“WHY?” Kate suddenly screams, making the walls shake with her Sanguis Vitam. Gregor offers soothing sounds, but they do not placate his vampire.
“You know why,” Ansel replies, his face distraught, his red-glowing eyes wild. He is a trapped animal and at any moment he will attack to escape.
Amisi and Lucinda both reach for their stakes. It’s as if they are a choreographed dance movement, but I am sure it is more the fact that Kate’s Darkness is swelling and it is affecting my vampire.
Ansel is newly Turned. He is easily swayed by those around him. That is why fledglings stay close to their master or another strong and stable vampire. I Turned Ansel, but it is Alain who has undertaken his training. Not that Alain could not have Turned the man himself. But as the Champion, the chances of success are greater, so it was decided I would Turn Ansel and Alain would train him.
Because as the Champion, my time is not always my own and a fledgling needs protection.
Well, Alain is not here. I am. And this vampire, fledgling or not, is mine to protect.
I step between Amisi and Lucinda, and Ansel and Kate. Gregor sees what I am doing and steps up to my side, adding his protection as Master of the City to mine.
A standoff ensues.
“That escalated quickly,” Lucinda says dryly.
“Ma douce," I say. “He is young and he is mine.”
My kindred lets out a sad sigh. “Not for much longer, Michel.”
I flick a glance over my shoulder at Ansel. His Dark is all encompassing. It matches Gregor’s vampire’s Dark. They are a pair.
Just like Lucinda and I are a pair. And Gregor and Amisi are a pair.
It is not always easy to love a vampire, even when you are a vampire, I believe.
I close my eyes.
A small, chubby hand slips into mine and my eyes snap open as I stare down at my daughter.
“Mama here. It alright,” she tells me.
No. It isn’t. My kindred is a Nosferatin. The best of all of us. It is a heavy weight she bears and I am not making it lighter. Ansel is almost rogue. So is Gregor’s vampire. Love can bring such joy and happiness, such contentment and peace. And yet, love can also destroy.
“Fight it, Ansel,” I say, letting the weight of my power imbue the command.
He does fight it. But he is too far gone to win this battle.
I force more of my power into him, drawing on the vampires of my line. I can feel them responding; giving me their Sanguis Vitam without even knowing why I am asking for it. Alain is concerned. I can feel his worry. He is also just now realising that Ansel is missing. And my second is not unintelligent. He knows my power draw is likely because of this vampire.
It is still not enough, so I draw on the Iunctio. Gregor feels the pull, so relinquishes his power line to me. The Ambrosia follows suit. Then swiftly the rest of the councillors.
It is still early days for the new Iunctio Council. But trust is building slowly, although I am about to break it.
I should not be using the Iunctio for this.
“Stop it, Michel,” Lucinda says, feeling the draw as well.
My kindred may not be a vampire, but she is a councillor. She feels me using the Iunctio to boost my power. She even allows me to pull from her seat. But she couches the support in a query.
“Why this vampire?” she says because Ansel is one of many, and to pull on such power from a source I should keep in reserve for more dire times, I am risking myself.
Survive at all costs. Well, this time, I want this vampire to survive.
“Because he is mine,” I say. I Turned him.
It was my choice. I needed a curator for my collection of antiques which has grown quite extensive over the past five hundred years. He may have approached me but he was exactly what I needed. Perhaps if times had not changed, I would not have Turned him so swiftly.
But New Zealand is now my home. The home of my kindred and our children. The Plaza is a new beginning, so I have brought my treasured collection of antiques out of storage so my family can enjoy them.
I suppose I could have used a Norm for curation. But seeing the behaviour of the nanny yesterday, I am disinclined to trust them. Besides, Ansel wanted to be Turned. He begged me to become a vampire.
It had been too easy.
I stare now at the two Dark vampires crouched on the floor in stasis. Gregor and I have both automatically frozen them with our respective Sanguis Vitam. It won’t hold forever. Despite Ansel being a fledgling and Kate only a level three master, the Dark makes warriors of us all.
Ansel begged me to become a vampire.
I stare at Kate.
Because his lover was already a vampire and would not grow old as he did.
I crouch down. Éliane wraps her little arms around my neck and rests her cheek against mine.
“You see now, Papa,” she says.
I nod my head. “I see, ma chérie.” My daughter is a matchmaker.
But, I think, love is not quite so simple.
Kate did not want vampirism for Ansel.
“Why?”she had asked. Why had he done this to himself.
I shake my head. I am a force of reckoning. I am the Champion. I am kindred joined to the most powerful Nosferatin in existence.
But there are some things I cannot change.
Kate is not a content vampire.
And Ansel has just made himself a monster; something I fear Kate thinks she is.
Their Dark is growing. I cannot stop it. Gregor and I have both fed them as much of our Sanguis Vitam and Light as we can. Any more and we risk ourselves.
And not just ourselves, but our kindred Nosferatin.
My heart breaks.
I wrap my arms around my daughter and stand up, cradling her to my chest. She thinks I am a hero. She thinks I can perform magic. She thinks I will always make things right.
Today I will disappoint my daughter for the first, but possibly not the last, time in her life.
I step back.
Gregor sighs and follows me.
We stand at the edge of the room, still holding the vampires immobile, but I am beginning to feel the strain.
Lucinda has tears on her cheeks. She knows me. She is part of me in every way that is good. She can read my heart and my mind.
“Sometimes,” she says in a very quiet voice, “Mama gets to be the hero.”
And then she steps forward and places a hand on each vampire and washes them in her Light.
I am stunned.
I am awed.
I am humbled beyond measure.
Lucinda, who has vowed never to take another vampire under her Lux Lucis Tribuo line again, has just taken Gregor’s and mine.
She floods them with her Light and in amongst the dazzling display that is my wonderful wife she asks them, “Light or Dark? You pick.”
They look up at her, awed as I had been awed, and then look at each other.
“It’s not so bad,” my wife tells them. “This living forever lark. As long as you live for more than just yourselves.”
I have never told my wife that is her and her alone who makes this life worth living. I love my children. Dearly.
But my kindred is just that to me. Kindred. There is no other word to describe what Lucinda means to me and to my survival.
“I know,” she whispers, not looking at me, but clearly hearing my thoughts. “You’re yelling them to the universe, my love,” she tells me.
“Let the universe hear them,” I say, my voice cracking.
Lucinda smiles.
Éliane lets out a little sigh and lays her head down on my shoulder. She is tired.
“Release them,” Lucinda says and Gregor and I release our vampires into Lucinda’s care. “Well?” she asks the vampires.
They are Light. No longer Dark. But my beloved always gives them the option.
Join her line and live in the Light.
Or forsake it and meet the sharp end of a silver stake.
Ansel l
ooks at Kate and says, “I did it because I love you.”
Kate looks at her lover and then reaches up and cups his cheek.
“Damn you, Ansel,” she says, but it is said softly. “I didn’t want this for you, sweetheart.”
“Not your choice,” he said. “Mine and mine alone.”
“You’ve broken my heart.”
“You saved mine.”
Kate lets out a sob and then falls into his arms. Light swirls around them. They have both chosen, but their path is still a rocky one.
If anyone can help them navigate it, though, my kindred can.
“You’re gonna help,” she warns me, her eyes still on her new vampires.
I do not offer an argument. How can I? She is marvellous.
Gregor pushes a hand through his hair and announces, “This is the most bizarre day of my very long and eventful life. I welcome you to my city and you steal one of my vampires.”
He is not angry, although he pretends he is. Kate had become a problem he would have had to fix eventually. And like me, his options were limited to one: the final death.
“Can it, vampire,” Amisi tells him. “You’re a big softy at heart and we all know it.”
“Uncle Gregor soft,” Éliane says and then starts snoring.
“Steady on, kid,” Gregor mumbles. “Don’t want that to get out.”
The sprite titters, drawing all of our attention back to it.
She offers a curtsey and then blows my daughter a kiss. In the next instant, she is gone in a sparkle of colourful lights.
“I think the secret is out,” I tell my old friend.
“Why do you say that?” Gregor enquires.
“Sprites are the biggest gossips in Faerie.”
“Merde!”
* * *
The fire roars in the hearth even though it is never really cold in Auckland. I can feel the contentment of my vampires. I can feel the thrum of supernatural power in the city. I can feel Alain’s frustration as he tries to teach a new vampire to keep his guard up.
The new vampire is not Ansel. Ansel is now Sergei’s problem. As head of Lucinda’s security and one of her Lux Lucis Tribuo line, Sergei is now in charge of the new additions to my kindred’s family.
But as they are her family, they are also mine, so I lend the Russian vampire some power. He accepts it gratefully, even if technically he does not need it. The touch of the Champion soothes as well as smarts.
Lucinda draws a pattern on my torso, tracing her Sigillum. It is in the shape of a dancing dragon and covers most of my chest. I reach up and trace my mark on her neck and then trail a finger down to trace the mark on her breast instead.
“Any chance you’ll look after the twins tonight while I go out on the town with Natalyia and Kate?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her very kissable lips.
“I have meetings until two,” I tell her, making sure to sound disappointed.
“Oh, I’m sure you can fit a fishing trip in there somewhere between two and four, can’t you?”
“No,” I say, a little too desperately.
“Oh, come on! Luc’s been begging for another chance to catch a big one.”
“Fishing is out. The water. You know, how it is. I am vampyre. Water and vampires do not mix.”
She laughs at my pitiful excuses.
“It’s not like you came back empty handed last time,” Lucinda says. “Even if you did let one get away.”
“We only saw the one fish,” I tell her. “None got away.”
But I know where my vixen of a wife is going with this.
“Are you sure? Because I could have sworn one got away.”
“You mean Éliane,” I grumble.
“Well, she did escape you, so yeah; Ellie is the one that got away.”
There is only one thing for it. I will forever lose all credibility where fishing is concerned. So arguing now with my kindred is wasted energy. Energy far better spent in more pleasurable endeavours.
Yes, I lost our daughter. Yes, we were fishing and so, technically, Éliane is the one that got away.
But I found her. My clever daughter who could see the heartache in a vampire from miles away and chose to do something about it.
Ellie knew her mother was in Wellington. She knew if I went there - chasing after her because there was no way I wouldn’t chase after my daughter - that I would help keep Ansel sane because to Éliane I am a hero. She also knew that her Uncle Gregor would do the same for Kate, because that’s what uncles do. And we’d both keep the vampires safe long enough for Lucinda to realise that the only way to truly save them was to add them both to her brood.
Such a clever little thing we have created.
So, yes, Éliane is the one that got away; with the help of a fairy — something I will be keeping an eye on in the future. But I can live with my daughter’s escape. Because she is brave and clever and full of Light like her mother. And I am fully aware that my daughter will one day live a life apart from us.
And we will help her be ready for it.
But for now, though, I will celebrate my kindred. The true hero of this story.
I will celebrate my kindred in every possible way.
“Every way?” Lucinda asks in a sexy voice that sets my body on fire.
“Every single way,” I tell my love.
And so I do.
Let There Be Light
Let There Be Light
Luc
The smell in the tavern is disgusting. The beer not much better. But the shadows are good, so I sit quietly and watch, pretending to drink the swill that masquerades as ale.
I’ve been sitting here, on and off, for the better part of three days.
I survey the dim room and try to block out the thoughts of the patrons. That woman wants to stick a fork in that man’s hand. That man wants to shag his neighbour’s girlfriend. That one wants to forget about what happened last night; I don’t blame her. That hooded figure in the corner of the room wants to add to his fortunes and spots his mark.
I shut down the voices with vicious determination. Smoke swirls before my eyes. I blink, and the unusual sensation is gone again. As are the people’s voices.
I sip my beer and wait and watch, pretending I’m just like them.
I’m not.
The door to the tavern opens, spilling lamplight from outside across the worn wooden floor. A fresh breeze stirs dust motes on the air, letting the unwashed scent of Norms engulf me.
Plus the signature scent of the vampire who just walked in.
I lower my glass and fist my hands. Three days isn’t bad; I would have preferred longer. But three days is a record I can be proud of.
The vampire approaches; smoke swirling around him. It isn’t his smoke; it’s mine. Mine and hers. But she isn’t someone we talk about. The vampire says nothing as he sits across from me on a bench that rattles with his weight; the legs uneven. It will frustrate him.
I feel the frustration a moment later.
It doesn’t take long for him to fish a handkerchief from his coat’s pocket and fold it in half, and then in half again, and reach down to place it under the short leg of the seat he perches upon.
I snort into my beer and pretend it isn’t swill.
Alain Dupont lifts tired eyes to my face and then reaches out and touches my hand, gripping tightly.
To anyone watching, it would appear intimate. And perhaps, in a way it is. More intimate than Alain and I ever were back in Auckland. It could even make one think we’re lovers.
For is there nothing as dear as the relationship between Kindred?
But it’s none of those things because for two long years I have been running as far and as fast as I can from Alain. From Alain and anything to do with my former life. And most of that which makes up my present one.
All bar one thing.
Muska. Kara Büyü to be precise.
Or as the locals call it, черная магия; chernaya magiya.
I’m in Russia,
after all, and not Turkey.
“Three days,” Alain says softly, removing his hand now the joining has been satisfied.
I shrug and sip my beer.
“You cannot run from me, Lucien,” he adds because although Alain is the most intelligent man I’ve ever met, he can be very pigheaded sometimes.
“I’m not only running from you, my friend,” I tell him.
“Have you not considered it would be better to stop running and face this problem head-on?”
“And how’s that working for you, spymaster?”
Mention of Alain’s former role in my father’s line makes him wince. It’s petty of me, but Alain does bring out the worst in my temperament at times. He should be thankful he faces me and not my twin sister across this table.
Ellie’s temper far outstrips mine in all meanings of the phrase righteous fury.
“He is worried,” Alain says.
“You’ve been in touch?” I ask, shocked.
Alain looks away. “Of course not,” he says. No, contacting Papa would allow the ties my father still has to Alain to strengthen. Being tied to Michel Durand is the last thing the spymaster wants.
Not when such black magic as ours runs through our veins.
Well, it runs through mine; Alain just gets to enjoy the perks of being joined to a semi-trained practitioner of the dark arts.
I smile into my beer and down the last of it. I almost want to throw up, but not much can harm me now. Not only am I kindred-joined to a level one Sanguis Vitam master vampire, but I’m entwined with a Mhachkay Princess who is a Cadı of Muska. A Witch of the Black Arts.
“Your spies,” I say to Alain, returning my glass to the dirty tabletop.
He nods. “Two years, Lucien,” he says. “It is time to return to civilisation.”
I look around the dimly lit tavern with a purposeful arch of my brow. “What? This isn’t civilised enough for you?” I ask him.
He stares at me for a long moment and then says, “I saw her in Zelenograd.”
I still. The persistent sound of people’s thoughts inside my head vanishes and is replaced with the thundering beat of my heart. I was in Zelenograd five days ago.
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