by John Conroe
Several heads nodded. Elisabeta spoke up. “Mixed species weres right? Didn’t they almost expose their natures to the humans?”
“They did expose their existence to humans – challenged them in fact. This – “ he visibly struggled for a word, “- abomination made a deal with the humans and wiped them out – by himself!”
“Is that true?” Lison asked.
“Which part?” I responded.
“All of it,” she snapped.
“Yes, I hunted Loki Spawn, but I had help. Yes, the US government is fully aware of both weres and vampires.”
Gault and Lison both spoke at once. “You exposed us to the United States government?” came out of Lison’s mouth as Gault asked “How many Loki did you kill directly?”
I decided the Prolocutor’s answer should come first, plus I thought Lison was really kind of a bitch.
“I’m not sure of the total, but maybe between four and five hundred or so. Possibly more,” I said to Gault, then turned to Lison. “The federal government has been aware of Darkkin and weres for decades. They have special agencies assigned to monitor both species. Are you telling me that the governments in Europe have no idea of your existence?”
“Don’t be asinine. Of course they know, but in Europe we have much better control of the central governments then here on the frontier,” Lison answered.
Frontier? Really?
Gault looked at her in brief annoyance then turned back to me.
“These weres you killed…what manner of weapon did you use? Silver nitrate bombs, silver bullets?”
I shifted stance, not quite comfortable with how I would have to answer.
“I did shoot some. Most killed in close quarters combat.”
That didn’t sound so bad, right?
“Close quarters? Like with a sword?” he persisted.
“Yeah, close enough to use a sword,” I answered.
Berit spoke up. “Did you use a sword or ax?”
“Er…no,” I answered.
“What did you use?” Gault asked.
“Mostly my hands and feet.”
“You killed five hundred weres with your hands and feet?” he asked, incredulous.
“Well I did shoot a few,” I answered, sounding a little lame.
There was silence for a moment then a new voice spoke up.
“This is fascinating and all, but haven’t we strayed rather far from the question of Fedor’s death?” Chilka asked.
“Actually not,” Mausya said. Part of me noticed how closely the others listened whenever she talked.
“Twenty-five years ago a miracle happened – a vampire was born. The only one of our kind to actually be born as a full vampire. It was right out of prophecy. It was…disturbing. Something new after millennia of mostly stable Darkkin history. Many saw her as a sign of redemption, others as a sign of apocalypse. As a race we have all followed her growth to adult hood, marveled or trembled at how advanced she became in a few short years. Her emotional response to the death of her blood nurse was disappointing, but then she snapped out of it and is again growing by leaps and bounds. And this…man…is at the center of her renewal. She has claimed him as her Chosen, despite his not being a true Darkkin. Our most powerful Elder died in his presence, crushed to complete and true death like – how did you say it? Oh yeah, a tube of toothpaste. Droll. Now, little more than two years later, the creature who appeared in our midst has become formidable enough to kill weres with his bare hands. Tell me, honorable Hosokawa-san, have you ever killed a were with bare hands?”
Hosokawa stilled for a moment, then answered. “Hai. Twice.”
“How many did you kill?” Mausya asked.
“One each time.”
“Was it difficult?” Mausya continued.
“I would not recommend it,” the Japanese champion admitted.
“Mr. Gordon, how many weres have you killed with your hands at one time?” she asked me.
“Umm, not sure of the most,” I answered awkwardly.
“What’s the term? Ah, yes, just give us a park number,” she encouraged.
“Ah, that’s ‘ballpark’ I think you mean,” I corrected. She just nodded and made a ‘get on with it’ gesture with her hand.
“Maybe fifty. Tanya and I together killed a bit over a hundred once,” I added quickly, wondering if that sounded better.
“Fifty!” she looked around the room at each of her fellow Patrons before looking back to me. “Fifty full grown weres!”
“Bah! So he says!” Frimunt exclaimed.
Mausya studied me. “Oh, I believe him. Just as I believe our Guardian when he says that he can’t guarantee our safety from Gordon here. In fact, that is really the whole point. The safety of our species from this man. He has already worked with the humans to eradicate one of the most violent groups of non-humans in recent memory…and he did it mainly by himself…without weapons!”
“You paint him an uncontrolled monster, yet he is Chosen of Tatiana and she would not permit him to harm our species!” Chilka said sharply.
“See, that’s where I think you may have it wrong. I think, based on what I’ve heard from some fellow Russian vampires who have firsthand knowledge, that she doesn’t exert control over him…he controls her!”
Chapter 33
“What? Are you on drugs? Some kind of vampire crack?” I asked. “She doesn’t ‘control’ me and I certainly don’t control her! Have you met the girl? Control? That’s crazy. And if your ‘source’ is good old uncle Illarion than you’ve been had! He’s a whiney little bitch who ran crying home ‘cause I wouldn’t let him take over America!”
Every vampire in the room looked at me like I was two cards shy of a full deck, but the flicker on Mausya’s face when I mentioned Illarion told me I had scored a hit.
“In fact, I did talk to Illarion. He said you murdered his servant and took over the Coven yourself when Tatiana was conveniently indisposed,” Mausya answered with slightly raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, ‘course he did. Tatiana was attacked with silver powder – by a South American vampire – “ I looked at Salazar as I said that part. “Galina and Lydia were stepping in to rightfully run things when Illarion made a power play. I told him no, he told his bodyguard to kill me and I objected to that. Have you watched the security video? I’m sure we can crank it up on a monitor for you.”
“Oh yes, I do recall some fantastic claim that Tatiana had been severely burned with silver. So bad in fact that she lost both eyes, yet when I saw her earlier she looked fine. How could that be?” the Russian vampire asked snidely.
“Talk to Dr, Singh. He healed her with virus rich blood.” I said crossing my arms.
“Not even an Elder’s blood is rich enough in virus to heal silver burnt eyes,” Frimunt said in disbelief.
“Whose blood was used Mr. Gordon?” Atta asked.
“Mine.”
“You are suggesting some rather fantastic claims,” Gault said.
“Yeah? Like the whole of Tanya’s existence isn’t fantastic? Or any of my story? Check the security tapes for Plasma where Tanya was attacked, check the tapes for Citadel when Illarion tried to take control, talk to Dr. Singh, talk to Arkady, talk to Elder Senka and by all means, go ahead and suggest that she’s a liar!” I shot back.
They were silent for a moment, then after a glance around at his fellow Patrons, Gault looked at me and spoke. “We are through with you for the moment, Mr. Gordon. Remain available as we will likely have more questions for you. You may go.”
I turned to leave but Frimunt spoke as I did.
“And watch your tone with your superiors, boy, or we may choose to chastise you,” he said, smirking at me.
I kept my face blank as I completed my turn and walked out, feeling a huge bulls eye painted on my back.
***
I found our quarters empty, so after grabbing a pemmican bar from my personal stash I went looking for Chet to see how he was doing. I found him in Dr. Singh’s off
ice. Most vampires don’t get sick and almost all wounds heal rapidly, so Singh really didn’t have sick bed facilities, but a cot had been brought in and six of Arkady’s security bruisers were lined up in front of Singh’s door to prevent further attacks. They all knew me and let me right through.
Chet was sitting up in bed, typing on an iPad while sipping beef broth from a giant stainless steel coffee mug.
“Hey dude, how ya feeling?” I asked.
“Chris, my man!” he said, then started to sit up. I moved to the bed before he could more than twitch, sitting on the edge of his cot so that he didn’t have a need to sit up.
“Damn dude, stop going all blurry like that! Gives me flashbacks!” he said.
“Sorry Chet. I just didn’t want you having to move on my account.”
“I’m not that bad. Just bruised and slightly anemic. Doc’s got me on this high iron and protein liquid diet so I’m healing quick. Plus,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Senka gave me some of her blood and I feel really pretty great! Better than any drug I ever heard of.”
“Yeah I she told me about that. She holds you in high regard,” I said to my friend.
“Damn straight! I got skills and the vamps know it!”
I laughed although he was right.
“I heard you used your own freaky skills to get likenesses of the guys that jumped me,” he said.
“Yeah I did. Have you heard if they got anything out of them?” I asked.
“Well, Nika said they were tough nuts but that it seemed they worked for some German vamp. I think they both died during questioning,” he said.
German vamp sounded suspiciously like Frimunt, who I had already decided was pretty much a total dick.
We chatted for a few minutes more and then I left when he started to look a little peaked. My link to Tanya told me she was somewhere in the business center, probably doing business things so I headed to Remy’s kitchen to get something more substantial than pemmican.
The master chef was starting a soup stock, but as soon as he saw me he grabbed a plate of fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, Italian bread and olive oil. It was more platter than plate, covered with the better part of a loaf of toasted bread which was still warm.
“You all right Christian?” the French vampire asked.
Nodding around a mouthful of tomato and cheese, I gulped it down and answered.
“Mostly, Remy. A bit weirded out by the Conclave and all,” I admitted.
“Large groups of older vampires are creepy,” he said, adding a goodly dose of salt to his pot.
I looked at him sideways. He noticed.
“What? You think you’re the only one to feel that way? I’m one hundred and thirty-seven years old and some nights it feels like I’ve been on this planet too long. But a Darkkin who reaches six centuries or more of age is almost a whole different species than us younger ones. I don’t mean just in terms of strength and speed. Their whole personalities are different. The way their brains work is upside down and sideways to a regular human, were or young vamp. They get paranoid, spend all their time plotting and planning.”
“Why is that, Remy?” I asked, shoveling another oily slab of cheesy tomato goodness into my mouth.
“Living past your fourth and fifth centuries is a big deal. Lots of dangers out there. Other supernaturals, human vampire hunters, even accidents, but the biggest danger is other vampires. We are a violent species, more so than the base human stock, which is saying something. Even with Elders and the Coven, there are enough violent disagreements that the stupid vamps get weeded out quick,” he said, dumping a small bowl of mixed spices into his cauldron of soup.
“My grandfather used to tell me that old big rack white-tail bucks are like a separate species from the other deer. Much smarter and craftier,” I said.
“A decent analogy, although deer are hunted and Darkkin are hunters so maybe an old crocodile would be a better comparison. Crocs have to survive weather, predators, drought and, of course, other crocs.”
“Remy, I didn’t realize you were such a naturalist,” I said.
“Discovery channel and Animal Planet. Amazing shows, really,” he said with a sly smile.
“I never pictured you watching television,” I said.
“Have to, Christian. You have to keep involved in society’s changes, both good and bad. Isolating yourself will leave you feeling separated from life itself. Once a Darkkin or other long lived being,” he pointed at me as he said that, “shuts themselves away from the world, death is not far away.”
Feeling separated is exactly how I felt in the Conclave when Senka had been speaking. My poker face must have failed me, because Remy read me like an open cookbook.
“Ah, you feel that way now, yes?” he asked, smiling.
“I don’t belong here, Remy. I don’t even fit in with the new vamps. Plus everyone is always on guard around me, like they’re torn between being afraid of me and wanting to drink me dry.”
“Christian, when I first became a vampire I was miserable. My whole life, my human life, had been about food. Creating, tasting, enjoying new cuisine. And I was very good at it. That was gone when I woke from my ‘death’ and found that all my cravings were only for blood. It made me sick. Not that I’m squeamish about blood; a good chef must deal with blood daily. But the loss of my life’s passion was almost too much. I wanted to true die.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“An older vampire steered me through it. She taught me that I could still cook and create, in fact, now my senses of taste and smell were so much greater that I could produce dishes undreamed of. And I could enjoy my own cooking if I sipped blood from a human who had eaten my food. Not exactly as it was when I was human, but not bad and in some ways better. I don’t have an interest in vampire politics, I just keep my head down and do what I love – cooking.”
“It was Senka who helped you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes it was. Of all the older vampires, she is best at preserving talent and mentoring young vampires,” he said, smiling. “Of course, she’s utterly ruthless and more cunning than all the rest combined,” he added with a shrug. “C’est la vie!”
I felt Tanya approaching and knew she was tracking me down, so I finished the last bruschetta and took the platter to the sink, washed it and was drying it when she entered the kitchen. Remy greeted her, saw how intensely she was staring at me and excused himself.
“Hey babe,” I said, trying to get a read on her mood. Both her body language and the link told me she was anxious about something to do with me.
“How was the Conclave?” she asked as she slid further into the kitchen and into a chair at the prep table I had been eating at.
I felt myself grimace. “They’re mostly kind of assholes and we spent almost the whole time talking about me and not Fedor.”
She froze for a split second. “What did they ask you?”
“First they started to ask about Okwari, then got all intense about me and how many weres I’ve killed and how dangerous I am and that I secretly control you and make you do what I want.”
Her face held something I had almost never seen there before – fear. She was frightened of my words.
I tried to lighten her mood. “Of course my argument to that is that if I truly controlled you, we would never leave the bedroom.”
She smiled at that and reached for my hand then looked pensive again.
“The control part came from Mausya, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, you don’t seem surprised.”
“Lydia and Nika heard that rumor going around, the one that you are secretly running everything through some mind control power you have over me. Mausya seems to be the source of these rumors.”
“Yeah, but I think she got the idea from good ole Uncle Illarion, ‘cause she flinched when I brought his name up.”
She nodded at that, then looked me in the eye. “Tell me everything they said and did!”
I did. Twenty-seven minutes lat
er she finished cross examining my recollection of the Conclave.
“Christian you must promise me to keep your temper at all times when you’re in there. I think that Mausya is using this story to increase her chances of getting selected as the next Elder. If she can convince others that you are a threat to me and the Coven, it gives her a unique platform for election. I think part of that strategy is going to be to trick you into losing your temper. If you hurt or kill someone, particularly one of her rivals, it increases the odds for her.”