Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  • • •

  When would this ceaseless show end? Caleb was all for political performance in the proper time and place, but being around all of these wolves was becoming a challenge. Every vampire would be eager for fighting, for blood, but Caleb’s curse made him nearly manic with need.

  He had thought that all of this was behind him. He had long grown used to the beast inside him — he knew how to control it, how to control himself. This resurgence wasn’t new, but it was sudden. He had not considered this scenario. But, still, it was not impossible to handle. He would merely act as he always had in the past. There was no reason to abort his mission. He could handle this. This was just another mission, one in a long line of many. Sure, the actors and set pieces had changed, but the rest remained the same. His kind fought their kind. His kind thought only of vengeance for the wolves’ betrayal. They bided their time and protected what was theirs. This day was no different than the others he had lived. The beast would remain in his control as long as he willed it, and he willed it now. He commanded his demon. He had trained the beast to bend to its master.

  Reassured, he shifted his focus to the room around him. Twenty-nine wolves, ranging in focus and temperament, all desiring a fight, all eager to prove themselves. His instincts allowed him to understand much about them, and he could feel that only one wolf seemed aware of his true identity. He reached out his senses to get a better glance at this challenger. The hairs on his arms stood on end as he recognized the power there. A son close to the main line. A powerful ally for the pack leader, but not, of course, a pack heir — at least not yet. Pity. He was a worthy warrior. He was strong. He would be fun to hunt. The others, though, were wholly insignificant. He didn’t waste his time or skills on assessing them. They were average beasts, with only the power of their wolf forms to challenge him — a wasted weapon, surely, when his own unique shifts made him more dangerous than they ever hoped of being.

  He recognized twenty-nine other vampires, besides himself: five of them stood directly ahead of him. They were excited, too. He could sense their blood lust. It was weaker than his own, but there. The others behind him smelled of the same thing. Odd, there should have been an even number, but there were thirty vampires and only twenty-nine wolves. Where was the other competitor? How had he missed one? This alert, he should have been able to sense any threats. He stayed still but moved his eyes to glance at the periphery.

  Ah, there was another. He just hadn’t recognized her. But how had he missed her just moments ago? He’d been using his beast’s survival instincts to sense, but he hadn’t been aware of her at all. Why?

  Oh. Of course. The pretty little pack heir. She wasn’t an enemy — that’s why he couldn’t sense her. So poetic, so beautifully ironic. The pack heir was the only one in the entire building who didn’t feel blood lust, the only one in the room who wouldn’t stir the instincts of the hunter. Could she make this any easier? No wonder the hunter in him had calmed — his prey had come in and served herself up on a silver platter. Why hunt if the prey was already caught? Who knew defenseless fools could be so healthy for the constitution?

  Look at her. She was like some excited kid at a candy store. She couldn’t stop fidgeting. She kept glancing around at all the others. She looked more like a debutante at her first ball than a warrior. Where was her caution? Where was her killer instinct? She was a born werewolf, but she was acting like an untrained girl. Couldn’t she at least sense the danger he presented?

  She suddenly turned in his direction, almost as if she had heard his unspoken question. It made him feel strange. He didn’t realize he had been waiting for her recognition until she caught his glance and his stomach pulled a little. He was gratified that she had finally noticed she was standing close to her mortal enemy. There was no feud more fundamental to their kinds than the battle between vampire and wolf rulers — in this case prince and princess. At least she seemed to understand this much.

  Wait. Was she smiling? She was face to face with the vampire prince and she was smiling? This had all been funny at first — the easily defeated wolf princess, an easy end to the long feud. But was she not going to present any kind of challenge at all? How disappointing. How … surprising.

  Maybe his logic was flawed. He had been considering her in the long pattern of pack leaders that came before her. That kind of thinking seemed more and more like a logistical error the longer she smiled at him. She might just surprise him and present an entirely different type of challenge. Perhaps she had more skill than he at first suspected. Indeed, a direct attack rarely succeeded — an oblique assault was generally more effective. Had she also concluded this? Was she trying to dupe him, to put up a false front that would leave him with his guard down? Had she heard the prince was a monster, hated by his own people? Was she trying to capitalize on his presumed loneliness? Or, was she really this … this … was there a word for it? Well, either way, she confused him. That was certain.

  Smiling. In the midst of all this. She was smiling. At him. She must be more than he thought her.

  He could feel her watching him. He allowed her to catch his eyes and they stared at each other for a while. The entire time, she continued smiling. She seemed … happy. Was that right? He knew that she did it without anger or aggression because he couldn’t sense anything like that from her. She puzzled him, but was she a mystery or a mistake?

  “Welcome,” a deep voice said, snapping him to attention. He broke eye contact.

  There was her father. He seemed displeased with her. Could it be that he, too, understood the potential danger she presented? Strange, but it seemed their fathers had a great deal in common despite the fact that they were mortal enemies: the political show and dance they both ostensibly hated but mastered all the same, the suspicion each held for their children.

  Her father finally left and other wolves started explaining the procedures they should follow. He stopped listening. He already knew all that would happen. He had been briefed. For the heirs of their respective clans, there would be no random selection. He was going to be her partner, and then he would complete his mission. As soon as this perfunctory meeting was over, he would start working on solving the puzzle she presented to prevent any surprises. He was sure neither would take long.

  • • •

  After a while, Libby started to panic. What was taking so long? Why weren’t they saying her name? Had they determined, just by looking at her, that she wasn’t ready for the trials? Had they decided they weren’t going to call her name? No, of course not. But why did she remain unpaired?

  Were they saving her for last because of who she was? No, that wasn’t possible. Why would they do that? It was no secret among her kind that she was not accepted, let alone privileged, and now they wanted to single her out. Thanks for the honor, bozos.

  As names were called, one of the other adult wolves was talking to new pairs as they formed. “You will progress through the trials in a bracketed system. There will be several daily challenges. The first begins tomorrow morning. You will receive more information at that time. For now, though, you should spend this time learning about one another. Any questions?”

  Overhearing this, a vampire whispered, “Are we trying to bond here or something? What a joke.” The vampires he was standing with snickered loudly.

  One of the betas turned his head toward the group. She knew him. His name was Thomas. She recalled that he was kind and was the father to a small boy, Joshua, whom he doted on. With his son, he was always smiling, always kind, almost softhearted, but now he looked stonily at the vampire.

  Noticing Thomas’s attention, the group of vampires sneered in his direction, without concern for his authority or his opinion.

  Instead of reprimanding them, Thomas spoke softly, saying only, “I see you have no love for wolves then.” Although he faced the vampire with a hard face, Libby remembered that he often talked to hi
s son in the same patient tone.

  “No. That’s not even close. I hate you mutts.”

  “You wish us all dead, do you?” Thomas asked calmly.

  “Yes!”

  “Are you sure about that, young one? You don’t seem too sure.” Thomas tilted his head while he spoke. He seemed genuinely interested in the boy’s answer.

  “Yes. Of course I’m sure. I want your kind erased from the world more than I want anything.”

  “But, young warrior, if that were so, I would think you would be wise enough to understand the value of getting to know your enemy.”

  “I came here to battle wolves, not to make friends.”

  Thomas said calmly, “That may be, but — ”

  “I’m here to fight. The truce is law, but my family will never forget what your kind did to us. I am here to ensure that my race remains strong.”

  Thomas walked forward a few feet, getting closer to the boy. He had been looking steadily at the vampire, but now he looked up and around, his steady black gaze touching on every face in the room. Looking into every pair of young eyes, he tried to communicate the value and the danger of this kind of partnership. He looked again at the vampire. “It’s important to know your enemies, wouldn’t you say, son? Their strengths? Their weaknesses?”

  “Yes,” the young vampire answered, shakily and with confusion.

  “Well then. I can see no problem.” Thomas smiled and walked back to the platform.

  Pairs kept forming — even the wolf-hater was at the wall now, paired with Lukas. She and Lukas weren’t close, but this made her feel bad, even for him.

  There were only a few vampires left. One of them was the boy from the schoolhouse. Did she want to pair up with him? She wasn’t sure, but she felt it probably wasn’t safe. She had this weird, prickly wanting feeling when she was with him. It was beginning to remind her of when she was a kid and her grandmother had warned her to never touch the urn in the family chapel. “Lee-bee,” she had said, saying her name in the old way, stretching and flattening the vowels, “Never touch it, not even in passing. Do not graze it. Do not even look at it too long. It’s dangerous.”

  Of course, then Libby couldn’t think of anything else. For three years, she had done nothing but stare at that that urn until her eyes went dry, until she had seen it in her dreams. Her hands would literally itch with trying not to touch it. Luckily, one day, it was taken from the chapel. A precious enough respite for her little self. She had just known that she would touch it, but she was finally spared. Now, though, she was starting to get a little itchy looking at the vampire boy. She never did well with forbidden things. But, really, what were the odds? There were still five males and three females left, plenty of vampires to go around. It wasn’t all that likely. Maybe she would be spared by chance, the way she was with the urn. She closed her eyes and focused on asking fate to spare her and take the boy out of her reach, just as it had taken the urn. You know I can’t be trusted, don’t you? she thought. Come On. Give me a break just one more time. Just one more time. Please. Please. Please.

  “Elisabeth Conall. Caleb Ulster.”

  Hearing her name finally called, she opened her eyes and started walking to the wall, making a great show of not looking. If she wanted her prayers to work, she had to give fate time to operate. Plus, she wanted to make a good first impression on whoever it might be. She could seem completely calm, couldn’t she, at least for a few seconds?

  When she reached the wall, she turned sharply around and raised her chin a bit, mimicking the formality of the soldiers around her. That’s when she noticed the vampire from the schoolhouse walking toward her. The vampire, whose name — apparently — was Caleb. Great. Just great. Just what she needed.

  Chapter 3: GETTING TO KNOW YOUR FRIENEMY

  The girl wanted to meet and go over strategy, and Caleb was supposed to meet her in a few minutes’ time. But first he had another meeting, a meeting with his former teacher, the man who had been chosen to “supervise” him here. The wolves had provided electricity in the vampires’ areas, but Moiren wasn’t home, so his quarters were black when Caleb arrived. Caleb didn’t need the light, so he sat on a couch, waiting for his usually punctual former teacher to arrive.

  Caleb knew that Moiren had been assigned to resume his old job: stopping Caleb from shifting at any cost, even if that meant killing him.

  When he was a child, Caleb had been relieved to be taken from school with all the other children who refused to look at him, let alone befriend him because of his difference. At first, Caleb had loved having Moiren as a teacher and had loved the man himself. And for a long time after, Caleb had believed earnestly that Moiren was his true friend, his only friend. Then, one night, over some trifle, Caleb had grown so angry at a man near his home that he shifted. Losing all conscious control of himself, Caleb took the shape of the monster inside him and killed a man, an innocent man, a man who had made a simple mistake. Moiren had come too late. Caleb still remembered the words Moiren had said when he shifted back: “Kill again, and I will gut you.” Caleb had been ten at the time.

  The words had worked — under Moiren’s guard, the monster let go and Caleb shifted less.

  Moiren had followed him and guarded him — or rather, guarded others from him — for several years, until Caleb had finally convinced his father he had sufficient control to relieve Moiren of the duty. It seemed, though, that his father did not trust him while he was in this village.

  Hearing someone outside, he stood up.

  “It’s about time, mentor.”

  “Good evening to you, too, Caleb.”

  “This need to be quick. The pack heir is waiting. You know that creating a relationship with her is on Father’s long list of contingencies. I should be going.” He wanted to get away from Moiren as soon as possible.

  “Thus far, Caleb, everything has gone according to your father’s plans. The wolves were not eager to partner their young cub with you, but eventually they gave way, unable to admit that she was not close to being your equal. As your father predicted.”

  “Yes, yes. My father is a genius. May I go now? Am I dismissed?”

  “You will be the problem in your father’s plan, the one thing he never successfully predicts. Now all you have to do is control yourself when you are around her. You cannot kill her outside of the trial arena. I wonder, can you do this?”

  “I am aware of my duty.”

  “I have seen you, Caleb, shifted, unable to keep from killing. Do not talk so flippantly. We have much to discuss.” Underscoring his point, Moiren leaned over and threw on one of the lights, chasing away the darkness in the room. For Caleb, though, this made his vision more distorted, creating shadows and shapes where nothing had been before, making him see things that weren’t there, echoes of real things. Moiren, bending to sit in a nearby chair, continued. “Just this evening you would have shifted in the hall. You were close, weren’t you? Look at me, Caleb. You were close, weren’t you?”

  Caleb looked at Moiren and noticed coolly that time had changed the vampire in small ways. He had let his hair grow out a little, following the styles of human males. It had been short and a little spiky the last time he had seen him. He was dressed in a suit, some human design, all black, with a long dark wool coat. His face used to be narrower, thinning to a point. It was still angular and strong, but the edge of his jaw was slightly squared. He had a few more wrinkles, too. He had become a middle-aged vampire in only a few years. Moiren was either underfed or doing something he shouldn’t. His people were like museum specimens preserved in glass, their bodies still as time rushed by them. If one did not cultivate calm or if one forgot to feed, it would take its toll. But he looked like a slick city lawyer more than a warrior now. What had he been doing this entire time?

  “Answer my question, Caleb.”

  “You will not sit there
and quiz me, old man. Our school days together are over.”

  “I cared for you for over a decade, almost half of your life was spent with me, yet you — ”

  “Let’s stop with this pretense. We both have a job to do. I feel as little for you as you do for me. There’s no need to pretend that we have a relationship. I assure you, I don’t need friendship, least of all from you.”

  “Be that as it may, I am in charge of you now, and you will listen to me. Even if we cannot be friends, we must be partners.”

  • • •

  Libby could barely believe it. They were partners! She recognized her own misplaced giddiness, but even her fears wouldn’t stem her enthusiasm. She even knew his name now — Caleb. She knew his name, but not much else.

  Now that she considered it, she hadn’t even heard him speak yet, hadn’t seen him fight. Really, beyond the whole spying-on-him-while-he-slept-and-obsessing-over-his-ear thing, she didn’t know anything about him at all.

  They had met twice now, and he hadn’t so much as deigned to speak to her. After being called forward, the other teams had started to talk to each other, planning strategies. Even the vampire who had argued with Thomas quickly swallowed whatever concerns he had and talked to his partner. But, Caleb? Not a chance.

  Obviously, she could have said something more scintillating than, “So, we’re partners, huh?” But he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain, either. He nodded his head down once, barely answering at all. Then, when she tried to follow up with the stunning, “So, um, do you want to get together and practice and talk about strategies and stuff later?” he only nodded again. And so it went: Libby blundering through questions and introductions and the boy just bowing his head — and only bowing it a little, barely even forming a yes. He had the attitude of a king acknowledging the request of a servant. Well, that meant she knew a little more about him than his name. She knew he was conceited as hell. Now they were supposed to meet to go over strategy, and he was late.