by Debra Dunbar
The woman waved her hand, as if shooing a fly. “No worries, little one. Those such as your friend used to be quite common, nine–thousand years ago. It’s a shame the angels killed the majority and drove the rest into hiding. Fascinating creatures. Intelligent, unpredictable, with a lovely capacity for violence. When I was a girl, we always gave them a respectful distance.”
That didn’t sound much like Jaq. She was smart and could get the job done when it came to killing, but her soft–hearted, loyal friend wasn’t one she’d describe as unpredictable or particularly fond of violence for its own sake. She’d deal with any threat to Jaq’s well–being later; right now it was time to get down to business.
“I’m Kelly Demir, formerly of the Fournier family. Why did you want to see me?” There. Direct and crossing the line into rudeness. This was becoming a habit in her dealings with older vampires. She quite enjoyed it.
The other vampire didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
“I am Monica Rasmuth, the Kincaid family Consort. You may sit,” Monica said, her tone friendly. “You may also partake of this odious beverage if you feel the need for self–inflicted torture.”
Kelly bit back a smile as she slid into the chair. She’d not expected humor. Kelly had pictured a snobby trophy wife who would make her wait for half the night then insult her and waste her time, not a tranquil yogi joking about the crappy coffee.
“And as to your rather blunt question, how could I not want to see the vampire who killed two of our skilled scouts then dumped them on our front porch, killing another in the process. At the time, I thought it was the young Fournier, but we were able to quickly trace it back to you. You kill our assassins, but are also seen fighting against your own family. Werewolves, Kelly? Was there no better choice? You turn against vampires for those …creatures?”
Kelly bit her lip. A lecture was not what she needed right now. “Those creatures helped me when no vampire would. We vampires have an agreement with them that West Virginia is theirs. I see no wrong in helping them defend what’s rightfully theirs against those who only want me dead.”
Monica chuckled, her illusion slipping as she revealed a smile of long, jagged fangs. “If that fool of a Fournier Prince had a brain in his head, he would have killed you last night. Although I’ll give the poor boy credit — he’s having a hard enough time keeping his father from packing him off to France.”
“What do you want? This is a lovely conversation and all, but I’ve got vampires to kill. Those assassins you have prowling around my trailer aren’t going to wait all day.” Probably not the best move, but Kelly was losing patience.
“I wish to offer you protection and alliance with our family,” the older vampire announced.
Kelly thought of Jaq back in the truck. Don’t run off with her, okay? She’d made her decision; there was no turning back now.
“I have a family — werewolves, a Nephilim, and a bunch of humans.”
“They are not vampires. You’re useful to them right now, but they’ll kill you as soon as they see fit.”
“Like you? Like my former family? Seriously, if I really wanted to jump back into that frying pan, I’d take the Prince up on his offer and go back to my previous Master.” Kelly replied with equal candor.
Monica eyed her steadily, her illusion gaining enough force that the disturbing vampire eyes were temporarily overlaid with dark bird–like ones.
“Your Prince is a traitor. Kyle Fournier intends to take a handful of counties in Maryland and Pennsylvania, along the border. How long do you think it will be before his father beheads every vampire affiliated with him?”
The room swirled before Kelly as she tried to retain an air of nonchalance. She’d suspected the Prince might have such a plan under consideration, but the odds were so tiny that he’d have to be insane to try it. He was better off making a play for the Kincaid lands. He was better off waiting a few centuries for his father to slip up and seize control.
“Right now I’m an outcast. I’d be a traitor if I aligned myself with him, a traitor if I aligned myself with you, and a traitor if I support the werewolves.”
“Death faces you in three of those four options. And your Prince will hopefully have his head detached from his body before year’s end.”
Kelly laughed, but the sound came out shaky. “The Master would never kill his Born son, the only offspring he has ever sired. Would you?”
Monica winced. “I have never been blessed with any but Made children. And you overestimate the importance of Born. In time, you will see there is no difference between the Born and the Made.”
“There should be no difference, but as long as vampires place value on lineage, as long as the angels watch to make sure our original species continues with unbroken lines, then there will be a huge gap between the Born and the Made.”
Monica regarded her intently, her illusion rippling with a surge of power. Kelly briefly glimpsed the child the ancient vampire had been, racing barefoot along the reed–filled landscape, waving at humans poling their barges down the river. The child’s black braids were decorated with golden beads that clacked merrily as she ran. Her brown legs raced beneath a short tunic, and she shouted a phrase in an ancient language. Cranes took flight from the floodplain beside her.
“Don’t you wonder, Kelly Demir, why the Born have a human form at birth? Why they appear as human without the need for illusion for millennia? Your own Prince is what …three–hundred years old? Yet he walks in the day, combs his hair with the aid of a mirror, and is nearly indistinguishable from the humans around him. Don’t you wonder?”
She had, but at less than two–hundred years, she’d just assumed that was the way vampire genetics worked. Perhaps it was an adaptation to allow them to blend in with the more numerous humans until their power reached a point where they could adequately defend themselves against a group attack. A baby that appeared as Monica now did would surely be killed on sight by any human it tried to feed from, and young vampires never had the power of illusion.
Monica leaned forward, her eyes bright and alert. “There are no original vampires left. We’re all Made at one point or another. It’s just a lovely lie the Born tell to make us seem special. We build our society on the mythos of a race that died out almost ten–thousand years ago, and give it urgency by claiming this non–existent treaty with the angels. The Born must rule, and we must make nice with the demons in case our elven enemies attack or the angels move against us. All lies, my dear. All lies.”
“But the angels….” Kelly sputtered. She’d lost all ability to maintain a disinterested appearance. The Consort must be lying — although every sense Kelly had screamed that she told the truth.
“They’ve been a little self–obsessed the past few millennia. Angel politics make ours look like a playground negotiation. Yes, if they found out, they’d kill us all. It might take them ten–thousand years or so to get the execution order signed and out of committee, but they’d eventually kill us all.”
Kelly stared at her, unable to speak. Monica smiled. “And now you have leverage. It would mean your death too if the secret got out, but I get the feeling you’d willingly sacrifice yourself for the safety of your furry friends, no?”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Something dark and sad flashed over the elder vampire’s face. “Because I’m old, and I’m tired of this farce. I found something that really matters to me, and thankfully I wasn’t stupid enough to throw it away. Gideon is a good man, the type of Master vampires need to have, not some vain, self–important fool in a silk suit. I will stand beside him and fight for what we’ve worked so hard to achieve over the centuries.”
“Even if it means your death?” Kelly asked, stunned. “You could be Consort to a Born, eventually rule the entire east coast, and more, if rumors are true.”
Monica leaned back in her chair. “Yes, even if it means my death. Would you take the Prince’s offer? An empty title, an eternity filled with back–stabb
ing and intrigue? Given your reluctance to take my own offer, I think your answer would be ‘no’.”
Kelly opened her mouth to protest and shut it with a snap. No, she wouldn’t take that offer, not after she’d seen how life could really be, even in a dilapidated trailer surrounded by humans and werewolves. There were things money and status couldn’t buy — although money helped.
“So, I find I must amend my offer to you,” Monica said, a faint smile on her thin lips. “I can see you already have a family, so I propose a revision to the treaty signed two–hundred years ago. Assist us in keeping the Fournier family out of our territory, and we will do the same for you. We’ll also pledge no further illegal crossings — from now on, any of our vampires passing through your lands must have prior permission and abide by rules and restrictions you set forth. In return, we honor your claim as a new family and pledge assistance in both your business interests and any enforcement or protection you may need from others — vampires, humans …and angels.”
Kelly couldn’t help an involuntary glance at the doorway. It wasn’t just the werewolves that needed protection from angels, Jaq did too.
“I can’t commit them to this proposal without their Alpha’s approval. He’s the one running this show, not me. Why aren’t you talking with him about this?”
Monica pushed the coffee cup aside. “Because vampires do not make deals with werewolves; we make deals with other vampires. If their Alpha has brains sharper than his teeth, he’ll realize your value in this scenario.” Monica stood, looking down at Kelly fondly. “And that, my dear, is my gift to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel sunrise approaching, and I can tell that your Nephilim friend is reaching the end of her patience.”
Kelly stood. “Uh, how shall I let you know the werewolves’ decision? You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone, would you?”
Monica laughed. It was an eerie noise, like a rasp on wood. “I will know. Young Fournier will attack us in Leesburg tomorrow midnight. Either you will be there, or you won’t.”
She glided across the floor and through the glass double doors as if her feet didn’t completely touch the ground. Before the door closed, she vanished in a burst of speed. Barely five seconds passed before the door opened again, and Jaq walked in. Kelly couldn’t help but contrast the two — the Consort with her inhuman mannerisms and floating movements, and Jaq, who walked on the balls of her feet, silent and smooth as a panther.
“You heard?”
“Uh huh. She gives me the creeps. I mean, completely gives me the creeps. I still feel itchy from that aura–thing she’s got going on. Her scent makes me want to sneeze. And rub baking soda up my nose. Ugh.”
“Do you think your Alpha is going to go for it? This could solve a lot of your problems — mine too.”
“Yeah, but can we trust her?” Jaq looked out through the door, but the other vampire was long gone and probably safely underground by now.
“I trust her more than the others. We may be a bunch of monsters, but we do respect a solid, well–crafted agreement.”
Jaq tilted her head and shrugged. “Well then, let’s go wake–up Jonah. What’s the worst he can do? Say no?”
35
No.”
The word was absurdly firm and final, coming from a muscled werewolf wearing pajamas covered in dancing penguins. He didn’t even have the courtesy to look at them while uttering it, instead concentrating on some object he was whittling with a pocket knife.
Kelly held silent, letting Jaq take the lead. The Alpha for several thousand werewolves looked like any human she’d meet on the street in this state. A youthful ball cap covered his head, but the gray in his blond beard and the faint lines on his face put his age around mid–fifties.
“We’re in the middle of two factions,” Jaq argued. “The fight last night is only the start. The one tomorrow night will most definitely cross into our land.”
“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. Vampire squabbles aren’t any of our business. One of them will eventually win, and everything will go back to normal. We just need to hold our ground.”
“And how many will die for us to hold our ground? We can end this quickly, with minimal loss, if we take the Kincaids up on their offer.”
“No.” Jonah punctuated the word with a sharp jab to his carving.
“There won’t be a return to normal,” Kelly interjected. “No matter which group wins, you will all lose. The Prince to the north wants West Virginia. The early attack had nothing to do with the battle that followed. He’s moving against us, either as a financial supplement, or as a preparatory move to take the Kincaid land, or a section of his father’s lands. We could keep this war from our borders, but we’ll still face direct attack from the Prince.”
Jonah swore. “You vampires are worse than boils on a summer day. We have a contract that nobody seems willing to honor; what makes you think this Kincaid woman, or man, or whoever, is going to honor a new one?”
Kelly squirmed. How could she justify all this on gut feelings, or the strange affinity she felt for the ancient vampire? “They will continue to be vulnerable with a Made Master; they’re pledging mutual support. The contract benefits them more than just this one battle. They’ll honor it.”
“This is our chance to experience a bit of freedom,” Jaq added. “We’re trapped in this state. This pack is in violation of so many stipulations from the angels that we don’t dare venture forth. The vampires have offered us protection. If they can manage to keep visiting demons safe from angels, then they can do the same for us. Just think, Jonah, our pack can visit family in the southern states, maybe even participate in large hunts again without fear of reprisal from the angels.”
Jonah snarled. “And what if it is all a trap? Some kind of long game to get us out of the state and in a place where the angels can get us? I can see it now: we’re in Georgia on a hunt, and down drop three angels to administer their own special brand of justice. I don’t trust vampires.”
“They won’t,” Kelly insisted. She exchanged a quick look with Jaq. They’d wanted to keep this bit of information in their back pockets, but Jonah would never trust the vampires without it. “Vampires have just as much reason to fear the angels as you do. If their secrets got out, they’d be massacred. They won’t betray us.”
The alpha leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “So you know their secret, but you’re a vampire too. How do I know this isn’t all a lie for you to gain a lucrative position in this new family?”
“I know it too,” Jaq said. “For God’s sake, Jonah, put your prejudice behind you and think of the good of the pack.”
“I am,” he snapped. “We’ve had no reason to trust them. Your girl here has fought nicely on our side, but that’s not enough to ease my worries. And this deal is all about physical trespass and attack, what about financial? Vampires have been making inroads into our business interests in the last year; who’s to stop this Kincaid vampire, or your Prince, from crippling us financially? We’d have the land but nothing else. It would be like being smoked out in a siege.”
“That won’t happen.” Kelly could feel Jaq’s surprised gaze on her. “I can assure you there will be no further hostile take–over attempts on your businesses.”
Jonah paused his whittling, the werewolf’s eyes shrewd as he stared at Kelly. She held his gaze and was surprised to see him shrug and turn his attention back to the wooden object in his hand.
“Jaq, why don’t you ask Ellen to bring out some hot tea for us all.”
Jonah’s voice was casual, but there was no mistaking the steel of command under the soft words. Jaq stiffened, her face pink. The Alpha didn’t repeat himself, and with just enough hesitation to be defiant, Jaq stomped off for the house. Kelly watched her go then turned her attention to Jonah. Kelly observed him whittle in silence, just as she would a Master. It was uncomfortable standing here without Jaq’s reassuring presence. Kelly decided to fall back on what she knew in terms of behavior. Don’t speak unless spoken
to; don’t answer unless asked a question.
He held up what was shaping up to be a wooden peg and examined it, running a thumb along its smooth length. “It’s to plug up a cask. I’ve taken up wine–making, you see. Ellen, my wife, tells me it’s good for a man my age to have a hobby.”
Well, that was an abrupt change of topic. Was their earlier conversation over? What was his decision on the Consort’s proposal? Deciding to just go with it, Kelly made a noncommittal, what she hoped was approving, sound. Jonah turned to face her, waving the peg her way. Screw it. Might as well live dangerously, she thought.
“Is your wine any good?”
The werewolf made a noise somewhere between a snort and a hacking cough. “No. Tastes like shit. I’ll break it out with great ceremony at the next pack event, and everyone will drink a few glasses and tell me how marvelous it is.”
Where was he going with this?
“They’ll lie to you.” She understood lies. Kelly really understood lies. The important thing was to not get caught.
Jonah took his knife and smoothed out a rough spot on the peg. “We lie if it does us no good but benefits another. That’s an honorable lie. A lie that benefits the liar but harms others is disgraceful.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow. Sounded like a feel–good load of bologna to her. “So how does it benefit you if everyone lies about the quality of your wine? Wouldn’t it be better if they told you it was wretched, so you could strive to improve?”
“I have no ambitions of being a professional. This is a hobby, and hobbies are to bring joy and satisfaction to the creator, regardless of the quality of the work. It’s important to know those you are lying to, to understand their hearts and desires, otherwise your lie may do harm.”
Total bologna. The cheap kind, with the red plastic around the edges.
“I’m going to call bullshit on that one. The liars do benefit — by avoiding your anger, or toadying for your favor. They don’t lie to spare your feelings; they lie to preserve their status, and possibly their lives.”