by Sophia North
No, his issue laid elsewhere. And it involved psychic visions and magical powers.
For the past hour she would constantly replay his final words to her. It was like he'd believed her mind could be controlled by him, and if she was being honest, there was a part of her that believed he very well might have been in control of her.
She could still not understand why she'd gone along with his story for as long as she had...and to make matters worse, she'd allowed him to kiss her.
What the hell had she been thinking?
Answer: she hadn't be thinking at all. She'd been feeling. And what she felt from the handsome Dante Polidori had been highly erotic...and incredibly tempting.
Her cheeks grew warm at the memory of his lips on hers.
But in the hard light of day, Simone felt a tinge of shame over her behaviour.
The man was obviously in need of some serious help and she'd not offered him any. That he'd left having not agreed to seek further assistance ate away at her. She needed to try and make amends. Tonight's topic was the bait she would use to try and lure him back. She hoped.
Glancing at her watch, she noted the time.
In a couple of hours she was due to be on air again and having decided to change the topic of the night's show from the perils of online dating to a discussion on loss, she needed to make sure Jack, her laidback Canadian producer, was aware of the change. He always loved it when she became unpredictable.
Simone the Unpredictable. Who knew...not many. Except for Penny. They were best mates for a reason. And Simone did have her moments...albeit they were rare.
Rising from the lounger, she stretched as the sun slipped from the horizon. Bright streaks of red merged with a deepening purple. Tomorrow promised to be another beautiful day. But for Simone the night held more adventure.
And for the first time in a long while, something stirred within her...she felt alive once more.
Chapter Seven
DANTE DELIBERATELY MOVED inside Vlad's patch within minutes of the sun setting. He'd decided it was time to visit Lowerton and speak to the Council of Elders, despite his reservations.
The council seemed so incompetent these days and with his father being more or less branded a traitor for his belief in the Haan prophecy, the prospect of sharing his vision with his father's accusers wasn't exactly appealing - or wise. But what could he do? To ignore his vision might prove to have worse consequences. And that was not a chance he was willing to take.
Aware any hope of success with his mission required back-up, Dante decided to bring Vlad along. There was nothing like having a slick operator to help quell any potential outbursts his vision may cause.
It didn't take Vlad long to discover him sitting on a bench along Victoria Embankment. Quietly whistling to himself while watching the lights of the pleasure boats pass along the Thames, Vlad sauntered over to where Dante sat.
"Took your time," said Dante wryly, after Vlad joined him. "Your powers must be slipping. I've been on your patch for hours."
"You've been on my patch for no more than ten minutes," smiled Vlad, stretching out his legs, the black leather of his trousers creaking with each movement. "And I sense you have something on your mind, which tends to worry me."
"I need you to do me a favour."
"What's in it for me? Money?" Vlad jested.
"You're already as rich as Croesus. No, sadly my request is just another headache... probably."
Vlad had known Dante all his immortal life. They were both "Final Brood" vampyres, which meant their bond of brotherhood was even closer than usual for their kind. Being Watchers together only went to further strengthen it.
"You know you can ask me anything, brother," Vlad said openly.
"I'm going to Lowerton, to see the Council. I need you to come and....you know..." Dante waved a hand in the air and Vlad laughed.
"You want me to make sure you remain on your best behaviour," he chuckled.
"Whatever," grumbled Dante.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, brother. You can always count on my devastating charm bailing you out. Lest we forget you have issues at times conducting civilised discourse with the Establishment.”
Dante snorted derisively, "Where you get the notion the Council is 'civilised' is beyond me. I'd be hard pressed to rank them as 'reasonable'."
Harsh words from someone raised to uphold the integrity of the Council to ensure the vampyre world remained protected from outside threats. Hell, until his father's disappearance and Zara's murder, they'd both aspired to become Elders.
Yet, when Dante was offered his father's place on Council, Vlad knew he'd refuse it. Dante would not accept his father's death until he actually saw the body, nor his being a traitor, until he heard his father confess it.
"You know, since Anton's disappearing act there are only three Elders left," Vlad commented, unsure if Dante was up-to-date with the state of politics. He usually refused to talk about Council matters anytime Vlad tried to bring them up. "I can't believe they still haven't got round to replacing Elder Abelard, it's been nearly six months since his death."
"It's a wonder anything ever gets done," grumbled Dante.
"I don't trust Third Elder Simmons. Don't get me wrong, he is one creepy fuck, but still there's something about him..."
"My father didn't trust him, either," Dante remarked, "not that he ever openly admitted it but I could tell."
"Things are getting bad, aren't they?"
"Bad enough for me to call a Meet," Dante replied.
"Shite, that bad?" Vlad moaned.
Dante nodded grimly.
One of the greatest powers a Watcher possessed was the ability to call an emergency 'Meet'. Although it was very rare for a Watcher to do so, Dante no longer had a choice. The messages from his vision needed to be acted upon.
"Do you think the Council will respond? I mean, what do we have to share other than another dead body?" asked Vlad.
"I've had a vision."
Vlad sat forward, surprised by the news. He knew Zara's death meant Dante had been unable to achieve them. "How did you do it?"
"I found someone to help me."
"Like Zara?"
"Yes," Dante replied before reconsidering his answer. "No, not like Zara," he corrected gruffly. "I've just managed to find someone. God, why does everything turn into the Spanish Inquisition with you?"
"Because no one expects it," Vlad teased in his usual Pythonesque way.
Dante was not amused.
"Easy, brother. Surely you can forgive me for being curious," Vlad defended. "Why, just last week you were adamantly against ever trying to connect with that side of yourself again." Peering more closely at his friend, Vlad fished for further information. "Why are you being so secretive?"
"Secretive?"
"Yes Polly, secretive. If you don't want to reveal who helped you achieve the vision - that's fine by me. I’m more interested in knowing what you managed to see."
"I was just about to tell you that."
"Oh? Well - then please. Go on." Vlad sat back, casting a long arm over the back of the bench and beckoned at Dante to elaborate further.
"I saw Anton. He wanted me to join him. I think he believes in the prophecy."
Vlad drew in a sharp breath. The Haan prophecy was a sensitive subject. To take a position on its validity was splitting the Vampyre world in two - with each camp becoming more and more intransigent in their views. Odds at the Bookies were currently leaning heavily in the 'hell no' direction, but Vlad had his doubts.
"Sounds about right," Vlad replied neutrally, resisting an urge to press his friend for more. He'd been keeping certain information about Anton from Dante, concerned it might trigger a violent reaction if told.
Anton, like them, was also one of the Final Brood - the last male vampyres to ascend after the ban on breeding stopped any further baby vamps from being born. And the three of them were once inseparable, their lives entwined for centuries. They joined The Watcher r
anks together, fulfilled their century of duty in a whirlwind of travel and adventure, and once freed from their obligation had proceeded to build a new direction together - until Dante met Zara.
Their bond of brotherhood changed once Zara came onto the scene. Anton became increasingly antagonistic towards her presence in their lives and Dante did not take kindly to it. Everything came to a head over Zara's murder and Dante's decision to claim the privilege primitivus sangial, First Blood, in order to become a Watcher again.
There were very strict rules about being a Watcher. It required a strength of character not found in many. A fledgling Watcher spent decades preparing for duty, its rigorous testing across a spectrum of skills slowly stripping away any vestige of humanity until a Watcher was more or less a Rogue with strict principles.
Unsurprisingly, history demonstrated such a sacrifice came with consequences. Mainly, if left unchecked, a Watcher could become the very thing they hunted. Hence, the limit on a century of service only.
Dante's act of turning down his father's seat on the Council in order to claim First Blood, with Vlad following suit out of solidarity, had infuriated Anton. He'd railed at their short-sightedness. It meant they could never take a role in governing the vampyre world.
They would be considered too dangerous once their next century of duty was completed and would, in all likelihood, end up executed as Rippers. The seductive power of being a Watcher was hard enough to resist after one century, but after two most vampyres ended up lost to civilised society forever.
"What do you think is going on with Anton?" Vlad asked. "There are all these mad rumours about him."
"I'm not sure. But I sense there is more to them than meets the eye," Dante carefully replied.
"Some say he's building an army."
"What evidence do they have?"
"None really. And that's the problem – there are too many rumours and not enough facts," sighed Vlad. "And I have to say this lack of clarification is causing many more to speculate on whether the prophecy may actually be true."
Vlad eyed his friend, trying to gauge his reaction to the news of the growing discontentment in their world and the potential chaos his vision could unleash. But Dante sat silently, appearing completely unaffected by what he was being told.
"There have been communications from other Councils demanding to know what the fuck is going on," Vlad continued. "It seems the increase in Rogue activity is a global trend - except in Yankeeland, where they continue to be their usual pain in the collective ass selves. They run wild regardless of whether it is down to prophetic revelations or their own mistaken sense of supremacy."
Dante laughed. He'd always had a soft spot for their American cousins. They could outrage just as easily as they could lead. But more than that, they were able to blend the old ways with the new in order to get shit done. A trait Lowerton could learn from, if their equally stuck-up, superior ways allowed them.
With a quick glance to the heavens, Dante rose. "Then I reckon we best get on with the business at hand. Lord knows the last thing we need is another American crisis of confidence washing up on our shores. The last time took nigh on a century to clean up. And nobody needs their reactionary ways added to the current mix."
Chapter Eight
FROM OUTSIDE THE main entrance to Lowerton looked like nothing more than a huge block of slightly dated flats. Owned by vampyres for centuries, the land had been through many transformations in order to protect its true identity from the human world.
At one time, it housed a simple riverside farm, run for generations by the same family who never knew their true masters. Then the Romans came, followed by the Norse, the Normans - and so it goes.
Yet each invasion, assimilation, alliance or betrayal left a mark on Lowerton's evolution. Until, as the once backward island where it stood, the vampyre capital grew into the greatest Empire the earth had ever known.
"Don't come here often these days, eh?" Vlad ventured cautiously, sensing his friend's apprehension.
He and Dante had been standing in the alleyway across from Lowerton's entrance for the best part of half an hour with nary a word exchanged. Vlad knew his friend wasn't telling him everything, and he did not want to push, but there was only so much a vamp could take of his friend's solemn moods.
"It has been several months since I last visited my quarters. I prefer my house."
"You sure you still wanna do this?" Vlad asked.
The real question in Dante's mind was, would Vlad?
On the walk over, Dante debated what exactly he should reveal to the Elders and came to the conclusion, barring Simone's existence, he needed to tell them everything.
"It isn't an issue of 'want', I must. You, on the other hand, are not obliged to join me on this fool's errand. It could mean your downfall and I'm not sure I could bear being the cause. I have taken too much from you already."
"Brother, we've always stood together. We will always stand together," Vlad replied earnestly. "And for the record, I don't feel obliged, so stop talking shite. We both know you've not told me everything and I am fine with it. You will, when ready."
"Then let's do this," Dante stated, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against. As he and Vlad approached the entrance, two guards emerged from the shadows to greet them.
"Stop and state your business," the female of the two demanded.
Dressed in black leather from head to toe, the woman's short dark hair was slicked back, her ice grey eyes heavily rimmed with black eye liner. Everything about her screamed new recruit and Dante had little patience for newbies. Lowerton security were trained to recognize every Watcher and by doing so, never question their access.
"Mind your tone, Keeper and stand down. My business is none of yours," he challenged menacingly.
A defiant glint flashed through her black rimmed eyes before she returned fire. "Rank and purpose," she ordered insolently.
Dante pinned her against the door in reply.
"Easy brother," Vlad intervened, holding the impertinent recruit's partner aloft by the throat after he attempted to come to her rescue. "I think this one might know me."
"Watcher Barath?" the guard rasped in horrified recognition.
"Well done ... Peterson, isn't it?" Vlad returned.
The vampyre nodded, his eyes wide with fear. Disrespecting a Watcher came with serious consequences.
"See, mate. All is well, this one knows his place. You can forgive the young one, can't you?" Vlad cajoled, attempting to diffuse the situation. "Lest you forget, I am here to try and prevent you from creating a scene. Try not to fall at the first hurdle."
Dante released his grip, allowing the young vampyress to collapse, unconscious, at his feet.
Vlad lowered Peterson to the ground as well. Once released, the guard dropped to his knees, cowering in fear.
"A thousand pardons, Dominus vigil," he groveled, using the Watcher's formal Latin title in a show of absolute deference. "Keeper Smith is new, I never should have agreed to let her stand first."
Vlad glanced at the unconscious female vampyre who'd caused all the fuss. If not for going through an unfortunate Goth phase, she was rather attractive, which meant the reason for Peterson's poor judgment didn't require much imagination to work out.
"Perhaps you will think twice before shagging your next apprentice, Peterson," he advised. "Now, remove her and return to your post. When she wakes, you will inform Smith of her demotion and bring her to the tower for confinement."
Peterson nearly tripped over in his haste to do as commanded.
Vlad opened the door and gestured to his friend, "Shall we?"
TO ENTER LOWERTON is to enter a place of myth.
Underneath the decoy block of flats, a huge complex of tunnels housed Central Operations of the vampyre empire. Living quarters, government facilities, ceremonial spaces, as well as those of leisure, such as theatres, fine blood dining and libraries.
The London Square Mile is perhaps one of th
e closest human equivalents to it, the others being Vatican City and Washington D.C..
In the middle of the complex, built from a long buried ancient Roman coliseum, was the Council Chamber. Here the Council of Elders convened once a week to be updated on progress reports from various committees and make decisions over pressing issues.
Inside the sloping circumference of the gallery was space for over two thousand vampyres. And any 'registered' vampyre - as in those initiated to serve Lowerton - could attend a council meeting and stand in the Gallery.
The inner circle of the chamber was covered by a luxurious red carpet with several benches and tables dotted about for various clerks and secretaries. An impressively raised pulpit, with a large stone throne dominating the center, was flanked by elegant, curved wooden tables on either side. This was where the council would sit when in session.
Though most vampyres were independently wealthy, any registered vampyre had a right to his or her own living quarters inside Lowerton and the protection it provided. This privilege was a guarantee of the Council but in return a vampyre would have to pledge their loyalty and serve the Council whenever asked. The greater the service, the greater a vampyre's standing became inside Lowerton.
However, there were many who had no interest in living this way and forged their own paths. The Council was not permitted to interfere with a vampyre's life choice unless he or she hunted humans for their blood. The punishment for doing so was summary execution. Harsh but required. Live human blood was dangerous and a vampyre on it could not be trusted.
"This is supposed to be an emergency Meet!" Dante growled at Vlad, pacing behind the podium. "What the hell are they doing?"