Dark Studies (Arcaneology)

by C. P. Foster

  Vanessa and Jacob whirled toward Sarah. Before she could shrink back into her hiding place, their motion stopped. Vanessa held Jacob pinned against an overturned table. Then he turned to liquid beneath her, impaled on its broken leg.

  A roar knocked Sarah flat, as though she’d been hit by a club. The silver chain, which had been dangling over the edge of the lower steps, spilled onto her head and frightened her so badly she nearly knocked herself out on the concrete, trying to get away before she realized what it was.

  She, Antonio, and Vanessa were the only ones left alive, and Antonio did not deign to notice her, a mere human slave. The other vampire had his complete attention. They rushed together headlong, and the impact made everything in the room rattle, including the chains that had slithered down around Sarah’s shoulders to stain her with the blood of both Emmanuel and Mick. She saw Vanessa stagger away and barely recover in time to evade Antonio as he went after her. She fell back from the onslaught, which brought the fight all too close to Sarah.

  His fists pounded in a rapid-fire rhythm that gave Vanessa no chance to go on the offensive. She managed to stay on her feet, but that was all she could do. She slowed just long enough for Sarah to see real fear on her face. Antonio moved in for the kill, his back to the insignificant human. He closed his hands around Vanessa’s throat the same as he had with Carlos. It was much more slender and would not take nearly as long.

  Sarah moved before she realized what she was doing. She grabbed one end of the chain and yanked it off her shoulders as she burst from under the stairs. Her own scream surprised her when she flung the silver at him, aiming for the only bare skin on his body: his head and neck.

  Antonio jerked around at the feel of it glancing off of his ear, and the distraction gave Vanessa her chance. The stake she had put in Isabelle lay close by. She dropped to one knee, snatched it up, and thrust it deep under the other vampire’s rib cage.

  Vanessa and Sarah stared at each other as the last opponent dissolved between them. The chain and stake both fell into the muck with a splash.

  A rumbling wind surrounded the warehouse, startling them into looking toward the loading dock. Several vampires appeared there, dressed in long sleeves, pants, boots, gloves, and helmets. Silver handcuffs dangled from their belts. The fabric across their chests looked thick. Some kind of armor, perhaps. Four of them raced inside like a SWAT team to spread out and check the room for threats. When their leader shouted, “Clear!” the vampires who had remained in the doorway came inside.

  One walked across the room to stand in front of Sarah and Vanessa. He was no more than average height, his hair a sandy brown, eyes a shade darker, with narrow shoulders, a pot belly, and the face of a grizzled cowboy.

  “Vanessa,” he said.

  “Ruler.”

  “I hope you’ve got a good explanation. From where I’m standin’, it looks like you invaded another vampire’s keep. That’s a serious crime.”

  Vanessa’s already pale face turned a shade whiter, but she held her ground. “We came to free the human slaves being kept here.”

  “I’m aware of your crusade,” he drawled. “You may have the same goals as the Covenant, but we’re none too pleased with your methods. I’m sure your creator’s told you as much more than once.”

  Vanessa looked away.

  “Ruler Sutherland.” One of the other vampires knelt over a puddle of blood and held up a heavy gold ring.

  The Ruler took it, and his eyes narrowed. “You killed Antonio Romero?”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “You’re the one who raided his keep. You can’t claim self-defense.”

  “We were supposed to be in and out before he and the others came back. I told you, we were here—”

  “To free the human slaves, yeah. I hope you’ve got proof. Even that might not be enough. You’ve given Romero’s father a reason to accuse James of usin’ you to murder his successor. It’s plausible enough that James won’t be able to protect you against the Tribunal.”

  Sarah had no idea what all of this meant, but she could tell Vanessa was in trouble. She clutched her arms around herself and took a step forward to draw the attention of the one who was clearly in charge. Sutherland, they called him. Ruler Sutherland. “It’s true. She tried to save us. Is it against your laws to keep humans as slaves? Because if it is, whoever enforces the law is doing a lousy job.”

  Sutherland’s gaze bored into her, and his expression darkened. It occurred to her, suddenly, that he might be the very law enforcement she had just accused of incompetence.

  “And how do we know you’re tellin’ the truth, human?” he asked, very softly.

  She knew she should be terrified by this all too quiet threat, but there was still that strange distance between her and reality. Sarah pointed at the video recorder that lay on the floor.

  “There’s your evidence. The camera might have broken when it fell, but the memory card is probably okay.” She stared at him, not because she was particularly curious to see what he would do, but because she found herself unable to focus on anything else.

  Sutherland gestured to one of his people, a female who picked up the recorder and examined it. “The human is correct. The memory card does not appear to be damaged.”

  Vanessa put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “She isn’t ‘the human.’ Her name is Sarah, and she saved my life.”

  They all looked at her again, and the attention of so many predators made Sarah's throat tighten. If she had to speak now, she could not have managed more than a rasp.

  “We’ll see what’s on this memory card.” Sutherland grunted. “It might save you from bein’ drained and staked, but don’t expect it to save you from punishment. Romero’ll want revenge, and the murder of an heir to a Monarch can’t just be overlooked.”

  Monarch? Had Antonio been some kind of prince? Sarah didn’t understand anything about the power structure of the vampire world. None of her abusers would have thought to enlighten her any more than a human might think to explain democracy to a cow.

  “But—” Vanessa began.

  “Enough.” He cut her off and motioned for two of his people to take her arms. “I’ll have to hold on to you while we review the evidence and call the Tribunal. And you, too, of course…Sarah.”

  She felt sure he was going to call her “human,” then at the last second remembered to use her name instead.

  “Me?” her mouth moved, but she couldn’t tell whether she had actually spoken aloud.

  “Yup. You are the only witness left. I don’t know how much credit our people will give your testimony, but they’ll need to hear it.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed hard, curled her arms around her waist, and lowered her eyes to his chest. “It’s not like I have anyplace else to go.”

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned and strode out of the warehouse, saying, “Bring ’em.”

  Chapter Ten

  Learning from one mistake does not prevent us from making another.

  —James Morgan

  Angie finished her meal and pushed the plate away. James waited while she ordered a mocha latte topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon for dessert. When it had been delivered, she let it sit and cool enough for her to sip while she moved on from talking about Vanessa to the next subject she wished to discuss.

  “What can you tell me about Soul Killer, the Great Basin Monarch?” she asked. Ever since her conversation with Lynette, she’d been trying to learn more about the vampire who wanted to hire her as a gift for another Monarch.

  James blinked before answering, “I’m sure you know she’s Native American—Paiute, to be specific—and very old. She only allows other Native Americans to be made into vampires in her territory, and the Indian Nations of the Great Basin revere her as much as they fear her. It’s a poor territory, and that’s good, politically speaking, because with a populace who would do anything for her, she has the potential to be a great danger to the Covenant.”

>   “Yes,” Angie mused. “I think she’s maneuvering to get the resources her territory doesn’t have.”

  He sat forward, and his gaze became more intent. “Why do you say that?”

  “She wants to offer a session with me as a gift to the Monarch of the Rocky Mountain Territory. Her human servant, Evan Samuels, has been very persistent in trying to arrange it. Lynette explained that I don’t operate that way, I always meet with my potential clients personally before I decide whether to take them on. Samuels said they can set up such a meeting, and if I agree to a session, they will make it worth my while. I don’t want to offend her by refusing outright, so I said I’d fly to Reno to discuss it face-to-face.”

  He fell still as he thought this over. “She plays the long game,” he mused. “We know she is building up to something, but this is the first clear move I’ve seen.”

  “I assume an alliance with the Rocky Mountain Territory would give her better financial resources, though I’m not sure what she has to offer in exchange.”

  “Numbers. We have not been able to get an accurate count of the number of vampires she has at her command, but they are growing. If I’m right, she is creating as many as she safely can without losing control of them. She learned that lesson the hard way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Ghost Dance?”

  Angie shook her head.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have time.”

  “As you wish.” James settled back in his chair and gathered his thoughts. “In the late nineteenth century, a Paiute named Wovoka had a vision during a solar eclipse. He believed it was from God, but it was actually Soul Killer. She taught him a circle dance his people were to perform for five days straight, at regular intervals throughout the year. She showed him his ancestors—vampires, though he didn’t know it—and told him the Indian dead would rise to reunite with the living if his people changed their ways and lived in peace with one another.

  “She wasn’t called Soul Killer then. At that time she was still Moon Dancer, the name she’d chosen after being turned several centuries earlier. Her creator took her away where she could be taught the self-control all of us must acquire, but as soon as he judged her ready, she returned to her people and became their protector. When the white man came, she watched to see what he would do. She saw how the invaders destroyed everything in their path, breaking promises, inflicting one abuse after another on her people, and vowed to return the land to its rightful caretakers. The plan she came up with was impressive, but fatally flawed.”

  Angie picked up her coffee, which had cooled enough to drink, and gestured for him to go on.

  “For millennia, those in power have used religious beliefs to unite and manipulate their people,” James explained, “and that is what Soul Killer did with the tribes of the Great Basin. Wovoka was devout and charismatic, and the people were desperate for a leader who could save them. He preached unity and peace, convincing them to cease squabbling amongst themselves, and taught them the Ghost Dance that Moon Dancer had shown him. It spread like wildfire throughout the First Nations. The ecstatic nature of the dance intensified the sense of spiritual awakening and turned her people into fervent believers.”

  Angie nodded. Religion could be a powerful tool. Some anthropologists theorized it was originally created in order to control the masses and enforce necessary societal strictures.

  James went on. “Its other purpose was to attract warriors with willpower and stamina. It was a test to see who was the strongest in mind and body. On the last night of these dances, she and her vampires took the most promising and turned them. She intended to build an army of vampires strong enough to destroy the whites who had subjugated her people, and force them out of the lands they had stolen.”

  His gaze drifted away and he fell silent for a moment. “Unfortunately, young vampires are difficult to control. Their thirst for blood and violence must be strictly contained, or they will run rampant. Moon Dancer counted on the fact that these vampires had spent their human lives in a culture that respected all of nature and its creatures; they did not regard it as something to be subjugated or used and thrown away, so her new children did not see humans as inferior beings. She believed this would help them overcome their new instincts, and she was right, to an extent. But they still needed strict guidance, and in her determination to build an army, she overreached. The number of young vampires grew to the point that those older and wiser could not control them. They wreaked havoc among the whites, but also decimated their own people, unable to stop themselves. Moon Dancer had to make a choice to either let her people suffer for her mistake or kill those children she could not rein in. So she called on her creator and begged him for help. He was the only vampire she knew who was older and more powerful than she. Together, they did what they had to do. When they finished their terrible task, Moon Dancer took a new name—Soul Killer.

  “She was not wrong about the Native American vampires being more willing to learn self-control.” James shook his head. “Their respect for all living things made them deeply regretful and ashamed whenever they fell prey to their hungers. It took them half as long as those from our Western European cultures to be ready to live on their own. Unfortunately, she miscalculated how many she could handle.”

  “My God.” Angie shuddered.

  “Her people have incredible potential. That is why we’ve been trying to find out how many there are. The Indian nations in the Great Basin are too secretive, though. They show one side of themselves to the tourists and social workers, but the other they keep hidden, and we have been unable to penetrate this code of silence.” James caught the waitress’s eye, and after a few moments she appeared with a fresh glass of blood.

  Angie waited until the waitress was gone before asking, “Do you think she’s finally built her army?”

  “I think she’s made much progress toward it. Enough that she has something to offer the Rocky Mountain Monarch in return for a percentage of his economy.”

  “I wish she had succeeded a hundred years ago. The native people deserved better than they got from us. But surely she knows it’s too late, now, to drive the whites out of her territory. What does she hope to accomplish?”

  James took a long drink. He looked troubled, and that was unusual for him. He rarely gave much indication as to what he was feeling. “I’m not certain she does realize this. To her, a hundred years is nothing. As a rule, the Covenant prefers not to interfere with the politics of other nations, but in this case we have no choice. An attempt to reclaim her native lands would be misunderstood. The vast majority of people would only see vampires attacking humans, and the result would be a war between our species.”

  A wave of cold washed through Angie. Of course. That was exactly what would happen, and it would mean disaster for both sides. Vampires and humans would die by the thousands, perhaps millions if the conflict spread to other countries. It had to be stopped, at any cost. “We can’t allow this to go any further, and I may be in a position to do something. I’m not sure what, but something.”

  His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “Angel, no. Years of hatred have twisted her mind, making her vicious even by our standards. You must not make an enemy of her. Give some excuse, and cancel your appointment.”

  “If she goes through with her plans, a war between our species is inevitable. Do you really think I’m going to let that happen if I have even the slightest chance of preventing it?”

  “There is enough danger in your life already,” he snapped, and she knew he referred to the bounty put on Sarah Miller’s head twelve years ago. “I will relay this information to the Covenant Council, and they can decide how best to deal with Soul Killer.”

  “But the Covenant will seek a consensus among its members, and that can’t be done quickly. If she is this close to setting her plans in motion, they might not act soon enough.”

  “I will not risk so much on the mere chance you mi
ght make a difference!”

  “You don’t get to decide for me!”

  “And when she starts hunting you down to take vengeance? What then?”

  “I’ve had plans in place for a long time, in case my past was ever discovered. I can disappear, if necessary.”

  He looked away. The lines on his face deepened, but he didn’t argue. “What can you possibly do?”

  “Soul Killer wants to use me to win Rimbeau over. What if I drive them apart instead? If I meet with him and reject him…”

  “He would be humiliated.” James nodded reluctantly. “He might not want to ally himself with someone who caused that. Rimbeau considers himself a ladies’ man. He won’t take rejection well, especially from a human.”

  Not far away, the lights of a ferryboat twinkled over the darkness of Puget Sound, heading toward the Kingston dock. James drained his glass, set some bills on the table, and they left the restaurant. Cars rolled off two by two and pedestrians ambled down the ramp as he walked her to the foot-passenger bridge.

  “I’ll keep the meeting with her,” she decided. “I’ll agree to an interview with Rimbeau on the condition we do it here, in Seattle, so your people can protect me if things get out of hand.”

  “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

  Angie reached up to touch his face. “You know the answer to that.” She lowered her hand to squeeze his shoulder. “In the meantime, can you introduce me to one of the Fallen? I still need to get on with my doctoral dissertation.”

  He managed a faint smile. “I don’t know how you juggle your separate lives.”

  “I compartmentalize.” She smiled back. “Though they overlap in many ways.”

  “Indeed. I will see what I can do. In fact, there is one I know in Reno. Perhaps you can interview him before your meeting with the Monarch.”

  “That would be perfect. Thank you.”