by Alex Owens
“It is hard for a man of your stature to surround himself with completely loyal advisors. I will let you figure out which one of your American minions has been in my employ for decades. If Claire choses you for her sacrifice, though, it will not matter.” She licked his cheek with a flick or her tongue and we both flinched. Me for having to witness that, and Clive for having to hold still for it.
When Venna walked away, I could still make out the faint trail of saliva on his cheek and wondered why he didn’t wipe it off? Fucking disgusting, it was, and I had no idea why it bothered me so, but every second he refrained from wiping a napkin over the witch-track my nerves ratcheted up another notch.
Wipe it off. Now. Wipe. It. Off. Forfuckssakewipeitoff.
“And that concludes our show and tell portion of the evening.” Venna stood at the head of the table again. She nodded to a hooded figure, who stood beside the closed hall doors. Upon receiving her signal, the figure opened one of the doors and said something to whoever was out in the hall.
I swiveled my head back to where Clive sat, just in time to see his napkin disappearing back under the table. The slimy cheek-trail was gone. Oh, thank the gods.
The sound of feet moving in cadence brought me back to attention. I looked up to see a number of formidable guards filing into the room, one after the other. There was something in the way they moved uniformly that struck me as odd. They were too in sync, if that makes any sense, almost like I was watching one guard and two dozen replica guards.
Of course, it had been a hell of a night, so I wasn’t feeling too confident in my deductive skills at the moment, or ever, really. At least three of the most important people in my life had been lying to me for years... I was no Sherlock, for sure. Fucking hell.
Venna nodded towards the uncanny guards and spoke to me. “You have quite a lot to think about, Claire. So I’ll leave you to it. Our guest are to be escorted to their chambers, all but the guest of honor. She’s still fixed to that chair for another ten minutes, give or take.”
One by one I watched as the others left the room, guided by a guard or two. That left three guards waiting on me to become unglued from my seat. I bided my time. There was nothing to do but wait. And now with everyone I loved split up and under heavy guard, I couldn’t do anything to endanger any of them. So I waited, and tried my damnedest to come up with some sort of plan.
Chapter Eighteen
That same evening, after Venna’s big reveal at the dinner party, I was escorted to my chambers for the night. It wasn’t enough that Venna expected me to sacrifice someone that I loved for her twisted pleasure, but she wanted me to spend a night with each of my “options” so that we could argue or cry or whatever. That twisted tactic was what I would call salt-in-the-wound.
My escort was a mute Vampire guard, who was just as homely in her after-life as when she was alive. I guess there were some things that the dark gift couldn’t overcome. She led me down the dark circular stone steps, deep into the catacombs. We stopped inside of a round, torch-lit space. I counted a dozen slab doors around me, each fortified with massive wrought iron. This must be Venna’s dungeon, I thought.
Another guard stood to the right of one of the cell doors and my escort pushed me in that direction. They grunted some sort of greeting to each other, then my escort turned and left, pulling a draft of cold air in her wake.
I rubbed my bared arms and approached the cloaked guard. Inside the hood was a dark abyss of nothingness. Surely someone or something was under that cloak, but I could not tell and the figure ignored me completely. It was eerie and weirding me out.
“Who’s in there?” I pointed to the cell door.
No response from Mr. Dark Matter. I assumed there was a man under all that fabric, judging by the height and build. Either that or another one of her stupid golems.
I tried again, “What do you have under that cape?”
I leaned closer to the guard and poked at the heavy woolen cloth. He smelled of rotten eggs and didn’t appear to like me poking at him, as evidenced by the prolonged hiss that escaped from the blacked-out hood area. My adrenaline almost spiked into a fight-or-flight response and I had to force myself to remain where I stood.
“Geesh, why so sensitive?” I laughed to cover the shakiness in my voice. “Did Mother Venna cut off your balls? Is that why you’re so testy? Get it, testy... testes.”
Okay, so maybe that was corny as hell, but I’ve already admitted that I have a tendency to make stupid jokes at inappropriate times. It’s part of what makes me so darn loveable.
While I was amusing myself, the temperature dropped in the chamber by at least twenty degrees, and if that wasn’t creepy enough, a low rumble, like a freight train coming around the bend, filled the air. I swear, it sounded like it was coming from within his cape. Louder and louder still, the chamber noise ratcheted up to what I imagined the center of a tornado sounded like, and the air stirred around us.
So, I may have pushed a bit too far. It wouldn’t be the first time my mouth had gotten me into trouble. It probably wouldn’t be the last time either.
“My bad, you don’t like jokes. Fine, I get it. No harm, no foul.” I held up my hands in mock surrender and the roaring winds began to die down.
The cell door in front of me creaked open under its own accord. I eyeballed it with uncertainty, because it was dark as shit in there and I’m not a big fan of pitch-black places. Go figure, right? A creature of the night, scared of the dark.
I did not want to step inside of that cell, however I figured that it was better to take my chances with whoever was inside, than to stay out in the entryway with what was possibly a freaking demon, so I stiffened my spine and stepped into the dark.
The door slammed behind me and at once the soft glow of candle light filled the room. I briefly wondered if the room’s threshold had been bewitched, to block all sights and sounds from coming in or out of the room. It would certainly keep the prisoners from communicating with one another, and it would explain the eerie darkness I’d witnessed before stepping inside.
All thoughts of bewitchment left my mind as I spied her, seated on the edge of a bed.
Bette. She was another form of bewitchment entirely, and one that had a way of making me forget everything and just focus on her.
“Clara,” she stood and swept toward, as graceful as a ballerina.
I let her hug me briefly before stepping back. I needed a little distance; the closer I got to Bette, the harder it became to think straight. Other than the recent night conclave, where we’d not accomplished much in the way of talking, Bette and I really hadn’t really spoken since Orlando. That was almost two years of unanswered questions, which I intended to remedy straight away.
“Bette,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry that I seem to have pulled you and the others into this mess, but I’m glad to see that you’re okay... even if all the way down here in no-mans-land. But we need to talk.”
She shook her head. “No, it is not your fault. Don’t even think that, mi dolce. There are many to blame for this, but you my dear are not one of them.”
“I don’t follow. Can you elaborate?” I asked.
“It’s such a long tale, and I don’t think—,“ Bette trailed off, mid-sentence.
“I have all night. So whenever you feel like explaining why you dropped me like a hot skillet after Orlando and waited almost two years before waltzing back into my life, I’m listening.” I was fully aware that the bitterness I’d done my best to tamp down, crept into my voice anyway.
“What is time, really? Five seconds, two weeks, six months? It is nothing. Time is only a useful way to measure a finite span of breaths. When you have all of eternity, unlimited time, the infinite span has a way of making everything else appear timeless. It goes faster, it goes slower, and we don’t care at all.” She sat serenely with her hands clasped in her lap, looking like a deadly Yogi.
Whatever I’d expected Bette’s excuse to be, that wasn’
t it. Since when did Bette go all philosophical? Now Clive, I would have expected that from, but not practical, pragmatic Bette. By the Gods, I didn’t remember her being so exhausting to talk to.
“Uh, huh. Cut the crap, Bette.” I stood, unwavering in my resolve. “I don’t want to debate the meaning of our existence. I want to know why you pulled the disappearing act? I want to know if you ever had any feelings for me at all, or if I was just a tiny side act in the freak show of your life?”
At least she had the decency to appear offended at my accusation. That was a start, so long as she followed it with an apology or a damned good reason for treating me the way she had. Bonus points if she offered up both.
“I know my absence must have hurt you. I thought it was best at the time,” she said quietly, without looking directly at me.
I noticed one lone, bloody tear run down over her perfect face.
“I didn’t want to abandon you, believe me. I was trying to give you time, you see?”
“I don’t understand,” I said, my resolve slipping just a bit.
“I’m making a mess of things, let me start from the beginning.” Bette scooted to the edge of her bed and bid me to join her. I took a seat beside her, but not too close for obvious reasons. I didn’t want to be a moth to her flame.
“I have been beholden to Venna for centuries. How I end up under her thumb is inconsequential at this point... but because of that, I have roamed the world with that damned violin. It is charmed you see, to call out and attract any witch of Venna’s bloodline. Both of those points are important. She needs those of her own blood, but they must possess the gift of magic as well, no matter how small the spark.”
“But why does she need us?”
“She needs the magic, the seedlings of her own power birthed so long ago. It is the only thing that can sustain her and keep her powerful, even after all this time. Think of yourself as a battery. When Venna’s essence begins to run low, she needs to recharge and you are that boost.”
“So she intends to steal my powers, absorb them somehow?” I didn’t see where that was a huge deal, I’d still be left with my vampire gifts, so life would carry on.
“No. She intends to absorb you. Completely.”
“Oh.” I sat, mouth agape. “That’s not good.”
Bette shook her head, but avoided eye contact.
“No, it is not.” She said with a tint of anger to her tone. “That is why I did what I did. I turned you into a Vampire, hoping that the combination of your magic and my blood would be enough to protect you. That is also why I stayed away from you for so long. Venna has spies everywhere and I didn’t want to be the one to lead her straight to you. I had also hoped that given enough time, your powers would grow, as well as your mastery of them.”
I took a minute to think about everything she’d confessed. Then it occurred to me that Bette had alluded that I was but one of many to be ensnared by Venna’s trap.
“How many?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
Bette stood and paced the room. “Too many. Dozens, hundreds. I forced myself to put those thoughts away so very long ago. It almost drove me mad. It may be only legend, but the rumor is that she first absorbed one of her children when she could not save it. It was then that she discovered the power exchange possible.”
Holy Batman on a stick. Venna had metaphysically eaten one of her own children? Probably the last one. Lucky number thirteen, who may or may not have been a vampire-witch-ling baby. That was layers of horrible on top of the unthinkable. Venna was a vampire cannibal, and not in the fun kind of “eat me” way. Wink, wink.
Jesus, my mind was going off on all kinds of tangents. I probably should consider making sure my next blood donor was on some kind of ADD medication.
“Okay, so how many have you turned?” I finally circled back around to the topic at hand.
“Turned? Why, none.” Bette sighed and stopped pacing. She came to me and knelt at the edge of the bed, taking my hands in hers.
“I’d like to say that it never occurred to me before, but that would be a half-truth.” She kissed my hand and looked at me with her big beautiful eyes. “When I first saw you, not in the display tent, but in the bathroom earlier that day, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long while—hope. And then later, when you played the first chord on that violin, it was like all of the blood in my body began to sing. I didn’t know what to make of any of it. The only thought I had was one that you must be saved, even if I had to pay a heavy price for it later.”
My own black heart thumped in my chest. Her words sounded a lot like a profession of love and for once, I didn’t have the urge to run screaming from the room.
“In the back of my mind, I knew all that I’d done might not be enough,” Bette said. “That is why I sent you the journal, hoping that the knowledge it contained might turn into your own secret weapon. It is also why I sent the violin... without it in her possession Venna loses her ability to continue to hunt. And... I thought it might give you an extra incentive to win your battle with her.”
She paused, waiting for me to make the leap. I gasped when my neurons connected.
“Quinn?” I whispered, a lump forming in my throat.
Bette nodded slowly. “Eventually, she will become a target for Venna.”
I felt my temper rise. “You do realize that if you hadn’t sent the violin to me, Quinn wouldn’t have dug it out of my closet and played the damn thing, her magic would still be latent, and Morgan would still be alive, don’t you? My daughter wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that she killed someone?”
She was silent for the space of several seconds, and averted her eyes. I’d hurt her, I knew, but I could not take it back. It was the truth, albeit a painful one.
“I could not have known,” she finally said quietly.
I sighed and touched Bette’s hand. I was being an asshole. “I know, and playing the What If game gets us nowhere. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry that my actions had unintended consequences. It was the best idea I had at the time. I had hoped that when Venna finally summoned you, maybe you would be able to overcome her. You must win, Clara. I cannot bear the alternative. I will give anything, do anything that you ask of me, to save you and your daughter.”
Did Bette just volunteer to be my chosen sacrifice? No, I would not even think of it. I could not. I decided to circle back around to the sacrifice Venna demanded.
“Wait, if Venna wants to suck me dry or something, then why go to all of this trouble? Why, instead of just doing as she normally has, would she insist upon me choosing someone I love as a sacrifice? It doesn’t make any sense.” I punched the bed half-heartedly.
“You are right. Venna has never done anything like this, so something has made her chose a different path this time. Maybe she doesn’t want to use you like the others. Or maybe she does and this is all just an elaborate game. Or maybe she’s afraid that she cannot overpower you, so she is going about it differently. Stacking the deck, as you Americans would say.”
It was a lot to think about, but I had the daytime hours for that and something told me that spending these nights with the people I loved, just being with them, was far more important.
Standing, I pulled Bette up from the floor and into my arms, where I kept her there wrapped up in the longest hug I’d ever given anyone in my life. I opened my mind just a bit, enough to see that Bette carried an enormous amount of guilt and angst over everything she’d done to me, and the others before. I also saw a brightly lit ember of affection buried deep within her mind and I knew that everything she’d done to me had been born out of love.
I gently pushed Bette back from my embrace, just enough so that her face was within inches of my own. We stared into each other’s eyes, connecting, and I opened my barriers up even further to let my love flow freely into her. It wasn’t enough to say that I forgave her, to tell her how I felt. I had to make her feel it. Her eyes let me know the moment
she felt my love pulse through her—they widened, glassed over and threatened to spill tears down her face.
She knew that I loved her.
But for good measure, I also showed her just how I felt about her, long into the night. Our lovemaking —and that’s what it was, no matter how much I despise the word in general – was one of the purest, most expressive moments of my life. It was slow and tender and soft, and when I left her chamber in the morning, my heart was fuller than it had been in a long while, while my head knew that a difficult decision had just become infinitely more complicated.
Chapter Nineteen
The next night, I was escorted once again down to the tombs. My guard this time was a dour-face old woman who looked like she couldn’t hurt a flea. But I knew that looks can be deceiving, especially in this castle, so I kept my distance from her.
I took the long walk down to the bowels of the castle to consider what I’d learned through the day, while I’d been locked up in my chambers. That train of thought hit the end of the line fairly quickly. I’d accomplished next to nothing, thinking in circular patterns about what I knew, what I wished I knew and who might be able to tell me something I didn’t know, if only I knew who to ask. One can easily see how I’d gotten nowhere.
Out of boredom, I counted the number of steps it took to reach the cells below. That turned into more of a commitment that I’d anticipated. I’d reached seven-hundred-and-nine when the candle-lit area came into view at the end of the tunnel. That number topped over a thousand by the time we actually reached the cells.
Standing vigil at the door was a guard that I’d best describe as a golem; formless, made of mud and smelling strongly of swamp water. He did not speak or look in my direction, not that I minded, not at all. I didn’t know which bothered me more, a hooded demon or an animated lump of clay—probably the Gumby, I decided. A demon’s intentions should be clear, but a golem? Did they want to make mud pies with you or suffocate you in their own muck?