by Petra Landon
Yet, the Alpha did not stray from his side, making no move to play a more active role, as the clearing filled with reinforcements. Roman peered into the darkness. He caught a glimpse of Duncan hammering the Blutsaugers, with Maartje by his side. To his amusement, Jason flung Wizard magic enthusiastically, with Stefan Simeonov tearing into the Undead beside him. It made for an incongruous pairing.
The Wyrs would protest but Roman knew where his duty lay. “Can’t have much bloodletting tonight” he said to the Alpha.
Raoul cocked his head. “You want Shifters to show restraint, Durovic?”
“You leave a bloody mess on their front lawn and we kiss goodbye to any co-operation from the Setik” Roman said bluntly. “I’ve been sweet-talking them for two days now. I can almost smell that guest list.”
The Alpha studied him silently.
“Dude, I’m good” Roman protested, raising his arms in surrender. “But even I can’t affect miracles. First Ones don’t react well to this kind of mayhem.”
Raoul did not protest this time.
“Shifters, you heard Durovic” he directed, without raising his voice. “Keep the spilled blood to a minimum.”
Roman sighed resignedly. He knew this was the best he was going to get from the Wyrs.
“Spoilsport” Simeonov threw in Roman’s general direction, even as he rammed enthusiastically into a Vampire. But it was directed good-naturedly.
Raoul shot a frowning glance at the thick woods behind them that hid the resort from view. Now that he had a moment to think, something felt wrong about this, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The leeches would not mount an assault without a goal, not on the Shifters. The Vampires loved their elaborate schemes, but getting their clocks cleaned by the Shifters was not on top of their list. For some reason, the Clan believed they had a shot at Sienna and Nandini. It had Raoul reassessing any weaknesses.
“Atsá, circle the resort” he directed softly. “Let’s make sure the leeches do not slip through while we’re distracted.”
Up in the air, wings fluttered as the enormous bird of prey flew away. Roman did a silent double take as he drew the obvious conclusion. His eyes shot to the man at the center of the chaos, calmly giving orders to his capable lieutenants. All around him lay evidence of the carnage. The Shifters and the Guardian were doing an admirable job of cutting a swathe through the Blutsauger army, which had slowed to a trickle. Yet, the Alpha’s abstinence puzzled Roman.
He waved his hand at the pandemonium. “You don’t intend to partake, Merceau?”
“Other fish to fry, Durovic. Watch our flank.” Raoul knew the Ancient would take the hint.
“You got it” Roman assured him.
“Bianchi” the Alpha called out lazily, his voice deceptively soft. “Don’t hide behind your leeches.”
Roman’s brow arched as the Italian Vampire strode out of the forest. He should have guessed that Rafaelo Bianchi was involved.
When Jason caught sight of Bianchi, he reminded the Alpha. “He’s mine, Merceau.”
“All yours” Raoul conceded. “After I have a word with him.”
Ignoring the fierce skirmishes around him, Bianchi sauntered leisurely to the Alpha, flanked by a small coterie of Undead. Though the Vampire was his usual cocky self, Roman sensed that the Italian had not expected to be called out so quickly. He wondered whether Bianchi was surprised to be countered with such force.
“Beast Lord” the Vampire hailed the Alpha genially. “You are a little bloody tonight.”
“Unlike you, I get my hands dirty” the Alpha said.
Bianchi’s eyes wandered around him to take stock. Inert bodies of his Pure Bloods lay strewn everywhere, piled unceremoniously on the ground. The Wyrs were a blood-thirsty bunch, he reflected. And indefatigable. Plus, they relished physical confrontation, unlike other Chosen. He knew that the melee could go on all night. But Bianchi hoped that his Pure Bloods could buy him the time to play mischief. He had bigger ambitions this night than playing mouse to the Shifters’ cat.
He flashed a smile at the biggest and baddest cat in the clearing. “I was hoping to run into you, Beast Lord.”
“Have your Mistress set up a meeting” the Alpha proclaimed brusquely. “She knows how to reach me.”
Bianchi prepared to wrestle with the Wyr in a battle of wits. This was the only Chosen in the clearing he feared — the Alpha was not a man to be bamboozled by a game of light and mirrors. That much Bianchi had learned the hard way.
“My Mistress deals with Faoladh” he said suavely. “Not his minions, Beast Lord.”
Raoul was unperturbed “She has dealt with me before. Faoladh will not grant her an audience.”
Against his better judgement, Bianchi asked the question. “Why not?”
“Faoladh is learning to delegate” Raoul explained. “I’ve been tasked with cleaning up Chosen scum.”
Roman chuckled, enjoying himself hugely.
Bianchi’s expression darkened at the insult. But before he could respond, the Alpha waved at Jason. “Have at him, LaRue. Just remember, Durovic’s gone all squeamish and wants no blood spilt tonight.”
Jason took the message in stride. “I can teach him a lesson without spilling blood” he said agreeably.
Rafaelo turned to face the Guardian, his temper rising as they bantered about him like he was a nobody.
The fighting paused momentarily as the antagonists turned their collective attention to the brewing confrontation. A sudden silence descended on the darkened clearing, a hushed pause in the fierce scuffle.
The Alpha laid down the law. “I promised Bianchi to LaRue, but his leeches are fair game.”
The command had Simeonov swinging for the leeches flanking the Vampire, to leave Bianchi facing the Guardian alone. Jason stood his ground, letting the Vampire come to him. He raised his hand as Bianchi flew at him. Something seemed to strike the Undead in midair, a jolt powerful enough to spin him around. He crashed down into the ground, only to bounce up again to face the Wizard.
“Give her mother a message, Bianchi. Sienna is not hers to play with” the Guardian announced as the Italian came to his feet. Jason raised his hand towards the sky and a burst of light illuminated the patch of forest between him and Bianchi, leveling the playing field between Wizard and Vampire.
Watching keenly, Raoul noted that the leech had been brought down by a burst of concentrated magic. The witchling’s words echoed in him — there was much a skilled and experienced Wizard could do with a magic blast. He was quietly pleased by his own ability to generate one tonight, in aid of Durovic.
“Sienna has a glorious future, Guardian” Bianchi countered. “Her mother will guide her to it.”
Jason raised his hand again. This time, his lips moved silently as the Alpha observed. Bianchi’s feet seemed to fuse together at the ankles, and when the leech attempted to move, he fell over in an ungainly heap.
“Sienna will choose her own path” Jason said calmly.
Bianchi tried to scramble to his feet, but whatever spell the Guardian had used on him kept his ankles pinned, making it nigh impossible for the Vampire to get up.
“Her path doesn’t include you, Spell Caster” Bianchi spat at the Guardian, furious at being bested by a simple spell.
“Maybe not” Jason asserted. “But it definitely doesn’t include you or the woman that murdered her father.”
Bianchi glared at him impotently, teleporting to materialize in front of the Guardian. Durovic whistled soundlessly. Only powerful Vampires could teleport. Rafaelo Bianchi had hidden depths to him. Raoul watched as the leech crouched before LaRue. Jason eyed Bianchi lazily, making no move to walk away from the Vampire. Bianchi’s claws unfurled. But as he reached for the Guardian, he seemed to hit an invisible wall. LaRue had protected himself with some variation of magic armor, the Alpha noted approvingly. Bianchi could not touch his opponent and it frustrated the leech even more. Jason took a step back to raise both hands and the Vampire went flying off, to
hit a thick trunk and collapse at the base of the tree.
“Let’s go again” the Guardian goaded Bianchi, as the audience in the clearing watched avidly. “I’ll unbind your feet this time, Vampire.”
Bianchi shot the Wizard a murderous look. He got to his feet, but before he could charge his opponent, Jason directed a hail of blasts that had the Vampire hopping in place to avoid them. The magic, invisible to the naked eye, made it tough for the Undead to dodge it. Bianchi snarled at the Guardian, humiliated before his leeches by the ease with which Jason made him hop and skip in place, like an untried Chosen at his first battle of wits.
Raoul recognized that LaRue was toying with the leech, almost as if he didn’t take Bianchi seriously as an opponent. He’d never witnessed Jason go one-on-one before. Unsurprisingly, the Guardian went about it in a laidback, efficient but unfussy manner that reflected the man. He controlled the bout, allowing Bianchi no time to regroup or counterattack. As a member of the GCW, hand-picked from the very best Wizards, Jason LaRue had been trained by the Guardians. One Undead, teleport capable or not, was no match for him.
Some of the felled Vampires in the clearing came to, while the Shifters kept their peers away from Bianchi. A few struggled to sit up. Raoul ignored the signs of life around him, to reflect that LaRue had cleverly chosen to rub salt on Bianchi’s soft spot — his thin skin. The magic, Jason used, was rudimentary for a Guardian, but very effective. This he could do with a little practice, Raoul brooded silently. His second effort had produced a blast that propelled a leech across the clearing. It hinted that he could do more with his Spell Caster powers. Raoul also had another reason to focus on the Guardian’s tactics — it might benefit the witchling. She had more magic in her than Jason, but little of his experience in using it effectively against other Chosen.
Engrossed in studying Jason’s strategy against his opponent, Raoul missed the leech behind him. His senses alerted him to the threat just as Roman screamed a warning, but it was too late to react. The crawling Vampire dug his claws into Raoul’s calf to draw blood, before the Alpha sent him flying with a mighty kick. The leech landed across the clearing but sat up quickly, to bring his dripping claws to his mouth in a subtle taunt. At birth, Vampires had been banned from drinking the blood of Magicks, just like they’d been barred from transforming Chosen into Undead. But during skirmishes with others, the Clan was known to spill Chosen blood and slurp it with glee.
Raoul, more interested in the bout between Bianchi and the Guardian, turned back to the skirmish. Only to stiffen as a keening sound filled the clearing, echoing over the high-pitched screeches of the Vampire’s peers. Raoul whipped around as the leech toppled over. For an instant, no one said anything, too stunned to react, even as the Vampire continued to shriek in agony until Duncan put him out of his misery with a well-directed blow.
All ruckus ceased as the forest went eerily silent. While his Vampires appeared shell-shocked, Bianchi staggered like a drunk. Under the light of the moon, he was ghostly white.
“Siren” the Blutsauger muttered, his gaze unfocussed. “Impossible, Alpha! How can you have Siren blood in you?”
Raoul ignored the white-faced leech and his frozen cohorts, to address Jason. “You have your pound of flesh, LaRue?” he confirmed.
“I think he’s learned his lesson” the Guardian assented.
Raoul was ready to get rid of the leech. This whole interlude had him wary. Something was afoot tonight. “Away” he directed dismissively at Bianchi. “The next time she sends you, I won’t stop the Guardian when he’s done playing.”
For once, Bianchi ignored the warning. The Vampire had experienced a monstrous shock. Stunned and dumbfounded, he fixated on it.
In a trance, his eyes sought the Shifter. “This is a dangerous heritage, Beast Lord” he stuttered, his face unnaturally pale.
Raoul strode towards the Vampire. He knew Bianchi had heard Durovic’s words about no blood on the front lawn. “You’re on thin ice, leech” he said coldly. “If you linger, the gloves will come off, despite what the Ancient says about bloodletting and Setik sensibilities.”
This time, the unsubtle menace in the Shifter’s warning seemed to pierce Bianchi’s stupor. Throwing around wild accusations against the Beast Lord was liable to get him killed. The Alpha, though disciplined and measured, was no machine. If the Wyr let go of his restraint, the Pure Bloods would face a massacre in the forest. Bianchi reminded himself of the larger goal. This evening was meant to be a triumph for his grand plans, not decimate the army he commanded for the Lady.
Bianchi drew a shaky breath, trying to get his head back in the game. His eyes flashed to the Wizard watching him silently. The Guardian was fixated on Sienna. Rafaelo would take great pleasure in rubbing the Spell Caster’s nose in the dirt, once he had what the Lady had promised him. “Next time we meet, Guardian, it will be I who does the playing” he pronounced.
Jason did not answer the Vampire, simply defusing the light that haloed the clearing around him.
Bianchi turned to meet the Alpha’s eyes. “Until next time, Beast Lord.”
Raoul cocked his head, to contemplate the leech in the moonlight, much like an insect under the microscope. “Never forget that I have a debt to collect, Bianchi. When you conspired to put me in a cage, the clock started ticking down.”
“I had nothing to do with that” the leech protested.
“You passed along gossip to the Guardian to use against me. I don’t forget, leech.”
Bianchi signaled his Vampires to fall back. They gathered their wounded, ferrying them deeper into the forest where they could resurrect through the night. He hoped the Mage had succeeded in her mission. He’d bought her as much time as he could. But Bianchi sensed that the Alpha had reached the end of his patience. The Beast Lord was in no mood to banter anymore.
Unbeknownst to his adversaries in the clearing, the Vampire, who retreated that night, had had his world rocked. The Alpha’s magic had jolted Bianchi. He might be ignorant of history when it came to other Chosen, but Rafaelo was very knowledgeable about the Clan’s enemies. The Sirens had been the Blutsaugers’ nemesis, the greatest threat to their existence since given life by an embittered First One.
As the Undead retreated, the Shifters turned for the lodge. Their brief entertainment for the night was over. They were aware of the Spell Caster blood that flowed in their Alpha’s veins — a heritage he detested and refused to acknowledge. To them, any special powers he demonstrated could be explained away by his Wizard lineage. But the others, more knowledgeable about Chosen magic, were mighty curious. Roman arched his eyebrow at the Alpha, and Jason looked intrigued. With Duncan in tow, the quartet made for the resort once the clearing had emptied of the last Vampires.
“I might have to reconsider what I said about the magic in you, Merceau” Roman remarked laughingly. “Rafaelo Bianchi went white with that stunt you pulled. You freaked the bejesus out of him.”
Raoul shrugged in response. This ability, he’d seemingly acquired, against the leeches continued to astonish him. As it had the first time he’d reduced Mistress Franciszka to a screaming heap in her own Nest. He had no way to assess how long he’d possessed such power. Until the witchling and Faoladh’s anointment of him to lead the investigation, the leeches had been careful to steer clear of him. Yet, Bianchi’s remarkable reaction tonight puzzled him. It was inexplicable and contrary to the leech. There had been immense shock and unabashed fear on the leech’s face. Bianchi was not the Chosen to reveal his hand so to an adversary.
Durovic was one of the few Magicks who might have an explanation, so Raoul went for it. “What did Bianchi mean by Siren blood?” he asked the Ancient.
Roman did a fair impression of rolling his eyes. “Undead fable, Merceau. They’re an insecure and superstitious lot. Although I’d never have guessed it of Bianchi. He’s too cagey to buy into such drivel.”
Raoul understood only too well why the leeches were insecure. Being accepted on sufferance an
d barely tolerated by the other Chosen tended to bring that out in one.
The palpable curiosity in his audience encouraged Roman to expound on the subject. “The Blutsaugers have not forgotten how close the original vote regarding their creation was. They tend to hold a grudge and still have a chip on their collective shoulders about it.”
Jason, though well-versed with the history of the Clan, had never heard of this particular rumor. “What is the Vampire myth about Sirens?”
Roman answered readily. “Many did not agree with the Elders’ decision about the original Blutsaugers, and there were whispers that some tried to sabotage the Vampires to ensure they could not procreate. Any attempts to do so were clearly a failure because the Clan is alive and thriving today. But for years, though not as much in recent times, many Vampires complained bitterly to the Elders that First Ones, who disagreed with the original decision, had manufactured special Chosen to keep the Blutsaugers in check.”
“An allusion to the Blood Mages, Durovic?” Raoul checked, briefed by the witchling’s account of the leeches’ complaints to the Elders.
Roman confirmed it. “The Vampires claimed that Blood Elementals, with the help of other sympathetic Mages, had birthed Chosen solely to draw the Blutsaugers to their destruction.”
Duncan looked thoughtful. “The Sirens are from the Greeks, I presume?”
“Yes.”
Raoul frowned. “In Greek mythology, Sirens were beautiful women who lured sailors to their death on the rocks.”
Durovic smiled. “Clan lore says the Chosen Sirens are women with the ability to lure Blutsaugers to their deaths.”
“Lure, how?”
Roman shrugged. “Damned if I know where this comes from, Merceau. It’s nonsense. Such powers, if they existed, would be hard to keep a secret amongst the Chosen for a thousand years. That’s how long the Blutsaugers have been around. No one believed the claims all those years ago and no one takes them seriously now. Frankly, I’d assumed that the Clan had buried such absurd notions, until Bianchi burst out with that ridiculous accusation.”