by Sophia North
"If you insist, my sweet." Vlad stood and slowly removed his shirt, a smirk of satisfaction on his full lips. Disrobed to the waist, he turned and presented his back to the two of them.
"Why the fuck did Anton do this to you?" Dante bit out. Vlad's broad, muscular back bore numerous crisscrossed marks. He'd been severely whipped.
Shrugging back into his shirt, Vlad started to button it as he answered. "He took exception to my light-hearted ways and wanted to make an example out of me."
"Take that shirt back off and turn around," Simone demanded, as she rose and approached Vlad.
It didn't take a genius to work out the Doc meant business. Vlad did as she instructed without another word.
"These have hardly begun to heal - how fresh are they?" she asked, gently inspecting his back.
"Really, Dr. Radcliffe, there is no need to fuss. I will heal shortly."
"When were you whipped, Vlad? No stalling," Dante had never heard tell of a vampyre unable to heal. What kind of fucked up magic did Anton have on his side?
"It's hard to be specific, brother when one is chained in a dungeon and whipped unconscious many times over. If it helps, I fed round half past ten tonight, felt mostly myself and came straight here. Perhaps another shot of O will do the trick," Vlad reasoned. "Alfred, old friend, would you be so kind?"
But it was Dante who flashed in and out of the room to fetch his friend's request. "Here," he said, tossing Vlad a blood bag. "Fresh in today – drink. I have yet to sample it myself, but Alfred only procures my supply from the highest quality banks in the City."
"Of course he does, mate."
Vlad drained the bag in one continuous gulp and tossed it away. Holding his arms out, he slowly turned to present his back once more. There was no visible change, he still wasn't healing.
Dante and Simone's silence disturbed him. "Somebody better fucking say something," Vlad demanded through clenched teeth.
They didn't.
In the wake of their continued silence, Vlad shimmered from the room, returning with Dante's entire blood supply. Ripping into bag after bag, he drained them all within seconds. In the haste of his consumption, blood had run down his naked chest almost coating it completely.
And still he did not heal.
"Just to be clear, human blood heals vampyres, correct?" Simone quietly asked Dante for her own edification.
"Usually within moments of consumption," he added in clarification.
"Then Houston we have a problem," she concluded.
"I have a theory ..." Dante sped to a large desk at the far end of the room and back. In his hand, he gripped a heavily embossed letter opener like a sword. " ... and goes something like ..." He slit his wrist open at the same time Simone, realising his intent, yelled, “No, wait!”
"Why would you take such a stupid risk when there was a much better first option!" Simone scolded, rushing to his side to inspect the damage. "Or do vampyres lack even the most basic scientific methods?"
The blood from the deep slash on his wrist flowed momentarily before instantly healing. Whatever his theory was had yet to be explained.
Vlad, on the other hand, took exception to her slur on their intelligence. "Well, seeing as we assisted in their creation of said methods, I'd say we possess a modicum of skill in the area," he dryly replied, tossing Dante his shirt to clean away the blood his experiment left. "But, what's your theory, Doc? Cos my friend here healed up fine whilst I remain a mangled mess."
Simone marched up to him, held up her wrist and said: "Drink."
Vlad gently took her outstretched arm and lowered it. "I see you share Dante's propensity for the dramatic, Doc. Live human blood is forbidden. Besides, even if I wanted to partake of your offer, Dante would decapitate me for taking such liberties."
Stamping her foot in frustration, Simone set the record straight. "I am not his property! Nor do I give a damn about your rather loose set of ethics when it comes to blood consumption. Drink my blood, dammit."
Vlad laughed low in his chest. "I'm starting to see why you and that feisty dragon, Penelope are friends. The pair of you strike me as the sort who demand first and ask questions later. Unfortunately, the consequences to such behaviour are not always the most pleasant."
"There is a way to test her theory without the strings," Dante remarked, having worked out the method to her madness. "Simone, please, come here."
"Mate, I really appreciate the gesture, but I wouldn't feel right..."
"She is willing," Dante replied, cutting him off. "And we need to know if she is correct."
"Correct about fucking what? I have no idea what her theory is, do you?" Vlad barked back.
"Yes, now shut it."
Pleased by his trust in her, Simone readily went to Dante's side.
Taking her hand, he guided her to a nearby chair, and once she was seated, knelt down beside her. Tenderly extending her arm, he slowly ran his thumb down to her wrist. "I am going to draw some blood - do not be frightened. No harm shall come to you."
Lifting her wrist to his lips, Dante extended his fangs, and sank them into a thick vein revealed by the pressure of his thumb. Once done, he sat back and watched as the puncture began to flow with her rich, warm blood.
Holding a glass under her wrist, he filled it before releasing Simone from his grasp. The urge to draw her flowing blood into him, to taste her essence from the source was hard to resist.
"Here, place this against your wrist. It will help speed your recovery," he whispered harshly, as he looked away to prevent her from seeing his distorted face. The smell of her essence had released a bloodlust within him, and it took all of his self-control to keep it in check.
Staring down at the large flat crystal Dante had pressed into her hand, Simone's heart pounded in her ears. The sharp pain she'd felt when he'd broken her skin was nothing compared to the pleasure of having his fangs in her body.
There was something sinfully sensual about the act, and it left her desperately wanting more. Attempting to cool her raging lust for him, she concentrated on the crystal she held against the wound on her wrist.
Composed of marbled shades of deep midnight to bright cerulean blue, a strange spider-web pattern marked its polished surface. Drawn to the hypnotic comfort of the crystal's gridded appearance, she nearly dropped it when those same lines began to pulse.
"What's happening?" she gasped.
"The crystal is working, now hold it to your wrist, woman! It will heal you," Dante instructed, still refusing to look at her. His face had yet to return to normal and he didn't want to frighten her.
Unable to remain close to her, fearing he might lose control, Dante turned to go when the flash of Vlad on the attack alerted him to the immediate danger.
Leaping into the air, he knocked Vlad to the floor, hard.
"Simone, go! I will .. come for you...when it is safe," Dante shouted brokenly as his blood-crazed friend writhed under him, feverishly attempting to break free.
Simone grabbed the glass of blood and cautiously approached the wrestling vampyres. "If you hold him still, I'll give him the blood."
"Fuck, Simone! This is not the time to disobey me," he growled, slamming Vlad back down. "He smells your blood, you are in danger. Get...the...fuck outta here."
"Allow me."
Back in human form, Alfred plucked the glass from Simone's hand and slowly approached the pair. "My, my Vladimir - you are in quite the state. Where are your noble Watcher ways now, hmmm? Nothing more than a nasty beast, aren't you?"
"Come closer, Shifter. I'll show you my fucking ways. I'll take care of this useless fuck first, then you and then...I'll rip the blonde cunt's throat out," Vlad taunted viciously, despite being restrained by Dante.
"Now boss!" Alfred instructed, swiftly shifting into his raven form.
On cue, Dante forced open Vlad’s mouth and tilted his head back. Alfred flew overhead and dumped Simone's blood down his throat.
Vlad roared, tore himself free from Dante befo
re promptly collapsing chest-down onto the floor. Eventually, he raised his head. "That was one good fucking theory, Doc."
Chapter Fifteen
"TAINTED BLOOD. IT'S fucking brilliant," Vlad declared, lounging in his chair, smoking a thin cheroot cigar. Naked from the waist up, his back had completely healed thanks to Simone's clean blood in his system. "But we are none the wiser to its purpose or who the fuck is behind it."
"Seems straightforward to me. Infected vampyres are weak vampyres - whether they know it or not," Dante remarked cynically. "And, of course, there is the added benefit of having an excellent trigger at the ready should any potential threats rise up."
Simone swirled the amber liquid of her fourth bourbon of the night. Fortitude was required after their ordeal. The gouges in Dante's beautiful hardwood floors were going to take some buffing to remove.
Vlad was an incredible force to be reckoned with even without being jacked on bloodlust. It was a wonder that Dante had been able to pin him down at all.
"You believe blood is being weaponised against vampyres, why?" Simone asked.
"Any wounds inflicted will create a bloodlust that will either: a) drive them to a permanent grave through madness for the need of blood. Or: b) force them to try and feed on humans in order to survive. Which, cunningly, leads them to the same grave once caught and executed for the crime," Dante explained. "As for the culprit - my money's on Anton, or whomever pulls his strings, given the timing."
"Mate, you're fucking dark,” Vlad observed. “Spot on, but still...dark. Thank god you're on our side."
"Machiavellian techniques are no great mystery if one makes the effort to read," Dante replied sarcastically, knowing Vlad's reluctance to do so. "I think it is time for those details you promised before you transformed into a blood craving lunatic, brother."
"Shit, mate. I said I was sorry about your floors. Alfred will have them gleaming beautifully again in no time at all. But there was no need to have a go at my sub-par literary education. You know how much I hate books. And you need to bring something to the relationship."
Simone stifled a laugh behind her hand. The Viking did have a way about him.
"I'm beginning to understand why Anton had you imprisoned," Dante growled into his glass as he finished off the last of his drink.
Vlad winked at Simone before calling his friend out. "Do you want the details or are you planning to continue being an asshole?"
"Pray continue, my friend. I shall cease," Dante returned in a flowery turn of phrase.
"After you took off, I returned to the Council Chambers to assess the damage your little outburst had created. When I arrived another emergency meeting had been called. Little did I know it was nothing more than an elaborate ruse to get everyone in one place for the upcoming coup."
"Are you certain the meeting was a hoax? Perhaps news of the tainted blood had been uncovered and was about to be reported?" Dante proposed.
"It's possible, but the way Rolfe was acting as we waited doesn't lead me to believe so. He was laughing and joking, like he hadn't a care in the world. There is no way he knew about the blood situation, I don't care how seasoned a Grand Elder is - that kind of shit is not taken lightly."
"I agree," Dante conceded. "What happened next?"
"Anton and his followers stormed the coliseum and murdered Rolfe and Elder Marcion in an elaborate beheading ceremony. After which the delusional cunt claimed the title of Grand Elder and declared Lowerton under his control," Vlad replied.
"Where were the guards? Rolfe's Watcher detail? Are you saying Anton simply walked into Lowerton, murdered the Grand Elder of the Empire, and no one did anything to stop him?"
Dante's peppering of questions was met with an arched brow from his friend.
"I told you it was fucked-up, mate."
Fucked-up didn't even begin to cover it. Either the Lowerton establishment had been completely corrupted or Anton possessed some sort otherworldly abilities that imbued him with the ability to walk through walls.
The vision of a blue flame flickered in Dante's mind's eye, but he pushed it aside.
"Anton was in the process of setting up his new Council, when my refusal to be Third Elder ruffled his feathers a bit and my ass ended up chained in the dungeon."
"He offered you Third Elder on Council?"
Vlad nodded. "And if you find the offer extended to me hard to fathom, you're never going to believe who is Second Elder."
"Go on," Dante prompted.
"Simmons."
Of all the possible names Vlad may have come up with, this was the last one Dante would have picked. "The same sick fuck who calls for the execution of all prophecy believers – that bastard?" Dante spat out in disgust. "Why would he join Anton? They represent diametrically opposed positions on the Haan Prophecy. It makes no sense."
"Sense?! Mate, you said it the other night. The Council ceased with sense months ago. We should have seen this coming," Vlad decreed.
"No one could have foreseen Simmons' role in what's unfolded - even my vision only revealed Anton's possible involvement," Dante countered. "But that piece of shit's lust for power must be truly depraved to stoop so low," he finished disdainfully.
"I hear you, brother. I fucking hate career politicians," Vlad snorted in derision.
"Do you think many vampyres were able to escape the slaughter?"
"I know some used an old abandoned exit to flee Lowerton. Anton must have forgotten about it. At least, I found no signs of his guard being there on my way out," Vlad replied. "Dante, there are vampyres who have only ever lived inside Lowerton roaming the streets of London with nowhere to go. It's a ticking fucking time bomb. Made worse by this tainted blood bullshit."
The thought of centuries old vampyres on the loose in twenty-first century London was not a comforting one. "We need to find a way to get word out about what's happening in the vamp community. Maybe recruit a few heads," Dante ventured. "Do you still have your contact in the Hive?"
"She may be a bit pissed with me but let's see how it goes, shall we?"
Vlad shimmered to the telephone and picked up the receiver. "Roxy, sweetheart, just the lady I was hoping to connect with," he greeted charmingly, his deep voice easily heard by the pair at the other end of the room.
Simone leaned over to whisper, "I wanted to ask you about vampyre telecommunications systems..."
Dante held a finger to his lips and touched his ear to signal to Simone that Roxy could hear them. She nodded and said nothing further.
"Easy, love. I wasn't flirting with some bird called Penny tonight. Ginger is having you on - you know she's the jealous sort and carries a bit of a torch for me. Silly thing - I only have eyes for you, my foxy Roxy," Vlad crooned into the phone.
If not for preternatural hearing, Simone might have gagged listening to Vlad sweet-talk the operator. The Viking really had no shame when it came to the opposite sex. He tried to seduce every female he came into contact with, and no doubt, was successful more often than not in securing their affections.
"Off soon, excellent...sure I’ll meet you for a quick drink...alright, sweetheart. See you in an hour."
Vlad hung up the phone and rejoined them.
"Well, that should take care of communications. I'm sure Roxy will come onboard to run operations for us inside the Hive. She has her moments but ultimately can be trusted. Anton may have taken Lowerton but there are many who will remain loyal to the old Council. A fair few left in search of Wilhalf before things got really ugly. Hopefully they escaped with him out of the old exit."
"Wilhalf survived?" Dante asked eagerly. The ancient vamp had once led Lowerton as Grand Elder until he retired after overseeing a huge expansion of prosperity and centralisation of Lowerton's power. Nobody was sure exactly how old he was, but there was no one else who rivaled him in years as far as anyone knew.
If anyone understood the finer details of the Haan prophecy, it would be him.
"I'd bet money on it," Vlad opined. "Anton'
s frustration at not being able to find him was certainly epic. Second only to his reaction over your fortunate absence."
"The old vamp knew to leave," Dante murmured, overcome by a strange feeling of certitude about making such a statement.
Vlad ignored his friend's remark. Wilhalf's existential knowledge of events were of no use to them now and he needed to move forward with his story. "There's something more worrying I need to tell you, brother. I think Anton is possessed," he announced gravely.
"Damn, it is as I suspected," Dante muttered, recalling Anton's deranged looking face from his vision. ‘Possessed’ suited his appearance perfectly.
"When the fuck were you planning on sharing your suspicions?" Vlad demanded, angered by Dante's confession of prior knowledge. "They might have come in handy to know before I encountered his imbued-with-freaky-powers new self."
Dante immediately realised his mistake. He should have told Vlad everything he knew right from the start. "Circumstances accelerated so fast, I barely had time to process it myself - and I'm still unsure what it all means. Brother, I did not intend to keep my suspicions from you - it just happened," he explained.
The genuine regret in his voice soothed Vlad's temper. "Well to be fair, I heard the rumours circulating about Anton and chose to ignore them. Believe me, I won't be making that mistake again."
"You and me both, mate," Dante agreed. "Now, explain these new powers of Anton's you mentioned."
Vlad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "A strange fire burns in his eyes - it's like nothing I've ever seen. And his strength...he was able to kill vampyres as easily as swatting flies. At one point I was convinced he was going to put an end to me but the cunt had other plans."
"Which were what exactly?" Dante asked.
"He wanted me to pass along a message to you."
"What the fuck could he possibly want to say to me?"
"He's willing to offer you the position of First Elder, to welcome you into the fold...have you rule alongside him. Claims that together, you and he will usher in the new age," Vlad explained. "He wants you to come to Lowerton for a Meet - guarantees you will be free to leave, whether you choose to agree to his terms or not. Personally, I think it's a trap. He knows you'll never join him."