room until Emil came with orders for me to meet Grigore topside.
The coven master met me in the club, a look of relief on his face when he saw my weapons packed away and my eyes concealed. I adjusted my bag’s shoulder strap and exchanged a nod with him. “Ioan should have the car waiting for us out front,” he said. “Are you ready.”
Nodding, I allowed a subtle smirk to trace across my lips. “As much as one can be for such things,” I said.
“Then you aren’t nearly ready enough.” He smiled paternally and led the way through the fledgling crowd which had already assembled. The music started to play and the atmosphere gained life once more, that electricity in the air which had been present as I marched to my destination in India. Whatever awaited, I remained convinced I could meet it and surmount it, and had yet to be proven otherwise.
With that, Grigore and I headed to the location of the next scroll.
Chapter Eighteen
The silence in the car bore such tension to it, I wondered if my blades were sharp enough to rend it. As we pulled out from the nightclub, I lifted my bag onto my lap, but neither this, nor pulling a pair of black, leather gloves out, garnered any reaction from the vampire elder seated across from me. Ioan failed to speak as well, adding to the pervasiveness of the quiet until I could bear no more of it. The city faded into a rural countryside as I removed my sunglasses, drawing breath to say, “My maker never spoke of her time here. Neither she, nor my brother, volunteered much about their years before she founded the coven.”
Grigore smirked, his eyes still focused on the passing landscape. “Perhaps their years before you came along were private,” he said. “The older we get, the more secrets we keep, it seems.”
Pocketing the glasses, I perked an eyebrow. “You seem to suggest she had been a different person once upon a time.”
“We all were different people once upon a time, child. These years erode you down to your barest essence and expose who you are beneath the masks and lies.” As he exhaled a deep breath, the grin faded. The already-distant look in his eyes turned all the more so, something I found fascinating to witness while I slid the gloves over my hands. Grigore lingered in his thoughts for an additional minute before glancing at me. “Would you care to hear a few stories, then?”
I smiled amiably. “I can think of no better way to pass the time.”
“Neither can I. And we still have a ways to go.” He settled more in his seat, hands folding on his lap as the upward curl of his lips returned. “The eighteenth century,” he began. “Nearing the turn of the nineteenth. This is when I first met Sabrina Ravensdale. You talk about fate and your destiny, child, when you fail to realize how close you came to never realizing it.”
Brow furrowed, I nodded at him to continue. A deep breath preceded the next few lines, Grigore losing himself to the retelling and me listening curiously, marveling over the description of a woman who sounded so similar and yet, so very different. He spoke of his child coming upon her tied up to a tree, waiting for dawn to break through the horizon to burn her to cinders, a young vampiress who had been cast out by her maker. “The sins of the father often become the sins of the child,” he said, nodding in recognition of what I had told him about my siring.
Nodding in response, I allowed him to continue.
The tale wove around to the affair Sabrina shared with his child and ended with his eventual demise. “Love is blind,” Grigore said ruefully, “and my immortal son thought he might erase her pain by ending her maker’s life.” The look in his eyes told a longer story than his words would even permit. “I doubt either of them considered two lives might be claimed by such a foolish action. She had been released from his shadow, but lost her lover in the process.” A pensive silence filled the gaps between his comments. He glanced away and made eye contact with me again after several beats. “The next time I saw her, she had your brother with her.”
“I suddenly understand why she might not have spoken of this before,” I said, allowing the conversation to dwindle and not apt to pick up the pieces again. Time and distance passed in silence, until we exited the highway and merged onto a more nondescript country lane. The terrain turned more winding, the turns leading to one twist or another. I became more aware of the landscape in time for us to slow, the wheels rolling atop dirt and grit until the road stopped several yards in front of us.
Ioan shifted into park and I perked an eyebrow. “There does not seem to be anything here but wilderness,” I said.
“Beware the forests in this part of the world, young one,” Grigore said, opening the door. “We aren’t the only predators out there.”
My brow remained arched, eyes set on the coven master as he slid out from the back and lingered near the trunk of the car. I shifted over until I could exit the vehicle as well, adjusting my shoulder strap while rising to a stand. Grigore stood silent guard while I placed the bag on the trunk and pulled out my sword. Leaving my remaining knives and possessions within, I tossed it onto the back seat and shut the door, stealing a glance at my guide as he pointed at the edge of the forest. “You asked to see it, so I’m bringing you to it. I would hurry if I was you, there isn’t much darkness left and we need to get back to town before sunrise.”
“Duly noted.” Fastening the sword to my hip, I secured it into place and pivoted, as if to walk away.
“That is, if you make it out alive.”
My head tilted enough to regard Grigore from my periphery, footsteps ceasing. “You doubt me that much?” I asked.
His expression remained stoic. “Have you given me much reason to have faith?”
“You would bring me to my death, then, Master Grigore?”
“Every man chooses his destiny. If you’re sure this is yours, who am I to argue?” He flashed a half-smile, cryptic in nature and leaving me to question what his actions were meant to convey. I lingered only an additional moment before making my way into the dense forest ahead.
Within minutes, Grigore and the car were far behind me, waiting by the road as I waded further into a patch of coniferous trees. Nothing served as a beacon to me but the stars, and for the lack of a better direction, I crossed a stream and followed my instincts northward for at least a half mile, toward what appeared to be a large clearing. My gut reactions prompted as though beckoning me, my wits sensing the same hum in the air which had been present when I approached the ruins in India. As I came upon the beginnings of a crumbling wall, the feeling only escalated. I paused by the edge of the woods.
An imposing estate towered over me, at least three stories high and fashioned from stone and mortar, with a slate roof bearing the wear of time and defiantly standing against it. A path running parallel to me lead through a vine-twisted archway with a gate that had been knocked haphazard and currently hung limp. Glancing at the crumbling wall, I considered vaulting it, but feared whatever might be lying in wait on the other side.
“The benefit of age, Master Grigore,” I murmured under my breath as I turned to intersect the path. “You knew precisely where to bring me.” My feet found a quiet, cautious rhythm, a rush of nervousness passing through me and making the hair on the back of my neck stand aloft.
Furrowing my brow at the odd confluence of what seemed to be both light and dark magic, I readied myself and waded into battle.
It did not take long for the first wave of antagonists to find their way to me once I entered the bu
ilding. While my initial kills were born of reflex and not finesse, I shook off the last bit of uncertainty born from the last two nights and settled into my own. My actions became a dance of bloodshed, the motion of man and sword working in a macabre form of synergy aided only by an occasional burst of telekinesis. I pulled vampires over railings, cut my way through those in the way, and did not press forward until I left nothing but ash in my wake.
When I found a jewel-encrusted box hidden in a cellar, I grinned, victorious, and departed from the estate.
As I emerged from the estate, however, I could not shake off the feeling that I had left a puzzle of importance unsolved behind me. “That was almost too simple,” I quipped, sliding my sword back into its sheath and closing my coat around it. Clutching the scroll’s container against my chest, I crossed the expanse between the front doors and the bent gate. A gust of wind blew past, the chill hitting down to the marrow and causing enough unease for me to pause and turn to face the estate once more. I perked an eyebrow, regarding the building’s exterior while attempting to think. I had left nothing alive within those walls.
So why did it feel as though something had been left unfinished?
Drawing a deep breath inward, I released it slowly and finally left the grounds. Another gust of wind stopped me only a few yards into the forest, however. It bore a whisper and this time, I knew well the source of the shiver running up my spine. The corner of my mouth curled upward while I reached for my sword again, sliding it quietly from its sheath. Keeping one hand clenched around its hilt, I held tight to the box with the other and studied the lofty pine trees bearing silent witness to the events playing out. Shadows interplayed with swaths of moonlight. As my gaze shifted from one shadow to the next, I paced further into the woods. The whisper gained in volume the closer I got to its source.
“And the mighty will fall at the feet of the condemned.”
I stopped, turning my head in the direction of the sound. Sparks of energy danced across my fingertips, but I kept the glow at bay, not seeing the dark magician but aware of their presence just the same. My body tensed as I waited for them to show their hand in some manner. “I have not known one of you to be shy yet,” I said, calling into the night, my stomach twisting when I still saw no sign of my antagonist. “Are you the other who has been in search of the scrolls?”
A male voice laughed, the sound bearing an echo which made its origin difficult to pinpoint. “If you suspect me, then I fear you aren’t as clever as they’ve made you out to be,” he said. “I’m nobody of any consequence.”
“And yet, here you are. I should think that makes you of great consequence.” The snap of a twig off to my left caused my attention to shift in that direction, a swath of profanity muttered when a rabbit bounded out from the brush and disappeared beneath one of the trees. I watched it run forward, but cut abruptly to the left and sprint off in the other direction. The change of course struck me as odd, prompting me to take a few cautious steps forward. I paused by a tree and attempted to get my bearings. Another solid gust of wind blew through the forest. At first it knocked my footing off, but as I adjusted my stance, I spied something approaching and spun around to face it.
Ioan – the driver and Grigore’s child – stiffened while the person standing behind him had him gripped at the neck. The hand itself did not appear to have a tight hold, but as the source of the dark magic became evident, I pieced together what might be transpiring. “I would unhand him if I was you,” I said. My gaze shifted around swiftly, searching for some sign of the coven master and flicking back to Ioan as I caught movement. The driver shook his head slightly, erasing all language barriers. ‘Do not say anything,’ he pled with his eyes.
I held back the impetus to nod and directed my attention to the dark magician as he stepped out from behind his living shield. A brown suit hung from his frame, the dark-haired man staring at me with eyes the same color as his clothes and a twisted grin on his face. “It looks like we’re at a stalemate,” he said, giving me the chance to register his accent for the first time. It bore the same earmarks as the Romanian vampires, revealing him to at least be a long-term resident if not a native. His smile flashed fangs at me, his expression turning a sickening form of seductive. “If you want me to unhand him, you’ll have to kill me.”
“Rest assured, your demise awaits you.” I glanced quickly at Ioan, giving him one last note of appraisal. The amount of apprehension he wore provided an odd contrast against such a tall, strong-looking man, but I could not blame him from being so nervous. Resolving myself to keep my focus on the man holding him hostage, I glanced back at his captor. “What is your game? I am not giving you this.” Shifting my hold on the box, I nodded toward it.
“Unfair, really, to call it a game when the other person doesn’t know how to play.” He laughed. “Is this a game to you? Is your witch a toy?”
The evocation of Monica caused a surge of rage to quicken within me before I could hold it back. A deep breath – brought in and expelled out – stilled the sudden flutter of sentiment. “Where is my watcher?”
“Oh, I’ve seen her. She should be mostly alright. For now.” A short burst of laughter followed his words, provoking me to narrow my eyes at him and advance a step forward. He took a step back with Ioan in response, pausing to tut. “Ce puii me,” he said. “Watch your temper seer. You’ll lose your concentration.” While the smile had faltered at my advance, it sprang back to life in all its mocking glory. “The others have said you don’t have much of a sense of humor.”
“Would you care to see how short on patience I am?” I asked.
“Lose your patience if you’d like. It hurts you more than it hurts me. You see, I know the end to all of this. You’re weak and easily manipulated. We’ve seen what you’re willing to do to get what you want and it has you exposed.”
“You believe that to your folly.”
“You deny it to yours.” While his expression relaxed, it failed to sober. One eyebrow arched, his eyes glinting with sadism. “You believe when you find her, you’ll have won. Believe me when I say, it will be far from over, seer.”
“So you think.” Whether the move could have considered foolish, I set the scroll’s receptacle down and slipped my sword back into its sheath. The focus of a vampire hunter surged back into life, not needing weapons and apt to answer tricks with firepower. Sparks of energy danced across my fingers as I advanced another pace. “Now, tell me where my watcher is being kept and I promise you a swift death.”
“And injure your friend here?” He brushed a finger across Ioan’s cheek, causing the other vampire to tense. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?” He tsked at me as I approached further. “So blind. Even blinder if you think I can be intimidated. It’s so much more fun watching you dance.”
“I dance for nobody.”
A female voice interrupted, her voice cheerful, tone light and casual, but bearing ominous undertones. “What a shame,” she said. “We’d reached the point where I wanted to ask if I could cut in.”
The winds kicked up again, this time with the force of a hurricane. I staggered to keep my footing while the man in front of me kept perfectly still. Ioan’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting to something behind me, but I had no opportunity to turn and face it. Another gust lifted me up and sent me flying into an adjacent tree with such force, the world turned black for a few seconds before flickering back into life. I felt myself being pulled up to a stand, a strong force pressing me against the trunk and threatening to crush me. Gasping, I opened my eyes to regard a figure strolling up to me.
“I apologize if you were getting bored with the underlings,” she said, “But they serve their purpose.” The woman paced around me, a hazy vision of pale at first, until the picture sharpened again. She glided around me with sandaled feet, a long skirt breezing against her ankles with a russet tunic covering the rest of a thin frame. Short blonde hair framed a youthful face, gunmetal eyes bearing both sobriety and delight. A large, ruby red gem
stone hung from her neck, reflecting the scant amount of light filtering in through the trees.
“There’s my boy,” she said. “The killer of killers. My name is Valeria and I am pleased to meet you.”
When she spoke again, her words chilled me to the marrow. “Shall we begin, child?”
If I had been in any state to admire Valeria, I might have appreciated her aesthetic beauty, but precious little else. She stood taller than both Monica and Sabrina and bore an air to her that commanded attention, bordering on chilling. She touched my chin and as I was forced to stare into her eyes, I felt a terror unlike any I had ever experienced before. “We’re going to become very good friends,” she said, in a matter-of-fact manner with an accent of undistinguishable origin. She laughed, and in her laughter, I heard a dare for me to free myself.
My breath escaped my lips, but I failed to produce a response. The longer she held onto me, the more I found myself musing on all the dark incantations that had overpowered me in the past. I had no doubt she bore the ability to puppeteer whomever she pleased merely by the power she exuded.
The smile which danced across her lips suggested she knew she had rendered me mute. “We’ve been watching you longer than you’ve even known what you are.” I saw the slightest hint of her fangs peeking out. “We’ve gotten you to this point, vampire called Flynn. Now, all you have to do is fulfill your purpose.”
Abruptly, she pushed away from me, turning her back and giving me a chance to regain some of my bearings. I blinked a few times in the effort to clear my thoughts, but as I squirmed, I discovered myself just as bound by the power of their spell as Ioan. The realization that Grigore’s child remained a part of this prompted my gaze to him, seeing him still frozen in place and watching the events play out with more horror in his eyes this time. Tempted to offer him a telepathic word of encouragement, I could find neither the language nor the confidence to do so. Valeria spared me from floundering for too long.