by Mark Tufo
Setting the glass on the table, the Soul Eater ran both hands through the long, auburn hair falling to his shoulders, smoothing the shining locks. A habitual gesture that Tamsin knew well. He was a vain little man. Slim and good looking with boyish features despite being at least six centuries old. To think, Knightly used to be one of her group of friends back in San Francisco. Friends, what a joke that was now. Clever, intelligent, with an encyclopedic knowledge of so many subjects. He was always regaling them with amazing tidbits from history, the sciences, or the arts. The thought of how she had enjoyed his company with the others filled her with revulsion now.
"First of all, Drake, never assume. What I said was 'when her body is no longer animated', then your bargain with me will be fulfilled. You interpreted that to suit yourself. Honestly, you Fae. So proud. Never reading the fine print on the contract.”
Tamsin had reanimated Angelique's body, laying the big man open to Knightly's control spell.
“I don't know why you look so surprised, Drake. You got exactly what you wanted – Angelique has met the true death. Only her body is animated. Now I am going to get what I want as well.”
Tamsin spoke to Knightly in Angelique's voice and the room seemed suddenly very cold, “I'm going to kill you as you have killed so many others. Maybe not today. But soon.”
“Oh, I'm shaking!” Bartholomew gave a high-pitched laugh as he picked the oversized glass back up. “You didn't even know I was in town, little fool. I'm the one who brought you here. I led you to Nicole in Berlin knowing you would locate her eventually anyway. She was not half as clever at me. So I laid my plan around that little inevitability of collateral damage. After you killed her, you would find a clue to the legend of the runes. Not that it isn't true. Those runes and the sigil they will create are the real thing. That clue, though, would lead to another and another. Just difficult enough to make you congratulate yourself on your cleverness and not suspect a trap.”
He sipped at the brandy and smiled. “The timing had to be carefully calculated. I have been making a study of the Duprey's and knew of the Princess' and Drake's twisted history. Angelique's demise would make a sonic boom in the spiritual world. A big bang that could not fail to pull your dusty spirit in like a rip tide. Waiting for you was the hunky Fae Hunter with a debt to me he can't refuse. It's not my fault you so obviously fell in lust with him.” He gave the Fae an appraising stare, “Though I have to say I admire your taste. Yum. I am going to have such fun with this servitude.”
Roaring in rage, Drake sprang for the Soul Eater. Knightly snapped his fingers and the Hunter froze in place, his eyes once again opaque. A word and he was himself. Knightly did this several times, letting Drake inch a little closer and a little closer, apparently finding the game immensely amusing.
“I can make him bark like a dog, want to see?”
“Stop it, Bartholomew.”
He gave a derisive snort. “You used to be more fun when you were alive.” Walking over to Tamsin, he circled her, chuckling under his breath. With a malicious look, he gave her a little push. She tumbled heavily to the floor. The snakes hissed loudly, biting into her flesh.
“This has turned out so much better than I planned. I did not think you would recover the runes etched onto Puzuzu's demonic little head. No one I have sent has survived their encounter with the Institute's wards or Theo.”
“Is he your minion as well?”
He looked appalled, “Good God no! What are you thinking? I stay as far away from that imp as possible. Now, not only are you and your homicidal intentions off my back, but by keeping Angelique animated, that means you,” he kicked her viciously, “in there. I get Drake indefinitely as my Hunter in residence and whatever else I want him to be. Come!” He snapped his fingers at Drake and the Fae walked stiff-legged to the sorcerer's side. “Hand it over.”
Reaching into his jean pocket, Drake pulled out the clay head of Puzuzu.
“Give it here, that's a good boy.”
He dropped it into Knightly's outstretched palm.
“I have the first rune, I have the first rune,” Knightly sang the words, taunting Tamsin, waving the head where she could see.
His plan made terrible sense. At least in the strange logic of the paranormal. She came to Chicago seeking the runes. Her focus equally on the statue and a body to step into. Tamsin thought she was the clever one and subconsciously all she did was help the Soul Eater bring it all together. The body she jumped into tied to Drake and Drake to Knightly. Her feelings for the Fae the only wild card in a stacked deck. Be careful what you ask for indeed. If she escaped this encounter, she would have to be more careful about her focus.
Knightly nudged her with one foot, “You know I don't enjoy what I do, Tamsin. Taking lives. I am not a sociopath.”
She wriggled and struggled until she had freed her face enough from the squirming bodies to speak again, “No, you're a megalomaniac and you glory in every minute of it.”
He set the little clay head on the mantlepiece, adjusting it just so, admiring it before he spoke. “You're wrong. What I want is knowledge. One lifetime is not long enough to learn all I wish to. What a waste for a mind like mine to die. Some lives are worth far more than others to this world.”
“What are you searching for? The cure for cancer? New crops that can feed the poor and hungry? No. You're a pompous, selfish ass, Bartholomew.”
“Sticks and stones, Tamsin. Sticks and stones.”
Calling out, he summoned several large men in uniform into the room. They carried a wide plastic sheet. With a snap, they flipped it over the carpet and rolled her and the snakes on.
Gracing her with an evil little smile, Knightly said, “Don't want to stain the carpet.” From the pocket of his dressing gown he pulled a fat dagger, the tip curved in a wicked point. “The best way to weaken a vampire is to drain them. Can't have you trying to get away.”
The snakes shifted and he thrust the dagger into her shoulder. Pain shot through her and she couldn't keep back the cry of anguish. Knightly put out one finger, swiping it through Angelique's blood. He sucked on the drops and smiled. Her blood flowed thickly only for a few moments. The Prime's nature meant the wound would quickly seal itself. Knightly thrust the knife in again and again, a different place each time, enjoying her pain, taking an obvious delight in the process. Monster indeed.
Knightly made Drake watch, frozen in place, eyes burning, unable to even blink. Every time the sorcerer plunged in the dagger, he would glance at Drake and smile. Once he blew him a kiss, his face mocking. Drake raged silently in a futile battle against the magic binding him. What an ass he had been. He should have known, guessed there was more to the wizardly bargain than it seemed.
Drake's work as a Hunter for hire brought him into contact with all manner of humans and supernaturals, even vampires on occasion – though never the games of the Duprey clan. His was a shifty, shaky sort of moral ground at times. He had his own standards, though. They might not always be human standards but they worked for him. He was good at what he did. Mentally he shook his head, obviously not as good as he thought. Knightly was dangerously close to the truth with his comments about Fae pride and fine print. His desire to be rid of Angelique once and for all had made him careless. Too eager.
The knife cut Tamsin again and she cried out. Drake didn't enjoy killing. It was a necessity, never a sport. He was going to make an exception in Knightly's case. He contemplated the little sorcerer grimly. Drake would kill him slowly, an inch at a time.
The blood pooled on the plastic sheet. So much blood. Everything seemed to spin and Tamsin closed her eyes against the vertigo. The snakes gradually released their grip, slithering down to lap at the scarlet streaks with long, forked tongues.
Eventually, through the haze, she felt herself being dragged to the elevator and into a different room. The men sat her in a hard metal chair. Instead of snakes, chains burning with glacial cold were wrapped around her body. One of the men brought up a thick, met
al baton. She saw it coming at her head and nothing more.
◦ Chapter 14
Tamsin was hardly out of the room, the mess cleaned up and snakes bagged, before there was a knock, knock, knocking. Drake still stood, unable to move. He automatically shifted his eyes towards the door before realizing the sound was coming from somewhere else.
Knock, knock.
Not from the door. The opposite side of the room?
Knock, knock.
But they were on the top floor.
Knock, knock.
Drake shifted his eyes again and saw three figures floating outside the huge plate-glass window, arms crossed in front of them. Each man wore a beautifully-cut business suit and tie. Though Knightly tried to hide it, he was obviously surprised. Drake stared, knowing exactly who had come calling. He only wondered why they hadn't shown up sooner.
Knightly pouted at the figures, “I'm not inviting you in.”
The man, well, vampire, in the middle looked through the glass impassively. His words came through softly, clearly, “You don't have to. Only humans get the privilege of threshold magic in the mortal world. If I am not mistaken, you gave that status up some centuries ago, Mr. Knightly.”
Several bodies in black fatigues – it was hard to tell how many, since they were in pieces – fell in as the double door to the study opened. Knightly made a face as the blood spilled over his beautiful silk carpet. A vampire glided by Drake and the sorcerer as if they were not even there. The room had been part of the warehouse before its transformation and once the lock was turned, the wide window rolled back on steel wheels. The others stepped through; an icy blast of snow following them in.
The supernaturals stood together, silently staring at Knightly.
Knightly stared back, hands behind him, rocking on his heels. “You could at least introduce yourself.”
The man who had spoken looked like the VP of marketing for a major corporation. Impeccably groomed, executive good looks, black hair cropped close. He raised one eyebrow. “Taylor.”
“Why are you coming after me, Mr. Taylor? I didn't kill Angelique.”
“Who said anything about the Princess? Yet it was you who enabled that spell, since we are on the subject.”
Knightly made a sound of exasperation, “That's like throwing a sword in prison because someone fell on it. Come, let me know how I can make this right? We are reasonable men.”
“Yet we are not 'men', you and I, Mr. Knightly. Not at all.” The vampire raised one hand and languidly smoothed the silk on his already perfectly smooth tie, straightened the collar on his perfectly straight shirt and brushed a few errant snowflakes from the fabric of his beautifully-cut suit before he continued.
“Chicago is a mob town. Always has been; always will be. In its current form, this city belongs to the Duprey's. Specifically, Prince Duprey. At least until he grows bored playing here. If there is a supernatural game to run, favors to be offered and collected, or anything more substantial than a love charm or a fever cure, it comes through my master and his agents. Threat levels are carefully managed. Who disappears and how. You ignored our primogeniture, Knightly. Without even so much as an introduction, you tried to take the docks.”
While the others stood silently, hands still crossed in front of them, the vampire named Taylor walked to the side table, picked up the brandy bottle and another glass and carefully poured himself a measure, inhaling the aroma and taking a slow swallow. “You are a fool. Worse, you reek of hubris. The gods do not like excessive pride, Mr. Knightly. This is our town. Chicago will never be yours as long as the Primes want it."
Knightly raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Mistakes were made, I concede. Nothing that cannot be mended. Let me be part of the team. I am a Soul Eater. There are not many of us in the mortal world, or any world for that matter. My powers are not without merit.”
Bartholomew was fast on his feet, Drake had to grant him that.
“We are vampires. Our Prime masters are Fae. Souls hold only marginal interest for either of us.” Taylor gave an indifferent sort of shrug, as though already bored. He finished the brandy. “What it comes down to is this: the Prince doesn't like you.”
“He doesn't even know me!”
“Oh, he does. He has met you several times to take your measure. You just didn't realize.”
With an animal-like snarl, Knightly shouted a spell. His hands already raised and ready. A flash of energy zig-zagged out from his palms striking two of the vampires. The lightening threw them across the room to smash hard against the wood paneling on the walls. The paneling cracked and in the silence that followed, Drake heard the distinct sound of fabric tearing as the vampires slid to the floor.
“Now you've done it,” sighed Taylor. “Those suits are brand new.”
The men shook off the blows. Fangs extended, faces contorted into the stuff of nightmares, they sprang.
◦ Chapter 15
Tamsin awoke. Death in a charcoal gray suit and tie stared down at her.
“Did you kill my daughter?”
The Prime stood not more than a foot away, straight as a rapier and far more deadly. There was a darkness around him. A halo of power that did not so much burn as engulf. He had a fine-boned face with a hawk's beak of a nose, narrow eyes and sharp brow. Angelique looked very much like him, except for the nose. That must have come from her mother. For which she probably had been profoundly grateful.
Tamsin could not move. She was still chained to the chair. The chains eating into her skin made of thick ice, she saw now, covering coils of cables and cords within. There was the hum of a generator behind her, keeping the ice frozen hard. Knightly was certainly ingenious. She was finding it hard to catch her breath, but that had nothing to do with the ice.
“Did you kill my daughter?” he asked again, his voice far colder than the icy bonds holding her down.
“No,” she said truthfully, meeting his eyes. “I did not.”
He stared at her for some time, saying nothing. The two of them were alone in what looked like a large, empty storeroom. From elsewhere in the building came screams and shouts, random gunfire, at least one explosion, and some unidentifiable roaring that sounded like a large beast. The Prime and his progeny must have decided on a little debt collection from Knightly. Chicago style.
Tamsin chafed at her bonds, she needed to get free and find the Soul Eater. Find him and kill him. If the vampire did not kill her first. There was every possibility of that she felt.
The Prime stepped even closer and Tamsin couldn't help shrinking back in the chair.
“Many people have wanted to kill Angelique. Even me at times. Greedy and impatient, she was not an endearing child.” He gave a deep, very fatherly sort of sigh. “Was it Drake?”
Her bloodline, or rather Angelique's, compelled that she answer him truthfully. Tamsin gave the tiniest nod.
“Yes, I thought so. Her schemes on Drake were ill formed and completely unnecessary. She would not accept that love cannot be coerced. He was never cruel to her back in Fae; she was nothing but. Now she has paid the price.” His deep voice had a curious, rhythmical lilt to it. “What is your name?”
“Tamsin West.” Her breath came out in a cloud of vapor. The room colder than a deep freeze.
“Miss West, as far as I understand, it was neither your schemes nor machinations that led to Angelique's death. Though you profited from it, you will admit.” He paused as if waiting for confirmation.
Tamsin nodded. What choice did she have? He was right.
“You attempted to kill two of my vampires the other night by cutting off their heads."
“Self defense,” she said weakly.
He nodded,“That, I am willing to concede. Ours is a world of sudden violence. These things happen. The dark brothers were easily brought back to life. Drake is a gentleman and merely incapacitated them. The blond pair, however, are somewhat impaired by their ordeal. Those boys' intellect was never very strong at the best of times and being
separated from their heads for several days will take a toll, I fear. Not to mention they will be wearing turtlenecks for quite some time. I abhor turtlenecks.” Turning his head to one side, he regarded her stonily, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You owe me a blood debt for them and for...” He indicated Angelique's body with a wave of his hand. “Are we in accord on this matter?”
Owing a favor is what landed Drake in servitude to Knightly. Unfortunately, Tamsin had little choice. Unless she wanted the Prime to kill her. That would free Drake immediately, of course, which was her intent one way or the other. Inwardly, she shivered. There were deaths and deaths. She would prefer very much not to die at the Prime's hands – or teeth.
She swallowed her fear and tried to meet his eyes, “Agreed.”
A shimmer of charcoal gray and before Tamsin even had time to be surprised, the vampire broke the thick ice bands holding her. Water must not be his weakness. He stepped back, allowing her to rise and rub some feeling back into her hands and feet.
Tamsin could feel warmth emanating from him in waves of heat. He must be using some of his control over the air to warm the space around him. Handy skill. The Prince waited while Tamsin endured the pain of returning circulation. He was very still, motionless in a way only supernaturals could achieve, staring at her unblinking. When he finally spoke, Tamsin started in surprise.
“I have never met a soul seeker. A jumper. What a strange life you lead, Miss West,” he laughed. A very honest sort of laugh. “Even to someone like me it seems strange! Can you believe it?” He reached out to smooth the chopped fringe of bangs away from her face.“Whatever have you done to Angelique's beautiful hair?”
It took immense effort for Tamsin not to flinch as he reached for her with those long, tapered fingers. In fact, it was taking a lot of effort not to run screaming from the room with her arms over her head like a little girl. She wasn't sure if the Prince was always cloaked in this shroud of fearsome power or if he was producing the effect especially for her. Primes, Drake said, were Elder Blood. Like Faeries. Faeries were fey, deeply dangerous creatures. Tamsin had encountered them on several occasions and come out the worse for it. Which is pretty much how all encounters with Faeries went, she'd been told. Compared to the vibe she was getting from the Prime, though, they seemed positively benign. She sensed there was much going on behind that regal, ancient face. Her connection to Angelique let her feel it but was not deep enough to help her analyze the situation.