Dark Studies (Arcaneology)

by C. P. Foster

  James Morgan considered Sarah once more, tilting his head a fraction. He crossed the few steps between them. Cold fingers touched her chin, traced the line of her jaw, and moved up to smooth her hair back. “I never thought I would see a human offer, of her own free will, to give her life for one of us.”

  No one had touched her gently like this in years, not even Debra, who had been taking care of her. Sarah’s throat tightened. Was he doing it to manipulate her? But he had no need to do so. She’d already given him and Vanessa everything. For just a moment, something inside her awakened that she had thought was dead and buried. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear tickled down her cheek. James touched the wet streak and stared at it, rubbing the moisture between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I never thought I’d see a vampire willing to give her life for one of us,” she told him.

  Sarah turned her head and brushed it against his hand. James’s lips parted. He hesitated before cupping his palm around her jaw, and for the first time looked as though he had no idea what to do.

  There were no windows, so she wouldn’t have known how long they waited there if it weren’t for the vampires. Their daily sleep marked the passage of sunrise and sunset. Sarah wanted to sink back into the dull, emotionless state that had comforted her before the trial but couldn’t. When she tried to hide deep within herself, the dark pit of rage and hurt at the core of her being opened up, and she shied away. She needed to be alone and safe before facing the things trapped there.

  Worst of all was the siren song of the vampire blood she’d been fed for so many years. She craved it. Hand in hand with her hatred for the vampires that had done this to her, she felt a sickening adoration. A part of her longed for them, even grieved their death. Would it ever go away? She asked James, and he lowered his eyes before shaking his head. It would fade over the years but never completely disappear. The need was part of her now, like an alcoholic’s thirst for one more drink. Without the protective blanket of catatonia, she realized, she was going through withdrawal.

  With the blood, they had enslaved her emotionally as well as physically, and there was no way to escape those detested feelings. But she could damned well make sure it didn’t happen again. No matter how hard it was to resist, she vowed she’d never have another drop. She’d rather die.

  Sarah kept the television on to distract herself, watching mostly news programs. For the last five years, she’d had no idea what was happening in the human world. There was a new president now. People made references to important events, and she had no clue as to what they were talking about, so Vanessa had to explain. James didn’t join the conversations, but every now and then Sarah caught him watching her.

  About halfway into the fifth night, the summons came.

  Guards led them to the auditorium, which was full to overflowing. Sarah, James, and Vanessa were taken to the stage, where they stood alone. James was inscrutable, as usual, but Vanessa and Sarah exchanged uneasy looks.

  The small, Egyptian vampire came to stand next to them. She looked out over the gathering, then nodded to Lord Scott. He stood, and with him everyone in the front row rose as well, turning to face the rest of the audience.

  “The Covenant Council has reached a decision,” the chairperson said. “We, the sovereigns of its nations, stand before you so you will know we are all in agreement on this.”

  So these were the Monarchs, Lords, Rulers, and whatever else vampires might call their leaders. Sarah looked them over. She counted twenty-eight in all. One face that should have been there was conspicuously missing. Monarch Romero of the Texas Territory was nowhere to be seen.

  They were an eclectic group. Some wore business suits, while others looked like they might have stepped out of a biker bar. She saw a designer evening gown, a jumble of multicolored rags topped off with dreadlocks stuffed into a rainbow-colored hat, a tuxedo with long tails, a beautiful gold and royal blue sari, and more. Some wore things reminiscent of ages gone by, such as a simple dress pinned at the shoulder, its folds held close to the body with a cord. One man wore tights and a leather jerkin like something she had seen at a Renaissance fair when she was a teenager. She spotted Sutherland in a western cut suit with a string tie, a Stetson in his hand.

  The chairperson wore a plain silk sheath that skimmed over her slim body, its ivory color a contrast to her gold-brown skin. When she fell silent, she reminded Sarah of a beautiful piece of furniture, upholstered in fine fabric.

  “First,” she said, “while Vanessa Van Sickle’s actions did lead to the death of Antonio Romero, the fact that this was achieved at the hands of a human whom he had abused overshadows the issue of political aggression. To punish Van Sickle would suggest this human did not have the right to fight for her freedom. Therefore, we find Vanessa Van Sickle not guilty of the charge of murder. She cannot, however, continue to act as a vigilante. Her energies and idealism will instead be used to form the Covenant’s Enforcement Committee.”

  Sarah caught a startled gasp from Vanessa before the vampire got control of her features.

  The chairperson’s tone dropped a note or two, and its quality hardened to steel. “Our race will not survive the evolution of humanity unless we can learn to coexist. The human race has developed to the point that it is a serious threat. We may still have the advantage for now, but if we do not curb our excesses, humans will turn their substantial resources toward the destruction of the predators among them, just as they did with the Nazis and the Japanese in World War II.

  “As Miss Miller so rightly pointed out to the Tribunal, our arrogance has made us vulnerable. We have rested on our laurels while they have developed their science and technology, creating weapons that challenge even our formidable powers. What might they create if they unite against us? Even if we did win in an all-out war between our races, such a victory would gain us little, as we would have destroyed our own food source.

  “Some say we should subjugate humanity, become herdsman just as they have with their sheep and cattle. But our ancestors tried this when humanity was far less powerful and found humans were not so easily controlled. Therefore, the Covenant created a code of law to this end—humans must be treated as our equals. We must submit ourselves to the laws they have made for themselves. To do otherwise is suicide.”

  So there were some whose wisdom overrode their instincts. Was it in their individual natures, Sarah wondered, or did it come with age? What made these vampires different from the others?

  “Unfortunately,” the chairperson continued, “we have failed to enforce these edicts. All we have done is driven the excesses underground instead of extinguishing them. The time has come to show our people we are serious. The Enforcement Committee will carry this out, but something more is required—a public demonstration of our resolve.”

  A sense of foreboding tickled up the base of Sarah’s spine. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until her body reminded her of the need for oxygen. Her inhalation sounded loud in the silence. Sarah felt the urge to wrap her arms around herself or at least clasp her hands together. Realizing this immediately put an end to it. Emotion withdrew into its distant hiding place, leaving her calm inside and out.

  “As our equals,” the chairperson said, “human beings must have the right to defend themselves. Miss Miller will serve as an example of our resolve that all vampires shall respect this right. She will not be punished for killing Antonio Romero, but instead be treated as a guest of honor at each nation in the Covenant. Each sovereign will hold a gathering of his or her citizens to announce the formation of the multinational committee for enforcement of the new laws, and at each of these gatherings Sarah Miller will tell her story.”

  Sarah’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Beside her, Vanessa twitched and James turned to narrow his eyes at the chairperson. The smaller vampire returned his look with a grave nod.

  “We realize this will put Miss Miller in danger. Monarch Romero has offered a substantial reward for any vampi
re who brings her to him. There are also those who will try to impose the old ways upon this human. Just as we wish to make her a symbol of our new laws, they will wish to make her a symbol of their opposition to them. Therefore, she will be guarded at all times by those who have proven their loyalty to the Covenant’s cause. Her safety will be our highest priority.”

  A reward? It sounded like something out of an old Western movie. Wanted, dead or alive. How much was she worth? Would there be a bad drawing of her tacked up on the wall in vampire sheriff’s offices? Sarah stifled a hysterical giggle.

  At last, the stillness was broken. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some shaking their heads, others nodding agreement. A few rose to their feet as if to protest, but the chairperson’s soft soprano voice cut across them all.

  “This is our decree. Sovereigns of the Covenant, are there any who dissent?”

  None of those standing in the front row spoke. They looked out upon the crowd until everyone fell silent once again.

  “Let there be no doubt. Each Sovereign or representative of the same will now speak their agreement aloud.”

  At the end of the row, Lord Scott raised one hand. His voice rang with authority. “As Lord of the province of Puget Sound, I affirm the decision of the Covenant and vow to uphold its ruling.”

  When he lowered his hand, the female beside him, who wore the gold-and-blue sari, raised hers. Her arm glittered with gold bangles. “As Ruler of the City of New York, I affirm the decision of the Covenant and vow to uphold its ruling.”

  Next came the Monarch of the Mississippi River Territory, the male in a black tuxedo with tails. Then Lord of the province of Southern Louisiana, the Monarch of the Southwestern Territory, the Monarch of the Southeastern Seaboard Territory, the Lord of the province of the Florida Keys, the Ruler of Las Vegas, and so on down the line. A pattern emerged: provinces had Lords, territories had Monarchs, and city-states had Rulers.

  When the last had spoken, the chairperson raised her hands to recapture everyone’s attention. “The Covenant Council will work out the details of this decision. The rest of you will leave, now, and spread word throughout the nations.”

  The Covenant’s leaders turned away as everyone else began to file out, and the chairperson gestured to Sarah, Vanessa, and Morgan to step down from the stage.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

  —Sir Isaac Newton

  The walk to Denny Hall from her parking spot in the University of Washington’s Central Plaza garage had never seemed long before, but with injured ribs and deep tissue bruises splashed all over her body, it seemed to take forever. Angie went slowly. The thing about injuries to the ribs, she’d discovered, was that there were so many muscles attached to them. Any movement that required her back, abdominals, or laterals pulled at the broken bone and caused twinges of pain that built one on the other into a constant ache. Carrying her backpack didn’t help. She would have left it behind if she hadn’t needed her laptop for this meeting.

  Joseph followed at a discreet distance. She didn’t want to explain why she had a bodyguard, but she didn’t feel safe without him nearby. He agreed to keep his distance only because it was the middle of the day, and he didn’t need to worry about the speed and stealth of vampire attackers. No one in the crowd of students and teachers gave him a second glance.

  Professor Benotti took one look at her and jumped up from behind his desk, setting off a cascade of papers. He cleared a chair, shoving books to the floor, then took her backpack and helped her sit.

  “Angie, what the hell happened to you?”

  “Car accident.” She settled onto the chair and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

  It was four days after the attack, and she still felt like hell. The torn flesh on her face and breasts had mostly healed, as James said it would, and though the injuries were still pink and shiny, no one seeing them now would guess how terrible they had been. More importantly, she could sit without cringing. The doctors had also used the new medication to repair the anal damage. There was not enough of the medicine to heal all of her wounds, so they left the bruises and broken bones to nature.

  When the doctors released her, she and her bodyguards had driven back to Seattle using a circuitous route. They were cautious to the point of paranoia in order to make sure she wasn't followed. She learned a great deal about how to disappear without a trace. They avoided security cameras, which were far more common than she’d realized, and took steps to shake surveillance in case they were being tailed. The three of them disappeared off the grid so they could not be found by credit card traces, security checks, or cell phone GPS locators. Thanks to Night and Day’s resources and Joseph and Ron’s personal contacts, they were able to get rental cars without using their own names. Someone else rented the car, then handed it over to them, and they dropped it off after business hours in another city, then picked up another at a prearranged location. The cheap motels they stayed in required neither credit cards nor ID.

  The long trip gave her too much time to brood over what James had done. By the time she got home, she was sick to death of her own thoughts and desperate for distraction. The dissertation offered that.

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Benotti asked. “We could have postponed this.”

  Angie gestured toward her backpack. “My laptop is in there. Would you fire it up? I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you the good news.”

  “What news?”

  Benotti wrestled the thing out of her backpack and made space on his desk. It came on with a beep.

  “Go into my documents. Click on the folder labeled ‘Journals’ and open the first file.”

  She waited while he used the glide point pad to navigate. The professor frowned, then his eyes widened.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yep. I won't have full access for a few weeks, and it will take time to get them all scanned, but the owner is willing to let me work with them as much as I like.”

  “The Journals of Iphra-El.” He tipped his head back so he could squint through the lower lens of his bifocals, and he studied the files with growing interest. “This is incredible. How did you get them?”

  “Long story. The short version is that I’ve been interviewing Aaron White, one of the Fallen, and when I learned who purchased the journals, he insisted on going with me to speak to the owner. Aaron persuaded the man to sell them to him.”

  “Amazing. Frankly, I never imagined you’d get anywhere near them. What’s this, eighteenth-century English? And this looks like Chinese, but I can’t tell what period. You’re going to have a hell of a time translating these.”

  “I’ll manage. So, do I have the go-ahead?”

  “Have you narrowed the focus? What is the aim?”

  “The aim is to expand our knowledge of the Fallen.”

  “Well, that’s nice and vague.”

  Angie grimaced and tried again. “All right. The aim is to describe the terrestrial life of the Fallen, beginning with the initial choice to take physical form and ending with the passing on to the next stage of their existence.”

  “Better.” Closing her laptop, he sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. “There’s something we haven’t discussed. It’s not usually an issue, at least not one I feel I have to bring up, but with the Fallen…well…”

  “Go on,” she said.

  “I don’t want to make any assumptions, so I’ll just ask. Have you…?”

  “Had sex with my subject? Yes.”

  Benotti turned bright red and found a sudden need to adjust some papers on his desk. “You realize sexual relationships with research subjects are strictly taboo.”

  “Yes, but the main reason is to protect the subjects from exploitation,” Angie protested. “Can anyone honestly say I’m exploiting the Fallen? If anything, he is taking advantage of me.”

  Benotti sighed. “I’m just warning you what to e
xpect. It will destroy your standing in the academic community if anyone finds out.”

  “Will it prevent me from getting my doctorate?”

  “Absolutely. If you want that degree, you have to keep it secret. You can always write a book later that details your personal experiences. I have no doubt you’d find a publisher.”

  “But—” Angie started to argue, then realized he had to cover his ass. He could face disciplinary action himself if the administration learned what she’d done. Benotti might understand her situation, but she couldn’t expect him to share responsibility for her decisions. He was already going out on a limb by keeping it to himself. “I understand.”

  “Put together a list of objectives and a literature review, and we’ll get to work on the proposal.”

  The professor put her laptop away, then helped her get up from the chair, a painful process that involved far too many core muscles. He insisted on carrying the backpack to her car. After he had gone, she sat behind the wheel staring at her rearview mirror. Where was Joseph? Sometimes he blended in to his surroundings so effectively she couldn’t find him. It made her nervous. What if something had happened to him? The thought that she might be completely alone and unprotected sent panic stabbing through her chest. Angie clenched her hands around the steering wheel to keep them from shaking.

  A car pulled out of a parking spot on the next row and edged around until it stopped a few yards behind her. She was already reaching for the panic button in her purse when she saw her bodyguard in the driver’s seat.

  Angie closed her eyes. She couldn’t live like this indefinitely.

  The woman who answered the door was at least ten years Angie’s senior. She had short, dark hair and wore a snug pair of yoga pants and a tight tank top, the sort Angie wore when she went to the gym. They showed off the sleek build of a distance runner. After taking stock of her visitors, she hung back, looking uneasy as they made their way into the main living space.