CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The jet was parked inside of a large hanger. The lights were dim and the large fixtures, descending from the ceiling, rocked in the harsh wind that charged in through the open doors.
The two pilots (she recognized them by their scents) were busy securing the jet and moved to shut the great sliding doors, set in the front of the hanger. They nodded to Ming and the other Hunters as they passed, careful not to make eye contact, then went back to their work.
Jerusa had felt as though the jet had been parked for days, but it seems they had only been here a short time, just waiting out the daylight, perhaps. The night was fresh, though she only knew this from her heightened senses, for the sky was a bleached violet from the falling snow. Off in the distance were faint lights, what she assumed was the airport tower. She couldn’t say why, but she had a feeling this was a very small, private terminal.
They passed through the great sliding doors just as the pilots sealed them shut. In the short space between the hanger and the idling vehicles the wind seemed determined to bury them in a snow drift. Jerusa turned her head away from the wind, letting her hair cover her face like a scarf and only noticed the two vehicles were black Hummers with chains on the tires as she was swept inside to the warmth of the cab.
The five Hunters had taken the Hummer to the rear, filing in quickly and slamming the door, but whether to shut out the cold or issue the point that they wished to keep their own company, Jerusa couldn’t tell.
Jerusa slid into the third set of seats, still holding her mother. Thad made to sit next to her, but Shufah changed his direction with a gentle nudge, pushing him into the second row. Taos climbed in next to Thad and Shufah took her place next to Jerusa. When the door was shut, cutting off the cruel wind, Jerusa sighed with relief. The warmth melted the layer of snow blanketing her head and she shivered as cool tendrils of water trickled down her cheek.
The driver, another human, gave a quick glance back at his passengers, then started off through the snow. The Hummer behind followed in tow, but was only visible by its headlights which seemed strange and ethereal in the wall of blowing white.
The ground was flat and they moved along at a good pace, sliding only a bit. They pulled away on a stretch of road that had been recently plowed but was quickly being reclaimed by the snow. Off in the distance, she spied the landing strip, but the lights had been turned off, hiding it from any other passing planes. No unwanted guests.
They trudged on in silence for a long while, neither the driver speaking to them, nor they to each other. Not that Jerusa had much of anything to say.
Soon, the path curved its way into a thick forest. Every branch and bough was layered with snow, lending a muted light to the darkness between the trees. The ground no longer lay flat here and travel slowed even more as they maneuvered up and down each hill. Their chauffeur seemed well practiced at driving in these conditions, handling each slide with an assured calm. Every now and then, Thad and Taos would take turns looking back at Jerusa. She offered them what smiles she could muster, but she soon grew weary of that and instead looked out the window, refusing to meet their glances.
At long last, they emerged from the forest, into another open area. A vast, high wrought iron fence, forged of fierce, deadly spears, ran off in both directions, vanishing into blinding white. A gate of matching ferocity—a piece of work that would be at home at the castle of Vlad Teppish—stood, stabbing at the sky in contempt. Beyond the gate, up atop the hill, stood a colossal mansion, its windows all ablaze with light, yet its deeper features obscured by the snowstorm. Jerusa’s heart crept into her throat at the sight of the great house, not so much for the size of it, but the menacing way it seemed to stare down at them.
There was no call box at the stop, to radio up to the house, nor were there any cameras that Jerusa could detect. She looked for a guard patrolling near the gate, either within or without, but there was nothing but the blowing snow. She expected the driver to blow the horn or perhaps make a call on his cell phone, yet he sat silent, unmoving.
Jerusa shifted in her seat, agitated, but by what, she couldn’t say. She noticed Taos and Thad stir as well. It was as if a great number of eyes, all placed just outside the Hummer, were peeking through the windows, evaluating her and her friends, whispering to each other in some unknown language. She looked out into the storm again, thinking she might catch a glimpse of some lingering spirit, but there was none. The only ones that seemed unaffected by this strange sensation were the driver and Shufah.
Jerusa turned to Shufah and was about to ask what was happening when the gate swung inward with a loud groan, digging great swipes into the snow drift covering the road. The driver waited for the gate doors to complete their path, then put the Hummer into gear and drove toward the mansion. The Hummer behind them followed close on their rear and just as soon as they passed the swipes in the snow, the gate doors pulled shut.
The sense of being watched passed, flickered away like a candle being snuffed out by the harsh wind and Jerusa sighed, as did Taos and Thad. It was like awakening to find a large spider perched upon your forehead and the relief that comes when it moves on, without biting you.
The driver continued toward the house, pushing the Hummer through the thick snow. The road was marked on both sides by tall, ancient evergreen trees, their boughs drooping under their wintery burdens. The driver moved slowly and steadily up the winding path. The wind buffeted the Hummer, rocking it so hard it seemed it would tip over, yet the driver continued on without incident.
They pulled beneath a great covered area before a grand stone staircase. Shufah motioned for the others to exit the Hummer. Taos came around and took Debra Phoenix into his arms so that Jerusa could slide out without jostling her too much. The icy breeze tore at Jerusa, gnashing its fierce teeth on her bones. Poor Thad shivered uncontrollably, squinting as the snow pelted his face. The five members of the Crimson Storm climbed from their Hummer and made straight for the stairs, without even a glance at the others.
Shufah waited for them to pass before moving. Jerusa stood a moment longer, despite the cold and took in what she could see of the great house. It was built of large, milled stones, not unlike limestone, but a dark sooty gray as though they had been through a fire. The masonry was superb, with the blocks fitted so tight only the slightest traces of mortar could be seen. The ceiling of the covered pass-through stood thirty feet off of the drive—which from the absence of snow was revealed to be cobblestone. A row of windows burned hot, casting a hearty glow down upon them. The far wall was all but closed off, except for a series of arched windows, open to the night, which reminded Jerusa of gothic cathedrals. Gas torches lined the outer wall, their furious flames flickering in the breeze as if they might go out, but always rising again when the wind settled.
It was as though she had stepped back in time. She wouldn’t have been surprised had she turned to see the Hummers had transformed into a pair of horse-drawn carriages.
Jerusa was content to stand there, indulging in this mirage of time, but her friends were already at the top of the stairs watching her. She climbed the stairs, which were made of the most beautiful marble she had ever seen. There were only seven steps, but with each one her hope of enduring past this night diminished. At the top the doors—two thick, darkly stained panels, tall enough to admit a giant—stood open. She crossed the threshold with a sigh, fighting off the urge to bury her face in Shufah’s back like a frightened child.
The doors swung shut behind them and only then did Jerusa notice the two vampires standing guard. Both men were well dressed in light, thin button down shirts and slacks. Neither was armed, but Jerusa noticed both men wore rings upon their right hands, embossed with the emblem of the Hunters: two curved swords crossing over one another to form what looked to be fangs. Jerusa had noticed the members of the Crimson Storm wore similar rings, all on their right hands, but on their left they wore rings with the insignia of a deep r
ed thundercloud.
Neither of the Hunters guarding the door regarded them in any fashion, but instead returned to their post and stood as silent as a set of gargoyles. Jerusa didn’t want to turn her back on them. It seemed a better idea to back away, keeping eye contact, as one does with an ill-tempered dog, but she didn’t want to expose the depth of her fear all at once.
Instead, she turned and took in the grandeur of the room in which they stood. A vast marble floor spread out before her like a perfectly still pond. The marble was polished to a high shine and reflected the cluster of chandeliers floating about the ceiling so that it seemed as if there was a light source buried within the depths of the magnificent stone. The space was so large that it could have housed a thousand, with room to spare. Luxurious, yet comfortable looking, couches were scattered about, though all were empty. The walls were formed of wonderful dark wood with carvings set into the moldings. Several doors were visible on the ground floor and three mammoth staircases—one to the left, one to the right and one directly before them—drifted off into the upper levels.
Jerusa had never seen such extravagance with her own eyes and the fullness of the ostentatiousness was a bit overwhelming. She felt suddenly unworthy to tread these floors, like a bug that has been exposed by the light and must scurry back to the filth behind the walls. Perhaps that was the point.
“Welcome,” a deep voice rang out. It echoed from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, making it difficult to know where it came from. A man, tall with the ruddy handsome face of a twenty year old, came sauntering down the center staircase, with his arms spread open wide. “Come forth my friends. Be not shy.”
Jerusa noticed Shufah stiffen and she knew without being told that this was Marjek, Shufah’s maker.
Marjek rubbed at the tight black beard covering his face and gave a great hearty laugh. The members of the Crimson Storm stepped forward to greet him, but Jerusa and her coven stayed in place.
“You have done well,” Marjek said to Ming. “It’s no small task convincing my daughter to come home.”
Though Shufah’s face remained calm, Jerusa could sense the fuming anger brewing within her. This seemed to be Marjek’s objective at calling Shufah his daughter for he smiled brightly as though he had told some wonderfully amusing anecdote.
“That’s strange,” Shufah returned, “for I recall my father as a kind and gentle man, put to death to sooth the jealousy of a brutish monster. I lay no claim to you and beg you bid me the same courtesy.”
“Like it or not, fair child, you were borne of my blood, therefore you are mine to claim.” Marjek retained his broad smile, but a flicker of sullen anger passed behind his eyes.
Faces began to emerge from doors, some timidly peeking around corners, others marching in grand boldness to the balcony rails. Many were vampires, looking down on them with haughty interest. Yet others were human, bitten and enlisted as servants, just like the drivers that had collected them at the airport.
“Tell me, Marjek,” Shufah said, her voice ringing off the high ceilings and bare floors. “Why did you feel it necessary to send your foot soldiers to come collect me and my own? There is a marvelous invention of this day called a telephone. It is an amazing time saver. I know that it is a burden for a mind such as yours to keep up with the ever-changing technologies of the human race. Perhaps one of the fledglings in house could give you a few lessons.”
Marjek’s eyes narrowed, he squared his broad shoulders, but he managed a smile for the gawking crowd. Marjek was a frightening physical specimen—larger even than Taos—not to mention one of the oldest living vampires. There weren’t many who would dare oppose him, let alone insult him, yet Shufah stood fearless.
“You should be flattered that I sent our best Hunters to escort you and your coven,” Marjek said. Ming stood straight and stuck her chin out with pride at the praise of her master. “The Crimson Storm were sent not as your prison guards but as your protectors.”
Shufah barked a loud, hard laugh. Whispers slithered through the gathering crowd and glowers from the Crimson Storm—except for sweet Celeste—were as venomous as a viper’s bite.
“Protection,” Shufah said incredulously. “If they are your best then I think I shall soon see your ruination, for which I have long desired. See how well they protected us,” she said motioning toward Debra.
He looked at Debra Phoenix cradled in Taos’s arms. Ming shriveled when Marjek cast his questioning eyes upon her. “There was an incident,” Ming said. “We were going to discuss it with you in private.”
Ming was a convincing liar, doling out just the right amount of contrition and confidentiality. In reality, she had hoped to sweep the incident with the umbilicus under the rug, to stash Debra Phoenix away in some unremembered room of the mansion.
“There is no need for secrecy amidst family,” Shufah said, turning the word family into a sharpened little jab. “Tell me, why have the mighty Stewards taken to hiding in the Northern Sanctuary? And why did you take so long to call us to your court? Is there danger abroad? Are we at war?”
The members of the Crimson Storm—except for Celeste, once again—stood seething, their eyes wide with fury. Jerusa was sure any moment Ming and Mikael would crush them with a blow of their telekinetic powers and that Ralgar and Quinn would finish them off in a rush of fire. Several other vampires, both above and below, stepped forward from the lingering crowd. Jerusa couldn’t be sure about all, but several wore the insignia ring of the Hunters.
A woman, with flowing blonde hair, reaching near to the floor, emerged from the crowd and descended the center staircase. She stood beside Marjek with her hands lightly clasped before her and though the stance was meant to exhibit poise, it looked more as if she were restraining madness.
“Temper yourself, Shufah,” she said in a singsong voice. “Your wagging tongue endangers your coven.” She stood tall, slender, with pale skin, as though she was formed of living alabaster. Her bright, dark blue eyes held a measure of cruelty that could shame a crocodile. She wore a silky white dress and her long hair was braided into seven locks, bound with jeweled silver bands. Her beauty radiated, diminishing all those in the crowd. “There is much to be discussed, but now is not the time.”
Shufah gave a mocking little bow. “As you wish. Is there anything you require of us?”
“That is all for now,” Marjek said. “We have rooms prepared for you. Shufah, I trust you remember the rules of the house?”
“I trust they are the same tyrannical tripe you enforce at the house in Rome?”
Marjek forced a small smile, but the woman with the long hair stabbed at Shufah with her eyes. “The rules are the same,” he said. “Be sure your coven follows them. Does your human require medical assistance? Has she been bitten?”
Shufah glanced at Debra Phoenix lying limp in Taos’s arms. “That would be kind, thank you.” Her eyes flitted over to Ming before she answered the next question. “No, she hasn’t been bitten.”
“Very good.” Marjek looked to his left and a short, middle-aged man—a human—stepped forward. “Show them the way. And call for the doctor.”
The man nodded, then waited patiently for the vampires to approach him.
The man took them up the staircase to the right. By the time they reached the top, the crowd of vampires was starting to disperse, but many interested eyes followed them down the passageway. They passed by several open doorways that lead to great spacious rooms, some empty, some furnished with plush chairs and couches, where groups of vampires lounged in silence or sometimes danced to blaring rave music.
It was all a bit unnerving to Jerusa. She understood that the world had a large population of vampires, but were they all sheltered in this house?
“Who was the ice queen back there?” Taos asked as they passed down a silent stretch of hallway.
“She once was known as Albeinheide,” Shufah answered. “These days she simply goes by Heidi.”<
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“She doesn’t look like a Heidi,” Thad said. His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, as if he had forgotten how to speak.
“No,” Taos agreed. “I would have pegged her as a Rasputin. I take it she’s one of the Stewards.”
“Yes. One of the High Council, actually. She is wicked and spiteful in a way that makes Marjek seem congenial.”
Jerusa nodded toward their human guide, who continued to walk at a slow even pace, never venturing to turn or engage in conversation.
“Oh, it’s nothing he doesn’t already know,” Shufah said of the guide. “This poor soul has to attend to her. He should be granted eternal life on those merits alone.”
“How many Stewards are there?” Thad asked. “How many are on the High Council?”
“There are over one hundred elders that are considered Stewards,” said Shufah. “They are scattered about the globe to enforce the Blood Laws. There are only five in the High Council, however. Marjek and Heidi you have met. Cot, Othella and Mathias will make an appearance soon enough, I’m sure.”
Their guide took them up another two flights of stairs and brought them to a collection of rooms at the eastern most part of the house. They each had their own room and though they were small, they were well decorated and comfortable.
“Everything you need is inside,” the man said. “If you have need of anything else, please call us.” With that the man turned and hurried off.
Jerusa took her mother from Taos. Her skin was damp and cold. Jerusa looked around at their surroundings, trying to keep herself from crying again. “Why did they stash us away, up here? It’s so secluded.”
“Because of Thad and Debra, I suspect,” Shufah said. “Vampires and humans usually keep to their own areas, for many reasons. They are showing us a courtesy by giving our group its privacy.” She motioned toward Debra. “You should lay her down on the bed. The doctor that watches over the humans will come by soon. We should all rest and clean up.” No one moved toward their rooms. “Go on. We are safe enough, for now.”
Perpetual Creatures, Volumes 1-3: A Vampire and Ghost Thriller Series Page 40