The Darkest Colors- Exsanguinations

by David M. Bachman

  “The Code makes no mention of the abdication of your title, your grace,” said Duke Connor Wright. “It only specifies the passing of your title to your nominated successor in the case of your death by any event outside of a direct challenge.”

  “The Code does not say that I cannot step down from my position voluntarily, either,” Raina counted calmly. “As the senior members of this Council, it is our responsibility to see to the interpretation and enforcement of the Code. Many of you protested my suggestion that the Code, itself, be changed. I have since agreed with that sentiment. The Code does not need to be changed … but we do need to be more vigilant in making sure that it is applied firmly, fairly, and consistently to specific matters. It is our responsibility to fill in the blanks, close the loopholes, and decide how best to act upon it. Don’t you agree?”

  Duke Connor was taken slightly aback. “I do wholeheartedly agree with you, your grace, with respect to what you say. I am just … shocked, really … that you would even consider the idea of abdicating your position, even if only hypothetically. I find it hard to believe that the Grand Duchess could ever simply resign. After all, being the leader of this great Council is not simply a job.”

  “And why not?” Raina demanded as she stood tall and held her arms broadly apart. “Why should I not be within my powers as Grand Duchess to voluntarily decide when my ability to rule has been compromised? Suppose I were to be injured in such a way that I were mentally incapacitated? I’m sure you all remember the attempted assassination of Lord Günter of Germany about ten years ago. An assassin’s bullet struck him in the head, but it did not kill him. Physically, he survived and healed, but his mind was essentially destroyed. I believe someone once called it a ‘ballistic lobotomy’. Just because a person’s brain is physically intact does not necessarily mean that their thoughts and their ability to function is restored.”

  “If you were mentally unfit to lead,” said Duke Diego Moreno of Spain, “then how would you know when to step down?”

  “In such a case, the decision would be left to my successor,” Raina answered as she gestured toward Samantha. “I am entrusting her with the responsibility to know when I am no longer physically or mentally capable of fulfilling my responsibilities and duties as Grand Duchess. If I am unable to answer the question of whether or not I am fit to lead anymore, then it will be time for her to step up and take my place.” She paused, shrugging her shoulders. “Of course, the only alternative to that would be for one of you to kill me. But if I were in such poor condition, I surely would not be able to defend myself in any way … and I could not consent to any challenge that anyone might wish to issue. And, by the Code, anyone who kills, attempts to kill, or conspires to kill the Grand Duchess in any way outside of a formal challenge is guilty of high treason against the IVC and, thus, would be ineligible to assume my title.”

  Several of the Elders nodded in agreement with that. Raina had considered these arguments well in advance, as this was one of the changes she had been intending to formally write into the Code before this latest round of madness had begun. It was only as a consequence of these latest events, and the outcome of what had transpired during her return visit to America, that Raina had found a way to make this detail into official law without actually needing to inscribe the words in an official copy of the Code. Not everyone was pleased with her recommendation, but no one appeared willing or able to offer a sound argument against it, either.

  She held her arms apart once again. “As allowed by the Code, I wish to clarify this matter to say … I reserve the right to abdicate my title if I conclude that I am incapable of fulfilling my duties as Grand Duchess. I may also surrender my title if my successor, or a unanimous vote of the Elders, has declared that I am mentally incapacitated and permanently rendered incapable of performing my duties as Grand Duchess. Is everyone here in agreement?” Some of the Elders looked to one another, and there was a brief period of hushed words as they considered it amongst themselves. “Then let us put it to a vote. All in favor?”

  Starting from the left-hand side and working around the table in a clockwise direction, each of the Elders raised a hand and offered an “aye” vote of approval. Nobody offered a “nay” vote. It was difficult, but Raina managed to restrain the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth at this triumph. She had finally managed to take the reigns of this runaway carriage. She was ruling. She wasn’t just playing the part anymore. She was indeed the Grand Duchess, unquestionably, ruling in practice as well as in name.

  “Well now,” Raina finally said, “that was easy, wasn’t it?”

  Some of the more friendly faces smiled in response; others, not so friendly, kept their expressions neutral or, at worst, furrowed their brows with borderline disapproval. She never expected anything as improbable as winning them all over on a personal level, but she was content to know that she could finally get them to cooperate with her in professional matters. Frowns and scowls were easier to deal with than drawn swords.

  Taking a step back and aside to move away from the chair behind her, Raina said, “Now that we have that out of the way, we can move on to other pressing issues.” Gesturing to the four empty chairs near her end of the table, she glanced to her consorts and servants that stood on either side of her. “If you would all kindly take a seat, we may continue…?”

  Jasmine and Marco took their seats readily, and Raina politely pulled out the tall chair at the end of the table for Samantha before she thanked her with a smile and sat down, as well. One seat to the right, immediately next to Duchess Serenity, remained available, and Raina stepped over to it and pulled it out. She looked to Lady Olivia and gave a slight nod toward the available chair.

  Olivia hesitated, clearly perplexed. “Your grace?”

  “Sit,” she said brusquely, but without hostility.

  Reluctantly, giving her an almost suspicious look, Olivia seated herself. Perhaps a bit too firmly, Raina pushed the chair in for her, nearly shoving her chest directly into the table.

  “Your grace,” protested one of the Elders, Duchess Adela Prochazka, “will you now allow Commoners to sit with us?”

  Raina glared at her with narrowed eyes. “And why should I not?”

  “Because … they are Commoners,” she replied, glancing at Jasmine and Olivia.

  “These are Fallamhain Commoners, Duchess. I am their mistress, this is my house, and this meeting will include everyone that I have invited to attend. As such, I will seat whomever I please at my table,” Raina sternly informed the bigoted High Court. “I would never be so rude as to question whom you choose to seat at the table of your home.”

  The Elder folded her arms under her smallish breasts and stared at the surface of the table with a sigh of annoyance. As she took her hands away from the chair, Raina noticed that her own skin was beginning to glow just a bit. It wasn’t rage, nor was it anything at all to do with Duchess Prochazka. Actually, that brief exchange had managed to distract her from the real focus of her stress. It didn’t matter what the Elders would think if they saw or sensed Raina’s underlying emotions. Soon enough, she would explain herself quite clearly, and all potential questions would be answered.

  Raina began to pace around the full length of the table with her hands clasped behind her back.

  “As I am sure you are all aware,” she began, “I have returned from an unplanned return to America to deal with an imminent threat to my House and to my own life. As you’ll recall, the first attack took place here in London, shortly before I was scheduled to appear before all of the Council for the purpose of addressing the ethics of our long-standing policies. That attack resulted in the death of one of my servants and my driver, an innocent human that was not officially connected to the House of Fallamhain. Two of my other servants were also seriously wounded. I killed three of the four men who carried out this attack, but the fourth remains at large. I was not particularly interested in finding the fourth attacker, the driver. I only wanted to know who was r
esponsible for having ordered this attack.”

  Raina had reached the opposite side of the table at this point, and she paused in her footsteps to glare at Serenity for just a moment before continuing on. “One of you approached me shortly after the first attack with the offer of information regarding who was behind the first attack. This offer was presented under the pretense that I would owe this individual nothing, and that the only person who wished anything of me was the informant that wished to come forth with this information. That informant is now my personal attendant whom you have now met, Lady Jasmine Fallamhain. She took an extreme risk by attempting to contact me with what she knew, and she endured a terrible amount of suffering just to warn me of a second attack. All that she asked for in return was my protection, which I have granted her by including her in my House.”

  She stopped behind Jasmine and gently laid her hands upon her bare shoulders from behind. Jasmine’s soft, silky, smooth, flawless, and somewhat dark skin was feverishly hot to the touch. She was tense, very nervous about being the focal point of these famous strangers’ attention, but she managed to sit still and keep a neutral look upon her face. Raina gave her shoulders a gentle, comforting rub for a few moments as she continued.

  “What Jasmine was able to tell me was who had organized both the first and second attacks. That individual was Dante Giovanni, one of my descendents by the blood of Lady Brenna Fallamhain,” Raina explained. “However, the actual orders for both attacks had come from a higher source than Mister Giovanni. Jasmine was able to tell me exactly who had ordered Mister Giovanni to orchestrate these attacks. The details that I have learned from others before and after the second attack have validated her claim. As such, I know … exactly … who was responsible for this whole mess.”

  Raina turned as she neared Duchess Serenity, looking down at her from behind as she leaned upon the back of Lady Olivia’s chair to her immediate left.

  “I will not name any names at this moment,” Raina said, “but I will say that the guilty party is sitting amongst you at this very table.”

  Serenity bowed her head slightly. Her skin was so brightly aglow and trembling with fear, she may as well have been wearing a sign around her neck that said “GUILTY” in large, red block lettering. She shook her head lightly and sniffled, the soft sound echoing throughout the otherwise still and silent cathedral-like hall. Raina tore away her gaze to look at the others seated at the very long, old table, studying their faces as she spoke.

  “The main reason I have gathered you here is to ask for your consensus on what the fate of the guilty should be. I am not a violent or bloodthirsty ruler, but I firmly believe that the punishment should fit the crime,” Raina told them as she carefully pulled off one glove and then the other. “I will gladly carry out whatever sentence that all of you feel would be appropriate.”

  “Your grace, I swear to you—…” Serenity began to say, emotion choking her voice.

  Raina silenced her by slapping her across the left cheek with her gloves. It was more of a warning than an actual assault. The silk gloves were so light and the force with which Raina struck her made it impossible for the blow to be injurious in any way. Serenity nevertheless turned her face aside with a jerk, acting as though she had just been punched. A choked sob escaped her as she buried her face in her hands.

  “I am asking you for a recommendation, Duchess Serenity, not for pleas of innocence. I haven’t formally accused you of anything,” Raina hissed angrily, tossing her gloves upon the table. “For your outburst, I will come to you last.”

  “Ah, your grace,” Duke Connor began with a slightly raised hand, “what of your decree that we are to abide by human laws? In front of all the IVC, you said that we should lead others by example, and you intended to turn over those responsible to the humans at Scotland Yard…?”

  “I guess you could say I’ve learned that forgiveness and mercy are luxuries that someone in my position can’t always afford,” she confessed. She then lifted her gaze to look upon her first consort. “What say you, Duke Marco?”

  He hesitated. “I’m sorry…?”

  “Without knowing the name of the guilty party, what punishment would you recommend for someone that is guilty of conspiring to kill your Grand Duchess?” she demanded, raising her voice slightly. “Quickly, now!”

  His eyes momentarily went to Duchess Serenity before he solemnly replied, “Death.”

  “And you?” Raina continued, looking to the Elder that sat next to him.

  “I recommend death, your grace,” Duchess Dubois of New Orleans replied coldly, her voice slightly bearing a Creole accent. The jewels of her elaborate headdress jingled slightly as she gave a slight nod to Duchess Serenity. Raina wasn’t sure if it was a nod to silently direct that recommendation to Serenity, specifically, or if it was a respectful acknowledgement, as though to say, Well, it was nice knowing you.

  One Elder after the other recommended death as the punishment of choice for the yet-unnamed guilty party. Serenity was fully in tears, but she struggled to keep her composure in the presence of her peers. She sat bolt upright as Duke Sergey Volkov, seated to her immediate right, concurred with the same sentence the others had agreed upon. She gripped the edge of the table desperately, as though she expected to be dragged away immediately.

  “And what say you, Duchess Serenity?” Raina asked calmly in a rather hushed tone of voice. “What punishment do you feel would be fair for the guilty?”

  “Please … please don’t do this,” Serenity begged through her tears as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Please … blessed Goddess, please, your grace! You know it wasn’t me…”

  “What … punishment … do you feel … would be … fair?” Raina demanded slowly and firmly as Serenity fought to control her own sobbing.

  “I … I can’t! I can’t!” she bawled, shaking her head. “I can’t do it! I won’t say!”

  “Fine! Then you have chosen to forfeit your vote. The opinion of the Elders is unanimous,” Raina declared.

  Raina reached to her waist and drew the Espada XL from the belt around her waist, taking it into both hands. She opened the ridiculously huge lockback knife, exposing its clean, finely sharpened, unused blade of stainless steel. The heavy-duty locking mechanism of the knife snapped into place with an impressively loud whack that echoed throughout the dining hall and made Serenity flinch and yelp. Raina flipped the exquisitely-made fighting knife around into an underhand grip with a smooth, well-practiced movement.

  “For the crimes of conspiring to kill the Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council, for the unsanctioned killing of members of the House of Fallamhain, for bearing responsibility for the unsanctioned deaths of human beings, and for countless other grievous offenses against the Code … the guilty … shall be … punished.”

  “God, Raina, please, don’t!” Serenity shrieked as Raina raised the knife high overhead.

  With her left hand already grasping the top of the chair in which she sat, Raina pulled it back upon its rear two legs to attain a better angle, and she plunged the full length of the Espada XL directly into the center of Lady Olivia’s torso. The seven-inch blade of Japanese 8A stainless steel took her just below the sternum, squarely between the swell of her breasts. The full length of the massive blade passed through her so completely and easily that its tip cracked through the solid back of the old chair and wedged itself there, effectively nailing her in place.

  The blow had taken Olivia completely by surprise, almost as much as it shocked the Elders and, most of all, Serenity. She should have seen it coming from the moment Raina first entered the hall, yet her smug confidence had led her to believe that Raina would be too naïve and too easily misled to discover the truth. Olivia’s bright blue eyes flared almost impossibly wide and her mouth was widely agape as she choked for a moment or two while Raina held the grip of the knife tightly, feeling the hot wetness of Olivia’s blood making her fingers slippery as the front of the Commoner’s blou
se was quickly drenched with it.

  “That’s for Sophie, you sick fucking bitch,” Raina told her bitterly as she met her horrified stare unflinchingly.

  Raina stood tall, keeping her hand upon the top of the chair as she held it at a backward-tilted angle while she looked to the others. A few of the Elders had arisen to their feet in their alarm, but nobody was making a move to stop her. Aside from the choking, gagging sounds that Olivia made as she struggled to breathe around the length of steel that impaled her, the only thing that could be heard in the dining hall for the next few seconds were the sounds of fluids trickling upon the floor – blood dripping from the back of Olivia’s chair, and urine from the seat of Serenity’s chair.

  “For anyone wondering, Duchess Serenity is innocent,” Raina announced as she continued to hold back Olivia’s chair. “The only offense she has committed against me is of a personal nature, a minor Debt of Blood. I will deal with that matter when I return. In the meantime, you are all welcome to bear witness to Lady Olivia’s punishment. It’s awfully sunny outside today, so I hope you all brought your sunglasses and sun screen.”

  With that, Raina took the chair in both hands and drug it along behind herself as she began to walk toward the smaller door leading out of the dining hall. As she rounded the end of the table where she had earlier stood, she felt the chair lift suddenly itself up slightly as she dragged it. Expecting to see that Olivia was trying to get out of the chair, a glance back instead showed that Samantha had volunteered to help carry the wounded and condemned blonde Commoner. Olivia was still completely overwhelmed by the pain of her grievous wound, her near-total inability to breathe, and the angle at which she was completely pinned to the chair.

  “You don’t have to help,” Raina told her.

  “But you were scuffing up the floor,” Samantha replied in a near-whisper as Marco and Simon followed them out toward the rear hall, through the kitchen, and out a rear door of the mansion.