by R.E. Packer
I stood in a white room with no windows. The ceiling, floors and walls were all white. There was table and two chairs in the middle of the room. Both of which were also white. Standing by one of the chairs was a figure I recognized. He had on an expensive charcoal colored business suit with a black tie. His shoes alone looked more expensive than my entire outfit.
“It actually worked. I had more than my fair share of doubts the coven could do it. Have a seat Mr Hopewood, won’t you?” Reynolds said, in his proper English accent.
“I’ll stand thanks”, I said, “Where are we?”
He gave me a genuine smile, “In your head, sort of.”
“Breaking into my apartment wasn’t enough, you had to break into my dreams too?” I said only half joking.
“Yes and no,” Reynolds said, “This is in your head, but also in mine. You completed the ritual and if I know the witches, like I think I do, you never saw it coming. Tricky little devils, they are.”
“How are you in my head and what do you want now?” I asked feeling slightly irritated that Reynolds might be the last face I see.
“The how isn’t important, so much as the why. You’re a valuable asset, Mr. Hopewell, and like all valuable assets, I would like to adopt your… services,” he said. At my continued silence he went on. “They haven’t told you anything, have they?” he asked eyes wider now.
“They showed me a sword and said I am a prophecy. Then I got stabbed with the damn sword,” I said getting a bit emotional thinking about it. “Now I’m here with you and if you’re the last person I see, I swear to God I’ll haunt you forever.”
Reynolds showed me his first true smile. It was creepier than he meant it to be I think, since I could see his fangs.
“Lets see if we can clear this all up then, shall we,” he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs and pulling his worn looking leather bound sketchbook from inside his jacket. “Please have a seat, we have a lot to talk about and not much time”.
So far in the last few days I’ve seen and heard all kinds of crazy, met some women who are older than moses, maybe literally, been told that I’m the prophetic person to save said witches and then one of them stabbed me in the back— again, literally. I was on a roll here but instead of taking it out on this guy, who wasn’t even really ‘here’ here, just in my head here, I took a seat at the table.
Reynolds did that not moving thing he does, which really creeps me out. His eyes tracked my movement to the table, his face was a perfect statue. His body, lean and hard looking, didn’t move in any way I could see, and I was tempted to yell at top of my lungs to see if I could get him to move. He sat his notebook on the table. It looked oddly out of date for this day and age.
You don’t have an iPad like everybody else?” I said.
Reynolds continued on as if I hadn’t spoken, “We don’t have much time and I need to try to impress upon you the importance of this meeting. You’ve met the witch coven of course, the 3 witches, Marianna, Gwen,and Maeve,” he said slowly. “They are not the only witches of course, but they are rather powerful. To be quite candid, they are perhaps the most powerful on this continent. At least individually.”
“You already asked me to talk to them, and I did. What’s your point, and why the hell are you in my head instead of just breaking into my apartment again? Which by the way, one of these days is going to get you shot,” I said.
“As head of the green conclave, it falls on me to orchestrate how to best protect us,” he said. “We are a descendant of the witches. We are what happens when somebody that is not a witch shares their blood. Think of it like a virus. The rite the witches have performed on you is so you can protect them, according to the prophecy. Our own researchers believe it could also be true that you will protect us as well.”
That caught me off guard. “So, I’m supposed to protect the strongest witches— on the continent— as well as a conclave of vampires.” Talk about over reaching…
“We don’t know how, but yes. Since we are a product of them, it seems only logical.”
I chuckled at the thought of any of this being logical.
Opening his leather bound book to a bookmarked page, he turned the book to show a sketch of a woman drawn in fine lines. She had hair that fell to her shoulders, not smiling, she wore an amulet around her neck of a pentagram. Under the sketch, one word was written, a name, Vivian.
“This is Vivian Tutino. She was a member of the local witch coven with a very mild talent for foreseeing the future,” he said.
“So, she is with Gwendolyn and Maeve, a member of their coven?” I asked.
“No. Nobody else is with Gwen, Maeve and Marianna. They are, how should I put it, in a class by themselves as the modern nomenclature goes,” he replied. “They seem to live rather low key lives, never asserting their power but everybody knows it’s there and, not to challenge them. Sometimes supernaturals of their rank would not allow to have others in the same city as them, and indeed some protect their territory viciously. However the three elder witches are unique. They don’t harbor such territorial issues, perhaps deeming them to be beneath worrying about. Or perhaps it’s a male thing— as they could easily eradicate every witch in the city without much fuss— unless there was a large number of them channeling their energy,” he explained.
I knew they were powerful but the way Reynolds talked they are powerful. I wondered how many other witches there were in a city this size.
“How much more of a difference is there between the… Elder witches and the other covens?” I asked feeling naive in my understanding of all this.
“That’s what I’m trying to say, there is no comparison” Reynolds said showing his first bit of emotion. “It’s like comparing a child to an adult.”
“Groovy, hot and powerful, I can dig it,” I said, which earned me a disapproving look. I could barely hear Reynolds muttering something about fate and humanities downfall.
“Vivian was a part of the local witches,” he continued, ignoring my facetious outburst once again, “That was before she was turned. Vampires and witches sometimes do business together as they can help each other out. However you don’t usually find a witch that was turned, there is probably a reason, but I don’t know what it is. In any event, it’s not the fact that she was turned that ousted her from her coven. She did it to herself when she started working for ORAB. You remember them?”
“Yes, evil government agency, and you told me two days ago, of course I remember,” I said. I had a clear policy to stay away from the government. What government really meant was ‘'deep pockets', and not necessarily the cream of the crop in the brains department, calling the shots.
“I’ve been trying for weeks to get in touch with the Elder 3 but the fact that our previous leader tried to lead a coup against them has made it tricky to approach them. Now that you’re here—” he swept his hand around the room, “—I have no doubt they have been busy preparing for this on some level.” Reynolds stopped here looking serious. More serious anyhow as he only had a serious face.
A thought occurred to me, “How did you even know I existed?” I asked, thinking how I didn’t know any of this or them before they all knew about me.
“As I said we do some business with the local witches and they have a spell which is monitoring the supposed arrival of the elder’s ‘protector’,” he said. “We don’t have much time left,” he hurried on. “Since the witches helped somebody like us with no power for the craft know about what’s going on, you can bet that a witch with a gift for prophecy definitely knows you are now here. If Vivian is sharing information like we think she is, you have just become the latest person of interest to a federal agency,” he said.
“You must inform the elders of this,” he all but pleaded.
“Maybe I’m just tired or it’s the sword that was stuck through my chest but you’re a vampire. Why do you need me or the witches?”
“Because we are not invincible, we have weaknesses just as mortals do. We also have
a strong desire to not die.”
I resisted pointing out he was supposed to be undead.
“This is the government, it will hardly be a fair fight,” Reynolds said. “’I’ve been around for quite some time and I assure you they proceed with the single-mindedness of a bulldog. Combine that with a fear of anything unknown, and you see where this is heading. If they get the green light to move on us…”
I could see what he meant. They would be hounded worse than the torches and pitchfork days of stories. Which now that I thought about it, were based more on fact than people realize.
“Assuming I’m not in a coma right now, what do you think I can do against the government? I’m just one person and I have trouble running a 10k some days,” I said.
The more I asked witches, and now a vampire, what they think I can possibly do the more I pictured myself in tights and a cape.
“I have no idea. Maybe nothing. All I ask is that you consider us in your new role. We would be indebted to you.”
I never pictured a vampire looking desperate before, but that is how Reynolds looked at that moment.
A thought occurred to me. “You’re a vampire, does that mean you have to kill to eat?” The more I thought about innocent people dying as food made me see red. Literally, my vision was changing, the white room was now tinted crimson. Then the room started to change. The sterile looking white room changed color, from white to gray. The smooth white floor changed into cobblestone, the walls formed of stone stretching up to hold a ceiling with heavy beams.
Reynolds chair changed also, iron bands wrapped around his wrists and ankles fastening him to the now wooden chair that looked more throne like than the waiting room chair it had resembled when we entered.
“No, we never kill anybody,” he said talking quickly.
I looked around at the new room. There was an ancient feel to it. I liked it. The cut stone work and carved wooden furniture with leather coverings, it all had a very Knights of the Round Table feel.
A pair of yellow and red eyes gleamed in the corner of the large room. They didn’t concern me, but Reynolds glanced at them more than a few times.
“You are doing this,” Reynolds said, “calm your mind.”
Taking a deep breath I asked, “How do you eat without killing people?”
The eyes in the corner glowed brighter and a low rumble that I felt in my bones filled the room. Whatever was in the corner growled, it sounded like it’s patience was wearing thin. Which, in turn, seemed to hurry Reynolds up with his answer.
“We own blood banks— we never have a need to actually hunt people— plus a number of our conclave are doctors and nurses.”
The thought of vampire doctors and nurses surprised me and made me chuckle a bit.
Then the red tint in my vision faded, the room changed again, to a more modern decor. The walls were plaster and trimmed with dark wood, the stone floor replaced with tasteful tile. In the corner stood a dog that looked like Rutger. I snapped my fingers and he came padding over just like the flesh and blood version, resting his head on my lap as I petted him.
“We are a violent species capable of truly wicked behavior, but we choose not to make that our lifestyles. Some vampires do not believe in such compassionate behavior, but they are not a member of my conclave, I assure you,” he said.
“Doctors…” I said scratching my chin.
“Yes, we have many professionals in our family. We live long lives… it provides ample time to pursue our goals. Without us a large portion of the local commerce would cease. We could hire you on a retainer, name your price,” Reynolds said.
Changing gears I said, “Why didn’t you leave this dream or whatever it is?” He felt threatened and I could sense his fear, but I couldn’t tell you how.
“You don’t know— I lost control of this awhile ago. The spell should let me leave at will but you’re blocking it somehow.”
“I’m blocking it?”
“Yes. Whatever power the witches have awakened in you is apparently very strong. I have no doubt you could kill me here and it would carry over to my body,” he said quietly.
That was the last thing I heard before waking up in excruciating pain.