by DB Nielsen
“Noooo, mine!” Seth cried in alarm, flapping his robe like wings in dismay. He looked like a strange, pale stick insect. His naked body quivered. Trembling. She could see the panic in his dark eyes.
“Don’t sit there!” Aislinn warned Benjamin.
“I get it. I think he made himself perfectly clear.” Benjamin shrugged, looking about for another place to sit. Unable to find one, he gave up and crossed his arms to lean against the iron grille instead. “The servant of the Secret Fire can stop wielding his wand now or, at least, cover it up.”
“Jealous much?” Caleb sniggered. The other Malum ignored him.
Aislinn shook her head in exasperation and turned back toward the awkward, gawky Nubes. “Is it the Minter, Seth?”
“‘Build it up with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold. Build it up with silver and gold, my fair Lady.’” Seth sang in a jangling, sing-song manner, rocking back and forth on his heels. He still had hold of Aislinn’s wrist, but she barely noticed.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Aislinn said. She finally understood Seth’s method of communicating, but it took all of her powers of deduction to fathom the answers to his riddles. “And five is the time they will strike.”
Even so, it was all a little vague. There was no definite timeline provided nor details of what the Druids were planning. Psychic Seth’s predictions were as open to interpretation as the weekend weather forecast, but at least his insights provided hope for her that she would avenge her wronged sister’s honor. Finally.
“It’ll be impossible for them to get into the Minter’s establishment. They’ve tried it before and failed.” Caleb picked up a scented candle next to Seth’s technological shrine and sniffed it dubiously. He grimaced. “Wild orchid. Smells like death.”
“You forget that the dark mages are able to wield magic to control the elements, such as fire,” Benjamin said. “They can create illusions and induce shockwaves. Their abilities may provide easy entry, infiltrating the Minter’s establishment where a vampire cannot due to the preventative measures I’ve installed.”
It had always been assumed that only vampires would be interested in vampire currency, but the gold alone in the coins made it valuable to humans and the other species.
And one more thing held value at the Minter’s establishment—blood.
Blood was, after all, life.
“We’ll need to place an elite team of soldier guards at the Minter’s in case of a breach,” said Aislinn. “Experienced Malums.”
“Do we inform Julius?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, suggesting there would almost be nothing he’d like less, except maybe having to return to the Minter’s as one of the appointed guards.
Aislinn gave a small scowl of distaste. She just knew that Julius would somehow blame this on her. In his eyes, anything to do with Druids was always her fault. But as head of the coven, Julius would need to be informed since it concerned the Minter’s operations.
Sighing, she conceded. “I suppose we must.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” Benjamin offered with a self-deprecating smile. “Julius is so disinterested in anything I have to report, he barely listens.” Aislinn looked at him gratefully. “I’ll sneak it in between human stock market trends and the increase of pug pictures on Instagram. If that doesn’t send him into a blood stupor, nothing will.”
Cooper paced back and forth with ferocity, almost wearing the expensive, intricately designed Persian carpet threadbare. “I don’t see why I can’t help. I’m a hunter. Okay, I was a hunter. But I still have all the skills they taught me at the academy. And I’ve faced mages before.”
“Really? Where? In reality? Or are we talking simulations, kid?” Caleb scoffed, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the antique mahogany table. They were in one of the three war rooms of the Carvery, talking strategy. “Will you stop pacing? You’re giving me a crick in my neck trying to follow you!”
“Yes, they were real,” protested Aislinn’s newly-turned Darkling, ignoring Caleb’s request to stand still. “The monsters I fought were real. But so what if they were simulations? They’re just as real.”
The older, more experienced Malum sighed. “No, they’re not. In simulations, you can reset the virtual reality program and start again. It’s like that ‘Star Trek’ test. What’s it called? It teaches you humility and failure and, potentially, greater awareness of your opponents, but it doesn’t teach you to face real fear and real death. You don’t die in a holo-chamber. You die in real battle.”
“The Kobayashi Maru,” responded Cooper automatically.
“What are you talking about?”
“The ‘Star Trek’ test.”
“Kid, keep up with the conversation,” Caleb stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You aren’t ready to face the monsters yet.”
Cooper paced in frustration. There was nothing he would have liked more than to throw back at Caleb the fact that he had faced dark mages and shapeshifters and survived already, except that his Blood Oath to Aislinn held him back. Though what Cooper didn’t know was that Aislinn had confessed everything to Caleb. But Caleb wasn’t about to tell the hot-headed, impulsive young Malum that he knew, since no doubt it would get both of them into trouble.
Besides, along with Cole, this fledgling vampire was likely to do something dumb.
Cooper ground his teeth together. “I’m ready. It’s what I was born for, what I was reborn for, and I’m a Malum. I’m strong. And fast. And—”
“Reckless. Immature. Foolish.” Caleb’s vein at his temple was starting to throb. “Until you pass the Abattoir—and, believe me, you aren’t ready to even consider facing that yet—there will be no taking on powerful, insane Druids wielding dark magic. For Vlad’s sake, you still fight like you’re a human.”
“It’s hardly fair,” grumbled Cooper, eyes flashing darkly at the older vampire, feeling impotent and full of blood rage. “What do you want me to fight? A boomerang-wielding Easter Bunny? A gung-ho Star Lord? An alien?”
“Enough!” In one swift movement, Caleb’s feet slammed onto the floor, and he launched himself from the chair. His eyes were a dangerous obsidian. And his teeth snapped into place sharply. “You heard me. You will not be endangering yourself or anyone else by doing something stupid. You will remain here with Cole. Do you understand me, boy? Am I making myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Cooper spat, throwing himself into an empty chair with a huff. His expression emphasized his bitterness.
Caleb was ready to tear off someone’s limbs. He was getting too old for this shit. First Aislinn. Now Cooper. He hadn’t become a vampire or joined a JSOC unit to become a glorified babysitter. Looking at the belligerent, angst-ridden young vampire before him, he replied, “For your sake, I hope so.”
Chapter 28
Cooper snapped to attention when a strident ringing began.
He’d spent the best part of a week feeling caged at the manor house as if he was under house arrest due to Caleb’s vigilant watch. That wasn’t to say he was inactive. He was still forced to attend history lessons, train in the Carvery, and could even visit Benjamin in the surveillance hub where he was learning about the kind of innovative technology used by their coven, which he’d only read about in sci-fi novels and comic books. But trapped in a luxurious gilded cage was still trapped. And an unnatural state for a vampire. Especially a young one.
That was where he was now. In the surveillance hub with Benjamin, Caleb and Aislinn. Listening to the shrill tones of her smartphone as it vibrated on the table in front of him.
It stopped ringing, but a series of text messages appeared. And Cooper wasn’t ashamed to admit a curiosity that had him reading her screen before Aislinn finally snatched it up. They had popped up on the screen in quick succession:
‘Thirteen on the move.’
‘Heading east. Past St. Paul’s Churchyard.’
‘Five rogue shifters with him.’
Aislinn scanned the messa
ges and said, “They’re from Varya. Looks like it’s on. Let’s move.” She dropped the phone back onto the table, grabbed her leather coat from the back of her chair, and, in one smooth move, put it on as she headed toward the door.
Cooper was already up off his chair when she turned to stake him with eyes as sharp and hard as anthracite. “Not you, Cooper. You stay here. Cole’s just arrived. He’s got instructions to look after you. Do exactly as he says and stay out of trouble.”
“But—”
“No buts. This fight isn’t for you,” Aislinn added softly, because she was almost sorry for him but not enough to bring him with them. “When you pass your training, gain more experience, maybe one day. Not today. Ah. Here’s Cole.”
The doors opened on Aislinn’s sentence, and a slightly flustered Sanguis poet walked in. He ran his hand through a mop of unruly fair hair distractedly as he continued to mutter, “Doused in Death? Devoured? Consumed by the flames of Death.”
“That’s our cue to leave,” stated Caleb, alarmed. “Before we are doused to death.”
Cole looked up as if slapped. They fenced with deadly stares for a moment until the Sanguis gave up. “Doused in Death! ‘In’ not ‘to’—don’t you think that sounds better? It’s much more lyrical. Wait! I’ve got it! Doused in drowsy Death.”
“Enthralled by eternal Death,” offered Cooper. He wanted to go, but he knew Aislinn would never allow him to go. So he grabbed the next best opportunity instead—manipulating his brother.
“Ooh, that has real possibilities,” Cole beamed, enthusiastically attempting to give his younger brother a high-five which was indifferently reciprocated. “Yes. Yes, I like that.”
“We’re going,” Aislinn said with a shake of her head. “Have fun, boys.”
“You too, take care,” Cole said with a wave, oblivious to what was going on. As the doors closed behind the others, he turned back toward Cooper. “Enthralled by eternal Death. That’s really quite brilliant.”
When Cooper failed to reply, his older brother gave a long sigh. Enthralled by eternal Death was one thing. Being half in love with one’s own maker was quite another. Cole wasn’t reborn yesterday. He knew the signs.
Every vampire romance Cole knew of involving a sire-offspring relationship eventually turned sour. It was hard to stay in love for all eternity. His own mortal parents had married for the usual reasons of property and social status—it was so much more civilized—but at least they tolerated one another. Vampire romances gone wrong were like the longest divorces in the history of the world. Vampires didn’t have many emotions, but they did know how to hold on to white-hot rage.
Cole addressed his morose-looking brother. “So what do you want to do? We’ve got Monopoly. Jenga. Scrabble. No? Too human? Well, there’s the rock wall or the flowrider. Still too human? Okay. Okay. How about an ice spa treatment? They’re like the best. You seem a little tense. It’ll relax you. I promise.”
It was just the opening he was searching for. Dramatically, Cooper placed his head in his hands and sighed. “How can I relax? How can you relax knowing that Aislinn’s in danger?”
Cole frowned. “Wait. What? What are you talking about?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m just overreacting, but she’s going after those other two Druids.” Cooper looked up then quickly glanced away, knowing he was about to violate the Blood Oath he had taken. “If she weren’t my maker, it wouldn’t be my problem, but—”
Cole’s frown deepened. “Are you sure this isn’t an Oedipus thing? Aislinn’s no fool. She’s the most formidable fighter I know. You’re making it your problem.”
“No, it isn’t an Oedipus thing. And I resent that. I’m not asking you to make it your problem. I’m not asking you to give a shit about our maker.” Cooper saw the foul expression twist Cole’s mouth and took a deep breath. “I’m worried about Aislinn, and an ice spa treatment isn’t going to cut it. I’ve battled a lot more real monsters than most vampires here, but the only Druids I’ve faced were with you and Aislinn. And we were lucky that time. We bravely faced the dark mages and shapeshifters, managing to hold them off, even killing a few, until Rebekah showed up. And the other two fled.”
That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but it was easy to get Cole impassioned. Some barely examined chivalry kicked in, and he found himself recalling events differently to suit his Romantic philosophy and enact his desire to be a Byronic hero.
“Druids? Are you certain?” Cole’s hands were now forming tight fists.
“They’re back. And more powerful than ever. I feel that Aislinn will need all the help she can get.” He paused and looked his brother in the eye. And this time, he did not bend the truth. “At least, we know what we are facing and the evil that they wield. The others haven’t faced such evil before. How can they possibly be prepared?”
“You’re right.” They exchanged another glance, but this time, Cole nodded.
“What say you, brother?” Cooper prompted, his hazel eyes brightening.
“I say, it is time to fight with the daughter of Kayne. We shall fight on the bridges and in the streets. We shall fight on the Thames and on the docks or be devoured by Death.” Melodramatically, he struck his breast with his fist and sent a smoldering look into the distance.
“That’s the spirit!” Cooper enthused. “Let’s kick some dark mage ass!”
Caleb’s heel met the hard surface of Tower Bridge.
Not that he could see it nor the spit-and-polish shine of his black boots. An oppressive fog, as thick and as yellow as pea soup, submerged the London streetscape. Slinking through and around the gloomy, redbrick Georgian buildings, Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey, it pressed heavily in with a rancid, sulfurous stench. He could see the dull glow of the streetlamps like feral, yellow cat’s eyes loosed from the depths of Demura and realized that line of sight no longer applied.
“Haven’t seen or felt a fog quite like this in centuries,” he muttered, remarking on its supernatural vibe. He didn’t care much for magic. The Roman soothsayers would divine the future by reading ill omens such as this. But it didn’t take a soothsayer for him to know that this fog wasn’t caused by anything natural, nor that it meant doom. “Stranger things, to be able to see in the darkness but not to see through a supernatural fog.”
This fog behaved abnormally. It had been spun by dark magic, twisting the elements, spreading insidiously. It spread across the bridge and rolled east and west, on either side of the Thames. Thin tendrils like skeletal fingers creeped out in advance of its dense body to form two arms. These shrouded the eastern and western boardwalks, right through to the Tower of London.
“Stay sharp,” he cautioned the others, falling back on his other senses to compensate for the temporary blindness. “We’re not the only monsters here tonight.”
“I shall take that as a compliment. Tonight, we act the monster.” The voice came out of the yellow fog, a thick Russian accent, followed by the man himself. The stocky vampire mafia boss came into view, followed by his henchmen. Zhenya numbered amongst them. They were similarly dressed in Russian military-styled trench coats. Stanislav’s face was alight with mischief. It was evident he loved the thrill of the hunt and had a thirst for revenge, similar to Aislinn’s own. “Old Russian saying: ‘appetite comes with eating’.”
“I’m glad you received my message, and you made good time,” Aislinn said, remarking on Stanislav’s fast appearance.
“The underground is far easier to travel through, especially in foul magic such as this,” the fierce Malum spat.
He crossed to her side, feeling the thin elasticity of the fog whisper around them like a living veil. The river beneath and the fog moved at different speeds. The black waters of the Thames churned unnaturally below, sinisterly brimming below the surface. The fog was dense and sluggish and threatening. It was thin and flexible but exuded a tough muscularity like the growth of tree limbs.
The sun had already set as the days shortened and the nig
hts lengthened in the middle of winter. Luckily, the cold did not affect them, but Aislinn noted that the unnatural fog had them all tense and alert.
“If it’s a trick of the mind, it’s a damn good one for all of us to be experiencing it,” Benjamin conceded, reaching out to watch his hand disappear before him. As he listened, he could hear the movement of the Thames beneath their feet. “Aislinn—”
She turned. Even with her enhanced abilities, she could only just make out his silhouette before her. The sound of his voice was reassuring. At least she knew he was there, and it was indeed him. “Yes?”
“I’ve known magic in my time, but this level of corruption is something I’ve never encountered before.”
“It’s no trick of the mind,” she said. “Look behind you. You’re not going to like what you see.”
Stretching out behind them from London Bridge was a foggy tunnel, at the end of which, the clear night sky and new-fallen snow that lay upon the ground could be seen in what might have been a similar effect to looking through a telescope. But the fog was rapidly closing in around them. It was as if they were pushing against a barrier that had the consistency of a blown bubble—well, more like bubble gum—and as they continued to push against it, it clung to them.
Zhenya spat on the ground in a gesture conveying her loathing. “Keep moving. We’re almost halfway across the bridge. But I’m warning you, if we’re jumping into the Thames, you lot are going first. I don’t intend on finding myself impaled on a magical stake.”
“That’s a pity,” Caleb taunted. “I’d pay to see that.”
Aislinn stepped on his foot heavily and precisely despite the fog, reminding him to play nice. He grunted.
“Where is Varya?” Stanislav’s right-hand asked with a cruel smile. “Lost?”
“Not quite.” Standing on the opposite side of the bridge, leaning against the rail, was a silhouette they recognized. She was carrying her daggers, and as she approached them, Aislinn could smell blood. “I was taking care of business. Two less hellhounds, but Thirteen gave me the slip. Hard to tail him in all this fog.”