Katelina fetched her soap and finished her shower quickly. She wanted to see these Atormentadores for herself.
When she was done, she headed outside. A dark pickup with Mexican plates was parked in the center of the hazy parking lot. She passed it and hurried to Ark and Jamie’s door. Before she could knock, Verchiel appeared. Though he was clean with new clothes, his coat was still singed and ashy, as if he’d only shaken it out. “Coming to meet the Atormentadores?”
The door jerked open. An angry vampire with a dark red-brown ponytail grabbed Verchiel. The gold medallion around his neck said he was one of the Mexican Executioners.
“Who are you?” His eyes dropped to the redhead’s amulet. “Another one? How many did your Guild send?”
Ark’s voice came from inside, “Only two. He’s freelancing.”
“He’s been freelancing in the dirt.” The Atormentador released him forcefully.
“It’s not dirt.” Verchiel motioned Katelina through the door ahead of him, then followed. “It’s ashes, from the fire you started. It’s lucky the two of you were nearby. Your response time is surely some kind of record. Your report said fifteen minutes after the attack? How far is the border from here?”
The Atormentador sneered. “What are you implying, friend?”
“Nothing. But I’m sure the High Council will have some questions, like what you were doing in our territory?”
“We don’t need the permission of The Guild to travel.”
“No,” Ark agreed. “Unless it’s in an official capacity. What were you doing here?"
The second Atormentador stood, hands on his hips. His dark hair was cropped short, with a matching moustache. “None of your business.”
Katelina looked past them to where Jorick leaned on a dresser. She could feel his animosity. Though she was furious about what they’d done to the town and the survivors, she knew his anger went deeper—maybe deeper than the story about the succession.
“Now, now, Paco,” the redheaded Atormentador said. “We can be generous to our friends. We were sent north to see the damage in Ohio. As luck would have it, the destruction came to us. Had your Guild been kind enough to share details of the earlier attack, we’d have never been sent.”
“Wouldn’t that be a pity?” Verchiel asked sarcastically. “Then we could have dealt with the aftermath ourselves.”
“Hours later?” Paco demanded. “You’re lucky the cell signals are so bad here. The fifteen minutes it took us to arrive left time enough for something to have leaked. Had they had longer, had someone been able to contact the human media, imagine what would have gotten out then.”
“It couldn’t have been worse than this,” Ark snapped. “A fire that destroyed a village and everyone in it? Do you realize how bizarre and suspicious that looks?”
Paco snorted. “No worse than the way you handled Ohio, right, Hugo?”
The other Atormentador snickered. “It’s not ours to judge, huh? They handle things their way and we do it ours. Next time we’ll leave it for them to clean up; leave the survivors bleeding and dying in the streets, screaming about monsters.”
Ark glared. “We need neither your opinion nor approval, however you need ours, and you don’t have it. The chaos you created is ridiculous. You destroyed any witnesses or evidence that could have helped locate the perpetrator. We’re going to file a complaint with Munich.”
“Go ahead.” Hugo crossed his arms. “The last time we worried about what they thought was before you stole California.”
“We didn’t steal anything,” Jorick said. “It was already awarded to the human government. We only followed the borders.”
“Human borders mean nothing to us,” Hugo snapped. “Unless it is convenient for your greedy—”
Jamie swept to his feet. “Enough! We’re not here to hash out old territory disputes.”
“No,” Hugo said coldly. “You’re here to remind us you’re in charge.” He broke off into Spanish. Though Katelina didn’t understand it, she knew it was an insult.
“And we’re here to find out what happened.” Verchiel took a step forward. “And to find the perpetrator. We don’t plan to leave a maniac running free, destroying whole villages.”
“Then enjoy your hunt.” Hugo’s laughter melted into an almost sinister seriousness. “You play your game, but you know who did this. It had to be an army of ancients. If there is one, you know who they are, though you’re not sharing the information. No worries, we will find out on our own.”
Jorick fixed them with a hard stare. “You’ll go home and stay out of this.”
“Or what?” Hugo sneered. “You’ll kill us where we stand? My Guild knows where we are, and they would know who to blame.”
Jorick closed the space between them, teeth bared.
Verchiel chuckled. “Except Jorick’s not with the Guild. We can’t control him. I mean, I’ll fill out the incident report, but it won’t do your entrails much good when they’re splattered on the wall.”
Paco scoffed. “We don’t fear you, and neither will the ancients when you find them. They will tear you apart, as they did the humans. It will be no loss. Good luck,” he added sarcastically, then they left, slamming the door behind them.
“That was pointless,” Katelina muttered.
“No, it wasn’t,” Verchiel said. “We learned that Lilith didn’t kill everyone. There were survivors, which means her purpose was not total annihilation. It also means she accomplished her goal and didn’t need to keep going. That tells us that Lilith doesn’t destroy for the fun of it, only for a purpose. No wasted energy on her part. And, since the Atormentadores don’t know who attacked, or why, it means that none of the survivors knew either. The damage was obviously extensive, because they attributed it to an ‘army of ancients’, and they believe we’re organized and on top of things, or they wouldn’t have accused us of playing a game.”
Katelina crossed her arms. “But we don’t know where Lilith is going, or why she attacked the village.”
“Not yet,” Jorick said. “But we will.”
Jorick stayed to talk to Jamie. Katelina was tired of Executioners, and slipped outside to steal a cigarette from Micah. She knocked on several doors, ending at Brandle’s.
“Sorry. I don’t know where he is. Did you need him for something important?”
“Just a cigarette.”
Brandle fished a pack from his pocket. “As it stands, I have a few of my own I don’t mind sharing.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Occasionally, when the mood strikes.” He stepped outside to light one for her, then lit his own. “How did the meeting with the Atormentadores go?”
“Despite what Verchiel said, it was useless.” She filled him in and added, “If he’d read their minds he could have gotten all of that in under a minute.”
“I’m not sure he’d have gotten as much as he did by observing them. You learn a lot from word choice, and no doubt body language.”
“But mind reading—”
Brandle smiled indulgently. “I’m not sure Verchiel’s as accomplished as you believe. I suspect half of his powers are actually deductive reasoning. He’s someone who’s spent a great deal of time observing people; their interactions, their subtle movements, the nuances of their voice. Either he’s a patient individual, or the schooling interested him.”
“I think he’d be the second. He doesn’t seem patient.”
“No, he appears rather flighty. But perhaps that’s affected.”
“You think he fakes his short attention span? Why would he do that?”
Brandle shrugged. “People more readily accept a buffoon than someone intelligent. He can throw up his hands and say, ‘I have the same problem. I’m not a scary Executioner, I’m one of you. The Guild makes me do this.’ People respond. They understand. They’re even sympathetic because they’ve been forced to do things they didn’t want to. And of course, everyone knows The Guild is evil.”
“
Maybe. Most people get impatient with him.”
“Impatience is a sort of cooperation. They don’t fight or cause trouble because he’s beneath them, something flighty and childish. I believe it’s a defense mechanism.”
Katelina saw the logic, but…“Why would he need to be defensive?”
“Probably because he has a habit of sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“That’s one of the reasons Jorick hates him.”
“I don’t think he hates him,” Brandle said thoughtfully. “More like resents him. Jorick’s under the impression that Verchiel’s had an easy life, that his carefree attitude is a result of happy circumstances. Pity he can’t read his mind. If Jorick spent a moment in his head, he’d find it’s quite the opposite.”
Brandle’s psychoanalysis left Katelina intrigued. “Really?”
“Ah, now, I’ve said more than I should. I do that on occasion. Anything else you want to know, you’ll have to ask our redheaded friend. I’ll say only, he’s more complex than you give him credit for.”
“Verchiel? Complex? How?”
Brandle laid his finger by his nose. “You should ask him. Or learn to read minds yourself. I understand from Kai that you’ve a bit of the ability?”
She didn’t like that they’d been talking about her. “Eh. Sort of. I never get it to work right.”
“There is no right. Like every talent, it’s different for each user. No two artists paint the same portrait, and no two mind readers read minds precisely the same. For instance, did you notice I just read yours?”
Katelina clutched her head. “No.”
“Don’t worry. I only saw your ever present concern for your mother. My point is, when some vampires peer into your thoughts, you’re aware of their intrusion, while others can sneak in and out unnoticed. Some see only the thoughts running through your mind, while some pick through your brain like a book. Still others drop whole hearted into your deepest memories.”
“Yes.” Katelina nodded emphatically. “That’s what it’s like. Like I’m them, seeing through their eyes, feeling what they feel…and sometimes I can randomly feel other people’s feelings.”
“Because you’re a more empathetic reader,” Brandle said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It is a gift, like any other. Don’t discount it because it’s different than those around you.”
“But I don’t just want to be a mind reader. I want to be a whisperer.”
Brandle smiled. “Don’t we all? Alas, it’s a talent that has also eluded me. Perhaps in time.” As he drew the last puff on his cigarette, he nodded to the robed figure of Zander, coming toward them. “I believe our new friend has come to say hello.”
Zander nodded a greeting. “Do you wish to join my sunset prayer? It is normally a private matter, shared only with the faithful, but as you are interested in our worship, I thought it acceptable to ask you.”
Katelina was far from interested in his worship. No matter what he said, she’d seen the Night Goddess festival first hand. She owned the dagger Memnon used to sacrifice to the deity. It was a religion of blood and death she didn’t want near. But, her curiosity was piqued. What would prayers to such a goddess be like?
“Thank you,” Brandle said. “I have witnessed prayers to the goddess before. I’m interested to see how your sect does it.”
Zander looked at Katelina. Though he had no mind reading abilities, it felt like his ancient eyes bored through her. “Sure. I mean, thank you.”
“Of course. You will come to my quarters?”
Zander headed off without waiting. Brandle pulled his door shut. “This should be most enlightening.”
Katelina wasn’t sure she wanted to be enlightened.
Zander’s room was dark, lit only by three candles arranged on an end table. Next to them sat a golden bowl and a worn leather-bound book. A cone of incense spiraled musky smoke. A dagger’s blade winked in the flickering light. At the sight of the weapon, Katelina tensed.
Zander bowed his head, oblivious to her worry. “Since you are not familiar with the ancient tongue, I will perform the rites in your language. The Night Goddess sees the intent, and will accept the prayers, no matter the tongue used.”
“Thank you.” Brandle inclined his head. “That’s very thoughtful.”
“I am ready to begin.” Zander motioned them to stay to the side, then knelt before his makeshift altar. “Goddess of the Night, spread your dark wings and fly to your repose. As you go, allow your consort to rise, whose golden splendor does not diminish your power, but magnifies it. For great and magnificent are you, beautiful as the raven, wise as the owl, cunning as the serpent. Your beauty bends all to your will. With your wisdom and cunning you lead your children to the truth.
“As this night ends, we thank thee, Goddess, for the life eternal that springs from your scarlet fount, given freely to your children. We supplicate ourselves to you. In the obsidian night of our new world you are our light and guide, our mother and our teacher. We follow your words, and reap the divine.
“If it is your will, great Mother, we ask you lay low our enemies, and lead us always down your path. Send us signs, on the wings of your servants, that we might know your eternal love. Allow us to see you reflected in all. Remind us that, though our flesh came from many wombs, we share the blood of our dark mother, thus all are one. Help us to follow your scriptures, knowing that through them you have given us the greatest gift; your wisdom.
“Let us never forget: blood is freedom, and freedom is blood. In your blood we have found the freedom from earthly cares, and in blood we must repay.”
Katelina met Brandle’s eyes. She didn’t like the direction this was going. Zander said he needed twenty sacrifices a year presumably for twenty holy days. That would mean nearly two a month. For all they knew, tonight was one of those. Maybe that was why he’d asked them to join: because he needed blood.
Just in case, she looked for a weapon. A lamp was the closest thing. She wasn’t sure if she could reach it in time. Zander was old, and probably fast.
He went on, unaware of her mounting worry. “I thank you, Goddess. In gratitude of this night, and the nights to come, we offer this.” Katelina flinched as he picked up the knife and stood. “May this sacrifice appease you, Goddess, and repay some small part of the debt owed to you.” He turned to face them, the dagger raised. “The blood of the young tastes sweet, but the immortal holds more flavor. We give to you that which is most precious. Blood is freedom and freedom is blood.”
Katelina started for the lamp.
Chapter Twelve
Brandle grabbed Katelina before she could move more than an inch. Her rebuke died when Zander drew the blade across his own hand. He turned back to the altar and squeezed a few drops of blood into the bowl, then knelt again.
“May the Goddess of Night accept this sacrifice in the spirit it is given. May it recompense some small portion of a debt that cannot be paid. Now we leave you in peace and gratitude. Batna, you are our queen.”
Zander used the bloody bowl to douse the candles, one at a time. The task completed, he made a sign with his hand, then rose and turned to them. “You have seen that our ritual is nothing like the one you attended. I would weep for those who have strayed so far from our scriptures. I can only pray that the Goddess’ judgement be swift and merciful.”
Katelina relaxed. “You’re right. It’s nothing like the feast I was at.”
Zander gathered his items. “The hour grows late. If you wish, another time I will read for you some of our scriptures.”
Was he trying to recruit them? She gave a vague nod and Brandle said, “You’re right. The sun will come soon. Thank you again.”
“You are most welcome.”
Katelina followed Brandle outside. He escorted her to her room. It was only when they reached the door that she said, “That was terrifying. I thought he was going to kill us.”
“I won’t deny that other versions of Night Goddess worship involve death. His
seems very different. I wonder where it came from.”
“You mean who made it up?” she asked.
“I mean who was inspired to write down their scriptures.”
“Inspired is a strong word. It’s not like the Night Goddess is real.”
“She is to Zander, and probably to others.” Katelina dismissed it and Brandle added, “Do you know for sure that your God is real?”
Though she wasn’t a church goer, and had never been ultra-religious, she still had strong feelings on it. “Of course I’m sure. But the Night Goddess is made up, like Zeus.”
Brandle laughed. “Careful, no doubt someone believes in him as fiercely as you believe in your god. But you are young. You’ll understand one day. Now I must bid you good night and sweet dreams.” He gave a sweeping bow, then headed for his room, his chuckle floating after him.
Near dawn, Katelina snuggled into bed next to Jorick, still contemplating the ritual. The thoughts folded into dreams. She drifted on tides until she landed in a familiar apartment. A blue couch had fluffy pillows. A television was unnaturally clean. The faint smell of flowers lingered from scented candles.
Zander sat on the couch, his face serious. Then he morphed into Brad. The mirthless expression melted into amusement as he laughed at a joke. Sarah perched in a chair across from him, her eyes shining.
“It’s a shame your date was such a jerk,” Brad said.
Katelina shrugged, her thoughts thick with alcohol. “That’s what happens when I let Sarah fix me up.” She dissolved into giggles.
Sarah batted at her. “Hey! He seemed nice at work.”
“Yeah, I know. Or I wouldn’t have agreed.”
Sarah stood and wobbled. “If you’ll excuse me, the bladder demands.” She staggered for the bathroom.
Katelina laughed at her friend, hard enough to make her body shake. She tried to lean back, but lost her balance and fell sideways, into Brad.
She looked up at him. Sandy blonde hair fell over his forehead, and blue eyes peered back, the color of a summer sky. Something in their depths choked off the laughter in her throat.
Goddess of Night (Amaranthine Book 9) Page 19