by Peter Dawes
“Where did you go?” I whispered. “What have they done to you?”
Having enough presence of mind not to direct the question toward my psychic link with her, still I spoke the inquiry again – “What have they done?” – as if she had the ability to hear it. The potent abilities I housed within me ebbed energy, but without a place to direct it, I had no catharsis. Lifting to a stand, I started to walk, and did not stop until I had circled the city at least once. Twice, in certain areas.
I reeked of smoke and bore the faint odor of a few drinks from my excursion. The blood of a woman I had fed from ran through my veins and still, when I crept back into the hotel room, I felt drained of life. Robin glanced up from where he sat, in the chair beside the desk with the discarded remnant of spell work in front of him. A pen in hand, he placed it aside and shut the book which had been open on his lap, bearing his handwriting.
“Where is Katerina?” I asked. When Robin nodded toward his bed, I saw the teenage girl curled up beneath the covers, her body still and deep in the throes of sleep. I walked past her and focused on Robin again. “Were her efforts successful?”
“No,” Robin said. Reaching inside a pocket situated on his vest, he produced my wedding ring and handed it to me. “She made her best efforts, but determined that their magic is too potent for her scrying to be effective. We have plans to read through her books again when she rises.”
Nodding, I slipped the band onto my finger again. “I suppose we could crack into my psychic link with her, though I must be prepared to weather the pain from that.” My eyes strayed to the collection of tomes as Robin rested a hand on them. “Where did you acquire those?”
Robin patted the stack once. “We all have our tricks, Peter. I didn’t say I haven’t been busy. Simply that I’d hoped to have more to show for the time.”
Slowly, my brother rose to his feet. Walking to where I stood, he paused in front of me, studying me first before giving voice to the concern I saw in his eyes. “You look exhausted,” he said. “I would ask you how little you’ve slept the past few days, but you’re wearing it on your face and I doubt the vampire code would crack if you retired early. I might take the opportunity to get a little fresh air myself.”
I wanted to fight against agreeing, but could not summon the gumption. Partly, I wondered if the state I inhabited had something to do with my failure to rest. “As you wish, Robin,” I said. “I will try again.”
“Good. We have a lot of things to concern ourselves with if we’re wading into the thick of it. Your physical state shouldn’t be one.”
“Yes. This is war, after all.”
“Sad to say, it’s true.”
He reached to brush a thumb across the side of my face. I sighed through the gesture, watching him fetch his coat and slip it on. Walking to the door in silence, Robin exited without offering any further pearls of wisdom, a fact for which I became grateful. I watched his departure with detached interest. Then, I strode toward my bed.
Sitting on the mattress, I removed my shoes and suit jacket, choosing to toss both onto the ground. Without bothering to disrobe any further, I lowered onto my side, but jolted upright again when the items in my pocket dug into my side. Once I had emptied its contents – including my mobile phone, dead and in need of charging – I did so with the opposite pocket and liberated my wallet. Lying down again as I had intended, I flipped through the billfold and frowned at the absence of photographs. Quietly, I wished I had brought the one of Monica and the children rather than leaving it in Toronto.
Instead, I found the phone number Julian had provided for me, scrawled hurriedly in shoddy penmanship. “This is war, after all,” I muttered, considering the assistance which had been offered by the elder seer. Katerina still had a few tricks up her sleeve, however. And until our options had been exhausted, I did not trust my mind to make any sober decisions, the least of which including a partnership with the Order. Feeling the urge to sleep finally make its presence known, I deposited my wallet beside my phone, fatigue intent on capture.
I let myself be immersed in it. A shiver accompanied me on my way to an uncertain slumber.
While the seer was away, it warned, the assassin might come out to play.
Chapter Eleven
A weight lingered on my heart as I watched her swear in Russian. While the normal me might have been bemused at seeing a frustrated sorceress curse, I could not summon much in the way of emotion, inhabiting the state of numbness in which I had woken. She shook her head and shut her book. “I wish I had the library back in London,” Katerina said, lifting her feet onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. Her gaze met mine, tears dancing in her eyes. “They know we’re looking and they’re blocking me from finding her.”
I nodded, slowly lowering onto the bed. Lifting my hands, I covered my face for several seconds, eyes shutting as her mention of London echoed in my head. “I’m sorry, sir,” she began to add, but I freed a hand to stop her. Taking a long, deep breath, I exhaled it before lowering my hands again.
“Please, do not apologize,” I said. “Somehow, I knew this might be a fool’s errand.”
Katerina frowned, nodding before resting her cheek against one of her knees. A sigh originating from Robin drew our attention to him and as we both looked in his direction, he scowled and shoved his hands inside his pockets. “In all of these books, there isn’t a way to circumvent it?” he asked.
“No,” Katerina said. Without lifting her head, she continued staring up at Robin. “There are wards every time I get close. I used his blood –” She lifted a hand to point toward me. “– but the same thing happened then as when I used your blood to find your maker and your immortal brother. Alarms went off in my head. Even if I could hide where we are, they’d know we were coming for them, and they’d run.”
Robin crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it worth pursuing, though? Yes, I’m sure they’d flee, but at least then, we would know where they currently are.”
“You could.” Katerina lowered her hand again, straightening her posture as she visibly struggled with what to say. I mirrored her frown as I read her thoughts, seeing her try to break through the barriers, ignoring shockwave after shockwave of warning crashing into her until she pushed through to the other side. Even then, I detected some hint her sacrifice would be in vain, and would drain one of the few resources we had at our disposal. More importantly, it could injure a young girl.
She might not have been as young as my daughter, but I could not help but to think of Lydia suffering in a similar manner. “No, please do not,” I said. My eyes flicked from Katerina to Robin, regarding them both as I saw the strain on their expressions; the utter dejectedness in the way they looked back at me. I knew Robin had his own reasons for being there and yet, I could not help but to feel like the one responsible for their frustration. “This is my mess and I have been called to clean it up. Somehow, I will figure out a way around this.”
Standing, I excused myself, walking out of the room and in the direction of the elevators. The door clicked shut behind me, but opened again a moment later, and I glanced over my shoulder in time to Robin approach. Waiting for him to catch up to me before I pressed the down arrow, I pointed myself in the direction of the metal doors, choosing not to engage him fully. “I was only going out for some air,” I said when he settled in my periphery.
“I don’t like the thought of you alone right now,” Robin countered. “Pardon my paranoia.”
He and I spared a glance at each other, one I only let hold for a few moments before disengaging. As the doors parted in front of us, I stepped into the car and when Robin followed suit, I continued to avoid looking at him. The journey to the main lobby spent in silence, we continued to honor the tense quiet until we emerged from the hotel and strode away from the building. For the lack of a better direction, I led us toward a line of shops at the end of the road. While Robin maintained the silence, I could not help but to feel him wait for me to speak.
I drew a deep breath inward, pretending to admire the rustic artifice of the stores we passed. “The Supernatural Order has not been able to find them,” I said at last. “I should not have rested so much faith in one girl when an entire group of sorcerers have been brought to their knees by him.”
“Did your friend have news from their side of the battle?” he asked.
“Yes, he did. Unfavorable news, at that. Until I told him Patrick’s name, he had no idea who the mastermind behind Napoleon was.”
Robin sighed. “I hate that name of his. I hadn’t heard it until my second week here, when nobody seemed to know who the hell Patrick Flynn was. It took some questioning to even get the name Napoleon and even then, he became more of an enigma.”
“I marvel over the name. Has he always had such a flair for the dramatic?”
“You obviously weren’t paying attention.” He paused to gather his thoughts while I reached into my suit jacket for a cigarette. Cupping my hand over the flame to light it, I focused on the task exclusively until I had my lighter in my pocket. Together, we strode toward the bridge in the distance. “It took me a while,” Robin continued, “But in the end, I determined this moniker of his was a way for him to be sentimental. Moriarty, from the Sherlock Holmes stories, was known as the Napoleon of Crime.”
“And that is sentimental?” I asked.
“Somewhat. I own many of the original issues of Strand Magazine. He’s seen me pouring over them throughout the years.” Robin sobered and as I drew from my cigarette, I glanced at him, seeing the far-off look his eyes developed. His shoulders almost seemed to slump. “He had me fooled into thinking he loved me. Perhaps a part of him truly meant it.”
Despite the weight I carried, I could not help but to feel a pang of sympathy caused by his admission. Regardless of how little humor I carried in my heart, I chanced levity anyway. “If he’s Moriarty, then does that make me Sherlock Holmes?”
Robin snorted. “That isn’t quite the dynamic between the two characters, brother. What makes them enemies also makes them parallel. Two sides of the same coin, you might say. Sherlock is the greatest detective to ever live and Moriarty, the perfect villain. They could have very well been the other, if led on a different path.”
“No, dear brother,” he continued, the same pain still evident in the way he spoke. “That very thing I call sentimental has a blade attached to it. One I cut him with when I named your other side Flynn. I tried to tell Sabrina you were a mistake and in doing so confessed his turning had been one as well. In calling himself Napoleon, he has delivered a message to me in return.”
“What message might that be?” I asked.
“That if Mother had favored him and shunned me, I would be exactly where he is now.”
I frowned as Robin surrendered to his thoughts. While my failure to lighten his disposition came as no surprise to me, I still could not help but notice what a sorry lot he and I had become. I held back on saying anything further until we approached the bridge and as we paused midway through its walkway, I finally conceded toward letting down a few of my walls. Drawing from my cigarette, I determined if we were going to wallow in misery, perhaps it would be better spent focused on more productive matters.
“We have a conundrum, then,” I said. Turning to face the concrete wall, I watched as the water running beneath us flowed through the Piedmont City. “Katerina cannot break through the wards in place by Patrick, even with both of our blood to use, and that is the one advantage we would have had over the Order. As much as this leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, they have been on this battlefield longer and have more experience with Napoleon than we do.”
Robin rested his arms on the concrete side rail while I pivoted to lean against it. Slowly, he took a deep breath inward. “I would like to avoid taking our concerns to the Supernatural Order,” he said.
“So would I. More than you could possibly begin to imagine, brother. I would like a lot of things I am not currently getting.” I perked an eyebrow. “Do you have any other ideas?”
“No. That is what annoys me.” He grumbled softly and folded his hands. Glancing out across the water, Robin sank into meditative silence. I did not even need my telepathic gifts to know what he might be thinking. As his thumbs brushed against skin, his head bowed and when he peered up at me again, I saw him fighting a look of resignation. “Working with them puts my neck on the line. They were targeting elders in their more recent massacres.”
“I know.” With a frown, I glanced up toward the heavens. “Your life and my freedom. I did not want to barter the latter when Julian handed me his phone number, let alone even think about the former. They want me in shackles and you, murdered, if our worst fears come to light.”
“Or, it would provide me an opportunity to show them we are not their enemy.”
“We should not count on goodwill.” Lowering my gaze, I studied my brother, causing him to make eye contact with me again. I felt my expression take on a severe tone. “Julian says Patrick was pitting covens against themselves. The spread of misinformation is what caused a massacre in Berlin which claimed almost twenty people. They will not trust us.”
“No, but they will want you. The one time a vampire will be of use for them is when they can throw him into battle for their behalf.”
“I will inform them that my cooperation will be limited, at best. Enough to ensure access to their resources, but not so much that they presume my servitude.” With a sigh, I lifted both hands to scrub at my face. “I cannot believe I am even considering this. If we go through with it, we must be prepared to run the moment they flash either a shackle or a sword at us.”
“I think that might be a sound plan.” Robin nodded. Standing up straighter, he slid his hands in his pockets again and exhaled what looked to have been a deep, steadying breath. “Call your associate. I can make travel plans while you speak to him. I assume we’re headed toward London.”
“Yes, that seems to be the headquarters dealing more directly with this situation.”
“From the frying pan and into the fire.” Freeing a hand to gesture in the direction of the hotel, Robin stepped past me, leading us to our room. That same quiet which had followed us out also accompanied us back inside, this time much calmer and with more resolve behind it. I felt uneasy and focused at the same time; resigned and yet, swinging from the branch of hope Katerina provided to the one the Order might have to offer. Numb serenity continued its path toward overshadowing me, but considering the alternative, I felt inclined to allow it.
Katerina lifted her head from the pillow on Robin’s bed when we entered the room. Sitting upright, she swung her feet around so she could rise to a stand, looking hopeful that perhaps our return marked something serendipitous. While Robin explained our next course of action, I produced Julian’s number from my pocket, dialing it and waiting for him to answer while sitting on the far edge of my bed. As he answered, and after explaining our willingness to help to him, I listened to him divulge both the neighborhood of their headquarters and the man I should seek to speak with when we arrived.
“His name is Brandon Gillies,” Julian said. “I will call him and tell him to expect you and your brother.”
“Thank you,” I said. “The last thing we want is for him to think the Order is under attack.” Pausing for a moment, I had the notion in my mind to add, “I also do not want them to think I am signing up for active duty. I will help resolve this matter, but I am going to continue doing it on my own terms.”
“The Fates might have something to say about that, mein Freund.”
I heard both the good-natured warning behind his words and the tired, battle-weary seer who had every right to take exception with my delusions. Only expressing agreement, I hung up the phone and slid his number back in my wallet, still reading the notes I had scrawled throughout our discussion, even while tucking my wallet away. Leaving Turin for London felt like the right thing to do and yet, I knew this meant wading even closer to the battle
lines. Whatever illusion of safety we might have had here, it would be eradicated once we left Italy.
Accepting that fact began, for me, with packing my suitcase. Katerina collected her books and magical items and as Robin announced that our arrival in London would follow a brief layover in Paris, the air of the room sobered dramatically. Robin and I exchanged a glance when he strolled past, and in his eyes, I saw him attempting to make peace with that truth as well. Once more, he was being pulled into the tumult of my life. While our past expeditions at least bore the hint of adventure, this one had become an entirely different monster, with far graver undertones to it.
I weighed him in recognition of this and he sighed, looking away.
“Get your things together, brother,” he said. “We have humans to reason with.”
Lingering at the bottom of a long, concrete staircase, both Robin and I stood admiring the monolith in front of us. To the casual observer, it might have appeared to be a government building, from its plain, off-white exterior to its otherwise sterile façade, blinds covering the windows and concealing its inner workings from view. Robin tugged at the ends of his suit jacket and I brushed lint from my coat, feeling both the weight of the sword strapped to my hip and my need to be there. Ensuring the weapon remained concealed, I renewed my commitment for our planned course of action. “I suppose the only thing left to do is knock,” I said, looking from the doors which lay ahead to my brother.