by James Somers
“Look, everyone, Kron has come to see me—our resident outcast,” Gillum said happily. “How have you been since that adolescent girl chased you from Tidus?”
Kron’s anger burned hot, but he said nothing. He made no hostile gesture. Gillum would toy with him, but he would probably still help him when he had had his fun.
Elsewhere in the room, a gaggle of astonishingly badly dressed aristocratic pixies were eating at tables. They appeared to be having some sort of banquet, no doubt in honor of Gillum as their king and his conquest of London. Kron observed that they possessed atrocious table manners. Whatever creature they were feasting upon had long since lost any recognizable traits.
“Ah, my dinner,” Gillum cried.
Kron turned to find the bell hop pixie wheeling in a metal cart with a single silver serving tray upon it. He brought it before Gillum’s mound of treasure, only glancing at Kron when he passed.
“Well, let’s see what smells so good,” Gillum said, salivating.
Kron could smell nothing savory at all. It was repulsive, obviously spiced with the strange sort of concoctions only pixie can muster. Honestly, they could cook anything and make a meal out of it. Unfortunately, he had witnessed it first hand.
The bell hop pixie withdrew the domed silver lid, revealing a roasted dog upon the platter. The fur and skin had been stripped from the poor beast, but Kron could clearly make out what it had been. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.
In fact, Gillum meant to send a message.
“Have some dog, Kron?” the pixie king asked.
The other pixies in the room had stopped eating. They were all leering at him with hungry eyes. Kron looked at the animal’s steaming carcass and then at Gillum without responding.
The pixie king narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been pondering my uncle’s previous arrangement, Kron, and I’m uncertain how to proceed. You have requested an army with which to retake Tidus from Lycean’s daughter. However, I can’t quite figure out how that helps me. Would you care to explain the one-sidedness of your proposal?”
Kron bowed slightly, hoping the gesture might placate Gillum somewhat. “Your Highness,” he began, “while it might at first seem one-sided, my ability to retake Tidus will secure our future victories against the other clans. Surely, you do not believe that your reign in London will go unchallenged. When I am king over the Lycans again, together we will be unstoppable.”
Gillum nodded, considering his words. “And what will my payment be for this army, without which you have no hope of securing even a grain of sand, let alone your Lycan city?”
Kron gritted his teeth secretly. He wanted to pay him a price in his own blood right now. However, he maintained his demeanor, despite the degradation Gillum meant to put him through.
“A tribute of gold and silver and precious stones will be yours annually,” Kron suggested.
Gillum leaned forward upon his throne, causing some of his coins to spill down the pile, creating a little avalanche of gold. “In addition to this tribute each year, you will honor me with a large statue to be placed prominently in Tidus. And you will dedicate these each time with a parade and a banquet where I and my pixies can feast at your table as honored guests.”
Kron straightened, trying to keep his composure and not bite off his own tongue in the process. Finally, he smiled at Gillum. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Gillum clapped excitedly upon his throne. “Very good. Now go, Kron, and return to me here in three days. You will have your army and your precious city. And I will have my tribute of praise year by year.”
Kron bowed again at the waist and then turned to go. The bell hop pixie ran ahead of him, intent on having no one touch his precious elevator contraption. He made it just in time to retract the gate, letting Kron inside. He closed the gate after Kron, and they started their slow descent through the hotel once again.
Kron had closed his eyes, being unwilling to look at the pixie bell hop. He knew that if he had to endure this pixie’s derision again, he would choke the little devil before the elevator reached the ground floor. So, he chose to keep to himself in every way, willing his emotions to remain under his control. His day would come soon enough.
“It must be terribly insulting to be treated so by vermin like Gillum,” Grayson Stone’s voice said.
Kron’s eyes immediately popped open. He looked around, but the pixie bell hop was the only one in the elevator with him. The car passed by another floor full of pint-sized revelers, but there was no sign of Lord Stone.
“What’s wrong with you,” the bell hop sneered.
Kron ignored him. He had attempted to make contact with Grayson Stone several times, but had no idea how to find him. His estate had been evacuated. There was no telling when he might return, and no forwarding address had been left.
He had even tried praying to Lord Stone with the hope that he might hear and come to his aid. But that, too, had been fruitless. Kron’s anxiety from dealing with Gillum melted away in an instant. Surely, his benefactor would help him out of this situation somehow.
He waited for a moment. When the voice did not speak again, he almost flew into a panic. “My lord? Are you there?”
Silence.
“Your lord is Gillum, King of the Pixies, now,” the bell hop spat. “Who are you talking to?”
“Please be there,” Kron whispered.
“You have been misappropriated by the pixies,” Grayson said.
Kron looked down at the bell hop. He didn’t appear to have heard the voice. Lord Stone must be communicating telepathically again. Lycans were not gifted with telepathy as some Descendants were. He would only be able to listen to what Grayson had to say to him.
“I hope to enlist your services, yet again, and restore you to a place of glory,” he said.
The elevator came to a stop at street level. The bell hop retracted the gate roughly saying, “Out of my elevator.”
Kron looked into the lobby and saw Grayson standing there.
“Will you take your place at my side and become the greatest of the Lycan kings?”
Kron nodded eagerly. “Yes, my lord,” he said. He had not disembarked from the elevator yet, infuriating the pixie even more.
“Then you may start by disposing of that wretched creature,” Grayson demanded.
A dark smile spread across Kron’s face. “Yes, my lord.” He reached over to the retractable gate and shut it.
“Hey, what are you doing?” the pixie yelled.
Kron became a werewolf in a blink of the eye. The pixie screamed, reaching hurriedly for his pixie dust pouch. Even had he gotten hold of it, the gesture would have been useless. Lycans had long ago built up an immunity to the paralyzing dust. The werewolf slammed into the pixie with his jaws first, rending the little bell hop limb from limb.
Voices
Charlotte looked out over the city of Tidus as the sun began to set behind it. The wind was warm and refreshing after a hot day. Amazing, she thought, that it could be winter with snow in the mortal world in London and so warm here.
“Sophia’s father did make Tidus into a beautiful city,” Tom said.
They stood together upon the bridge that crossed the river which fed Tidus. Even upon the spiritual plane, a life line was necessary. Descendants did not like to think of themselves as mortals, but they weren’t immortal either. A long life did not make them immune to aging or death. Ultimately it would come for them all.
She did not remark on the city. This was the Lycan’s possession and she felt unwelcome and unwanted. The matter of this war and her place had been troubling her recently. Tom was her only confident—at least the only one she still trusted with her feelings.
“What do you think will happen, Tom?” Charlotte asked.
“What do you mean? Sophia is back upon her father’s throne. I imagine the Lycan’s will—”
“I meant about the war,” she said. “It seems like the world will tear itself apa
rt.”
“Difficult to say, really. My father hates war, but the elves will fight on, if necessary. It’s looking like it will be for the foreseeable future.”
“My father enjoys war,” she said. “He won’t stop fighting until he has secured glory for my people.” Charlotte turned to him. “Do you think that makes him evil?”
Tom grinned a little. “Hard for me to call anyone evil, after I was part of the plot to kidnap mortals. Besides, I might be the wrong person to ask about Tiberius. He did try to kill me, after all.”
Charlotte stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “I’m glad you survived, Tom. I don’t have anyone but you.”
He seemed as though he might contradict her, but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hand over hers, holding it to his face. “I’m glad you survived too.”
She knew he was referring to Black nearly killing her. Tom had been courageous enough to go into Greystone in an attempt to bring her father back with the Breed in order to save her from the fallen angel. If it hadn’t been for her, Tom never would have been in that terrible situation.
“Black had everyone fooled,” she said. “My brother, my father, even the other clans. We all wanted what the mortals have. All he had to do was kindle the flame to start a firestorm.”
“You didn’t follow him,” Tom observed. “You stood strong against what we were doing, even when you were ostracized for your beliefs.”
“You don’t know how badly I wanted to go along with it,” she answered. “I’ve no love for the mortals. They hate us. The sacrifices we make to fight those who are invading their world will never be appreciated. Descendants are dying for them, and they don’t care.”
“Part of that may be a lack of awareness,” Tom suggested. “We stay hidden, for the most part.”
“Would that really make a difference, Tom? If they knew, would they thank us?”
“I can’t say,” he admitted. “I doubt they would, but who knows?”
Charlotte grinned as she looked back at Tidus. “I suppose Brody would say we should do the right thing, just because it is the right thing.”
“Yeah, he probably would,” Tom admitted. “Sometimes that optimism is just plain annoying…and just when I was feeling sorry for myself.”
They laughed together for a moment, until Charlotte felt something odd. The voice she heard was faint at first, non-intrusive. However, it grew in her mind, quickly filling her thoughts. She could not keep him out.
Tom couldn’t help but notice that something was happening. “Are you all right?”
“A voice speaking in my head,” Charlotte said. She paused, holding her temple. “He’s calling the vampires to him.”
“Who is calling them?”
Her eyes went wide with horror. “Hageddon.”
As the sun began to set, on the second day since my arrival, I waited just outside Lycean’s Temple. A procession of faithful Lycan soldiers bore the casket into which the king’s remains had been placed after Kron’s pyre ceremony. The giant stone sphere that Oliver had constructed using his power was to become the final resting place of Sophia’s father.
Of course, we both knew that only his body resided here. Lycean’s spirit was now with our Lord in the Heavenly realm—a place which none of us could presently access, despite our dominion over the spiritual plane. Only death or the final trumpet call would bring us to that glorious place—and then only the redeemed.
Sophia stood ahead of the procession, waiting for the final rays of sunlight to be extinguished, just as her father’s light had been. I stood with her, ready to do my part.
“Thank you, Brody,” she whispered. “I believe this is what Father would have wanted.”
“I’m just sorry Oliver isn’t here,” I replied.
“He will understand,” she said. “There is much to do, and I could not abide my father’s ashes lying in that closet any longer.”
She was right. Kron had essentially tossed both Lycean’s and Helios’s ashes into bone boxes and left them in a cupboard deep within the lower levels of the palace. Every new piece of evidence pointed to him as the murderer. Still, I had to wonder what part Grayson Stone had had in the whole affair.
Because of the particular nature of the spherical temple, a Superomancer was required in order to gain admittance. I had no doubt that Sophia was correct in assuming her father would have wanted to be entombed in this place. In Oliver’s absence, I happened to be the only person available who could manage the portal to let this funeral procession inside.
I sent my thoughts out to the place where we had entered the temple previously—the time when we had attempted to sacrifice Oliver in order to stop Black. Why Lucifer had appeared as the good angel to stop us remained a mystery. I have since only been able to conclude that it would have interfered somehow with undoing Black’s plans. And that happened to be his priority.
The distortion portal appeared, though it was really only visible when you were looking for it. The sun slowly withdrew itself, its last rays dwindling to nothing, leaving our funeral procession in dim twilight.
“Stay with me,” Sophia whispered as she proceeded forward, leading our group through the distortion barrier.
Our forms appeared to vaporize upon entry, rematerializing inside the sphere itself. We now stood upon the cylindrical plinth at the inner top portion of the temple, irrespective of gravity’s influence—something Oliver had concocted simply because he could. The light from the central flame suspended within the sphere washed us in azure hues.
The entire funeral procession came into the temple. Two of the council elders carried the box containing Lycean’s burnt remains. It was now my job to modify the plinth in order to accommodate those remains.
I focused my thoughts upon the marble we were standing upon, using complex gestures taught to me by Oliver which would allow me to more easily manipulate matter. Essentially, I was scooping out a cavity of marble from below the surface to be replaced with Lycean’s box.
The elders set their cargo on the floor and backed away.
Finalizing my process, I made the last gesture. A block of marble materialized beside Lycean’s box. Sophia bowed before her father’s remains, whispering a prayer to the Lord. I could not hear what was said.
When she stood again, there were tears in her eyes. She nodded to me, and I took over. Wrapping Lycean’s box in a portal envelope was all that was necessary to deliver it into the cavity I had created six feet below the surface of where we were standing. The square casket disappeared in a blur of refracted blue light, leaving the king’s remains in their resting place.
“We should go,” Sophia said to us all.
The block of marble I caused to levitate and follow our party out of Lycean’s Temple. We came back to the surrounding garden area where Oliver’s distortion portal deposited us. Charlotte and Tom were waiting for us, wearing anxious expressions as twilight surrendered fully to the night.
I set the marble block down next to one of the garden retaining walls. Servants would come to collect it at a later time. Charlotte and Tom approached us as the rest of the funeral procession began to scatter.
“We have to talk,” she said.
Tom stood with her, deferring to whatever she would say as the truth. I was curious what this could be regarding. Surely, Tiberius had not returned to London. I couldn’t imagine what there was to come back to, at this point. The pixies had ruined the city by their presence, and only a fool would attempt an assault on them now.
“Hageddon is calling all vampires to him,” Charlotte said.
I could see the fear in her eyes. However, I had no idea who Hageddon was, so I asked the obvious.
“Hageddon is the fallen angel responsible for all of the vampires, just as Southresh was the beginning of you and Oliver,” Sophia said.
“Okay,” I said, still unsure what all of this must mean.
Tom filled in the gaps for me. “Hageddon is supposed to be in Tartarus right now.”
&n
bsp; Now, the urgency in Charlotte’s tone hit home. We had another fallen angel to deal with in the mortal world. However, that still didn’t answer the question of who had let him out of Tartarus. I couldn’t help but wonder if Hageddon had been released by God, just as I thought Southresh might have been. One more mystery we didn’t need.
“What is this call you mentioned?” Sophia asked. “Where is Hageddon calling them to go?”
“Northeast,” Charlotte said, “possibly Russia. His call is heard in the mind. It wasn’t to me particularly, but to his children, the vampires.”
“But to what purpose?” I asked. “Why call them to Russia?”
“Hageddon means to raise this army for the glory of the Breed,” Charlotte said.
“Can you be more specific?” I asked.
“I can’t be more specific,” she replied. “It’s just this general call for us to come, and there is a drawing sensation carried with it. That’s how I know where I am to go.”
“Are you going?” Sophia asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I will certainly not join Hageddon, but this might prove to be some way of knowing more about what our enemies are doing.”
“She’s right,” I said. “This is too coincidental with London’s destruction and Grayson Stone going to America. I think you should follow this call to wherever it leads. Find out what’s going on, how it relates to everything else we’ve seen. Lucifer and Stone have to be involved.”
“I’m not letting you go alone,” Tom interjected. He raised his hand, when Charlotte began to object. “You just need to understand that I’m not letting you go alone…period.”
Tom tried to hide his grin. Charlotte glared at him for a moment before softening to his charms. For reasons I still did not understand, Charlotte liked Tom. Maybe, she even loved him. I had difficulty reading her emotions. At any rate, she wasn’t going to fight his decision to tag along.
I was glad for that relent. There was no telling what sort of situation she was about to find. With Tiberius ousted from London by the pixies, this call to glory would be very tempting to him and the thousands of vampires who followed him.