by Lauren Hodge
like debris along the tree line, I ask, “What is all this?”
He replies, “Some sort of battle was fought here before the Detachment arrived. There are fully grown trees littering the area, and Duncan saw signs that they were ripped out by their roots.”
Pointing to the primitive cabin he has drawn, I ask, “Do they live here?”
“Yes. They return to this place after feasting on humans in Toronto.”
People do not live on battlefields. It is more like a training range.
“Do they fight in any kind of formation?”
Both Verus and Sabine shake their heads. Verus says, “They look disorganized.”
Sabine adds, “Casual, not chaotic. If the Detachment had held their ground, I would say they were disorganized, but perhaps they are so familiar with each other they do not need a structured formation.”
I say to Sabine, “Common ancestry from an isolated population.”
She nods.
“Cothelas was known for turning even distant relations,” Verus gloats. He has a good point, but his suppositions will not defeat them next time, and, as such, he should keep them to himself.
“During the engagement, did they stay within a few meters of each other like in your sketch?”
“There was some confusing movement from the one they call Coralia. Alton blinded her but then stopped for some reason I was not able to discern.”
Strategies start filtering through my mind. First, we need ways to negate all of these abilities at once. Marian’s time perception ability will be a necessity, and Aleric will be vital, particularly for the ghost-maker. If these are Dacians, Marian is our best defense against Draco. Between Ismet and Edson, we can disable the mind movers. At that point Verus could read them at his leisure and we could get all the answers we need. If we keep them all alive and they are Dacian, this will not violate the armistices. If they are not, I hope Ismet will be content with Verus wiping them. What a Detachment they would make.
-X-
Sabine leaves me to work with Verus so she can speak with Duncan before he returns to North America. I ask him to sketch the Detachment’s approach, to tell me what the criminals physically did when repelling them, to repeat everything that was spoken…everything.
After three hours, Sabine returns bearing satellite photos of the criminals’ cabin. If we are to take them at the cabin, there are multiple points of egress, but that is using trees as cover. Clearly they have no problem with clearing forest.
They have the entrenchment advantage. But what about an ambush?
This has possibilities. Could we obtain a law enforcement vehicle and wait for them to feed, tracking them like the prefect did before? We could put Aleric in a constable uniform and have him walk right up to their car. There would be no way for them to know until they are rendered helpless.
Priam, like myself, prefers options, and it is my job to provide them.
After leaving Verus, I return to my apartment in an upper floor of our castle in Boulogne Su Mer. Melise is playing the piano, a requiem. She is as beautiful now as she was when she was human. Her slender fingers glide over the keys, her eyes closed in delight. Her long raven hair spills over her shoulders, decorating her bust line. Priam brought me into this life; I brought her. As a childless couple, it was easy for a General to claim that he and his wife were moving to conquered lands.
Though she is Sabine’s assistant in European prefect duties, she stays out of Quorum business, claiming she doesn’t have the heart for the monotony. The truth is that she does not like to see our kind suffer, and sometimes, to keep order, pain is exactly what we inflict.
My collapse into my favorite chair catches her attention and she ceases playing. After looking to me for a few seconds, she closes the piano lid, saying, “You look utterly lost in thought.”
“It was a very trying day.”
She glides over to me and starts removing my shoes. “Does it have to do with the North American prefect being here?”
Her sweet disposition, it always soothes me. A soldier needs a place to lay his head and forget about the troubles of the battlefield. She is that place for me.
“The Premier Detachment was dispatched to North America. In trying to apprehend a criminal, Alton was killed.”
She gasps and freezes. “How is Ismet?”
“Physically unharmed. Francisco is with him now.”
“Who could have done such a thing?”
“That is what Sabine, Verus, and I are investigating.”
She removes my remaining shoe and massages my feet. “Something troubles you, an unanswered question. Your eyes are stormy this evening.”
I run my hands down her hair. She knows me better than anyone. “Verus and Priam think this coven Dacian.”
“But you do not.”
“Sabine and I think it a low probability.”
“But that is not what troubles you.”
I take a folded sketch of the criminals from my breast pocket and show it to her. “I cannot be sure they are not Dacian. No single theory makes sense. The sire is not the leader and does not give the orders, yet is protective of her creations. The one who gave the order to execute Alton is not the sire yet appears ancient like I would expect the sire to be. We are missing vital information. Nothing makes sense, and with their considerable abilities, I need to find the missing puzzle pieces before we bring their rebellion down.”
She rises from her knees and pulls me up from my chair. “Come, let us drink. Clear your mind. You will find the solution, you always do.”
Her faith in me is not misplaced. I will find how to subdue them, but it will not be in haste.
We travel an hour northwest to Dunkirk and drink a family in an upper-city flat. Their blood slides down my throat, washing my troubled mind away. The parents we eat first, telling them their offspring will live if they comply. Their fear overrules what they must know in their hearts, and they do not even attempt to flee.
Before leaving, Melise has one of her ladies place a cyanide poison in the water cooler. The simple-minded humans will assume the poison was to blame.
All too soon, Melise, her ladies-in-waiting, Aleric, and I return to the castle. I have a battle briefing to prepare for Priam. It is crucial to convey the need for patience. Verus will be impulsive, but if we truly wish to bring the criminals to heel, Priam will need as much pre-attack intelligence as we can get.
One misstep here will cost us more soldiers, or worse, reignite the Dacian Wars.
-X-
Takes place during chapter fourteen in The Golden Apple of Discord - Ann of the Milunfran Vampires
Ruben, Thomas, and Aggie wait in the sitting room. I stand behind Aggie so Thomas can’t see me ogle him. He and Ruben rib each other about who is going to drive. Tonight we’re going out to an actual movie theater, in the city. I haven’t been to one in months. This house is big enough to have its own home theater, but I miss doing normal things.
Cora slides down the banister. “Tara’s not coming.”
I ask, “Why?”
Cora shrugs, “She says she just wants to read. Alex would know better than me. Oh wait, he wouldn’t, would he?”
Alex looks up from the book he’s reading on the couch and chuckles. “Correct as usual, Miss Severin.”
Alex’s formality forces a snort out of me. I’d think it over the top if he wasn’t grinning. Cora’s verbal teasing can be irritating; her mental taunting must be unbearable.
Why isn’t Alex coming with us? Does he not trust Tara here by herself? Does he just want to corner Tara without the rest of us around? Maybe he wants to avoid Cora’s historical inquisition. Does Alex even go to movies? He seems too mature for that.
Cora whines, “Alex, come on. You gotta tell me the rest of Europe’s reaction to the defeat of the Spanish Armada.”
“Another time.” His gaze returns to the pages. The cover is so worn I can’t even see a title, and with vampire vision, that’s one really old book.
I see Cora’s finger twitch and that smile come across her face. I know that smile. It usually ends up with a really good time and a lecture from Tara. Aggie kicks Cora’s foot and shakes her head. Cora pouts a little but smiles when she looks at Thomas.
He twirls the keys to the Land Rover in his hand. “Are we going, or what?”
There has to be a way to sit in the front next to him. He’s so good-looking, confident, well spoken, but he was so perceptive during the ride from Toronto. There’s no way I can watch him without getting caught. However, it wouldn’t look out of place for me to be close to him while he drives; that’s exciting enough to squeal about.
Cora’s reply silences my squeak. “It’ll be a tight fit with five of us in the Rover. Should we take the Yukon and I’ll drive?”
Aggie laughs, “We want to see a disaster movie, not make one.”
Everyone laughs at Cora’s pout.
Thomas says, “No disrespect to your vehicle, but an SUV with a busted-out window and mud all over it won’t exactly blend in with the Barrington Hills vehicular stereotype. Unless you want to be detained by law enforcement, I’d advise against it.”
Cora asks, “Will it be good-looking law enforcement?”
Aggie starts pushing us out the door. “Let’s go, already.”
Tara’s reading upstairs by herself makes me sad; she’s usually eager for sister time. But if Cora couldn’t get her to come, I sure can't. I hope she and Alex don’t fight while we’re gone. They seem to be getting along better, but they’ve both shown how fast things can get ugly. I can’t get Thomas off my mind and wish I could