Age of Vampyre Series Box Set

by Sophia North

  "I will need to speak with Horatio, Vlad. Can he be admitted?" Simone asked, careful to keep her tone neutral. She'd never had the opportunity to tell him or Dante about how she'd sensed Horatio was lying to them at the theatre. And thank goodness she hadn't, otherwise there would be no chance in hell of him visiting. Too many potential enemies lurked in the shadows, so even a hint of disloyalty would have ruled out Horatio's presence.

  No, Simone decided to handle the matter herself. Once she'd got to the bottom of his strange subterfuge, she'd exact her own toll for her continued silence.

  The price? She'd have him run tests on her blood to determine what being a halfling meant biologically. At least it would be a start.

  "Horatio can come and go as you see fit," Vlad readily conceded. "Besides, even if I wanted to bar him I couldn't, he is human. Only the supernatural can be prevented from entering this house."

  Simone inclined her head in thanks. "I shall send Alfred with a note tomorrow requesting he come."

  Vlad shook his head. "Not possible. Alfred will be on guard duty and unable to leave."

  "Aren't werewolves considered supernatural?" Simone asked sharply.

  "Don't start, Simone. Dante would rip me apart if anything happened to you."

  Simone would not be deterred. "Penny and I will be fine. Alfred is of more value helping you sort out Fae relations...and what exactly are you planning to do to gain their support? You will need their assistance to free Dante from the Lang's Tower."

  Vlad shook his head and sighed. "What a fucking nightmare that's going to be. My brother will be repaying me for decades after I sort this shit out."

  Simone chewed her lip. Vlad's task sounded daunting. Decades of repayments? Fae assistance must cost a fortune, but Dante's release would be worth every penny. "I am rather well-off and happy to contribute," she offered.

  The roar of laughter from Vlad caught her off-guard. He found her offer of money hilarious? How rude.

  "Sweetheart, it's not money he'll be on the hook for. No, Dante will be repaying me for centuries to make up for the fucking headache the negotiations are going to be. The Fae have a way of twisting shit in their favour. It's fucking annoying, but not insurmountable."

  "Oh," Simone replied, her curiosity tweaked. "Perhaps I should scour the library for more information on their natures, seeing how I am now related to them."

  Vlad grimaced. He hadn't meant to be insulting. "Simone, I didn't mean to imply anything."

  But Simone wasn't offended. Far from it. She wanted to learn as much as should could about the Fae. Perhaps it might explain her 'gifts'.

  "Don't be silly. 'Knowledge is power' and I plan to acquire some."

  Relieved she hadn't taken his words to heart, Vlad returned with, "Ah, sadly Dante's library is woefully under-supplied. Vamps and the Fae have long been uneasy bedfellows and rather guarded about sharing too much information with one another. The most extensive collections on Fae lore are held in the Lowerton Grand Archives and with those Ophanim Order monk fucks." Seeing her crest-fallen expression, he quickly added. "But I reckon Dante might have a book or two. Ask Alfred. He'll have plenty of time to help you look for them."

  "He will not," Simone returned forcefully. "You don't have the numbers or resources to have him sit here wasting his time. And before you get indignant, hear me out. Set Alfred the task of finding my father. It takes something off your plate so you can focus on freeing Dante as fast as possible, and gives me a distraction as well. Perhaps I can help Alfred by telling him everything I know about the man. It's not much, but more than you have at the moment."

  Vlad went quiet. He was thinking it over. Alfred's skills would certainly come in handy right about now. "I want you to promise me neither you nor Penelope will leave this house," he said sternly. "I'm not joking. If I agree to your proposal I am trusting you not to fuck with me."

  Simone gulped. The Viking looked ferocious. It was a totally different side to him. And one she would not want to mess with.

  "I give you my word, Penny and I will not do anything to jeopardise your mission. There is nothing I want more than to have Dante back."

  Vlad relaxed. "Very well, I believe we are on the same page. But I will be instructing Alfred to check in here regularly should he be required to be out long investigating. Call me paranoid, but I have feeling the dragon upstairs has a rather unpredictable streak. Best not tempt fate."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  THE WARM NIGHT breeze caressed Dante's chiseled cheek, slowly stirring him back to life. He was outside. Freed from the enchanted tower. How the hell had that happened?

  This magical here one minute, somewhere completely fucking different the next, really needed to give it a rest. After the Lang episode, he required a break.

  Dreading whatever new adventure fate had thrown at him, Dante remained where he was - lying on rocky ground, awaiting his end by sunlight. Perhaps burning to a crisp was not such a horrible way to go. Beats being torn apart by a werewolf hunt.

  "So, here we are at last, Dante Polidori," proclaimed a voice Dante knew only too well. "It's been a long time coming. Too long."

  "Wilhalf!" he exclaimed, bolting upright. "Thank the Creator, I've finally found you. I was beginning to believe I never would."

  The old vamp shifted his short, slightly bulky body to lean more heavily on his cane. "You and me both, Dante Polidori. The three sisters certainly took their time in spinning your arrival here. But, no matter, the Fates work to their own schedule."

  Curious to discover where exactly 'here' might be, Dante scanned his surroundings, secretly hoping wherever he was, it was either in, or at least near, London. Miraculous teleportation, should at least have the decency to occasionally work in his favour.

  No such luck in that department. Wherever the fuck he was, it was nowhere near London. The cry of a seagull overhead and a strong smell of the sea made that crystal clear.

  Nestled on top of a cliff, the ruins of an old abbey rose majestically against a starry sky. Its great stone walls nothing but a skeletal outline of its former self.

  "Wilhalf, how am I here? No, scratch that - what the fuck is going on? Don't get me wrong, I am grateful to have finally found you but..."

  The old vampyre waved a dismissive hand and scoffed. "You may not be so thankful once you hear what I have to say. Come, follow me, dawn draws ever closer and we have much to discuss."

  Left to digest his ambiguous words, Dante watched Wilhalf shuffle towards an entrance of the old ruined Abbey. As he walked, hunched over his knobbled oak cane, Dante could almost feel the centuries emanating from him.

  Quick to do as he was bid, Dante flashed inside the crumbling relic before Wilhalf made it through the half tumbled down door. "What do we need to discuss?" he asked impatiently, eager to hear what the old vamp had to say.

  An intense light glowed in Wilhalf's eyes, reflecting a deep intelligence. "Dante, tell me what you know about current events in Lowerton."

  Dante, pleased by Wilhalf's direct approach, took a deep breath. "Anton has murdered Rolfe and Marcion - all with the sanction of Simmons - and laid claim to Lowerton," he gravely announced. "Also, they have amassed thousands of vampyres to fight on their side, all of them brainwashed to believe anything and everything Anton says. It would appear their intention is to reveal our existence to humans and try to take over the world."

  "Good, I can see you are well-versed in the basic facts," responded Wilhalf. "However, we are both aware you've merely scratched the surface. Tell me, young Polidori - what do you know?"

  Dante wasn't particularly enamored by Wilhalf's subtle challenge. "You mean about the Haan prophecy," he begrudgingly answered.

  "Ah! There it is, the doubt I sense in you revealed at last," Wilhalf answered with an eerie smile. "I wonder what else you hide? Perhaps, you should listen to your spirit’s cries."

  "No more riddles, Wilhalf, " Dante growled in frustration. "Our world is in peril - and you want to do, what? Chant incanta
tions and pray for a miracle? You sound almost as deranged as Anton."

  Wilhalf leaned more heavily on his stick and turned away from Dante.

  Immediately regretting his outburst, Dante gentled his tone. "Many feared you were killed during Anton's attack. How did you manage to escape?"

  "I left Lowerton long before Anton breached its defenses," Wilhalf muttered sullenly.

  "You knew in advance?"

  "I've known about Anton for many months. Simmons, as well."

  Stunned by what he viewed as a casual confession from Wilhalf, Dante's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why didn't you do something?" he demanded, trying his best not to sound hostile and utterly failing. "You could have informed other trusted members of Lowerton's elite - you know how deeply loyal my father was to you. His obsession with the prophecy was born from his desire to assist you."

  The anger built inside of him, coiling like liquid fire through his veins and infusing every part of him. "Your silence has cost the lives of many and my father's name is about to be added to your casualty list," he lashed out bitterly.

  Wilhalf was unapologetic. "And here's the infamous Polidori temper, rearing its ugly head," he replied, pointing an accusing finger in Dante's direction. "You must control your anger, Dante, lest it be your undoing."

  The air hung thick with tension until Wilhalf broke the impasse. "I'm sorry about your father. I wish I could have protected him. I warned him to be careful in his pursuit of proof about the prophecy - but he was always too headstrong and disregarded the danger."

  "And for that heinous crime, and in service to you - no less - he will be left to die at Anton's hand? Wilhalf..."

  "Anton knows not what he does," Wilhalf interrupted forcefully. "Haan has corrupted him by bestowing many of the dark arts upon his young fledgling."

  Dante laughed. Dark arts, indeed. "Anton is simply power hungry - a condition sourced not from words of magic, but rather, a vice many are drawn to seek," he replied sarcastically. "He's always been ambitious, and once an Elder, it all went to his head. And Simmons, the Iscariot of his following, has whispered in his ear the entire way. They will both pay for what they've done. I have no interest in anything beyond revenge."

  "Well then Doubting Thomas, if there is nothing to my words, then who's voice, pray tell, doth in your ear does speak?"

  If Dante had warm blood, it would have just run cold. Images came rushing back to him, the ones he kept locked away because they didn't fit into his strict definition of what rated as relevant. The voice from the blue fire in his vision, Anton's strange allusions, the hooded ally who appeared and disappeared from the vamp's side in Lowerton. These incidences couldn't be what Wilhalf alluded to, could they?

  And yet, Dante knew something lurked in the shadows inside of him, waiting for its opportunity to speak - but thus far he'd refused to listen.

  Wilhalf sensed an opening with the reluctant younger vamp. "I was there five hundred years ago, the one chosen to hold the truth for those who would follow. You have no idea what Haan is capable of - the powers he can command and bend to his will. And, whether you want to accept it or not, he has returned, only in a different form."

  "By what fucked up magic is a centuries dead vampyre able to return?"

  Wilhalf sighed. This one really was a hard case. "I'm sure you've heard stories about Haan conversing with the ancients? Well, they are true, I witnessed it myself."

  "No more stories Wilhalf," Dante argued, feeling their conversation was going nowhere other than in circles. "We must find shelter from the dawn and get a plan in place for when we awaken. I have been away from London for far too long, and need to return immediately after the sun sets tonight."

  The old vamp shook his head in disagreement. "We have time enough yet, soon enough the light will come. Dante, you must listen to what I have to say, I will not be here when you rise - and if you do not understand what you truly battle, Haan will win."

  If he harboured any hope of reaching a point, Dante decided it was in his best interest to let Wilhalf have his say. "Get on with it then."

  "As you're aware, at his execution Haan vowed to return if, after five hundred years, vampyres did not rule the earth. But what you, and the rest of the Vampyre world have no knowledge of, is there's more to the prophecy than has been shared. And I know what Haan wants next."

  "What?" Dante asked curtly, but deep down his instincts screamed he was not going to like Wilhalf’s answer.

  "You."

  "Me?" Dante said in surprise. "Wilhalf, this is crazy..."

  From inside his cloak Wilhalf pulled out an ancient looking parchment, yellowed by time. "Read this," he said. "The writing is still legible."

  Dante scanned the document, grimacing at certain passages. "Reads like the mad ramblings of a drunken poet," he commented after finishing it.

  "I admit, it is not easy to understand at first glance," Wilhalf said. "But read out loud the final three lines."

  Reluctantly, Dante did as he was asked.

  "Two Underlings I'll possess,

  Princes who will roam and rule,

  wherever my will directs."

  "Haan wrote this in his cell prior to his execution," Wilhalf explained. "His last request was for quill and paper. Only one other vampyre is aware of this document's existence. It is from Haan's papers, held in the depths of the Great Archives, hidden from all but those adept to find it.

  "But what does this have to do with me?" Dante pressed.

  "Anton is the first Underling he's possessed and you will be the second."

  "The second Underling?"

  "Yes, your addition to his side is now the centre of his attention - and it is only a matter of time before he makes his last move and you become his to command."

  "You make my involvement sound inevitable."

  "Inevitable, fated - there are so many ways to describe it. All you need to know is how to fight him. He feeds on weakness. Haan preyed on Anton's weakness for power. It is how he seduced him. With you..."

  "Yes, and with me," Dante prompted irritably.

  "He targets your anger. This is your weakness, Dante."

  Dante turned away but Wilhalf wouldn't be silenced. "As every setback you suffer, every loss experienced - the angrier he envisages you becoming," the old vampyre continued, "Zara's death, your father's kidnapping, your ongoing frustration with the Elders...Haan's orchestrated it all."

  "Then he's a fool, for my anger will only be directed at him. And his fucked up little pet project, Anton," Dante vowed vehemently.

  Wilhalf sighed. "Haan is no fool. He will do anything to ultimately turn your anger against everything you once believed. You must not allow this to happen."

  "Then what can I do to stop him? If my submission is being led by fate's will and not my own, we're fucked."

  "Well as luck would have it, Fortuna is a fickle lass with a tendency to switch sides, dependent on what's being offered to balance the scales."

  Dante's head was starting to pound. "Speak plainly, Wilhalf. Look, the sky brightens - dawn cannot be far off."

  "One's Will cannot be taken, it must be given. This loophole is your only salvation."

  Finally, something Dante could work with. "So it all boils down to me saying 'No'. Jesus, the way you were going on and on about it, I thought it'd be hard," Dante boasted.

  Wilhalf chuckled. "Youth! Oh to be naive again. How I miss the simplicity."

  Dante didn't appreciate his misplaced patriarchal tone. "Very well, wise one. Tell me where I am wrong?" he said through gritted teeth.

  Wilhalf took his time answering to teach the young pup a lesson about respecting his elders. Dante Polidori's piss and vinegar attitude would play right into Haan's plans for him if he didn't learn to control his emotions.

  "Haan's corruption of you will not be straightforward. He will twist whatever he needs in order to make you believe your resistance is strong, that you are in control. When in truth you will have been brought another step closer t
o becoming his Underling."

  "Right. So, if he is able to manipulate me into believing I am resisting him, how exactly will this 'loophole' regarding my Will work? Sounds like I won't have a fucking clue what is true or not." Dante ran a hand through his hair, exasperated by the impossibility of it all.

  Wilhalf looked to the skyline, as if searching for the answer there. And he was, in a sense, for he was watching the horizon with great intensity. Then it happened. The flicker of light he had been waiting for came into view as the morning star Venus rose.

  Smiling in greeting, Wilhalf turned back towards Dante. It wouldn't be long now. Time to set the stage properly. "There is only one way to ensure truth over illusion. You must kill Haan."

  Dante was in full agreement. "I like where you are going with this, but how?"

  "Although Haan has returned, he is but spirit still and can only become a physical entity by feeding off the negative emotions of vampyres. Anton is his main source of energy and if he seduces you, then he will manage to come through to the physical realm. He will be vampyre again, but more powerful than ever. He must die before this happens."

  "So, I am suppose to either kill him in spirit form, or become his Underling and hope someone else does the deed for me when he returns physically? Forgive me, but neither options seem particularly plausible," Dante declared emphatically.

  "Ah, there it is again, youthful simplicity. You do amuse me, Young Polidori,

  Wilhalf chortled. "There is a third option but it requires a show of strength on your part. Haan will gain energy from your seduction, thus making him vulnerable as his spirit resurrects into the physical. For in that transformation, he will be both, and thus susceptible to destruction. But! If you lose your temper and kill Anton then Haan will turn back into spirit and become invisible - not destroyed. You must kill Haan first, only then will his cursed prophecy be foiled."

  "Okay - but how? Strikes me this is the type of fucker who won't be eradicated easily."