by E. M. Knight
“If it’s so easy,” I ask. “why haven’t vampires done so before?”
“Ah.” Beatrice smiles. “Now you are asking the right questions. It has been tried, once before. It ended in… failure.”
“You wish to try again.”
“Yes. The mistakes of the past will not be repeated now. We have a better perspective. We have…” she runs the back of her hand through my hair, “ …a better witch.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
ELEIRA
THE CRYPTS
I stare at Beatrice. The warning I was given back in The Haven flashes in my mind:
All will want to use you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps. “I’m well aware of where your loyalties lie, Eleira. The Haven vampires are the ones who brought you into our world. Naturally you would align yourself with them. But what I am trying to show you is that you are meant for things much greater than that. You will not lead one coven. You will lead them all.”
She holds out her hand. “I’m here to make you an offer. Forget whatever has been promised to you in The Haven. They would make you Queen, would they not? But what type of Queen would you be? You would act as a surrogate for Morgan. She is not one to let go of power so easily. Commit to The Haven and you commit to an existence that is not your own. You will forever be her puppet. Certain things she will teach you, I’m sure. But many she will also hold back. You will be fed the knowledge you so deeply crave in but a tiny trickle. Secrets will always remain. You would never realize, grasp, or understand your true potential.
“But… if you were to join us? We would offer the entire world to you. Not just that of vampires. But the world of humans and all other beasts as well! The entirety of the planet will become your playground. Do with it as you will!”
I’m not exactly certain what she’s playing at. What’s the catch?
“If I join you,” I begin slowly, “what does that entail? What will that look like, practically?”
“You would turn your back on The Haven and commit fully to The Crypts. Only three alive will be your superiors. The Ancient. Logan. And—” she smiles, “—myself.”
“How is that any different from going back to The Haven?” I demand, feeling a sudden spike of anger. “At least there, the way you described it, only one will be above me! In the picture you framed, that is Morgan, and Morgan alone. At least I know what she wants. I cannot say the same about any of you.”
“You know what we want,” Beatrice replies. “I told you the vision we share for a vampire future. The world will be covered in night. Our kind will rise. You will be at the very helm. Perhaps ‘superiors’ was the wrong word. The Ancient, Logan, and I would act as your… advisors. Together, we would form a council of four. Four equals, united by a common purpose, and unrivaled by any in the world.”
“Why should I trust you?” I say. “You want me to believe that you would just let me in on your little coterie and give me equal say? I know nothing about The Crypts.”
“But that is why we have a lifetime to learn,” she counters. “You need our guidance to fulfill the prophecy. Likewise, we need you to be an ally, not a foe. You have our respect, Eleira. We can offer you so much more than what you would find in The Haven. We offer you fulfillment. Your life will be empty without us. You will end up like the lost vampires, doomed to wander until you perish in the dust, were you to go back to Morgan. Your potential would be wasted. The opportunity that we—all of us—have been given would be lost! Do not deny yourself the position that is yours by birth. Others would divert your eyes from it. Others would be glad to keep you blind to your true potential. We would not. We will expose you to it and make you unstoppable. You will rise above all, as was predicted in the stars!”
My eyes quickly scan the walls for an escape. Beatrice is falling victim to the increasing hysteria. I’m still not frightened—I’m stronger than her—but I need to get away. I need to clear my head.
“Whether you will it or not, the choice has already been made,” Beatrice says softly. “The prophecy speaks of you. You will fulfill it. That, at least, is out of your hands.”
I need to stall, to buy more time.
“What does the prophecy say?” I ask. “When was it given? By whom?”
“Eons ago, long ages back, in the time before that of even The Ancient. A great witch was born. She was the first of a clan dedicated to predicting the future. She was the only one to have any measure of success. None since have possessed the ability.”
“What ability?”
“The ability that cast her net back and forward in time. The ability to float on the river of time itself and look both ways. Her claim was that she could see all things, both future and past, that they came to her in visions.”
“But she wasn’t a vampire?”
“No. She remained mortal. Yet she assumed these trances that would take her away for days. She would retreat into her mind and remain still as a statue, unmoving, oblivious. Attempts to rouse her were never met with success, though of course, after the first few times, it was made known that she was not to be disturbed. She was travelling on a cosmic journey, and her purpose served the highest human longing.
“Every time she went on one of her trips she returned with bustles of information. Scribes were hired to write down all that she had to say. The words would erupt out of her like lava from a volcano, spewed with vigor and unrelenting passion, unfathomable heat. This was the way of her existence. Days of meditation would be followed by days of uninterruptable speech. The things she said, some of them concerned the past, others had to do with the future, but most were cryptic, and all had one thing in common, when the speaking spell was done, she claimed to be unable to remember a thing.
“So both the journey there and the journey back were part of the same trance. None know how she achieved this state that gave her these abilities, though many have tried to replicate it… to utter failure. Her descendants, the latter members of the clan, hoarded her prophecies, as was their right. But some of them leaked the prophecies, and, as the years passed, and her predictions were proven accurate, more and more became aware of her life.
“Vampires, naturally, had an utmost interest in all that she had come to say. Even the earliest of our kind knew that their lives were not measured in years but in decades. Perhaps later, they would understand that even that was too short a time.
“But the witch clan guarded the secrets closely. They passed them down from generation to generation, thinking that, armed with them, they would be better positioned to increase their influence over the world.
“For what greater need is there in the human psyche than the need for influence, for acknowledgement and recognition? None want to wither away in the dark, committing their lives to a cause that is never to be known. The secret, of course, the great lie, is the false beliefs that there is a witness to what we do, that there is someone who cares and looks upon us, that those we influence actually are being influenced by us and are not merely pawns in a cosmic game of creation, in which they have no true say.”
I shake my head slightly. This is fascinating, but yet…
“You’re losing me,” I tell her.
“Am I? I think not. You understand where this is going. One of the witch’s prophecies, dear girl, had to do with you.”
“What did it say?”
Beatrice quotes: “She comes, she comes! Child of the Stars, born of the sun, she, the breaker of bonds, shall extinguish the darkness that rules her kind and unite them all, casting them into a world made new by night eternal!”
I blink. “And you think that’s me?”
“I know it’s you, Eleira,” Beatrice smiles. “There is more to the prophecy, of course, but that is the central bit. The witch who made it, she described the precise alignment of the constellations that would herald your coming. The unfortunately part… is that portions of the prophecy were lost. And there was a time, once before, as I’ve said, where another
vampire witch tried to rise…”
“The one who failed.”
“Yes. Logan and I knew she was false. We did not interfere. We watched as she was built up into something she was not, watched as she was promised prominence and then floundered. The vampires who brought her in used her, sapping her of her strength, and then, when it was discovered that she had not the capability they assumed, they destroyed her, so that their secrets would not be spread.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask. “Is that what you say will happen to me?” I feel the strength in my body, feel the vampiric essence that gives me complete confidence in my ability to fend for myself.
“Not a threat, dear girl, but a warning. There is a precedent here. What is happening now, around us, has been attempted before. The consequences of that time linger to this day. The mistakes that were made then define us now. But we, as a kind, will break free from the shackles. Shackles of our own creation!”
“And if I refuse?” I ask softly. “If I say no to your offer, and instead go back to The Haven?”
“Whether you will it or not, the covens will be united,” she says. She holds her left hand out to one side. “One is the path of peace.” She holds her right to the other. “The other, of war. They both lead to the same destination.”
She puts her hands together, angled out in front of her, and points them at me.
“You will fulfill the prophecy, Eleira. But if you do it willingly or not… if the way to that conclusion brings you pleasure or pain… has yet to be decided.
“If destruction must be wrought, so be it. Refuse the offer, and you will be allowed to return. But the second you place foot on your coven’s lands, the extension of peace will be broken. You’ve seen what we are capable of.” She smiles. “You saw how easy it was for us to cripple your precious Haven. And if that is the second most powerful coven in the world? Well, you must admit that the others would sooner side with us than risk their own destruction.”
“You speak of war.”
“But war is not an inevitability! Come to our side, and the other covens will follow. We do not need to fight as a species. Because the true enemy,” she points a finger upward, “resides up there. Those creatures who live in the sun. The despicable humans.”
“No,” I say. I shake my head. “You’re wrong. Humans are not our enemies.”
She laughs. “Then what? Our food? Our prey? Face it, they do not deserve the prosperity they have inherited. They know not what to do with it, or how advantageous their position is. The true key to life, to existence, is the ethereal vampiric essence. And it is denied to them! They are nothing but vessels of blood, ripe for our taking.”
“No,” I repeat. “No, you’re wrong. I will not help you.”
“Then you will be used,” she says flatly “if that is your final decision.”
“It is,” I tell her firmly.
“Then I pity you, Eleira. Truly, I do.”
She steps back, and her form melts into darkness.
Chapter Forty-Eight
RAUL
THE ROYAL CHAMBERS OF THE CRYPTS
I follow Dagan through the long, empty corridors without saying a word. The silence that surrounds us seems fitting to this place.
Despite the very precarious ground I’m standing on, I can’t help but think of Eleira. I hate the way I just left her. Sure, my hand was forced, and, yes, she might have consented… but still.
And yet, I know that if I had tried to remain, she would have seen it as an affront to her capabilities. She is a strong, strong woman. Much stronger than she knows, I suspect. Hers is internal strength, a strength of character, and it is part of the reason I admire her so.
As we walk I feel the presence of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of vampires beyond the walls. Their strength is astounding. Even through the barrier I can feel them all.
We reach a far-off doorway. Dagan opens it and beckons me through. I step inside.
I’m presented with a vast, cavernous expanse. The ceiling rises many stories above my head. The walls are a mix of concrete and rock. In places there are marble pillars showing, giving evidence to the supporting structure beyond the walls. Television screens line sections of the walls, each set on a different channel, each showing its own telecast of world news.
Overall, it’s an uncanny mix of the old and the new.
One of them even has a movie playing. I recognize the actors from the trailers I’ve seen before. It’s Batman vs. Superman.
A figure emerges from out of the far corner.
Father.
He’s dressed only in loose fitting pants, though they are of excellent quality and cut. There are markings all over his body. From a distance, they look like tattoos, but I know that no ink can penetrate vampire skin like that.
That means they are brand marks. Made by silver implements, unless I miss my mark.
Dagan immediately goes to one knee. “My King,” he says quickly, “I’ve brought the one you asked for.”
Logan does not even bother to look at him. All of his attention is on me. He waves Dagan away. “Leave us,” he says.
“But, my liege—“
“I said, now!” He doesn’t yell, but the quick crack of his voice serves better than any exclamation.
Dagan gives a curt salute, and leaves the way we came.
I’m alone with my Father for the first time in my life.
The King of The Crypts looks at me. He doesn’t say a word. I feel his power, and his strength, but I refuse to be cowed by it.
I stand taller and bring my shoulders back. I look him in the eyes. If he takes it as a sign of defiance, so be it. The truth is that I would rather stand for what I believe in than be made an unwitting victim in someone else’s life.
“Why does it take great calamity to bring us together?” he wonders all of a sudden. “We are family, are we not? And yet… and yet, you are so distant from me.”
“We are strangers,” I tell him firmly. “Our relationship ended the moment you chose to step out of my life.”
A brief smile flickers on his lips. “How do you know it was my choice?” he asks. “You were so young when it happened. What do you remember of those days?”
“I remember enough,” I lie.
In truth, that entire period of my life, before I was made into a vampire, is clouded in a perpetual haze. Mother refused to speak of it. James would not offer anything, either. All that I know of my humanity I know in an ineffectual haze of drab colors and shapes. There are no concrete memories to latch onto. Nothing, really, helps me to recall from before I was made.
I’ve always wondered if it was like that with all vampires, or only me. But speaking of your life before being given the Dark Gift is a subject filed with taboo. Few would discuss it, even with their Prince.
Besides, prior to this point, I had no great interest in the past. The reality I know is the present, and it is the reality that I inherited when I was given eternal life.
But… faced with the prospect of my destruction, as I so recently was, made me rethink some of the things I had taken for granted for so long. Now, I have a vested interest in my origin—only if it is for Eleira’s sake.
“So then you know the fight that caused the split between your mother and me? You know the reasons for our separation?” He scoffs. “Of course you don’t. You were but a child when it happened. And she turned you, when you were still so very young…”
Logan lifts his hand as if to touch my face. I brace myself for contact, refusing to flinch away…
But he drops his arm before it reaches me.
My gaze goes back to the marks covering his body. They are similar in style and yet completely different in form from the runes that I’ve seen decorating magical objects.
Logan’s eyes flash to me. “Do you know anything of James?” he demands suddenly.
A wave of surprise sweeps through me. Through a determined effort, I manage to hide it. “What is your interest in him?”
&nb
sp; Father grunts. “I’m unused to being questioned,” he says. “Seeing how we’re alone, I’ll let it slide. My interest is this, I have heard nothing of his whereabouts since the attack.”
“The attack you orchestrated against my people,” I remind him. “You do that, then invite me here, and expect any sort of forthcomingness?”
“You are here as a guest, protected by parley,” he says. “It matters not what happened in the past. The circumstances that brought us together are what they are. We are here now. That is what counts.”
“I did not expect you to be a philosopher,” I quip.
Father scowls. “You’re testing my patience, boy. Answer the question about James.”
“James? I know nothing.”
“You haven’t heard from him? Haven’t seen him?” A hint of desperation creeps into his voice. “You do not know if he’s alive?”
“I would not think you would care,” I say.
“He is my blood. As are you. Of course I care.”
The admission shocks me. I had come to imagine the King of The Crypts as a cold-blooded ruler who kept his coven bound by strict military order. Such sentiment… it is surprising.
Father’s eyes scan my body. He goes silent for a minute. Then, he says, “No. You truly do not know. You would not lie to me in this.”
“James has handled himself fine for as long as I’ve known him,” I say. Despite my eldest brother’s wavering loyalties, I also do care about what happens to him. “I very much doubt that has changed now.”
“He was sent back to you in a weakened state,” Logan admits. “It troubles me that he… never mind.” He gives himself a gruff shake. “That is not what I called you here for.”
“What is?”
“I want to extend an opportunity to you,” he says. “One I think you might appreciate.”
“You want me to commit my coven to yours,” I say directly. “That much I’ve already gathered. Your message made those intentions clear.”
“It is not as simple as that,” he says. “But in essence, you are right. That is what I want.”