Ex Tenebris: A Dark Fantasy (Nëphyr Book 1)

by Cindy Mezni

  She found nothing to say back to that.

  “Nathanael and Caine may know everything, but everyone else doesn’t,” Logan pointed out. “When Caine arrived, he was so out of it that he didn’t make much sense.”

  So I explained the events that had taken place in the Reserve, then told them about the measures of restriction I’d decided as a consequence.

  “And I thought you’d denied me access to the Reserve lately in anticipation of the Shemyan feast,” Logan said.

  His young adult-looking face seemed peeved. And he wasn’t the only one. Venom and Caine didn’t look pleased either about not being entitled to the only bloodbath of the year that was allowed since the Cohabitation Treaty—a treaty concluded between many human governments and Nëphyr, vampires and lycanthropes in order to put a term to the massacres committed by the Creatures and for all of us to live peacefully by following certain rules.

  “Supernanny Logan will clearly have less work with the lack of food in the fridge, but see the positive in all this: unemployment is over for me! Starting tonight, I’m back to work, and full time at that!”

  I gave Xander a death stare. His sense of derision was more than inappropriate in this particular case.

  “Abstain from making these kinds of comments, Reaper. There’s absolutely nothing good in this situation.”

  “Understood, Majesty.”

  Even when he called me by my title, he wasn’t serious. Still, I didn’t reprimand him. The only thing Xander considered with gravity was his work as executioner.

  “Don’t call me Supernanny again,” Logan told him. “My job is as important as yours.”

  Xander burst out laughing.

  “Right. What was I thinking? I forgot that we, Nëphyr, are like children let loose in a candy store, unable to restrain ourselves and not eat them all. If Supernanny Logan wasn’t there, we’d stuffed ourselves with little humans until there was no one left.”

  “You—”

  “Enough!” I interrupted them, banging my fist on the table, which made all heads turn in my direction.

  It was in such moments that the fury lurking in me threatened to swallow me whole to make me return to the state of beast solely governed by its bloody instincts that I’d been in the past.

  “Usually I don’t care if you provoke each other in order to get a little action and shed some blood. But it isn’t the case today. The clan can’t be all right if those who are leading it behave like kids in a playground. From now on, I want Councilors, and real ones. Have I been sufficiently clear?”

  Only silence answered me.

  “Since we’re all on the same wavelength, I declare this Council—”

  “What about the food? How are you going to address our food supply problem?” Caine asked.

  “We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” I told him calmly, although his interruption had threatened to make me lose my temper for good. “We already have an important problem to solve for the time being: announcing the bad news and ensuring that the reactions aren’t too . . . virulent.”

  Face impassive, Caine nodded. We all rose. Everyone went out, one after the other with me being the last. The evidence suddenly dawned on me.

  “Xander,” I called out.

  He turned around.

  “Think about taking your machete. There are chances it might be of use tonight.”

  A genuine smile stretched his lips. He was looking forward to it, of course. He was the only one . . .

  The moment I opened the doors of the hall, the sound of drums and horns greeted me before the sovereign song, Heshië Nidäm—literally glorious sovereign—began.

  Pure hypocrisy, I thought bitterly. All my people wanted to see me dismissed of my title or dead because I’d been the lover of the most famous Mëvia—the word for an outcast who was disowned by the whole race, condemned to the Ultimate Punishment (also known as the Never Ending Torment) by the High Instances—of all the Nëphyrian history, Ezekiel. The only reason that had stopped them from trying to kill me so far was that Efflamm, our previous King, had chosen me to succeed him. And they had too much respect for his memory to go against his decision. Besides, everyone knew that Néfrat, one of the members of the High Instances, wanted to get me in his bed. If something happened to me before he succeeded, he’d make the people responsible pay a high price for it. Still, what was about to come could well eclipse all the reluctance and fears they might have about rebelling . . .

  With a sigh, I walked toward the huge throne of bones. It was made of the remains of former leaders of various clans and of Nëphräm, animals turned by Nëphyr, who’d died serving their sovereign. It was supposed to symbolize the Nëphyrian power. Personally, I just found it to be a real pain in the ass—literally. As I walked across the room, I was careful to not look at any of the faces around me. My gaze wandered from the throne to land on the mural paintings made during Efflamm’s reign. They depicted several events and symbols important to our race.

  There was a representation of the day we revealed ourselves to the world of men. We could see hordes of Nëphyr chasing frightened mortals and butchering them. There was also Hell, with faces marked by agony, their bodies prey to flames, and a being of fire and lava representing the Devil. Or Efflamm’s coronation in the presence of High Instances and the Royal Guard of that time: Nathanael and Ezekiel, but also the Protegäm made of beasts transformed in gigantic Nëphräm: Leonemä the lion, Panthrä the panther and Tigriä the white tiger.

  I could only turn my head at the perfect reproduction of Ezekiel, undeniably beautiful with his short golden hair, chiseled features and blue eyes, despite them being full of disdain and wickedness. I never wanted to see this face again.

  Finally seated, I began the Shemyan program. I celebrated several unions of Parinrä so everybody knew that if someone had a problem with one of them, both would confront them. Once I was finished, the sound of instruments resumed and my kin honored the Creator of our race, Lucifer. Legend had it that the clamor and the pounding of our feet could reach the bowels of the earth, where he was residing. I noticed in passing some hostile glances sent my direction during the tribute. In their eyes, I would always be a traitor. The one that had the tainted blood of Ezekiel, the murderer of our King Efflamm, in her veins. I was just like him to them.

  They didn’t have any idea of the truth, of what really was the story of Ezekiel and me . . .

  “Do you like the show?” Nathanael asked, his lips brushing my ear. “I personally do like it a lot.”

  I cast a glance behind me to the blond Nëphyr who looked at me with a smoldering fire beneath his eyes of ice. Surely he wasn’t referring to the Nëphyr dancing before us, but rather to my décolleté that offered him a more than pleasant view.

  “None of that here, Nathanael,” I reminded him in a firm tone.

  Our relationship—or exchanges of good practices, as I preferred to call it—was no secret in New Hell. But we weren’t Parinrä, just lovers. Everything that happened between us only happened behind closed doors.

  “And later, elsewhere?”

  My libido wasn’t at all against the idea, especially with the look full of promises that Nathanael was giving me. But there were a lot of things to settle before I could allow myself to have a good time.

  “No.”

  I looked away and watched again my clan continuing its tribute. There was still the Tëraniem to come, fights to the death between Träditra who were kept prisoners in the basement and volunteers to affront and kill them. Still, I preferred to not wait for the blood to start flowing and the tempers to start flaring to make my announcement. So I got up from my throne before drawing everyone’s attention by letting out a loud cry worthy of a roar from this good old Leonemä. The screams and the moves stopped at once. All eyes were on me.

  “Nëphyr, it’s time for you to know about something important.”

  Suspicious glances were exchanged among the crowd.

  “Our Reserve had been attacked. A l
arge number of humans were slain and burned. By whom? We don’t know. The intruders were careful to leave no clue about their identity.”

  Murmurs traveled around the hall. I met the eyes of Shane who was staring at me, puzzled. Standing behind me, the Council members probably were just as surprised.

  “What are you doing?” Nathanael hissed.

  “Despite the lack of evidence,” I continued, ignoring his question, “the fact that the attackers know the area and our security system suggests that Nëphyr living here, in New Hell, are responsible.”

  My lies weren’t glorious, but better that than a war with vampires on my hands and the intervention of the High Instances that would necessarily follow.

  “Funny because I’ve heard it was the doing of vampires, not Nëphyr,” someone in the room exclaimed.

  With a look, I made it clear to Shane that he and his colleagues would pay for this new blunder. That the Council got wind of the truth was all right, but that the lambda Nëphyr also knew of it wasn’t acceptable. I saw the male with jet black hair who’d said that splitting through the crowd until he was before everyone. Yegyen. Of course. He’d been one of my protesters from the second my name had been associated with the title of “Queen.”

  “You listen to gossip now?” I said, falsely mocking.

  “It’s more than just gossip.”

  “I hope for your sake you have evidence to back up your allegations, otherwise I could consider your attitude as that of a traitor. And you know what the fate of traitors is.”

  His expression suggested that he knew every detail of the attack. Still, he couldn’t have any evidence, because I did what was necessary for everything to be cleaned up. Therefore, I had the right to sentence him to death if he continued on this path. And I would, if he forced me to, because I wouldn’t let him or anyone else lead my clan to its doom.

  “You and I know there’s no trace of what truly happened there anymore. You’ve made sure of that.”

  The murmur of the crowd grew louder, doubt and suspicion present among all. He was going to start a riot if he kept this up.

  “Enough! Either you prove what you claim or you shut up. One more lie and you’ll see yourself endorsing the status of Träditra and be executed immediately.”

  Yegyen offered me his most arrogant expression. At that moment, he reminded me of Ezekiel and the way he considered everyone as inferior to him—me first, despite his speeches assuring me of the contrary. My anger notched up.

  “I have no more lies,” he emphasized the word, “to tell. No need to, given what is about to follow,” he added as he approached the throne before which I stood.

  “And what is about to follow?”

  “Your death,” he answered, coolness personified.

  Surprise and outrage rose in the hall. We had never seen a Nëphyr who openly threatened his sovereign for centuries. Sensing danger, Nathanael and Xander placed themselves on either side of me. Nathanael already had his hand on the hilt of his sword, stored in its sheath. He was tense, ready to take it out at any time now.

  “I’d like to see that,” I said with a cocked eyebrow.

  He was bluffing. He was just a coward wanting to show off. He’d never go through with it. And yet, a few instants later, Yegyen put one knee in front of the platform where I stood.

  “Na’Vestrimiä’ia Nidäm,*” he uttered the fateful words, his eyes boring into mine. [* I defy you, my Queen.]

  The silence was total, but his words seemed as if suspended in the air. He’d done it. He’d dared to challenge me publicly—the equivalent of being called an incompetent Queen, loud and clear.

  “You just signed your death warrant,” Nathanael intervened, taking the words out of my mouth.

  I saw him take his sword out, but I grabbed him by the arm to stop his movement. He stared at me, his face completely closed off. However, his gaze betrayed the wrath in him.

  “It’s the role of the Royal Guard to protect you and I’m part of it. It’s in our traditions to be sent on a fight in place of a Queen,” he reminded me, clearly annoyed by my intervention.

  “Xander is part of it, too, and he didn’t react because he knows that this isn’t his battle.”

  Seeing him remain silent and stand his ground, I became pissed off, irritated at my turn by him, by Yegyen, by everyone in this room actually.

  “And damn it, we’re in the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth, Nathanael! I don’t need anyone to defend me!”

  I gritted my teeth, my outburst more than inappropriate in the presence of so many people. His eyes with their bright irises glaring into mine let me know that his anger was no longer solely due to Yegyen.

  “But I appreciate your dedication,” I lied, trying to soften my previous words.

  He seemed to calm a bit, then nodded and went back to position himself behind me.

  Facing Yegyen because he was my lover or because he was a member of the Royal Guard would have put me at a disadvantage in either case. Only a Parinrä fought for his companion. And if he’d fought as a protector of the Queen, I would have been seen as someone weak.

  And it was about time for my subjects to see I was more than up to my task.

  I descended the three steps of the stage on which the throne and seats of my Councilors were situated. I stopped near Yegyen, who’d stood up.

  “I knew you were stupid, pretentious, and misogynistic. But suicidal? It’s a surprise. But if you want to die that badly, it will be my genuine pleasure to help you.”

  He merely looked at me, smiling haughtily. He was sure I didn’t stand a chance. What a stupid—and deadly—mistake on his part to underestimate me.

  “How long are you going to keep moving uselessly your lips to delay your death?”

  He was falling right into my trap, perceiving me as the already defeated female I wanted him to think I was.

  “I was done.”

  Yegyen turned his back to me and walked away to stand a few feet away from me as the crowd moved to form a circle around us.

  “You ready?”

  “No,” I replied, and, on that word, I used the Illusionaë to modify my dress.

  Under the dumbstruck eyes of everyone, I replaced the slinky, red dress with an interminable train with a black one that had straps, arrived to mid-thigh and allowed me to move freely.

  “Now I am.”

  Yegyen began to approach slowly. I did the same. I could see my little magical trick had shaken his certitudes about his victory. Because, if it was public notoriety that I had many abilities, few people knew what they were. And the Illusionaë was one of the powers most feared by Nëphyr, the owner able to change the perception of others and shape reality to their liking. Only Nëphyr with the same gift were insensitive to its effects—except if they used their power on themselves. I wasn’t planning to use any of my advantages tonight, but he didn’t need to know that. Seeing him with his tail between his legs was far too pleasant.

  “Starting to regret having challenged me?” I taunted him.

  “In your dreams,” he retorted, his features hardening.

  “I only dream of seeing you dead.”

  I gave him my most insolent smile to perfect the whole thing. In response, he groaned like an animal before he charged into me. At the last moment, I stepped aside for him to miss me. A real howl escaped him.

  The precepts that Ezekiel had taught me—only useful thing he’d ever done for me—came to my mind at the sight of Yegyen in his most bestial appearance. His green eyes were shinning brightly as if Hell itself was raging within him. His human dentition had been replaced by that of the Nëphyr, in other words his thirty-two teeth had become long and sharp and his jaw bigger, possessing the strength of a crocodile.

  And all he wanted now was to kill me and do it quickly. The exact result I’d expected. Now it was time to move on to phase two.

  Without warning, Yegyen came at me again. This time, I did no move to avoid him. We fell to the floor hard. His teeth san
k into the first place he found: my shoulder. I let out a scream of rage and surprise as he tore off my flesh viciously. My blood began to gush. I gave him a powerful head butt that broke his nose and sent him reeling backward, taking with him a piece of my shoulder. Between my pain and my hurt pride, rage inflamed my mind. I leaped to my feet, ready to rain a myriad of blows on my opponent. But he reacted first. I hardly had the time to blink when his fist came crashing against my jaw. A cracking sound followed by a sharp pain let me know it was fractured. The Nëphyr in me roared with indignation. My eyes wandered around, the space of a moment that seemed to be suspended in time. All heads were expressing excitement for our fight. I noticed then that their eyes were all converging on Yegyen, the glimmer of hope animating their eyes. They all want to see him win, I realized. I was utterly stupefied. I knew I wasn’t the sovereign they had wanted but that! The barriers of reason cracked from everywhere. The beast thirsty for blood, flesh and death that I truly was was this close to be freed from its shackles.

  “Get up,” Yegyen ordered me in a superior tone, as if he’d already won. “My honor doesn’t allow me to kill an enemy who’s down.”

  He smiled.

  “Especially if it’s a weak female,” he went on.

  I was dying to end him there and then. But I had a lesson to give to my people. A lesson that these betrayers who want to see me in pieces won’t forget anytime soon.

  “If you want me, come and get me,” I said brazenly.

  He didn’t need to be told twice and leaned over me to grab me by the throat. With an iron grip, he lifted me up until my feet no longer touched the ground.

  “One last wish before I rip your heart out?”

  Satisfaction, sadism and impatience were what I read in his eyes. He was convinced that he was about to become King very soon and was exulting at the thought of taking my life. He was blind to the fact that I’d manipulated him, that he’d acted as I’d desired. Not for a second had he wondered why I hadn’t really fought. I took a look around, observing the crowd around us. For them, my fate was sealed and some were already showing their contentment. So blind, so naive . . . They all thought me so helpless that it was funny and sad at the same time. They would soon be disillusioned . . .