She looked stunning, dressed in a sleek Oscar de la Renta gown, her high-heeled shoes balancing both the clutch and accelerator with ease. Anaïs had insisted I wear a Stella McCartney black evening dress with a plunging neckline. To compliment it, she’d given me a faux diamond encrusted gold bracelet, which she’d strategically placed upon my left forearm to conceal my Gothica circled brand.
“Gothicas are forbidden from entering the Athenaeum.” Anaïs raised her hand to make her point. “I know you were never one, but they don’t know that. And if they see it,” she glanced at my arm, “we’re in trouble.”
Fear slithered up my spine. “Are mortals permitted?”
“Rarely, but stick by my side.” She glanced over. “Dominion would never let anything happen to you and we are there on vampire business.”
Adrenaline forged through my veins, dissolving my previous exhaustion. I found it so easy to drift into this nocturnal world and heed the call of the dark. It was easy to heed the call to adventure, effortlessly finding my way back to him.
I tried to relax and trust Anaïs to handle this thoroughbred car.
An edgy soundtrack blared through surround speakers, the dramatic music a perfect backdrop.
“Massive Attack,” Anaïs said. “Angel.”
“Is this your car?”
Anaïs snapped a glance my way. “Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“Maybe it belongs to Orpheus.”
I lowered the window to let in some air. “Please tell me Orpheus won’t be there.”
“It’s a big place, so even if he is we probably won’t see him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Look, once Jadeon sees you everything will be fine.”
I wanted to believe that, really I did, but Jadeon had been pretty insistent about us going our separate ways. I hoped he’d not be too pissed off when he saw me.
Although I’d spent time with Anaïs before I’d not really gotten to know her. So much could be drawn from studying her tattoos, though the Tinkerbelle on her left shoulder looked out of place. She got that one as a teenager, perhaps. I mused further, wondering if the red rose on her chest or the fleur de lis fleur-de-lis on her ankle had come from a traumatic childhood. Maybe her feistiness was what led Orpheus to mark her as his.
“You do that a lot, you know,” Anaïs said. “Make up an opinion on someone before you’ve gotten to know them.”
“It’s my job to read people.”
“And then place a label on them?”
“I don’t exactly have a vampire’s mind gift to rely on.”
I’d always prided myself on my ability to scrutinize a face, decipher the meaning of the smallest movement or twitch, and come to a conclusion that would serve the law.
“Take Orpheus, for example,” Anaïs broke the quiet.
I shot her a look.
“See?” she said. “Assumption is plastered all over your face and you know nothing about him.”
“I know enough.”
“You assume he’s evil because he doesn’t play by your rules.”
“He does very bad things to people.” I understated the obvious.
“Orpheus took me in.” Her expression softened, becoming dream-like. “He found me begging in Convent Garden. He handed me a turkey sandwich and a chocolate milkshake. For the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be cherished.”
“He was seducing you.”
“I hadn’t eaten in days.” Anaïs shuffled in her seat. “Ingrid, you follow your own train of thought like it’s sacred.”
“I admit to being conservative.”
She pressed her foot on the accelerator and the Lamborghini responded effortlessly. The gravity pushed us back in our seats.
“At sixteen, I got in with the wrong crowd,” she admitted. “My boyfriend introduced me to hard drugs. I was strung out and circling the drain. Orpheus took me in and made me a Gothica.”
This was the first time anyone had talked about Orpheus in this way and I was riveted.
“Panthea, my mistress, was always travelling,” Anaïs said. “So I was left to my own devices. I had money and the freedom to really explore London. Later, I realized Orpheus gave me to Panthea so I could remain independent because she was never around.”
“Are Gothicas ever taken advantage of by their masters?” I asked. “It’s an interesting relationship.”
Anaïs slowed the car and we stopped at a red light.
She looked at me. “During the five years we serve our master or mistress, there can be no intimacy between us.”
“No sex?”
The light went green. Anaïs pressed the accelerator again and we took off.
“A gesture of affection, but that’s all. It’s an edict Orpheus put in place to protect us.”
I barely noticed we’d turned onto Bromptom Road. I was too engrossed in what she was saying.
“What about dating other Gothicas?” I said.
“Again, not allowed. We’re only permitted to date vampires.”
“That’s how you met Beatrice?”
Her face lit up. “Yes. Orpheus introduced us. He knew we’d click.”
“Does Orpheus treat you well?”
“Like family. Every Gothica is like his child.”
“What happens if you change your mind after five years and no longer want to be transformed into a vampire?” I said, remembering Jadeon had once told me that the gift of immortality was the reward for serving as a loyal Gothica.
The idea of it still blew my mind.
“It’s only ever happened a few times,” she said. “In those rare cases, the individual has their mind wiped and they’re given a sum of money to restart their lives in the mortal world. They are cut off from us. Mind-wiping ensures they forget our world exists. We do have a choice. Most of us are begging our masters to turn us sooner. Doesn’t happen though. Five year rule.”
“Why five years?”
“Orpheus believes it gives Gothicas a chance to see what it’s really like to be a vampire. They are an intrinsic part of vampire culture. They protect their masters when they sleep. They run errands for them during daylight hours. Whatever they want, really.”
“Like an elaborate internship.” I gave a nod, realizing there was so much more to a vampire’s lifestyle. “Do you have a Gothica?”
“Not yet.”
Something told me Orpheus would be taking care of that detail for her too. “You were never scared? Before you were turned?”
“Sometimes, but mostly excited.” She flashed a smile. “Orpheus is amazing to be around.”
She’d gone from enlightening me to making me a liability. All I now knew weighed heavily. My oath to uphold the law had been broken so many times. Retrospectively, my vow had become a lie. Merely words with no substance. Yet this guilt was lifting and I reflected on the reason. This underworld had always been around, hidden for centuries, and with Dominion as its overlord there came the promise of order.
“You’re thinking of Jadeon again.” Anaïs slid the gearstick with verve. “Everything I’ve shared with you is my way of proving you can trust me. Trust Orpheus.”
“Unfortunately it’s going to be hard to change my mind about him.”
Anaïs parked the car curbside on Pall Mall. She turned off the engine.
“Even though Jadeon rules, we still takes orders from Orpheus.”
“How does Jadeon feel about that?”
“He approves.”
“How can that be?”
“If you want more answers, they’re in there.”
Pillars rose majestically before a cream colored building. Tall windows with a dramatic brass balcony ran the full length of the upper floor. It emanated grandness. Was a vampire lair really smack bang in the center of London?
“Come on.” Anaïs got out.
We soon reached the front step of the Athenaeum.
Anaïs rang the doorbell. “I’ll do the talking.”
&
nbsp; Although I knew the elders were the most ancient of vampires, there were so many other unanswered questions, like how old were they? What kind of power did they wield? More importantly, what kind of danger was I stepping into?
“Think of them like a vampire council,” Anaïs said. “With Dominion as the most senior of the assembly.”
“Will I live through this?” I asked, not quite sure why, though something in the way Anaïs’ voice had lowered to a whisper made me nervous.
“Of course.”
On the double door, unfamiliar symbols were inscribed; a chaotic arrangement of carvings impossible to decipher.
“Bit prominent, isn’t it? I mean we are right in the center of Pall Mall.”
“Best place to hide anything.”
I was about to step into the center of a hive more perilous than Belshazzar’s, Orpheus’ old club. My thoughts raced with how Jadeon might receive me. With him holding this new title of Dominion, was there etiquette?
Anaïs grabbed my arm. “If I can smell your fear, so will they.”
CHAPTER 9
An elderly butler greeted us.
His age of seventy or so made me doubt this man was a vampire, and his welcoming smile calmed me a little.
Anaïs bowed her head. “Fonctionnaire.” She placed both her index and middle fingers to her forehead and then lowered them to her lips, and then her heart.
The butler side stepped, allowing us to enter.
She’d just given him the password. A large double doorway opened, the wood so thick it could only mean one thing. Daylight was heavily controlled here.
An immense room unfurled before us. An imperial grandeur unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The walls were decorated with Egyptian frescos as was the low ceiling. There were no windows, not in this room anyway. Black marble flooring spread out like a cloud of perfection beneath our feet. The dim lighting threw shadows. A trick of the light made time stand still, or perhaps it was the graceful movement of the other guests. I could see why Anaïs had insisted we dress like this.
There, mingling in the center of the grand foyer, were fifty or so extraordinarily well-dressed men and women, all of them deep in conversation. Most of them were so breathtakingly beautiful they didn’t look real. It wasn’t only their unworldly paleness; it was their striking features, which went beyond beautiful. All of their irises were startlingly vivid: some as blue as the ocean, others were deep chocolate browns, some had rich turquoise, even the occasional speckled amber eyes fell upon us...
Reassuringly, they soon turned away.
Although I’d enjoyed attending glamorous events in the past, nothing compared to this. Perfect looking women were everywhere, their dresses going beyond any haute couture I’d ever seen. Even the men dressed decadently in luxurious rich silks, velvets, and some donned a form of armor.
My attention drifted back to the women. A few wore elaborate headdresses made from rare metals, some bejeweled, while others had their long hair interwoven with crowns. A few women bared their breasts and others seemed not to care that their attire was see-through. This glamorous collection of multi-cultural nightwalkers was intimidating.
I drew in a deep calming breath as I took them all in.
A scantily-clad, twenty-something blonde waitress offered us drinks balanced upon a tray. Beside a tall flute of what looked like champagne was another glass containing a blood red mixture. Anaïs reached for them both and handed me one. Soon after, Anaïs took her first sip. Her eyelids fluttered shut and from her look of contentment she was drinking blood.
I questioned what I was doing here. I felt so small, so insignificant, amongst this impressive collection of socialites. These gods and goddesses of the underworld.
“Still your thoughts.” Anaïs’ hand reached for mine. “Follow me.”
We walked around the large gathering and I tried to look dead-ahead, to not catch anyone’s eye or stir their intrigue. Remembering I was meant to be stilling my thoughts, or at least keeping them at bay, I turned my mind onto something more passive. The knowledge I was considered sustenance for this grand gathering made me more than a little panicked.
Anaïs’ incredulous stare locked on mine.
We headed down an easterly corridor stretching out before us and much to my relief placed some distance between us and the highfaluting crowd. I wondered how much I’d hate myself if I turned around and went for the exit. Though letting Anaïs down felt unfair, and the thought of Beatrice being in danger kept me moving forward. I couldn’t bear to think of her in harm’s way.
I glanced over at Anaïs, coveting this gothic siren’s confidence as she strolled onward, oozing her usual self-assurance. She again picked up on my rambling thoughts and threw me a reassuring glance.
“How come they let us just walk right in?” I said.
“Because you’re with me.” Anaïs twisted her mouth to the side.
The gesture made me doubt this was the whole truth. Turning the corner, the space opened up to a small, simple room with leather furniture neatly positioned here and there. Just ahead, we saw a gentleman with shocking white hair, dressed sharply in a black suit, lingering before a marble fireplace. His hand reached out for the head of a lion carved into the mantel. He gave it a pull and the fireplace scraped open, gaping like an angry mouth. He disappeared through it.
Anaïs headed after him.
Peering into the opening, I made out the first few steps of a stairwell and Anaïs raised her eyebrows in expectation. Apparently we were going through, daring to see what lay on the other side. Hesitating, though not wanting to be left behind, I followed. The fireplace began its journey back, quickly closing and nudging me forward into the dark.
It was too late to turn around.
Anaïs’ hand took mine, her pull insisting I stay close. My heart raced all over again, my doubt devouring the last of my confidence. Descending, using my right hand out against the wall to feel my way, I took my time, willing myself not fall.
The temperature dropped, causing the fine hairs on my forearms to prickle.
This reminded me of St. Michael’s Mount. My mind found refuge in the memory of the adventures I’d had there with Jadeon, descending a stairwell very much like this one. I willed him to be at the end of this quest.
Straight ahead, shards of light burst up from beneath the bottom of a door and, with caution, Anaïs nudged it open. We entered what appeared to be a small foyer, and beyond that more steps waited. We followed the silver inlaid pattern onwards, downwards, both of us eager to see more.
Standing before an enormous doorway were the inscribed words: “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”
Anaïs pointed to it. “Socrates.” She pushed open the door, which creaked on its hinges.
My eyes adjusted to the dimness, trying to understand what I was looking at. The vastness was drenched in a soft golden hue of artificial light. We’d stepped inside an enormous library. A one hundred foot high ceiling loomed above. Stretching out to either side of us were miles upon miles of dark wooden arched shelves holding an immense collection of books.
“Wow,” Anaïs’ whisper carried into the void.
My words fell away, never to be spoken, the awe and splendor stealing them, silencing my scattered thoughts. The urge to investigate got the better of me and I headed off in the direction of the closest shelf and reached for one of the heavily bound books.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” a man’s voice came out of the dark.
My hands left the book where it sat. Slowly, I turned to face the man with the white flock of hair. He looked ethereal bathed beneath this golden-yellow light.
I wanted to run, and from Anaïs’ expression so did she.
“Beautiful library,” I said, making it sound casual, acting as though we were meant to be in here.
“Do you know what Libricide is?” he said calmly.
I tried to pick up on his true reaction to us discovering one of London’s most well kept
secrets.
“Libricide is the burning of books,” he said, his gaze sweeping left and right as though admiring children he’d fathered and not the endless books amassed. “What you see is a victory of extraordinary accomplishment.”
“It’s breathtaking,” I said.
“You helped to save all these?” Anaïs said.
“Some, yes. Over time, those of us who considered ourselves guardians of knowledge ensured the unadulterated collection of historical documentation.”
I recalled seeing footage of piles of books burned in protest, either by religious fanatics or evil dictators such as Hitler. It had been hard to watch and impossible to understand.
As though picking up on my thoughts, he said, “The attempt to decimate knowledge goes all the way back to AD 367, when Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, demanded all writings which he deemed unacceptable to be eradicated. Later, zealots attacked the world’s largest library in Alexandria in Egypt. They burned it to the ground.” He sighed. “The list goes on.”
There came the realization of what we’d actually stumbled upon and the understanding that lives had been risked, perhaps even lost, to ensure the protection of such a collection.
“Indeed,” he said, having read my thoughts. “Whatever it takes.” And with those words came his threat. “Come with me.”
We followed, Anaïs and I swapping cautious glances.
Running wasn’t an option. Anaïs could very well make it out, but I’d not escape this vampire or even the others. I only hoped now more than ever that Jadeon was here.
We entered a smaller and yet just as impressive library. Hundreds of votives surrounded us, all of them throwing off shadows that danced over dusky walls. Flickering flames sparkled with a mystical illumination.
There was an enormous dark wooden table in the center, and sitting around it were ten or so men and women.
Vampires.
Several languages were being spoken at the same time. I caught a few words of French and something that sounded Gaelic. A man’s crisp English accent with a soft Spanish lilt rose above the others, and sent a wave of panic through me.
And then I saw him—
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