by J. D. Brown
Shea narrowed her gaze and pushed past us. Lycaon wheeled a few of the clothes racks out of the way, unearthing a settee and an armchair. He gestured for us to sit. Maria lifted her brow at the dusty blue cushions before reluctantly easing herself onto the edge of the settee. Jesu practically fell into the armchair without hesitation and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. I sat beside Maria and smoothed my hands over my lap. Lycaon pulled his vanity bench closer so he could sit across from us.
“Explain to me again,” he said, “this business you want with my protégé.”
Jesu took a breath and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward. “I realize it is not proper manners to ask the service of a bonded vampire, and for that I apologize, but we find ourselves in desperate need of an alchemist.”
Shea returned with a tray of glasses, each one filled halfway with a particular red liquid that caused my stomach to lurch. I tried, very tactfully, to raise a hand to my nose without being rude. I rubbed my nostrils, hoping it looked like I merely had an itch—an itch that would persist for the remainder of the conversation.
Lycaon sipped his drink before answering. “Why not use your brother’s little waif? From what I hear, she’s just as gifted in the black arts.”
Jesu cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Leena is not available.”
“Besides,” Maria smiled kindly. “The service is not in any way intended for Prince Jalmari. It is for Ema.”
I bit my lip as the four of them—Shea included—looked at me. I had no choice but to cease rubbing my nose, so I tried to speak without inhaling. “We’re prepared to pay you ten-million euros.”
Jesu choked on his drink. Maria frowned and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, handing it to Jesu. Lycaon cast a wary glance at the three of us. I decided to continue.
“I assure you, I have the funds. I had someone else lined up for the job, but he wasn’t as reliable as I had hoped.”
Lycaon tapped his fingernails against the wooden frame of his seat, shifting his gaze between Jesu and me. “Despite having just met the three of you, I know a great deal about your patrons here.” Lycaon nodded in Maria and Jesu’s direction. “But you, Miss Ema, I haven’t so much as heard your name before. How do I know you won’t run off with my vampire?”
“What have you got to lose?” I said, glancing around at the sad excuse of a circus dressing room. Maria and Jesu cringed. Sure enough, Lycaon scowled. I guess my choice of words weren’t very considerate in the face of an ex-king. He was probably used to respect, even if he was a clown now. Literally. “Look,” I said, “I have no reason to keep Hesiodos. I just need him to perform a spell.”
Lycaon narrowed his gaze. “I will have you know that I utterly despise Jalmari.”
My brow rose, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. “Well that makes two of us. Like Maria said, I’m not here for Jalmari.”
“And yet your choice in company seems to suggest otherwise.”
I glanced at Maria—Jalmari’s Third-in-Command—and then at Jesu—Jalmari’s little brother—and sighed. “I see your point. Unfortunately, my word and a whole lot of cash is all I have to offer. So I’ll be honest; yes, it was Jalmari who told us that Hesiodos could be useful, but his involvement ends there. I’m really working on behalf of the Alpan crown. You’ve already lost one home, Lycaon. If you wish to stay in Western Europe, I suggest you learn to ignore the details and agree to let us fairly compensate you in return for Hesiodos’ temporary service.”
Lycaon furrowed his brow and studied me. His top lip lifted just enough to show his right canine. “What is the nature of this business with my alchemist exactly?”
Jesu spoke before I could answer. “We need him to make a philosopher’s stone.”
Lycaon barked a one-syllable laugh. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. Hesiodos is good, but he’s not that good.”
“Can I hear that from him?” I asked.
The vampyre, a bemused smile on his face, waved a hand at Shea. “Go on, get the man.”
Shea dashed out the door again. A tense silence filled the room as we waited. Lycaon kept his eyes on me. I could practically hear the laughter behind them. He thought he was done with us, but I wasn’t so sure.
Footsteps approached the door and Shea entered, trailed by the magician from the posters. Hesiodos was pale-skinned and walked with the easy gait of one who was immortal. Yet, thin crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his soft black eyes, and his hairline thinned to the onset of baldness. The math didn’t add up. Jesu was over two-thousand years old, and he only looked about twenty-three. Hesiodos seemed to be in his forties. Then it dawned on me.
Vampire, not vampyre.
Jesu turned on his fifteenth birthday. Hesiodos must have been at least thirty when Lycaon sired him. What a shame to be ripped away from humanity at that age. Hesiodos could have had a family, children old enough to remember and miss him. What had Lycaon done to them?
Hesiodos stood in the center of the room and lifted a questioning gaze at his master. Lycaon nodded at the three of us. “Hesiodos, be a good man and kindly inform this lot that it is not within your skill to make a functioning philosopher’s stone.”
Hesiodos tensed at the mention of a philosopher’s stone, but he immediately wiped all emotion from his face and turned a polite smile toward us. “It is not within my skill to make a functioning philosopher’s stone.”
“Wait a minute.” Jesu rose to his feet. “You commanded him to say that.”
“So I did,” Lycaon chuckled. “Very well, ask him yourself.”
Jesu didn’t hesitate. He looked Hesiodos in the eye. “Can you make a philosopher’s stone?”
I leaned forward, studying every miniscule detail of the vampire’s reaction, trying to commit his every movement, no matter how subtle, to memory for later examination. Hesiodos’ gaze lowered and his shoulders curled forward.
“I’m sorry, sir, but my sire is correct. I am not skilled enough.”
“What if you had a spell to direct you?” I said. “And all the components you needed to cast it?”
His head jerked in my direction and his lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl, but he quickly pacified himself and forced a neutral expression onto his face. He squared his shoulders and shook his head. “Even if you had a spell, I doubt it would work. The philosopher’s stone is not some silly gypsy curse. It is the height of alchemy. Only three masters in the history of time have ever achieved such a spell. I am by no means among them.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
“Ema,” Jesu scolded. I ignored him and stood.
“You’re the star of the show. Your face is on all those posters downstairs. I know you use your alchemy to impress the audience. That means you’ve had centuries of practice.”
The poor man looked from me to Lycaon and back while sputtering. “Parlor tricks! A novice could do them. We entertain a human audience. I would never perform anything that would endanger a human and draw attention to my sire!”
“Enough.” Lycaon stood. Hesiodos hesitated, but didn’t say another word. Lycaon eyed me for a long moment. I could see the proverbial wheels turning in his mind. “Miss Ema, are you implying that you are in possession of such a spell?”
I glanced at Maria. “I think so, but it’s written in code. If Hesiodos can read the code…”
“I see,” said Lycaon. “So you do not know for sure if my vampire can help you.”
I bit my lip and glanced at my shoes.
Lycaon tisked. “Did you bring the spell?”
I looked at Maria again. She narrowed her gaze and then reached for her bag and opened it.
“It’s in here,” she said, while pulling the tome out for them to see.
Hesiodos gasped and cupped his hand over his mouth. He took a step back and his face paled.
Interesting.
Before anyone else could react, I blurted out, “We’ll pay you half the money immediately, and the other half when the
spell is complete.”
“Ema,” said Jesu, his tone sharp. “We do not know if Hesiodos can read it yet.”
“He can,” I said, narrowing my gaze at the vampire. “Trust me, he can.”
Lycaon strummed his fingertips against the bench and studied his protégé. “Is this true?”
Hesiodos, still with his hand over his mouth, nodded.
“Very well. You have three days.”
“Three?” Maria exclaimed while shoving the book back into the satchel. “What if the spell takes longer to complete?”
Lycaon shrugged. “Not my problem. Hesiodos is my main attraction, as Miss Ema so eloquently pointed out, and we have a show to perform in three days. I have a family and an income to manage. I won’t have this little shenanigan taking too much of my protégé’s time.”
“Listen, you overgrown brat.” I poked the vampyre in his velvet-lined chest. “We’re paying you enough to miss a year’s worth of pathetic shows. This isn’t Cirque du Soleil. The deal is five-million upfront and we keep Hesiodos until the spell is done. Then you get your magician back, along with another five-million, got it? Otherwise, I might be forced to take advantage of my friendship with King Nikolas. I don’t suppose you feel like taking your little act on the road to say, oh I don’t know, China?”
Lycaon grinned, flashing all his teeth. “I admire a woman with alpha in her blood. Still, I don’t do negotiations. Three days, take it or leave it.”
My fists clenched at my sides, but I didn’t come all way to Italy just to leave empty handed. “Please excuse me while I make a withdrawal.”
I marched out of the room, down the stairs, and through the front door. Jesu and Maria followed. It wasn’t until we stood on the docks again that Jesu spoke.
“You are insane.”
“Thank you.” I rolled my eyes.
“What if Hesiodos really can’t do it? Nikolas is going to be extremely angry. Ten-million euros?”
“Hey, Nikolas was prepared to spend that much on Valafar, remember?” I crossed my arms. “Besides, I know Hesiodos can read the code and he can perform the spell. If he honestly thought that he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have been so spooked when he saw the book. My guess is he’s worried Lycaon will make him replicate the spell and produce a stone for him, too.”
“I agree,” said Maria. “Hesiodos knows how powerful a philosopher’s stone is. He is afraid of the consequences of knowing such a spell.”
Jesu sighed. “For once, that makes three of us in agreement.” He removed his cellphone from his pocket and dialed Nikolas’ number.
Bridget
Condensation pelted my feathers as I soared through the clouds. I kept to the high altitudes of the Kongen mountain range to avoid drawing attention. Messenger falcons were an odd sight to behold in the cellphone era. Using an aircraft might have been more convenient, but natural flight was faster. Nearing my destination, I lowered several meters, over a small valley nestled in the midst of the snow-covered mountain caps. The white walls and ceiling of the compound blended with the icy surroundings, but the large orange warning sign and electronic fence warding off trespassers was a dead giveaway, even to the untrained eye.
I circled the building, getting a feel for the situation, but there was no sign of outdoor activity. The party waited inside. Sticking to the plan, I landed on the flat cement roof and shifted back into my bodacious self. A thin layer of frost coated my fingertips and the ice on the roof stung the soles of my feet. I ignored the weather, rolling my shoulders back and releasing a visible puff of breath as my nervous system adjusted.
A makeshift tote bag hung from a strap across my back. I removed the pack, opened it, and quickly pulled on a pair of cargo pants and my favorite vest. Underwear was overrated, especially for a shifter. Besides, one didn’t get a reputation in the Elite by hauling around half of one’s wardrobe. I removed a taser gun and holster, and strapped them around my waist. Then I grabbed my dagger and placed the blade between my teeth. I tied the tote bag to an air vent so it wouldn’t blow away.
Naamah had said the generator was broken, which was why Apollyon left a guard with Helldora. Without electricity, Helldora could easily phase through the cell walls. I still didn’t understand why Naamah insisted on sending me—or rather, I didn’t believe his reasons. This mission would be a cakewalk. Naamah could have assigned anyone, and for a fraction of the price. But if I’d learned anything over the years, it was that if something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was. I knew in my gut Naamah was keeping something from me. For that reason, I exercised extreme caution. I wouldn’t drop my guard just because the job promised to be easy. That’s how mistakes are made.
The compound had only one door, no windows, and no other openings large enough for me to fit inside without leaving my weapons behind. I was good with my fists, but didn’t want to risk it. Apollyon’s guard was no ordinary vampyre. Naamah had warned me of the monsters Apollyon had conjured from the dead. Keeping my posture straight and my calves tight, I walked across the roof—stepping first on my toes before letting my feet roll back to the heels, as though on a balance beam—to the front of the compound. Gymnastics was a good way to test the support of an iffy surface and avoid any creaky spots. Plus, it got the heart pumping, and I needed the extra blood flow to make it out of here before frostbite settled in. I raised my arms and did a summersault off the gable, landing with my bare feet planted in a snowdrift directly in front of the door. I scanned the ground. No footprints or tracks in the snow. Nothing had been in or out of the building recently. So far, so good. I pocketed the dagger, took out the taser gun, and then turned the door handle. It opened easily in my grip.
Gun pointed, I quickly scanned the dusty area inside. Moonlight filtered past the entrance, casting deep shadows across gray cements walls in a space that would have been pitch black a moment ago. The reception hall looked abandoned, but I knew the building wasn’t empty. Naamah said Helldora was in the basement level. The guard would stay down there as well. I had to move fast. It was only a matter of minutes before the monster sensed an extra pulse in the vicinity.
I left the door open, taking advantage of the moonlight, and kept to shadows, gun at the ready. My feet moved swiftly over the cement floor. Yeah, I might lose a toe to the frigid temperatures, but at least I wouldn’t give my location away with rubber heels. Nothing was quieter than one’s own flesh when trying to sneak up on an enemy.
I passed a row of empty jail cells while advancing toward the back of the room, and located a stairwell that only went in one direction—down. I pointed the gun over the railing and scanned the landing below. All clear. I moved cautiously, descending the metal steps one at a time, keeping my eyes and ears on alert. The space darkened as I left the safety of the moonlight behind. I cleared the first two levels without incident. Other than my target, the compound was empty. This prison wasn’t used often.
According to rumor, Prince Jalmari didn’t like the idea of having a jail full of vampires. He said it was too risky, even in an area as under-populated as Svalbard. He said any vampire deserving of a life sentence might as well be executed. I agreed with him. Making a man spend the rest of his life in a box contemplating between starvation and suicide was just cruel.
Maria had convinced Jalmari to build the compound anyway. She designed the electric cages herself. Not many vampyres scared me quite like Maria. There’s something twisted about a woman who hides her demons and feigns compassion. I’d rather be in the company of a thief than a liar.
The sound of flesh tearing halted my movement. I stood on a landing midway between the second and third level, and pressed my back against the cold wall. Chewing noises echoed through the stairwell. Someone was enjoying a snack, probably the guard.
Cloaked in total darkness, I closed my eyes and opened my other senses. A rancid scent, like urine and hot garbage, wafted into my nostrils. I scrunched my nose and fought the urge to gag. Okay, not doing that again. I relied on my ears instead
and counted one slow, steady heartbeat, which meant either Helldora was dead, or the guard didn’t have a pulse. Probably the latter. The heartbeat was too slow for someone so engrossed in their meal. At least the guard was distracted.
It’s go time.
I crept toward the iron handrail, keeping my back to the wall, and then peered over the side. Shoot, it was too dark to see. Motion flickered in the corner of my vision. I turned and narrowed my gaze. Yes, there in the center. A large, black silhouette moved, lifting something to its mouth, biting into it. He stood in the center of the path, right where one would expect a guard to stand.
I aimed the taser gun at him… then hesitated. It was too dark to know for sure what I aimed at, much less judge distance. The taser could only reach so far. I only had one real shot. If I missed, he would come after me. I needed to get closer.
I quietly descended a few more steps, keeping my eyes trained on the black shadow, listening to the sound of his lips smacking as he fed. The air reeked so bad, I couldn’t even tell what his meal was. Reindeer? Human? Helldora? I left the staircase behind and stepped onto a wet, sticky cement floor. I didn’t bother to check what I’d stepped in. The room was too dark and too pungent to tell.
Focus on the target.
I had seconds until he realized I was behind him. My pulse stayed nice and even, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to count to two.
Just a little closer…
I stepped on something twig-like and it snapped under my weight. Shit. The phantom turned and I crouched low, hoping he wouldn’t think to look down. The darkness was thick enough to hide in, even as I balanced on the ball of my heels right in front of him.
He sniffed the air and then let out a shrill battle cry and swung his arms. I dropped onto my back, his thick arms narrowly missing my face, and kicked my right foot directly up. My heel connected with his crotch. I followed through, kicking him into the air above me. With both hands on the handle, I lifted the gun straight up, pressed the metal probes against his sternum, and squeezed the trigger.