CHAPTER SEVEN

 

     The loft was dark. The only source shedding light on its interior were the scattered sunbeams coming from between the closed shutters through which tiny dust particles danced and disentangled. Natalie dropped her medical bag on the kitchen table and went for the closest lamp. Turning it on, she looked around. The place looked like a mess. Bottles—‘again’ she thought—clothes, shoes, paper and an overturned chair told tales about what had happened last night after they had left the Schankes. She gathered the clothes and put them on a chair then went on picking up the bottles and rest of the trash. As she opened the trashcan she saw what she halfheartedly had more or less expected: a torn plastic package, a used hypodermic and the empty vial of Litovuterine. Natalie bit her lip.

     She disposed of the trash and walked back to the kitchen table and her bag. At that moment she heard a weak moan coming from the couch. She didn’t turn to look, she didn’t need to; they had been through this ritual many times.

     She picked up her bag and a couple of wet paper towels and walked toward the couch. It wasn’t until she was halfway around it that she saw him, lying on his back, half on half off, one arm stretched over his head resting on the arm of the couch, the other dangling from the side and touching the floor. He was breathing raggedly, eyes closed, blood sweat running down his face and glistening on his palms. He was wearing his blue pajamas with most of the buttons undone. Through the gap she could see the faint sheen of blood covering his chest. Another dim moan escaped from his lips as she came closer.

     Natalie kneeled beside the ailing vampire. She set down her bag and for a long moment simply looked at him. He looked restless, his face contorted with discomfort and pain. Her heart clenched in her chest and with one hand, she reached to brush the strands of bloodsweat-matted blond hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes, deep amber rimmed with red looking at her. She didn’t flinch.

     Nick closed his eyes again. He exhaled laboriously, wincing at the pain that seemed to envelope his whole body. Natalie continued stroking his hair, trying to comfort him as much as she could. She reached down and picked up one of the damp paper towels and wiped the blood sweat from his face. He moaned again and she almost felt her tears threatening to flow.

     When she finally found her voice to talk, it was in the form of a quiet whisper.

     “Why, Nick? Why did you do it?” It was a gentle question. She wasn’t demanding an answer, wasn’t expecting any, either. All she wanted now was to help him get through his suffering, as ever.

     “I had to,” came the weak reply. He turned his head slightly and looked at her through half opened eyes. His eyes were blue again. Natalie wiped another drop of blood as it slid its way down the side of his face.

     “Rest. I’ll call the captain and say you’re taking the night off.”

     “I already did that. But I’m not staying here. I have an important appointment to go to…” His voice trailed off and he shifted his position stiffly.

     Natalie could have yelled at him. She could have slapped his face and demanded immediate explanation for this sudden madness. But she just continued stroking him. She was tired and sad and she didn’t want to cause him more hurt. Whatever had happened lately must have had something to do with people being in danger, and now this was Nick’s chivalric side stepping forward, taking all the danger, all the pain into himself to assure others were safe and unharmed. Like it was his way all the time if she knew him well.

     She opened her medical bag and brought out a needle and another plunger. She placed the needle and filled the plunger with a clear drug, then she rolled up Nick’s sleeve and injected him with the drug. He flinched at the jab, but didn’t open his eyes. It was a gesture of complete trust that didn’t escape her. She pulled out the needle and rubbed the spot with alcohol, out of habit really as vampires were naturally safe from infections. She was putting the bottle back in her bag when she heard his hoarse whisper again.

     “There will be some kind of inquisition, Nat. Tonight. I have to stand in front of their court.”

     Nat looked up, startled. It was true she had yearned for hearing something from his part, yet she had not expected a disclosure as inclusive and minimal as that. Even though she was used to the fact that whenever Nick volunteered to give one, it always contained the strangest particulars. She reached to grab his hand and held it in hers, patting the back ever so slightly.

     “What are you talking about? What kind of court? And why? What are you accused of?”

     He continued speaking with his eyes closed. “It’s not really a court. It’s more of a questioning. They want to know if I have broken any parts of the Code.”

     <The damned Code thing again. > Natalie shook her head. She was feeling worried now; this was an area she had no expertise in. Her scholar brain resented everything that could not be associated with modern science, and the things about Nick’s community and their mysterious traditions were no doubt on the top of her list. She sighed.

      “Is there going to be any danger for you? Are they going to charge you with anything?”

     Nick took a deep breath. For a moment he appeared to have fallen asleep before he finally said, “I don’t know, Nat. These things are never pleasant affairs. I have broken many rules during my search for a cure, and this might be the time they’re getting back at me. LaCroix isn’t in town to defend me if I’m convicted and I’m not sure what they have against me at the time. I…” He was cut off by a wave of seizure that shook his entire body. He curled up into a ball and clamped his jaw tight to avoid throwing up his stomach contents in front of Natalie.

     Natalie jumped up to help him. She reached out to hold him still, but was slapped away by his flailing hands. Keeping his knees close to his chest and rocking back and forth to defuse the pain, he repeated over and over, “It will be ok. It will be ok. I only have to rest for a while. I can’t miss the hearing tonight.” He panted. Nat pulled back her hand and covered her mouth while she looked at him with tear-filled eyes, helpless to do anything.

     As the attack finally ceased, Nick turned and forcefully opened his eyes to look at Natalie. He looked as if he was seeing right through her, trying to say something but not finding his voice. As he groped to arrange his vocal cords to a workable composition, she wiped his face with another paper towel and cleaned the sweat from his exertion. She was turning to go and get more towels when he grabbed her hand and finally said in a gruff, barely audible voice, “You have to promise me something.”

     Nat turned back and looked at him, waiting for the rest of his speech. She saw him struggle with the effort to speak.

     “I’ll be fine soon. I can stand it, no matter what comes, I always did. But you must promise me, that you will stay alert. Promise not to do anything about this, not to ask too many questions. If people come to the precinct or the morgue…” He had to swallow before he could continue, “If you see any strangers asking about me, don’t tell them you know me. Don’t tell them anything. They could be dangerous; they could hurt you. I don’t want them to hurt you…” His grip tightened on her arm as he spoke the last words, then slowly loosened and slid down. The drug she had injected was slowly showing its effect.

     She was overwhelmed by his concern. As he drifted away, she reached down and stroked his face faintly with the back of her hand. How could she not love him? His gallantry, his kindness, his sacrificing all of himself to help other people survive. The tears finally flooded her eyes and spilled down her face unheeded as she ran her hand one last time over his sleeping face and whispered quietly.

     “I will be careful, Nick. I promise you I will.”

 

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     Janette sat at the bar, enclosed in her own silence. It was day; she should be in bed. She sensed the sun above, crawling ever so insistently in the sky, urging her to go to sleep. She yawned and stretched slightly but didn’t move from where she sat. She traced the rim of her half-filled glass with a slender finger and slid deeper into her thoughts. She didn’t want to sleep today; and she knew she couldn’t anyway. She had spent last night entirely in the shadows at the back of the club, veiled by the darkness, watching him at the bar where he sat all by himself. He had changed over the years, but that could only be her imagination. Perhaps to his eyes, she had changed too. He was an Enforcer now; the most feared among their kind, that by itself was very strange and hard to digest. She remembered the last time she had seen him. He had demonstrated so much passion and energy that the only one comparable to him was Nicholas. He had a fire constantly burning inside him and it sometimes flared through his eyes, illuminating his entire being as if he was truly the young man he appeared, not an immortal creature of the night, dead, yet so alive. So much like Nicholas himself. She closed her eyes at the thought rushing to her, so much like his brother.

     But that had been all in the past. Seeing him last night, she had felt the fire missing. He was still very beautiful and age had added a sense of power and elegance to his youthfulness. The hardships he had endured during the unimaginable life he had walked through so far seemed to be marked in the lines of his face. As an Enforcer, he carried a certain powerful aura that denoted his rank and status in the Community as well as his standing with the High Council. But with that also came the isolation and the rejection laid upon him by others of his kind. She saw how they drew away from him with the unspoken fear evident in their eyes, and she felt sorry for him.  Sorry for the light that had vanished from his eyes and the centuries of loneliness and hardship that weighed on his shoulders. When he looked up, it was as if she was looking at him for the first time. She had wanted to go and hug him, to comfort him and tell him that he was still attractive to her and that she saw nothing different in him than before. But she knew she couldn’t do it. Not just because saying so wouldn’t make it less of a lie, but also because as much as she wanted to deny it, she, too, was afraid of him. Afraid of the Enforcer that dwelled within him, the thing that had stolen his light.

    

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Charente

1368 AD

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     They lay in each other’s arms on their bedroom’s large four-poster ornamented bed, entwined in soft silky sheets and the affectionate embrace they had been sharing for over a hundred years. Nicholas lay on his left side, his arms tightly looped around his lover’s waist and his cheek resting against her bosom. His eyes were unfocused and faraway, looking into an unknown space above the room. Janette’s arms circled around his head holding him close to her chest like a mother would her child. Her head was slightly tilted on the oversized pillow as her chin lightly brushed against her lover’s hair. Her eyes were closed and her right hand absently swept through the unruly tresses of the golden mane. Together they produced a picture of beauty, Janette in her dark red velvet nightgown and Nicholas in his cream-white shirt and pants. Like two fallen angels from the heights of nirvana, one representing the lividity of the dark side, the other portraying the brightness of celestial light. They were Venus and Adonis, Cupid and Psyche.

     Janette was shaken out of her reverie when she felt a slight twitch from her Nicholas. She slowly opened her eyes and shifted, turning the lovely head in her arms gently around and looking deep into his expressive eyes. Sapphire eyes blinked softly as he looked back at her with apprehension radiating from deep within. <He is so beautiful, > she thought to herself as her smooth hand gently brushed against a round cheek, running seductively down to rest on the ivory neck and the barely pulsing vein. He turned his head back, breaking the mesmeric eye contact and looking into nothingness again. Janette got restless and repeated the action, this time more insistently, regarding the ocean blue lovely eyes now with more concern.

     “What is it Nicola, mon amour? What is bothering you?”

     Nicholas turned again; pressing the side of his face once more into the warmness of her breasts, he let out a sigh. Then with a voice so quiet only a vampire could hear, he whispered his muffled words in the velvety folds of her gown.

     “What should I do, Janette?”

     Janette stroked his hair, wondering what could possibly bother her brave knight. At his words, she raised her perfect eyebrows and answered, equally quiet, “About what my love?”

     “About the old lord’s proposition. About him choosing me to become an Enforcer.”

     “You mustn’t do anything, mon coeur, LaCroix will take care of it, I’m sure.”

     “LaCroix.” His tone held a familiar bitterness speaking the name. He separated himself from Janette and lay on his back, pulling himself up to rest his head on the pillows and next to Janette’s. She turned to her side and continued staring at him; he was looking at the ceiling now as he spoke.

     “Why must LaCroix always decide for me? It’s not like I’m an infant child.”

     “You are an infant vampire, and he is your master.” She reached with her hand to touch his face, but he withdrew.

     “How long am I going to stay like that? I’m over a hundred years old now and I have a grownup’s wisdom. Why can’t I decide my future for myself?”

     Janette sighed sadly. This was not the first time they discussed this issue. Ever since her young lover had stepped across, he had had problems accepting his status as a young fledgling as well as their master’s authority. She reached out and took his hand, this time folding her fingers around his in a sympathetic gesture.

     “Why would you even want to contemplate the decision? LaCroix said you don’t have to bow to the old lord’s will to become an Enforcer and he has the power to prevent them from taking you away by force. You will stay with us, mon cher, like before, isn’t that what you want?”

     Nicholas continued to stare ahead, one hand holding Janette’s while the other lay above his head stretched out on the pillow.

     “I don’t know, Janette. Is that really what I want? Is that the best choice for me?”

     “Of course it is; what else could you possibly think, my love? Are you saying you would rather leave us and stay with the lord? Become an Enforcer, a soldier of darkness, as they are called?” her voice held a twinge of urgency now.

     Nicholas turned and faced her. “But is it really that bad? Becoming an Enforcer, living a soldier’s life instead of a slave’s?”

     Janette’s grip on his hand tightened. “You can’t even begin to imagine what an Enforcer’s life is like. LaCroix might be a harsh master sometimes, but he loves us very much and is ready to protect us against the world. If you become an Enforcer, you will have no one to protect you, no one to give you love and support. You would be hated and feared by others of your kind. Everyone will leave you and you’ll be alone for the rest of eternity.” She looked at him apprehensively before raising their joined hands to plant a small kiss on his thumb.

      “Please, Nicola! Say you won’t accept this offer. I had been alone for too long; I can’t imagine living without you.”

     Nicholas reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand as he looked affectionately into her bewitching eyes. “I can’t imagine living without you either, my love. Since the day I was brought into this permanent hell, the only shining lights I’ve known are those of your beautiful eyes. I love you even more than I love my own life, but sometimes I feel that I can’t take it any more, that I might lose my mind. I long for my freedom so much, it sometimes feels like an endless curse, as if I’m forever locked up inside a small cell and LaCroix is my jailer. All this time his love has brought me nothing but pain and misery, and abhorrence toward him and toward what I am. Sometimes it’s so suffocating that I even consider walking into the light, accepting the pain to end the misery.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed her hand.

     She unlocked the fingers and reached up to brush his lightly sweat tinged hair. If only she could do something to ease his suffering. She would give her everything if it made LaCroix go a little easier on him, not demand so much obedience, so much perfection. She could see how he struggled, his pride in constant battle with the respect he knew he should have for the ancient master, trying to balance his morals with LaCroix’s constant demands and always failing. Never to learn that they essentially couldn’t mix together, just like oil and water never did.

     “Please, my dear, try to get some rest. These thoughts only serve to make you hurt more. You are still young, and it’s natural for a fledgling to feel trapped and depressed. That’s part of our nature, especially in the early years. And believe me, that is exactly why he is hard on you, why he watches over you so carefully. He loves you just as much as I do, and he is worried about you. It will all change when you get older, I’m sure. He will eventually let go of the bonds and allow you to go your own way, as he has done with his other children.” 

     Nicholas’ face brightened with a child-like smile, the smile that captured her heart every time she saw it. He clasped her hand in his and kissed the back of her fingers. Then he drew her close and kissed her eyelids, first one then the other, forcing them to close under the slight pressure of his lips. She took in a deep breath as he moved further down, brushing his lips against her cheek, her lips and the side of her alabaster neck. Her arms came to wrap around his neck, pressing him harder to her as he continued his journey down her throat. A nip at her jugular drew a sharp breath from her and she clasped him tighter, running her hands in the soft curls of his golden hair. The kisses turned into soft licks, gently outlining her collarbone, then circling the hollow of her throat with his tongue. It wasn’t long before she felt the scrape of his fangs and a gentle query reaching her through their link. Taking her quick moan as his awaited permission, he reared his head back and sank his fangs deep into the softness of her throat. It wasn’t long before she followed.

 

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     He was dreaming of Janette when a strong hand wrenched him out of his sleep and held him firmly by the throat before slamming him against the near wall. Tears came into his eyes as he tried to blink away sleep and pain and identify his attacker. A pair of emerald-green irises were looking at him from a pale, juvenile face framed with smooth, black hair. He struggled against his captor, but was knocked to the wall again. Awkwardly, he looked sideways toward the bed and saw Janette’s side empty. He was relieved; he didn’t want to worry about protecting her against this crazy madman that seemed to have appeared out of a nightmare. As the hand tightened on his throat, he reached up with his own hand and tried to loosen the fingers, only to collide with an immovable strength far greater than his own. This vampire must be at least two centuries older than he was. His face looked familiar even though he couldn’t place it. But then, he was looking at it through painfully blurred eyes.

     “I think you have spent enough time with Janette to be ready to leave her alone.” Another hand ripped Janette’s velvet scarf from around his neck in a swift, blistering motion that brought a cry to his lips and the reminder that he probably had fallen asleep when she had put it there, a gesture she sometimes used to remind him of her love. His tormentor brought the piece of cloth close to his face and took a deep breath, taking in the essence that was emanating from the scarf and was truly Janette. He momentarily closed his eyes and his grip on Nicholas’ throat slackened. Nicholas squirmed to escape, but the vise-like hand tightened again as the assailant lifted him further along the wall and hissed menacingly into his face.

     “You don’t deserve to be with her. You don’t deserve any of this. You are just a mere infant who thinks he’s the prince of the realm. I can crush you with my bare hand if I want, right here and now.” He shoved his captive further into the wall, eliciting a pain-filled moan from Nicholas.

     “Why do they all love *you?* Why should you be his chosen one without having proven a thing to him? Why doesn’t he throw you out like he did with me two centuries ago? Tell me. Why?” he yelled as he slammed Nicholas again and again against the unforgiving stones of the wall. Nicholas cried again, this time for help.

     A slender hand closed around the attacker’s neck from behind; a feminine almost melodic voice rang in his ear.

     “Let him go or I’ll break your miserable neck.”  Janette moved closer to stand right behind the man who held her younger brother. She was nearly his age, just a few decades younger, but her constant blood sharing with their powerful master made them equal in strength. Arthur hesitated before he finally loosened his grip, letting Nicholas slide down the wall. Janette still held him in check.

     “Now, tell me what you want here?” she hissed as her fingers tightened, her nails digging into his flesh. She looked over to check on Nicholas. He was standing where he was left, his back still flush against the wall with his head leaning back and looking at the two of them through half closed eyes as he took deep, ragged breaths. Janette saw the slowly-fading bruises around his throat and her eyes glowed in anger.

     Arthur lowered his eyes and brought his arms down in defeat. He knew he had the strength to wrench her arm away from him and that they would be equal if they fought. But this was Janette. He would kill the infant at any point in time if it wasn’t for LaCroix, but he wouldn’t as much as raise a finger to hurt the raven-haired beauty, no matter how far she went in damaging his pride. Softly, he said, “I wasn’t going to hurt him, Janette. I just wanted to teach him a lesson.”

     Janette pressed her fingernails deeper into his skin as she growled angrily, “Wasn’t going to hurt him? Don’t you see you have already done that, you fool?” She nodded at the younger vampire who was standing by the wall and still panting.

     Arthur’s voice trembled. “Let me go, Janette. I swear on my blood I won’t touch him anymore. Please Janette, you have to trust me.”

     Janette fumed but finally let go of his neck. She watched him as he turned to face her, a growing misery radiating from his perfectly schooled face.

     He kept his eyes down. “I missed you, Janette. You look very lustrous now, even more than you did those very long years ago.” His eyes slowly rose to meet hers, and she felt her heart leap, seeing their depth.

     “I can still see us walking along the Danube and in the old city of Obuda. The nights were so hot and full of whispers. Remember how we used to eavesdrop on the lovers along the bank? Remember how their chanting made us ache for one another? Yearn for another touch, another kiss, another taste of blood…?”

     “Enough!” Janette cut him off stridently. She moved to stand next to the still-disoriented Nicholas and looked him up and down, stroking his face with one hand while running the other along his silk-clad arm. She then turned to face her older brother without ceasing her caress.

     “What was in the past is in the past, Arthur, it is over. You know how LaCroix took on our first meeting, I don’t want to go relive that again.”

     Arthur’s face turned into a mask of remoteness as he watched the siblings arm in arm in front of him. When he finally spoke, his eyes where focused at the wall behind them and his voice was gruff.

     “Yes, LaCroix! He made his feelings toward me fully clear that first time. Although I never understood them, I grew and learned to accept them, as hard as that has been. He is my master after all and if he only wants you as his truly beloved children, I will understand and accept. I’m satisfied with being his bastard son.”

     Janette studied him with a sense of wonder. She left Nicholas and came to stand next to Arthur, her chin raised to face him squarely.

     “Are you saying you envy us, brother? Is that the reason why you came here and threatened Nicola? Narrow-minded jealousy?” Her tiny voice quivered as she let her emotions creep into its melodic tone.

     Arthur lifted one hand and tenderly touched her face. “God curse the day that I, even for a second, think ill about my lovely little Janette. You know how much I love you and how I would sacrifice everything if it means being with you once again, even if it were for one night. The reason I bit back my pride and my pain and agreed to my unmerciful fate all those years ago was because I loved you, and because I had unconditional respect for our master’s will. I may have been hurt because of him, but I never gave up loving him. He was my only true father and I presumed it to be his right, not wanting me in his family. Perhaps he was tired of having a son. Until I heard the news about his new fledgling.” His gaze turned toward the vampire standing against the wall, opening his emotions to let him see the hatred emanate from his aura. He continued frozenly. 

     “At first, I thought it was for sport. Another one of his strategic crossings to achieve some political agenda, or maybe he was bored and wanted to have some fun. But then the news expanded; everyone talked about how he adored the new one, how he spent night after night feeding him, guiding him, educating him in our ways and sharing blood with him. My world crumbled into pieces as I realized the truth. That he had created another one to attain all I had offered him freely for such a long time, and he was giving all the things I craved for so long to that someone else freely. I felt betrayed, Janette, can you understand that? Betrayed. Maybe it was tainted with a bit of jealousy after all, but that, too, was because of the belief that I deserved it more. I deserved you more.” His hand trailed down the side of her neck and rested lightly on her left shoulder. She looked away.

     It was then when they heard Nicholas’ voice reaching them from were he stood against the wall with his sapphire eyes fixed on Arthur and gleaming.

     “You envy my life?” he was trembling with emotion as he asked, “You crave what I have? Tell me, my brother, how much do you know about my life, which parts do you think you long for? Do you want your mind linked to a powerful being who watches your every move and knows your every thought, ready to punish you for simply thinking about defying him? Do you crave endless days and nights being chained in a dark cellar, starved to the point of unconsciousness, left alone in darkness to learn how you should cherish and respect his protection and how it feels to be without it? Do you crave being beaten into a pulp, drained to slow your healing process so you would feel the pain of your disobedience for hours and hours until he decides to come and feed you with his life preserving blood and save you from near death? Do you crave being possessed, owned, used in anyway he likes simply because it is you whom he wants? You crave that, my brother? Is that really what you want?”

     His words descended on them like currents of ice, freezing them momentarily in place. The weight of sorrow they burdened wiped away any second thoughts either of them might have entertained. The first one coming out of the induced shock, Janette shot Nicholas a warning yet sympathetic glance and started to say something when she was cut off by Arthur. She watched him turn to Nicholas, a strong sense of determination seemingly shrouding his entire being as he spoke in a firm voice.

     “Yes, I crave all that. I want all of what you said, the pain, the pressure, the punishment and the love. I am willing to accept it all and more if he asks me for it, just to be close to him, just to feel his care. I’ll gladly sacrifice my entire un-life if it means for me a taste of his ancient blood, the memory of which I never abandoned. I want him to own me, to possess me, to call me his and to take care of me. I’m sure you’d never understand that.” He looked at his brother for another while, then turned and placed a feather-light kiss on Janette’s lips, unheeding of her surprise, and left the room in silence.

 

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@}--`--}--, -----

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     Janette stared at her drink mutely. She wondered if one could actually feel one’s heart break, because that was exactly how she had felt that day almost seven centuries ago, when a proud but sad Arthur left their room stiff backed and reserved. Before that day, Nicholas and she had never even imagined that what they considered eternal captivity could be a dream of a lifetime for someone else. Never had they thought that someone would actually want what they lived, yearn for what they considered ordinary life, what Nicholas considered unjust. Yet now, after so much time had passed between them, it seemed so rational.

     She stirred the blood and took the last gulp. She remembered the rest of the events of that day. Nicholas had been stunned after Arthur’s last speech, not having a clue as to what he was referring to or what his problem really was. Janette, who had been more informed about their older brother’s situation, had proceeded in telling her younger about the events of years ago when she had first met him. It was a few decades after her coming across. LaCroix had some errands to run in Budapest—Obuda in those days, one of the three villages that later integrated into becoming the Hungarian capital—they were staying at a small inn close to the river and LaCroix was away on business almost every night, meeting other elders that were residing in the city. Janette was still too young to be on her own, but LaCroix had allowed her to go to the inn’s main hall and the attached tavern that was usually filled with drunken mortals and sleepy travelers. Janette didn’t like any of those places, but preferred the inn’s quiet garden that overlooked the Danube and the neighboring hillsides. Every night she went there and sat on a bench beneath a scented lily tree and the silvery moon; she looked at the calm river and listened to the boatsmen’s calls and songs coming to her sensitive ears from miles away on the shoulders of the wind. She dreamed about her mortal days when she was still a young girl and her mother took her for small trips on decorated boats, about festivals that happened on the water and fishermen in old villages who knew all the stories in the world. There she had her little peace all night, until LaCroix came back with some blood and she joined him in their sheltered room to spend the day. Her master knew that she spent the nights outside in the garden, but didn’t say anything. As long as she didn’t go too far and was in the room when he returned for the day, he didn’t care what she did with her time.

     Until he came along. One night when Janette walked to her usual place under the lily tree, she was surprised to find a young man there, sitting on the bench and looking at the sparkling river just as she used to do. His hair was dark and silky under the pale light of the moon; his eyes were emerald green. Although she was still very young, she could sense him as a vampire. That alone made her heart pounce, since this was the first vampire that she was seeing in her life other than her master, LaCroix. Before she could make a move, he turned and looked at her and she froze in place. Her first instinct, to run away back to their room, died as soon she saw his smile and heard his gentle greeting. He was so warm and kind when he invited her to sit next to him on the bench, something she hadn’t felt from a man in a long time, mortal or vampire. Despite her master’s warnings about others of their kind and the fact that she was almost certain that LaCroix wouldn’t approve her joining the handsome stranger, she couldn’t resist the pull of his mesmerizing eyes or the beckoning of the siren scent of his blood. Soon she felt herself leaning against his shoulder and his voice whispering enchanting words in her ears. She was lost to him there and then.

     It didn’t take long for them to become fond of each other. Janette’s trips to the garden changed from mindless strolls along the walkways or among the bushes to a ritual of tiptoes within the shadows of the trees and walls. She met him every night in a different place and they went for short walks along the river or in the city through the still-busy night markets. He took her flying over the orchards and old castles, kissing her chilled cheeks as the flight wind wheezed around them. On their fourth date, he finally told her who he was and what he was doing there. Her astonishment was unparalleled when she realized he was of her own blood and another one of her master’s children, brought across only decades before. He told her about his search for LaCroix years after surviving his abandonment in Wales. His pursuit had lead him to Obuda and the small inn where he had finally felt a tiny thread of connection to his master, which had proven to be his presence. He had watched them from among the crowd in the public house’s hall, and that was when he had seen Janette. He then had watched her for several nights as she went to her established place in the garden. He had relished her beauty and her presence and waited for eight days before he made himself apparent to her. Perhaps he had envied her at first, had been jealous of her because she had taken his place at their master’s side. But all of those initial feelings had melted at the first sight of her beauty, the first intake of her scent and finally their first kiss. Now he only felt in love with her as much as she was in love with him.

     Janette feared LaCroix’s reaction if he was to find out about her little liaison. So far, the ancient hadn’t shown any signs of suspicion, as he was too busy with his own affairs to care or even realize what she was doing. Over time, she became bolder and went farther with her newfound lover. One dreamy night, they landed in a small, secluded clearing in the northern hillside’s woods and made love for the first time. In his blood she tasted the sorrow and pain he felt about his state as well as the unconditional love he felt toward her. The emotions were so strong, they threatened to overwhelm her, especially since this was the first time she was sharing blood with anyone other than her in-control sire. Arthur’s passion carried her to new heights as their exchange of feelings went deeper and deeper and they continued to explore more of each other. She knew she would never forget that first experience.

     After they went back to the inn, Arthur promised to return to her the next night and vowed to continue seeing her for as long as they were able to do so. He had then flown toward the river where the boatsmen were shouting the night’s traveling conditions and she had stared after him as if in a delusion, dreaming about the nights of ardent lovemaking that lay ahead.

     LaCroix found out about them that very same night.

     He had come home angry and poised, had ripped her collar from her neck and tasted her blood. Her blood had told him everything, but nothing he hadn’t already known. He had smelled his scent on her a few nights before and had known she was seeing someone else. That night he had spied on her and had seen them together, kissing and making love and sharing blood. He had also recognized the impostor, which had made him even more furious. Janette had cried miserably, but it failed to melt the master’s heart. He punished her and forbade her to ever go out on her own again.

     They left Obuda the next night. When Arthur returned to the appointed place in the garden, he didn’t find his raven-haired angel anywhere. Instead he found a note written by LaCroix telling him to go away and to not show himself around him or Janette again. It also told him that if LaCroix saw him ever again it would be the last day of his existence. Arthur had flown to the river that night, screamed so loud the fishermen had thought it was the rumble of an impending storm, and cried bitter tears into the dark waters. After that he had left the town and sworn never to return unless to meet the rays of the sun or his lover’s embrace. Despite his master’s threat, Arthur knew that some day they would meet again and that on that day he would try once more to make him understand that all he wanted was a bit of fatherly love and that it was only love that he had offered his newest fledgling. As bleak as un-life had become for him, he still had faith that someday LaCroix would see reason and welcome him as family.

     Janette had told Nicholas all this while crying on his shoulder. Even though they had been separated for so many centuries she couldn’t help but feel sorry for poor Arthur. But sorry was the only feeling she now had for her former lover. Her heart belonged to Nicholas now, and she knew that her black-haired suitor had lost his chance the moment the golden knight had entered her life. In fact, he had lost it along with the rest of his dreams, long ago on the shores of the Danube, even though he never came to accept it. 

     Janette stood up as she tried to suppress a yawn escaping from her rosy lips. It must have been well past noon, she thought and she knew she needed her sleep. But could she really rest with all that was weighing on her mind? The questions crowded her brain like the patrons in the club on a Saturday night. Would Arthur come back to the bar tonight, acting again like the unattached member of the untouchable force? Would his eyes secretly search for her, like she would watch him from the shadows of the back stalls? Would he ever accept the truth, ever forgive her for her disloyalty, forgive Nicholas for what had never been his fault? Janette put a glove-clad hand over her heart and closed her eyes, thinking how comforting it would have been if she were able to pray. A few words escaped her lips before the agony of it took away her courage and forced her to fly up to her bedroom and retire for the day. Quietly, she surrendered herself to the softness of her satin bed and waited for the next night.

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

     Cold wind blew through deserted alleys, lifting discarded newspaper and trash in the air and banging shutters of abandoned dark buildings. The area was one of the rather more dangerous and less pleasant parts of the city, somewhere in the ghettoes of Flemingdon. Trash was piled in virtually every corner and walls were covered with obscene graffiti. Homeless people, gangs and junkies were the only dwellers of the empty alleyways in the late hours of the evening as the chilling wind howled through the dark pathways and the secluded make-shift shelters.

     Nick parked the Caddy a few blocks away from the appointed place. He preferred walking to driving in dangerous situations related to his own kind, since it gave him the opportunity to take to the air if something unforeseen happened. He looked at his car worriedly and cursed the assembly who had chosen such an unfriendly area for the engagement. He was almost sure he would not see the sight of his tires again if he ever came back, but he had no choice either.

     He started walking down the dirty alley ahead. Strange figures wrapped in rough clothes passed him by, looking at him suspiciously. He had been in this area once with Schanke for a case and knew what sort of people hung around here; this was his first time alone, and even as a powerful 800-year-old vampire, it still felt frightening. He wrapped himself more tightly in his overcoat and secretly felt for the bulk of his gun under his clothes. He knew the real danger—if it was hovering in the area—would be something against which his gun would be completely useless. But at least he could stop any foolish mortal mugger from making a big mistake that would complicate his situation more than it already was.

     His stomach protested once again with another sharp arrow of pain shooting through his abdomen. He grabbed the nearby wall for support and took a few deep breaths until the pain subsided. He looked straight ahead and gathered his strength for what was awaiting him. At no cost would he fail this test, because if he did, the cost would most probably be his life as well as the lives of some of his dearest friends. He pushed himself from the wall and stepped into the darkness. A few more blocks and he finally stood in the middle of a vacant square. The sun had finally set and the darkness of the night added to the creepiness of the surroundings. A murky three-story building loomed in front of him, obviously abandoned and the walls partially ruined. Wooden boards where clumsily nailed over the windows, blocking any view to the interior. The massive entrance was also blocked and chained. A half-corroded metal sign was dangling above the door; some of the engravings still readable. “MC…abse…Dog Racin… Arena.” Nick shook his head in resentment; what a great place to set up a meeting. Obviously, the owner knew about his business being illegal and had tried to fool the officials by calling it a ‘dog racing’ establishment instead of ‘dog fighting,’ which is what  it was in reality. He circled the building cautiously and tested the area for any mortal heartbeats. When he became sure no one was watching, he took to the air and landed on the rooftop. He looked around once more, then took a piece of folded paper out of one pocket and opened it. It was a blueprint of the building with instructions on where the meeting took place and how he could get there. He folded the paper again and put it back in its place, then levitated along the south side of the building down into an open area in the back. There was a roofed corridor to his right that led to a pair of heavy doors. The doors appeared to have been locked and chained before—like the entrance—but someone had broken the lock and torn open the chain. A faint light was shining from beyond through the gap between the doors. He walked the length of the corridor and stood in front of them. Placing his hands on the surface of each slab, he gave the doors a light push. The chain that was still hanging loosely around the handles fell on the floor with a clank, and bright blinding light invaded his vision as the doors swung open to the well-lit arena that was beyond them.

     The arena was a round area surrounded by concrete walls with unpaved earthen ground. It was small, 100 feet in diameter at the most. Dirt and litter marked parts of the floor and the walls were stained as well. The whole area was bounded by tall concrete walls above and beyond which were seating locations for observers. The seats looked like the ones one would see in regular stadiums, ascending in a stair-like fashion. Only these had a circular standing area in front of them right at the edge of the pit, protected by a four-foot high barrier wall where some of the more enthusiastic viewers could stand and cheer the dogs from above it. 

     The whole place was bathed in bright white light coming from numerous projector lights planted all around the circular barrier. These where not ordinary projectors, but more like the ones used on movie sets with their monstrous heads pointed toward the center of the arena and providing so much illumination that Nick felt like he had suddenly stepped into daylight. He covered his eyes with one hand and walked toward the center of the field. Before getting there, he looked up and tried to make out the presences he couldn’t see, but could sense were standing around the pit. His eyes detected dark figures prowling in the standing area beyond the blinding light of the projectors, their faces and the rest of their bodies shrouded by darkness. Only the slight tingling in the back of his mind told him they were there, and judging by the intensity of it, he could tell there were more than a few of them. He wasn’t sure what kind of an assembly he was facing since his feeling of them was considerably indistinct. But he wasn’t a fool to believe they were feeble youngsters. More than just a thought, he was almost certain that what he was looking at was a group of powerful elders and most probably Enforcers who were skillful enough to control the extent of his awareness of them while at the same time, easily tear through his own mind to discern his motives and thoughts. Surrounded by them, he also knew that now he would be under their complete control.

     “Step forward and stand in the center of the circle,” came a voice from somewhere behind the lights to his left. He complied obediently. When he reached the center of the arena he again raised his hand over his eyes and tried to see the individuals that were observing him from above. Again, he only saw their shadows standing like shrouded statues in the darkness beyond the bleeding projectors. He dropped his hand and looked at the wall in front of him.

     “You have been asked to come to this questioning on grounds of an accusation regarding the alleged infringement of the Code. You are to answer all of the questions that are presented to you by this committee truthfully and without any imposition. If you speak any lies to this assembly, as it would be detected undoubtedly, your incorrigible sentence would be the immediate extinction of your life. Do you accept the conditions?”

     He raised his eyes and looked in the direction the voice came from. “What is going to happen to my friends?”

     The voice came, as soulless as its owner seemed to be. “You are only to answer the questions you are asked. You are not allowed to talk to the assembly on your heart’s behest or ask any questions. Do you accept the conditions?”

     Nick closed his eyes and tried to get the rising beast within him under control. The effort made his stomach lurch once again and he staggered to stand straight. He could almost feel the pull of their minds in his head, which only intensified the ill after-effects of his recent drug use. After a few minutes passed, he finally opened his eyes and replied to their inquest quietly.

     “Yes.”

     “Very well, let us start the hearing now.”

     He heard whispers from all around the arena, then a different voice came from the other side of the circle, asking him the first question. It rang in his ears with a strange, outlandish accent.

     “You are Nicholas de Brabant, son of Lucius Divius also known as Lucien LaCroix, grandson to Divia and from Qua’ra’s bloodline. You are masquerading under the name of Nicholas Knight in the present time. Is that the truth?”

     “I’m…”

     “Answer only yes or no. Is what was said the truth?”

     “Yes,” he answered before his voice got caught in his throat.

     “You work as a homicide detective for Toronto’s Metro Police at the 96th Precinct, Toronto PD. It that the truth?”

     “Yes.”

     “Is the mortal Donald G. Schanke your partner in this job?”

     Nick took a sharp breath as he finally turned to face the direction of the voice. His own voice slightly trembled and sounded like pleading. “He knows nothing, really. I swear. I can prove that to you if you want.”

     A sharp pain reverberated in his mind, blurring his vision momentarily and his hands abruptly went up to press against his temples. He felt the intense assault on his brain and let out a small cry of agony before he doubled over with his hands still pressed against the sides of his head. The other’s voice reached him through the haze, as if coming from a space beyond this world and emphasizing every word so as to nail them into his head.

     “You were told only to answer the question you are asked. If you violate the condition once again, you will be removed from this questioning and will be delivered to your fate accordingly. Do you understand?”

     “Yes,” he gasped as he squeezed his eyes shut to the unbearable violation of his mind. All of a sudden, it was over, and he found himself straightening unsteadily until he was standing again.

     “The assembly repeats the question. Is Donald G. Schanke your partner on the job, de Brabant?”

     “Yes. Yes, he is,” he answered shakily.

     “Does he have any knowledge of our kind’s existence or about the reality of your true nature?”

     “No, he doesn’t.”

     “How can you be so sure?” It was another voice, sounding from behind him. He turned to the faceless interrogator and tried to answer convincingly.

     “He would have mentioned it to me if he did. There is no evidence of his knowledge of us.”

     “And there hasn’t been, ever?”

     Nick hesitated. If he lied here it would mean certain death. He fidgeted a little before answering.

     “He once saw me fly during a shoot-out. I tried to erase his memory, but he kept inquiring about it. Finally he went to my master, pouring out his heart about his suspicion and the things he had read in some books. LaCroix was able to completely wipe out his knowledge and his memory along with whatever inklings had been set into his brain. Now he knows nothing; I testify that assuredly.”

     He heard another round of whispers before the place fell into silence again. Minutes passed before the same voice that had spoken before echoed in the arena.

      “Was that the only time this mortal saw you use your vampiric abilities? Had there been any other incidences?”

     Nick squared his shoulders. “To the best of my knowledge, no. He might have wondered about some of the strange incidents during our work together, but he never paid attention to those suspicions. Captain Stonetr… our first commanding officer since we started our partnership, told him once that vampires were only myths.”

     “What about others that you work with? Are there any other mortals who might know or have sensed something about you?”

     Nick’s breath caught in his throat before he could answer. He felt his stomach heave at the thought of the one mortal who not only knew about him, but also was participating in his quest to find a cure. He fiercely clamped down the thought, lest it be discovered by the inquisitors, and closed his eyes. What should he do? If he lied, they might find it out instantaneously and destroy him right where he stood. If he told them the truth, both his and Natalie’s lives would be in danger. Finally, he opened his eyes in determination and answered.

     “There are no mortals with any threatening knowledge about my existence.” He raised his chin and looked around the circle at the dark-clad figures of his jury. He was ready for their verdict, whatever that might be.

     The silence stretched for another ten minutes, during which he heard his heart beat five times. He was exhausted from the whole ordeal and couldn’t identify what time of night it was or how much was left till the sun would rise. It felt like he had been here for days, standing in the center of the dreadful circle showered by the assailant projector lights, answering one difficult question after another while his faceless interrogators continued probing his mind for unsaid answers. He was tired and afraid and felt very small, like an insignificant bug caught by a group of foul children who were deciding whether to crush him or have a little more fun with him.

     Finally, a voice he had never heard before rose from one side of the circle in a deep and resonant tone.

     “Nicholas de Brabant. The present assembly has reached its verdict in the case of your alleged infringement. For now you are cleared of the charges against you and are found to be honest and observant to the Code. But we are keeping a close watch over you until this case is fully resolved. You should not, under any circumstances, speak a word to anyone, mortal or vampire, about tonight’s proceedings. Swear this on your own blood.”

     A tidal wave of relief and weariness swept over Nick as he heard the words repeated in his head. He gathered all that was left of his strength together and replied, “I swear on my kin and my blood, I won’t talk about this happening to anyone, mortal or vampire, or I shall die.” His voice was firm and deep despite his tiredness. He was content that he had won.

     Suddenly, all the lights went off, the whole place plunged into darkness as deep and fathomless as the bottom of a well. Nick was disoriented for a while, when all of a sudden he felt the solid specters pull out of his mind in a massive unified heave. He felt lightheaded at the effect, his mind flailing as he heard the several whispers of flight sounding all around him. Suddenly, he was alone; the ground seemed to move toward him fast and he heard a silent thump at the same time as he felt the coolness of the earth on his temple and his right cheek. The world was dark and silent and he was at the very end of it, at the bottom of a dark cold abyss unknown and unseen to any living creature but peaceful nonetheless. He saw the fading stars above his head in the boundless sky paling into a resonant purple that was even more comforting to his eyes than the previous dark blue. He smiled and let his freed mind drift into the realm of peaceful sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charente

1368 AD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

     Finally, the night of the big hunt had arrived. Lord Acheron promised his guests the best sport of their un-life as they all gathered in the castle’s ward near the north gate. The horses were brought out of the stable, but everyone knew it was just for pretense. They were there to divert the mortals’ attention from the real nature of the hunt, since the hunters would fly as soon as they reached the hunting grounds and would chase after their prey using their own animal skills. Acheron had mounted his horse and was giving commands to his servants to take care of his guests appropriately. The young vampires were excited and chuckling, as for most of them it was the first group-hunt they were taking part in and they couldn’t wait for it to start. They were all dressed in stylish hunting clothes of the time, the men wearing thick doublets and knee-high leather boots, the women dark riding dresses with long sleeves and multi-layered skirts. The only addition to the attire was the thick long cloaks they all wore, male and female. It was one garment that no matter what century it was or what corner of the world they resided in, a vampire never went without, as it provided a sense of security should they ever get trapped in the sun. 

     The little group was a delight to the eye, like a portrait of a royal family. LaCroix, the head of the family, was wearing a black wool coat and black breeches with leather bands tying just below the knees, and dark brown leather boots with slightly pointed tips. He almost resembled a Hun leader as he rode his horse in front of the group and surveyed his children.

     Nicholas and Janette were sitting on their horses apart from the rest of the pack. Janette looked extremely excited and was clutching the reins of her horse while occasionally looking up to peek at her brother. Nicholas was on his horse next to her, completely motionless, his remoteness a total contrast to Janette’s happiness. LaCroix admired his son’s gallant form, his rigid back and square shoulders, and for a moment he thought what an apt Enforcer he would make before shaking the idea vigorously out of his head. He looked at his host. Acheron had finished giving the necessary instructions to the servants and was now facing the group in anticipation. As soon as they noticed him, their chatter died down and they waited to hear what the lord had to say.

     “My dear guests. Tonight I’m delighted to present you with one of the most excitable activities offered to the nobles of our kind here in Charente. It’s time to go hunting.” A cheer rose from the crowd as the participants showed their fervor at his words. The horses jerked around and riders had to quiet them before the speaker could continue.

      “I have made arrangements for the hunt in the village and the forest outside. We will ride on horseback until we reach the forest. We will make a stop at the entrance where another group of my servants are awaiting us for further accommodations. I will give you the rest of the instructions when we get there, so please go ahead. Let’s start the hunt now.”

     On his cue, the gate’s heavy doors shuddered and opened with a screech, just as Vincenzo’s horse neighed and took off, stealing its rider with it. Elias followed instantly and then Melissa. Isabelle was having some problems with her mare and was being assisted by a stable lad. As they waited for the younger participants to depart, LaCroix saw Acheron stare at one of the castle’s main tower windows. He followed the gaze and saw Germaine’s slim figure standing at the casement. Strands of gold were evident in the old lord’s eyes and his heart made a beat, causing LaCroix to smile. He enjoyed watching his adversary give in to his affections and knowing that he, too, wasn’t without a weakness.

     The night wind was in their faces as they rode on the path connecting the north gate to the forest. Vincenzo was still in the lead, waving his oversized feathered hat in the air and letting out yelps of exhilaration. His siblings followed him a close distance behind, separated into several uneven groups with different speeds. Nicholas and Janette were last, still very quiet, but their graceful and elegant riding style not lost to their master’s observant eyes. It showed they were both from blue-blooded families and not new to the manners of courtiers. He shook his head in amazement and grinned at his thoughts. Even during a harmless ride to a hunt, he couldn’t stop wondering about and admiring his favorites.

     They reached a clearing just before the road dived into the mass of trees. Acheron ordered them to halt and then turned toward a small cottage at the side of the road just where the trees started. The riders stopped as another group of servants, this time vampires, came out of the hut and stood in front of the group waiting for Acheron’s orders.

     “My gentle guests. This is where we leave our horses and start our hunt in the traditional ways known to our kind for thousands of years. For the past three months, the villagers have stopped lynching their convicts at my order, and have incarcerated them in “foncée pierre” instead, the turret I have built for this very matter. They fed them and treated them well, and tonight these criminals will be allowed to escape their prison and run free in the forest. They are our prey. They are about fifteen men and eight women, most of them young and fiery-spirited. They will be perfect quarries for the hotheaded beasts in us and perfect targets for our game. The partaker who makes the most kills is the winner of the game, and I’ll announce and award her or him after the affair.” The vampires, who were gradually dismounting, cheered with excitement. Acheron raised a hand, asking for silence.

     “However, there are certain rules to this game that must be remembered. Keep in mind that the mortals you will hunt are convicts. They are scared and disoriented, but they are mostly cutthroats and criminals, so they know life on the run and will be more difficult to hunt, which serves to make the game more challenging and enjoyable. But you must also remember that you are only allowed to hunt them and no others. I don’t want any harm to come to my peasants or anyone else who might walk in the forest, even if I have told them to stay in their homes tonight. The hunt is only limited to the forest area and therefore no one should approach the village, or the castle, for that matter. Our prey would most definitely stay away from these places too, because of the fear they have of the sheriff or the guards. They will all run to the forest, which is where we want them to be. They are all wearing iron manacles on their left ankles with a broken chain attached, which serves as a way for us to recognize them. Therefore, make sure your prey has a manacle; otherwise you are chasing the wrong target and let it be said, I don’t take kindly to mistakes that end up in unnecessary deaths of my subjects, so be careful. And enjoy.” This time there were no cheers. Some of the young fledglings squirmed under the warning tone of Acheron’s last comment and decided to be exceptionally cautious. None of them wanted to try the ancient’s rage.

     As soon as the speech was over, LaCroix went to his host to thank him for all the effort he had put in for the occasion. While he was talking to Acheron, he surveyed the crowd from the corner of his eye. He saw Isabelle ride toward Janette and start shaking hands and talking with her. As soon as the vampire servants came close to get the horses, the ladies started their usual struggle with their whopping skirts while trying to dismount. He saw Nicholas as he deftly and immediately jumped from the back of his horse and offered his hand first to Janette and then to Isabelle to help them get down. Always the chevalier, he thought. Janette barely noticed his assistance, as she seemed completely fascinated with whatever Isabelle was describing to her. Nicholas took the horses’ reigns and gave them to the closest servant before he turned to attend to his own horse.

     “I want you, General, to hunt with me tonight.” LaCroix turned and saw Acheron looking at him.

     “What do you intend?”

     Acheron nodded at the group of fledglings. “I want to let them all hunt by themselves with no assistance from either of us. I like to see who brings home the biggest prize. Perhaps, if it is someone other than your favorite golden one, I will re-evaluate my decision.”

     LaCroix smiled intently. “I would be honored to hunt with you, my lord.”

     Nicholas was just returning from handing over his horse when he saw LaCroix approach. The vampire master sent a call to Janette through their link that was immediately picked up by his daughter and took her attention away from her companion. She excused herself as she came to join her master and Nicholas, already standing together. When she finally reached them, LaCroix took a long, serious look at both of them and said, “I have decided to hunt with our host tonight, which means I will not stay with you. I know what a great opportunity this is for you to prove yourselves, but no matter how much of an excellent hunter you are, you should not bring any kills. I don’t want either one of you to win this game, understood?”

     Janette and Nicholas looked at each other wonderingly before they turned and nodded in unison. LaCroix then turned to Janette and spoke firmly. “I want you to remember that Nicholas is _your_ responsibility tonight. I do not want him or you to get into any dangerous or inane situations. I trust his safety to you, as he is still too young and foolish to go on his own. Make sure you don’t misuse my trust.”

     Nicholas turned his head, not daring to show his wounded eyes and the anger they held to his master, but Janette complained, “But LaCroix, I can’t keep an eye on him all the time. You have already ruined half of the fun for me by telling me not to win. I…” LaCroix silenced her by grabbing the satin folds of her dress at the shoulder and glaring into her eyes.

     “I want no arguments, is that clear? Promise me you won’t take your eyes off him.” He shook her.

     Janette fearfully stuttered. “I--I promise.”

     Nicholas then felt LaCroix’s gaze on him, but when he finally turned his head, his father was gone. He cursed under his breath; the patrician didn’t even give him a chance to protest. Why did it always have to be his way? Nicholas hated that as much as he hated to be babysat. He was a grown man and even as a vampire, he was way past the age of needing guardianship. He reluctantly joined Janette as she went back to resume her chat with Isabelle.

     LaCroix went back to Acheron. He mulled over the situation; to hunt with the great ancient would be an exciting experience, but since he had clearly announced it as a competition among the young, he wondered what their parts would be. Privately he was planning a hunt of his own, to watch the ancient carefully and mark any weaknesses, any mistakes that could be to his benefit later on. If there was one chance for him to gain that advantage over the old lord, it would most likely come about tonight.

     The group of vampires gradually separated, some lifting to the air right away, others continuing their way to the forest on foot. Janette took Nicholas’ hand and leaped. Isabelle, who seemed to have found new companions, followed them. They landed in a secluded spot in the forest among a cluster of fig trees. Nicholas seized Janette’s waist with both hands and gently set her on the ground as she landed. They stood for a few minutes, looking into each other’s eyes, Janette lifting a hand and touching her lover’s upper arm, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Her bright blue eyes flooded with sympathy for her brother and the abhorrence she felt toward their master’s treatment of him.

     “Don’t be. It is not your fault,” he said as he turned to kiss the palm of her gloved hand, which now rested against his cheek. Then he looked down. “You brought your riding crop with you. You wouldn’t need it here.”

     Janette looked at her other hand clutched around the grip of the crop. “Oh, I forgot to leave it with the horse. I’ll go back and give it to the servants right away.”

     Nicholas caught her hand and once again looked her in the eyes. “Allow me, my lady. I’ll return it for you; you can stay here and chat with Isabelle until I’m back.” He kissed her hand and took the crop from it.

     Janette smiled. “Thank you, my knight. Make sure you come back soon; there are humans to hunt in the forest.” She turned and walked to where Isabelle stood. Nicholas leaped into the air and flew back to the small cottage.

     The servants were ready to help him right away, but he told them that he would find the horse himself and replace the crop. He entered the dark stable and looked around easily, using his acute night vision. Janette’s steed was standing in the left stall next to the other horses. He put the crop in the side pocket of her saddle that was laid over the railing and headed back for the door when he suddenly saw someone standing before him in the darkness. He was startled at first, but a better look revealed the prowler’s identity to him. It was Arthur, his tyrant brother. The revelation didn’t do much to relax him.

     “What do you want here?” he asked demandingly.

     “Just to talk to you,” Arthur replied.

      “I have nothing to say to you. I told you all I knew the other day. Get out of my way now.”

     Arthur came closer and smiled as he saw Nicholas instinctively back away. He pushed his hands into his pockets and stood tall, looking at the vampire in front of him with confident eyes. “I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you the other day. I had no right to enter your room without permission and hurt you like that. Please forgive me.”

     Nicholas was surprised to hear the older vampire apologize to him though he tried hard not to lose his feigned indifference. He wanted to show Arthur that he no longer cared about him or his personality complex. “All right. I accept. Now step aside and let me pass.”

     The older vampire simply stepped to one side and watched Nicholas hurry to the door, but before he could reach it, he spoke again. “I was thinking about turning this night into some kind of celebration of our truce. Why don’t we hunt together?”

     Nicholas stopped. Arthur’s voice held something different this time. He didn’t turn to face him, however, but merely growled under his breath. “I can’t. I have to escort Janette.”

     Arthur started walking, an air of amusement now apparent in his tone. “Ah, the lovely Janette. Sure, she is a delicate flower and a precious companion to hold. But you’ve been with her all the time these past few weeks. Don’t you think it’s time to give both her and yourself a break? Tonight is a special night; why not change the routine this once? Hunt as men, like we used to do when we were mortals.” He finished his sentence and his walk, standing once again in front of his brother.

     Nicholas looked away. When he spoke, his voice was clipped. “ I am told to stay with her.” He didn’t look back to face Arthur again.

     Arthur stared at his face, pretending to be confused. “By whom?”

     Nicholas closed his eyes. <By *him,* of course. Who else did you think, you fool?> He opened them again. “I can’t accept your offer. I have to go.” He started walking as he said the last words.

     Arthur’s hand closed around his arm when he tried to pass by him, held him in place and spoke kindly in his ear. “You don’t have to fear him anymore, my brother. You are a grown vampire now, over a hundred years old. You have a right to walk on your own, do as you please and even he will be pleased when he sees your independence.”

     Nicholas looked back at him skeptically. Was this a trap? Was Arthur planning to get him into trouble with LaCroix and then stand back and enjoy his chastisement? Or was it all just a way to rectify what he had done?

     “What do you have in mind?”

     Arthur smiled and let go of his arm. “I want to win this game, and we can do that if we work together. I have a plan of how to make the most of our skills.”

     Nicholas was about to tell him how he was ordered by LaCroix not to participate in the game for the win, but held back at the last minute, as he remembered Arthur’s comment about his obedience toward their master. He didn’t want to come across as the fearful child. “Ok, I’m in. Let’s see what this plan of yours looks like.”

     Arthur laughed and gave him a brotherly slap on the shoulder. Together, they exited the shack and took to the air, taking the opposite direction from the rest of the pack. Nicholas peeked over his shoulder at the cottage and the section of the forest that grew smaller below him and sighed. “Janette! I’m very sorry.” He followed Arthur, who seemed to head for the castle silently.

 

     LaCroix followed Acheron to where he landed outside the village. There were the usual measly peasant homes in a farther distance and then a group of houses that looked a little more decent on a hillside right across from them. LaCroix looked at the Enforcer lord and was about to speak when all of a sudden, a group of Guetennes appeared from one side as if waiting for their arrival. LaCroix’s eyebrows rose in surprise, so there was, after all, more to this hunt than met the eye. He turned to Acheron, who looked amused at his surprise.

     “As it appears, my lord, you and I are going to hunt a dragon, judging by the backup you have called in,” LaCroix put in as he surveyed the group of dark-armored vampires approaching on their steaming stallions.

     Acheron threw his head back and let out a roaring laugh. “Oh, my dear friend Lucius. You are in fact a delightful companion to be with. No, we are not going for a hunt; let the young ones take their pleasure in that. I’m here to show you a real Enforcer’s work.” He raised a thickly gloved finger toward the houses on the hillside. “Those are the homes of the merchants. One of the more affluent hordes among my mortal subordinates, they have the privilege to live in better homes and eat better food and make better love. That’s where we are headed now.”

     LaCroix shrugged his shoulders as he pointed to the rest of their companions. “Why the horses?”

     “To keep the image, of course. We don’t want them to think they are being passed judgment upon by a gang of flying monsters, now do we?”

     He hopped on the horse offered to him by one of the riders and directed his guest to take the other one. They rode a short distance until they reached the cluster of houses leaning cozily on the hill. Riding through the nightly emptiness of the narrow alleys as the hooves of their rides echoed through the silence, they reached a stone house with shuttered windows and a cart in the front. Acheron raised his hand, motioning for his warriors to halt. Immediate silence fell all around them. The old lord motioned to one of the riders to come close and whispered something in his ear. LaCroix couldn’t see the warrior’s face hidden in the shadow of his ominous-looking helmet, but he could see him nodding his head as he received his superior’s orders. He then rode his horse to the back of the house, followed by a few other soldiers. Acheron, having been satisfied with the way his orders were carried out, grabbed LaCroix’s arm and rode toward a shadowy corner on the other side of the alley where they could hide and watch the action around the house from a distance.

     “This is the home of one of the more successful and wealthy merchants of Charente. He was invited to my castle a couple of times and has even visited the Prince of the region. Tonight he will visit the Prince of the underworld.” He smiled at LaCroix’s confused expression.

     “He has taken a lover. A vampire whom he visits every once in a while but is not bound to. His life is our forfeit now, as are the lives of his family and the perfidious vampire.” He pointed at the group of soldiers that were slowly tightening their siege around the house.

     “Why the excess precautions? Isn’t it but one wretched mortal, after all?” LaCroix whispered as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

     “That is true, of course. However, this is a mortal who knows about our secret and might have been warned by his lover about the consequences of violating the Code. He might be entrenched in there, armed with a stake, waiting for us to make a move. It’s never a mistake to take extra precaution since I put a high value on the lives of my troops and a good Enforcer takes a long time to train.”

     They suddenly became alert at the sight of movement at one of the windows. The light went on in one of the rooms and they heard a child’s whine. The group of vampires watching the front of the house dismounted from their horses and approached the entrance. The ancients watched as the leader walked to the front door and at once, kicked it open with his boot before stepping in. The rest of the group rushed in after him and within a few seconds, the deserted street was filled with screams and cries coming from inside the house. A window broke on the second floor and they saw a woman trying to escape through it, only to be pulled back by an invisible hand. Even with the darkness, they could see with their vampire eyes as the broken glass was splattered with red stains. Soon the air was filled with the all-too-familiar scent of fresh blood coming from the house and LaCroix felt his fangs itch. Gradually, the noises died and they saw the Enforcers emerge from the building, their hands and mouths stained with the evidence of their carnage. Acheron nodded his head in endorsement and leaned back against the house behind them as he folded his arms in front of his chest. “That went well, it seems. I’ll check with the bunch that was sent to take care of the vampire, I’m pretty sure they’re done with their job as well.” He looked at LaCroix, grinning. “My friend. Do you want to take a look at the result?”

     “No, thank you.” As much as LaCroix considered himself the ultimate predator, he couldn’t help but feel a slight repulsion at what he had just witnessed. If this was to be the future occupation of his beloved child, then he was sure to prevent it from happening at any cost. Nicholas was too precious, too delicate to be reduced into being one of these brutish, soulless monsters.

     They stayed a while longer until Acheron had made sure that all the mortals were dead and his troops had thoroughly searched the area for any possible onlookers. They then mounted their horses again and rode back down the hill. LaCroix was utterly quiet as they rode, a gesture that wasn’t completely lost to his host. With a tug to the reins, Acheron brought his horse close to LaCroix’s. He started speaking, still looking straight ahead as he rode. “So, General. What is on your mind? Are you going to be our audience in yet another act of Enforcement tonight?”

     LaCroix was about to answer when a movement in the group caught his attention. He kept his eyes to the fore but could feel with his senses as a part of the group dislodged and rode in another direction. He didn’t give any outward sign of his suspicion to his host, but only slightly turned his head toward the other as he replied. “I think I’m going to pass, my lord. After witnessing all that blood, I feel the urge to hunt in me strong. If you won’t mind, I’d like to join my children in the hunt and meet you at the castle afterwards.”

     Acheron nodded. “All right, my friend. I would no longer deny you the joys of chasing and killing prey. But you had better hurry before your fervent offspring devour the whole pack. I’ll see you later at the fort.”

     LaCroix slowed his horse and watched the old lord gallop away. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned the steed and headed in the direction of the squad that had left earlier.

     

     Janette was restless as she flew another round around the area. “But he said he was going to come back,” she exclaimed in a somewhat concerned voice.

     Isabelle looked at her from the ground, stepping from one foot to the other. “Dear, you must know men better than that. No matter how old, they’ll always be like little boys, running off whenever they feel fit. Don’t sweat over it and come down. We have a group of mortals to hunt and we’ve already wasted enough time.”

     Janette let out a sigh of defeat as she finally descended and went to where Isabelle was standing. “But you see, I don’t understand. Nicola has always been true to his word. In all these years he has never even once left me standing. I’m sure something has happened to him. I have to tell LaCroix.”

     Isabelle put an arm over her shoulder as she walked her away. “Think, ma cherie. If Nicholas were in trouble, wouldn’t you have sensed it already? You do have a link with him, don’t you? Search it, and you’ll see that he’s probably standing somewhere over there in the shadows laughing at your distress. There is no sense making a big deal about it, he is a grown vampire and can take care of himself, I’m sure. What is the use of calling our master now and bringing his anger down on us when by the end of tonight your brother will turn up by himself anyway? Better to leave him alone and have some fun of our own before you die of too much stress.”

     Janette slightly nodded her head as she listened to her sister. Although all of her senses were screaming at her to go and tell LaCroix, she could see the reason in Isabelle’s words. If this was just a joke on her played by Nicholas, or if the boy was simply unhappy about her babysitting him, then running off to LaCroix and bringing him into it would only complicate the matter more. Not to mention the punishment that most probably would await both of them once the matter was over. And as much as she hated Nicholas’ manners right now for letting her stand like that, she never had had the heart to watch him be punished. Letting out another sigh, she finally accepted and followed an impatient Isabelle to the forest all the while hoping that Nicholas would turn up soon, before LaCroix found out about his absence.

    

     Arthur landed on the flat rooftop of one of the East Side apartments of the castle. Nicholas did the same, following him just a hair behind. He didn’t look too happy and now that they had flown so far from the hunting grounds and their master, he was a little worried, too. He watched as Arthur walked to look beyond the vault that was obscuring their view to the right. He approached him and came face to face with him as he turned.

     “I don’t like what you are doing, Arthur.” Nicholas said tensely. “The old lord said we should not hunt beyond the forest and the hillsides. What are you planning to do here? And why did you bring me with you? I mean, I accepted your apology but I’m still not sure I can trust you.”

     Arthur gave a smirk as he put an affectionate hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “My brother Nicholas. I see it is true after all. You are in fact a tad too young to understand life as it is.” He smiled again as Nicholas responded with a confused look on his face. He removed his hand from his shoulder and grabbed his upper arms with both of his hands, looking him straight in the eyes. “The reason we are here is not to hunt. If I wanted to take part in the old lord’s childish game, I would have stayed with the rest of our brothers and sisters. But I know there is more to this night than simple entertainment. I sense the ancient is up to something, and wanted us out of his castle for that matter. If we can find out what his secret is, maybe we can use it against him to get out of his forced bargain.”

     Nicholas shrugged himself free from his brother’s grip. He still didn’t feel comfortable about the whole thing. “Tell me why you brought me with you.”

     Arthur nudged his shoulders in nonchalance, keeping his hands in his pockets. “I thought you might be interested. After all, it’s you who is his first and foremost target, isn’t it? Plus, if I want to prove something later on, I’d rather have a witness to testify for me. It’s all just common sense.”

     Nicholas sank his head. It did make sense. And no matter how much he disliked and distrusted Arthur, he couldn’t help but to agree with his plan. It might be their only way out of the lord’s dreadful request. With some hesitation, he nodded his approval before raising his head again and watching Arthur look over the edge of the roof one more time. Before he knew it, the elder vampire had swooped down the wall in one whoosh of air, so fast he had to use his vampiric speed to be able to follow. They landed on another rooftop just a hundred feet away from the main tower. Nicholas saw Arthur’s eyes flash amber for a split second before he slipped back into his prying mode and all of a sudden ducked behind the short wall surrounding the rooftop, pulling Nicholas with him. At Nicholas’ surprised look, he just put his index finger on his lips, motioning to a few guards that were just passing that part of the castle’s curtain a short distance away. Nicholas held his breath and waited for Arthur to tell him what to do next. “Wait for me here.” He heard the whispered words before the hush of displaced air indicated his companion’s departure. A second later, Arthur was gone without him even seeing where he had flown from above the edge of the wall. So he stayed where he was, hunched out of sight, and waited.

    

     It wasn’t hard for LaCroix to catch up with the departing group of warriors without them noticing him, as they were still riding on horses while he had left his in a field as soon as he had spotted them. He flew the rest of the way, the shadows of the trees and stones shielding his presence completely, keeping them from sensing him. He could feel something strange about the way the group behaved along the way, as they seemed to follow a scheduled routine as they rode on. They had lookouts at intersections awaiting them and messengers that bolted away as soon as the squad leader handed them mysterious parchments. It all seemed like a strategic maneuver, although the relaxed bearings of the participants suggested it to be more of a once-in-a-while practice. As the secret proceeding went on, LaCroix felt himself growing more and more interested. This certainly _was_ something out of the ordinary, and if he paid absolute attention, he might discover something to his advantage after all. He continued his silent pursuit as the group rode farther and farther from the village and into the surrounding hillsides.

     Soon they entered a narrow valley encasing a small stream; the water glittered and sparked in the moonlight. They made a turn around a bush-covered cliff and stopped in front of a dark structure. LaCroix peeked from his hiding place above the cliff and saw another group of soldiers as they joined the first squad in front of something that looked like the entrance to a cave. The leaders of the two groups conversed for a few seconds before they turned toward the doorway and entered the cave. As soon as the last soldier disappeared behind the door, LaCroix slid down the cliff and walked toward the structure. He knew he was playing a dangerous game; if these were true Enforcers and this was their hideout, following them here and spying on their activities would be considered a violation of the Code and most likely punishable by death. The master vampire smiled as he pushed the entry door just a slit open and stepped inside the dark den. It was hardly the first time he had played with his life in order to overpower an adversary.

     The hall beyond the entrance was dark, but that wasn’t a problem for his extraordinary sense of sight. He scanned it in one glance and saw it was empty. However, there was a small gap in front of him opening to a low ceiling corridor, where he supposed the other vampires had disappeared. Reaching out with his senses, he figured more vampires present in the confined place than he had witnessed entering it. So, he thought, he had stepped into a major gathering. Although his entire intellect advised him to turn and leave the clandestine cavern immediately, he shoved it away easily with his immense sense of curiosity and rushed toward the dark hole-like corridor that looked as if ready to swallow anyone daring enough to enter it. ‘As if Lucius Divius wasn’t the daring type,’ he thought with a smirk and was inside the passageway in the blink of an eye.

     The passage continued for a few yards before it opened to a completely secluded but enormous chamber. LaCroix stayed hidden in the darkness of the passageway as he looked carefully around the place. A few hundred candlesticks garnished the walls, giving light and needless warmth to the room. The furniture could be considered antique, mostly from the first and the second centuries and made of a rare dark-reddish wood. A tribune of some sort stood at the other side of the chamber, facing LaCroix’s hiding place in the narrow hallway directly. He watched as the squadron members he had been following so far made themselves comfortable on the many benches and futons available in the room, and started talking to the other warriors that appeared to have been there before they had arrived. He did another survey of the room; about a hundred vampires must have been gathered in the place. Even though he continued keeping his shield up, he didn’t worry too much about being discovered, since he knew they couldn’t sense him with that many auras present. As the room fell into silence at the glimpse of someone approaching the tribune, LaCroix sharpened his senses as well to make sure he wouldn’t miss any word of this overly remarkable meeting.  

    

     Nicholas was still crouched behind the short wall when a strident, high-pitched cry sliced the silence of the night and reverberated through the rooftops and the courtyard underneath, making him jerk upright. His heart jumped a beat as a second cry ensued, but was immediately silenced by some unknown effect. Slowly, he rose to his feet and peeked over the battlements down to where the sound had came from. The enormous bulk of the main tower was obscuring most of the yard’s interior from his view and he couldn’t see what was going on beyond it. He was torn between flying in the direction of the cries and keeping his promise to Arthur to wait for him, when another shout tore the air, this one more masculine, and calling his name. “Nicholas, help me… Please!” It was Arthur’s voice coming from some place beyond the massive structure. Without thinking for another second, Nicholas flew toward the tower, expertly maneuvering around it and finally taking a better look at the courtyard. Bizarre images of what might be there raced through his mind, but the sight that greeted him was unlike anything he had expected.

     The courtyard was empty and bright, bathing in the pouring light of the full moon. Short trees and trimmed rose bushes decorated the gardens all around, while a small fountain standing in the center of the yard spurted sparkling water in the air. Close to the fountain, to one side, lay the slender body of a beautiful blonde girl dressed in a fine white chemise. Her slick hair fanned out on the ground like the golden rays of the sun, and she had a branch of morning glories in her hand, her arms crossed in front of her breast as if in prayer. Her face was completely pale and drawn, and the way her body lay motionless, almost saint-like on the ground, made her look like an illusion from above.

     Nicholas swooped down and landed close to where she lay. The fountain’s steady splatter created a strange contrast to the otherwise silent castle grounds. He crouched beside the body of the girl, looking in awe at the parted lips and the pale face. Two tiny trails of fresh blood ran down the side of her neck from a pair of puncture wounds visible under her jaw, the fierce crimson streaks on the snowy white flesh screamed contrast. For some reason, it seemed to Nicholas as if he was looking at a scene out of a dream, his brain refusing to accept what his eyes perceived. Hesitantly, he extended a hand to touch the cold skin of the face and the pallid lips. His hand slowly trailed down to her chin, her jaw, her neck, down to where the two minuscule rivulets of blood found their way to the cascade of smooth golden hair. Instinctively, his hand rose to his lips, tasting the flavor of the angel-like creature’s blood on his fingers, conveying the veracity that this wasn’t a dream, but in fact happening in the real world. Nicholas closed his eyes and savored the taste of the blood while trying to read the images that usually projected with the first taste of it.

     His senses barely registered a faint vibration when he was suddenly yanked to his feet by two pairs of strong, claw-like hands grasping him by his upper arms. His head jerked back by the severity of the motion, and his eyes flew open upon the deadly irises of the two guards holding him. What he saw were two sturdy vampires fully dressed in the traditional body armor of the Guetennes, with such elongated fangs their lips could barely conceal them. The frightening faces were stoic, staring in utter callousness as they held him in their steel grips that tightened around his arms and bruised the tender flesh. Nicholas struggled to break free, his fear arching through the link, but his hundred-something years of vampire strength was no match for the solid hold of the two monstrous creatures. He cried out for help, searching for his older brother, who was all of a sudden nowhere in sight. When there came no answer from the outside world, he turned inward, screaming a plea to his master through their link, begging him to come and save him from this nightmare.

 

     LaCroix was centered on the unbelievable event being played in front of him when he felt Nicholas’ terror vibrate through their link and crash into his mind vehemently. He stammered at the force of the emotional impact before he could find his balance again and turn back toward the scene he was observing. He wondered what he should do next. The enormity of Nicholas’ fear struck a concerned note in his core, yet he was so lured by the importance of what he was witnessing that it was hard for him to leave it to attend to a simple fluctuation in the psyche of his highly temperamental child. Perhaps Nicholas should learn to stop transferring his every mood-change to his sire in order to get immediate attention. Acheron might have had a point when he said that he was raising the boy into a spoiled brat who couldn’t take care of himself without his master being always one step behind. LaCroix was about to turn his attention back to the room when he felt another tremor in the link, this time entirely clear in nuance and implication. It was a plea for help and LaCroix had to close his eyes and force his control lest he make a sound and reveal his presence. His anger fumed at his child’s insistence of using the link, and the distraction it was causing him. Nicholas was such a demanding fledgling sometimes and LaCroix partially blamed himself for that. A thoroughgoing talk was in order after tonight, but for now he needed all his focus present in order to record every single word, every slight gesture that went on in the opposite room. He wanted to miss nothing to make sure he could replay them exactly afterwards when the appropriate time came. With fierce determination, he closed down the connection he shared with his offspring and focused on the task ahead as another speaker from the crowd stepped onto the tribune and delivered yet another interesting speech for the closely attuned audience and their hidden uninvited guest. 

    

     Nicholas panted helplessly as he sent plea after plea in the direction of his sire and received nothing in reply. It was as if the link had gone dead after his first cry of help. Fear gripped at his heart and his knees gave in, but he was held fast by the strong hands of his two restrainers. As his panic rose to palpable levels his mind reeled back instinctively to a habit he had acquired in his childhood and had used incessantly as a soldier in the holy war. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Blessed Virgin for aid. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a white-hot agony spread through his entire being and seared him as if he’d been touched by the sun. He let out a cry and opened his eyes when he felt another presence join the scene. He looked up glaringly, and saw the imposing form of the castle’s lord slowly descend from the sky.

     Acheron softly landed on the ground next to the prone body of the dead mortal and looked down at the unmoving corpse. His face was a solid mask of ice; barren from any kind of emotions he might comprise underneath. He slowly knelt down and put the tip of his fingers on her now-ashen mouth. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he kissed them in the gesture of a parting kiss, closing his eyes as the scent of her touched him. Then, nearly instantly, the eyes shot open and Nicholas saw the flaming red irises as they slowly moved up to glare at him in ire. Still struggling against his captors, his breath was caught in his throat from fear when he saw the ancient rise, his movements still awfully graceful and slow, and step forward to tower over him. A low growl escaped from Acheron’s mouth through the fully extended canines. “WHY?”

     Nicholas swallowed hard, images from the past invading his consciousness. A body lying in his arms on the shore of a lake. A cold wind blowing from over the water, bringing the faint smell of algae and mold, and death. A harp floated on the surface, silent, still. He was crying, at least in his heart, pressing the dead body of his lover close to his breast, his mind whirling in a thousand different directions, asking, pleading, with his god. Why?

     “Wasn’t it comprehensible enough when I ordered you not to hunt outside the designated grounds? Did I have to beat it into you, you ignorant whelp?” A hand reached out to wipe the remains of the girl’s blood from his still-stained lips. He winced at the touch, recoiling from the power and wrath he was feeling from this very intimidating vampire, but it only caused the guards to tighten their hold. Acheron licked the blood and closed his eyes at the taste, turning into a frozen statue for several moments before suddenly pouncing and grabbing his prisoner by the front of his shirt, his eyes yet again a pair of crimson orbs. He hissed, “Why, you bastard? Why her?”

     Nicholas felt like he was going into shock. His brain seemingly not wanting to function and his body trembling uncontrollably, he turned his head to one side away from the ancient’s bared fangs and stared into space.

     //There came a mob. Villagers from the land of Pagan holding their pitchforks and sharp sticks in his direction, they threatened and swore at him in a language he didn’t know but with no logical reason was able to understand. “Bastard! Murderer!”

     He looked at them; pain-filled sapphire eyes flooding with unshed tears. She was dead. Gwyneth, his Gwyneth. Killed by an unknown evil that he hadn’t been there to defeat. He had failed her, left her to be taken away by the demon when she had so many songs yet to sing, so many tunes to play on the harp. The harp! Where was the harp? What did these people want? What were they saying? Murderer? He? But it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever kill his love, such a sweet innocent creature as she. No, this was a nightmare. He had to get out of it, escape somehow. Where was LaCroix? //

     Strong hands shook him viciously over and over as the owner shouted at him. “ANSWER ME, MARMOT! WHY HER? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MURDER MY LITTLE GERMAINE?”

     Nicholas’ head jerked back toward the angry monster holding him, his eyes half-closed and clouded with delusions. Germaine? Who was Germaine? He hadn’t killed anyone by that name, hadn’t even known her, not even in his early ravaging tumults of a fledgling’s hunger. He was innocent. He wouldn’t be condemned to the crusades again, not for a crime he had not committed, not again. He breathed heavily as he looked the ancient in the eyes and pleaded. “I didn’t…”

     Acheron shook him harder, as if deaf to his claim, then stopped all of a sudden, his stare boring into Nicholas’ eyes, and inquired in a dreadful calmness that was even more terrifying than his shouts, “Tell me, cub, what were you imagining? Didn’t you sense me in her when you bit her? Wasn’t my aura strong enough to tell you to back off? Tell me before I twist your head off.”

     Nicholas continued quaking in his grasp. His voice came in short gasps as he struggled to form a sentence. “I…swear…I did…n’t…do…it.”

     Acheron let go of his shirt with a shove, letting him stumble backwards while still in the grasp of the guards. Nicholas lost his balance and yelped in shock as he was caught and held upright yet again. Acheron glared at him distastefully. Then his features turned to stone again, more menacing than an avenging angel sent to deliver God’s justice upon the earth. He continued to look at the distraught youngster and then very deliberately pulled his broad sword out of its scabbard. The blade shimmered in the bright light of the silvery moon before he pulled in completely out of its shield and rested the tip on the ground. There was a space of immeasurable silence before he uttered the curt command to his mute warriors. “Lay him.”

     In the space of a mortal heartbeat the two soldiers flung Nicholas to his knees and held on to his outstretched arms like a broken puppet on a stage. They shoved him forward making his head tilt down and baring the back of his neck. A cold dread ran down his spine when his vision was limited to the ancient’s brownish leather boots and the tip of the heavy sword still resting on the cobbled ground. Then the tip rose and he felt the coldness of the steel touch the back of his neck and the weight of the sword as the cutting edge of the blade was laid on his skin. Panic took over as he realized what the old lord was intending to do, and he struggled desperately, trying to break free from their hold. A steel toe boot connected with his ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him gasp from pain. His struggle ceased and he fell forward, this time dreadfully still as the edge of the sword returned to the bareness of his neck.

     Acheron looked down at his captive, anger and revulsion surging in waves through his veins. He would show no mercy, not with this one, not with his sweet Germaine lying dead on cold stones. The young vampire struggled and was mercilessly kicked in the chest by one of the Guetennes. He became silent after that; the only sign of his panic his redundant sharp breaths that made his chest heave while his arms were held. He placed the blade of his sword once again on the exquisitely white neck bared to him, and prepared for the strike. He could see his prisoner trembling in apprehension as cold blood sweat ran from his skin. His perfect nose got a whiff of the smell and immediately his eyes changed in pleasant reaction. He hesitated, sliding the blade diagonally along the skin and drawing blood. As the skin broke and the first droplets of blood appeared, he reached down and gathered some of it with the tip of his finger. The smell was intoxicating. Could the rumors be true after all? Could this be another thing special about this Nicholas? He put the finger in his mouth and tasted the blood, and his fangs instantly fell in place.

     The small taste of Nicholas’ blood was invigorating. There was so much there to taste he couldn’t even fathom. Passion so intense it threatened to suffocate the bearer. Undivided love, not just for his family, or even the rest of his kind, but such undemanding affection that went above and beyond all the creatures of this world. And that was only a part of it. Nicholas was such a compilation of every diverse emotion that one taste of his blood only felt like a peek through the door of the Garden of Eden, or the gates of hell. One could not discern which one he was entrusting, sin or salvation.

     And then, there was the light. The one thing that stood out from all the flavors, all the images the blood projected. A bright, beautiful light shining from the depth of the crusader’s heart like the blazing rays of sun under which he once had battled. Acheron took a deep breath, reveling in the splendor he was experiencing until the feelings were gone, slowly fading as the last of the blood disappeared on his tongue and left him wanting more.

     The old vampire reflected as he looked down at the prone body still presented to him. Slowly, he removed his sword from the back of the ivory neck remembering the pleasure he had just received. Nicholas was in fact a jewel, a child so precious no wonder his master was reluctant to give him up. It would be a shame to kill him if only a small taste of his blood could evoke so many sensations in one being. Suddenly, he envied LaCroix, envied the century-and-a-half he had spent with this one, giving and receiving blood in the throes of passion, especially when he was still an infant, needing to feed and to share blood with his protective master. He lingered for another moment, contemplating his options as his faithful warriors continued their hold on the now-exhausted captive. Finally, he shielded his sword slowly and ordered them to hoist him up. Nicholas could barely stand and had to be pulled up by his arms. His face was covered with a faint sheen of blood sweat, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open, all pleas disappeared from their ocean blue depths and replaced by a quiet surrender. The old lord’s face took on a hard expression as he reached out with his left hand to touch the side of his captive’s face.

     “I will avenge the death of my Germaine, of that you can be sure. But I won’t kill you just yet. Your fate will be decided later, and you will bow to it no matter how harsh it may be.”

     Without taking his eyes off the young vampire’s face, he commanded his guards in the same chilling voice he had spoken in before. “Take him to the lowest level of the east dungeon. Make sure he’s sealed.”

     The two leviathan vampires started dragging a barely conscious Nicholas toward the fort’s open door. As they were leaving the courtyard, the hopeless fledgling took one more glance around, hoping to see his father or his older brother. When his eyes only registered stars and fireflies in the vast expanse of the sky, he turned inward again, trying to reach the place he always felt occupied by his father’s presence, his one refuge in the violent vampire world since the night he was drawn to it by LaCroix. Once more, he found nothing; the link was completely silent. Slumping into defeat and the creeping belief that all who had once cared for him had abandoned him to his cruel fate, he finally gave in and let the hurtful hands carry him through the torch-lit stairwells and narrow halls toward the moldy dampness of the castle’s dungeon.

 

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