Chapter Forty-Five

 

JAMES

 

I don’t know what stroke of luck brought Eleira to me. But when the gods grant a boon, you do not snuff your nose at it.

I snort a laugh. Gods. There are no gods, only children of the night, only creatures of pure blackness, only…

Us.

I walk into the cockpit and take control of the plane. There’s a special UV filter on the glass that protects me from the worst of the sun. It’s nowhere near one-hundred percent — nothing can fully protect us from those painful rays except a complete barrier — but it’s the only thing that makes flying like this bearable.

Of course, I could simply hire a pilot, but I always like doing things myself.

When Mother sent me away to negotiate with Father’s coven — and to kill him — I thought her insane.

But I also saw it as an opportunity for me. Peace between the covens might be impossible — but peace was never what I had in mind.

Power was.

 

I walk for miles past the outskirts of the abandoned city, not once daring to use my speed.

I know I’m being watched. I feel it in my bones. My father’s coven is ruled strictly and governed with military zest. Precision and security is of the utmost importance to him. Nothing happens within a hundred leagues of his home without his knowing.

I force my gait to be casual. I want to appear at ease.

Even if I’m going into the one place in the world no vampire has ever emerged from after entering.

In the distance, across the sands, I spot two lone figures. They stand and watch me.

Sentries. Sent out as my welcome.

One is a vampire almost as old as I am. The other…

A wave of shock washes through me when I feel the other’s power. He’s more than just old. He is ancient. Older than any vampire I have ever come across, or known could exist. Even from this far I can feel his strength, radiating out toward me like a warning beacon, telling me not to approach.

I force a crooked smile and pick my pace up just a little. One vampire who is my match, another who is many times stronger. Back in The Haven, all others of our coven would tremble in fear before such a foe.

And these are just the two spared to greet me.

I keep walking until I’m within arm’s reach of them. The ancient one nods. I grin at him.

Suddenly, an invisible force strikes me in the chest. I’m sent sprawling. I come to a stop in the sand and look up.

The ancient one mimics my grin.

He used the Mind Gift against me! I marvel. It’s a telekinetic force that only develops in the strongest of our kind. All I can do with it is roll a marble around on a table, or flip the page of a book, or maybe make a paperclip levitate for the briefest moment.

And he used it to knock me down.

I’ve never been one to bend the knee. But for this vampire, I have no choice. I bow my head in the ageless symbol of respect.

Before I know what’s happening, the two vampires grab my arms and cuff me. I don’t fight. For one, because I wouldn’t stand a chance. Two, because I’m not here as a threat.

The silver bracelets burn into my wrists. I grit my teeth and ignore the sensation. It’s ridiculous how something so brittle can restrain creatures as powerful as we are.

I’m pulled to my feet roughly. I have half a mind to tell them who I am, but I’m sure they already know. Announcing my lineage will only make me seem weak.

“This way,” the younger of the two says. “Your father is waiting.”

Just as I thought.

We walk a distance into seemingly vacant sands. But at a certain point, we cross a threshold. The air shimmers, and the ancient ruins of a forgotten city are revealed.

The architecture is a strange mix of Roman and Arabic styles. There are half-collapsed columns next to beautiful monasteries and temples. Everything is made of a material the color of sand—I don’t know what it’s called, I’ve never been one to study such things.

I’m led down a twisting path through the city. There’s not a single soul around us. Some of the structures have been completely restored, while others lie in crumbled ruins. There’s no sense of guidance to it that I can decipher.

We reach a temple entrance. Wide stairs lead into the earth. I take one look up at the night sky and mutter a prayer hoping I’ll see it again.

“Here.” The younger vampire shoves something at me. I look.

It’s a sack. The outside is inlaid with fine threads of silver, while the inside is covered in soft velvet.

The elder takes it by the silver side. It doesn’t appear to inflict him any pain. “For your eyes and ears,” he says, and slips it over my head.

Immediately, I’m cut off from all perception. The silver blocks my hearing, my vision, even my sense of direction. Strong arms take me from behind and guide me down the steps.

I cannot tell how long we journey for. The velvet layer on the inside saves me from the pain, but the silver on the outside inflicts a sensation like the most terrible headache. My thoughts become slow and sluggish. I can hardly distinguish who I am.

An indeterminable amount of time later, my blindfold is cast off.

I gape. I’m in the middle of an enormous circle of snarling, hissing, malevolent vampires.

My mind grapples with how many there are. Thousands. Two thousand, three thousand — maybe more.

And their strength. It’s astounding! It pulses into me from all sides like with the irrepressible force of an ocean tide. I don’t sense a single vampire in their midst weaker than I am.

For the first time in centuries, I feel a very real frisson of fear.

A door opens and slams shut. At the sound, all the vampires fall silent.

Heavy, plodding footsteps come from the distance. The King approaches.

Moments later, a passage opens in the bodies. Through the gap I see my father.

Instantly, I drop to both knees and kiss the ground.

It’s a supplicating gesture, but I have no choice. My father’s strength is two times that of the ancient one I’d met outside.

How? I wonder. My mind works furiously to come up with an answer. How could they all be so strong?

I wait there, trembling, for him to come. I hold literally no power here. I have absolutely no sway. Blood ties will only bring me so far, as they fade to insignificance in the face of raw strength.

I feel two heavy hands grasp me by the shoulder. “Rise, son,” my father says. “Rise, and witness the beauty of my rule!”

I look up and catch his eyes. Then I gasp and avert my gaze. He has more than the telltale vampire ring of black around his irises. He has these black, floating specks that swim across the whites of his eyes. They look like signs of corruption—of him giving completely into the darkness.

But I don’t know. I don’t know, and it throws me off and ruins my confidence. I thrive on power, on the knowledge that I am the best. Here, I am nothing.

I have not felt like nothing since before my transformation began.

He pulls me to him and embraces me. A low, monosyllabic chanting starts around us.

Father lets me go. “It is good to see you after all these years.”

“Likewise, Father.” I muster. The chanting grows louder. It unnerves me.

“Are you impressed?” he asks. He gestures around him. The old chains and rings and bracelets that cover his hands and forearms and wrists clink together as he does. “These vampires are all loyal to me. All but one is younger than you.”

I only just manage to stop my jaw from dropping.

“You have met that one already,” Logan says. “It is his knowledge, coupled with my strength, that gives The Crypts its power.”

“It is… wondrous,” I say.

My father stands a fraction of an inch taller. He’s just as vain as I am. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is.”

He cuts a hand sharply through the air. The chanting stops. Silence fills the room, but it’s not a silence of the regular sort. Past it, in the background, is a reverberating hum that seems to come from the walls themselves.

“Witness my son’s entry into The Crypts!” my father exclaims. “Am I not merciful to grant him passage? Am I not just to give him the fairness of a trial?”

A cheer erupts from the vampires surrounding us.

My father holds his arms up and does a slow turn to take the applause in. Then he sweeps them down, and another hush falls.

“I have made my decision,” he says. He takes me by the shoulder. His grip holds me firmly in place. Even if I wanted to, I could never escape. “It is by your leave that I have made it. James will live. No vampire blood shall be spilled today. I offer him full guest rights in our home.”

Another cheer erupts. Gooseflesh prickles my skin.

“He will be treated with all the courtesy extended to any of you. What’s more —what’s more! I hereby grant him leave to freely enter and exit The Crypts. No vampire has been given that in two hundred years! It is a gift worth the entire world!”

One more raucous cheer swells up. It’s all I can do to take it in.

“Yes, yes,” my father says, satiating in the adoration. “You are all my children, but he is my son!” He grasps my hand and thrusts it up. “He could be your Prince, if only…” my father’s grip tightens on my palm. I suck in a pained breath. Any more pressure and he’d break all the small bones of my hand.

“…If only he did not come here to kill me!”

With a snarl he throws me to the ground. I land hard. The crowd hisses angrily. Before I can react, my father is on me, pinning me to the stone floor like a bug.

“What say you?” he demands of his subjects. He takes out a long, studded dagger and aims it at my heart. “After I have shown him such mercy, after I have been so valiant and fair… he betrays me so!”

The dagger flashes downward. My hands catch his wrist but I’m weak as a toddler against his unbound strength. I can do nothing to protect myself.

The tip stops against my shirt. My father applies the faintest bit of pressure. It spears through my jacket and presses into my skin.

“Do I do it?” His head swings wildly around him, the black flecks littering his eyes. “Do I kill my own son, because of what we know? Because of what he came here to do?”

“Father, no,” I say. “I was sent, yes, but —”

He backhands me. He does it with the most casual of gestures, but it makes my neck snap violently to the side.

“I did not ask you,” he growls.

I bite down an angry retort and meet his murderous glare. “Do it, then,” I hiss.

“Mercy!” somebody cries out.

My father jerks his attention toward the voice. “A call for mercy?” he asks. “Who gives it? Step forth!”

Out from the milling bodies steps a beautiful blonde woman. Her skin is tanned. Tanned skin. On a vampire!

I’ve never seen the like.

That’s not all. Her eyes are green and soft. Yet there’s an edge to them that I’m immediately drawn to, a challenge that says she’s not one to back down.

“State your case,” my Father says.

“Show him mercy, my King.” She goes to one knee and plants a fist in the ground. “If you spare him, I will bear responsibility for his actions.”

A dozen malicious sneers come from the vampires closest to her. She ignores them all.

“You would risk your own position in our sanctuary for a vampire you do not know?”

“I know he is your son,” she says. “And I know how great a leader you have been to us.”

My father’s dagger eases off. A tad. “Go on.”

“It would be a waste to kill him, my King. Lend him to me. I will take him under my protection. He has,” she licks her lips, “potential.”

“Hmm.” My father looks around. “Do any others feel the same way? Does anyone else stand for my son?”

The silence that comes is deafening.

Logan looks to me — and leaps off. He offers me his hand. I grudgingly accept. He pulls me to my feet.

“Very well,” he says. “All the gifts I bestowed upon you with guest rights still stand. When in The Crypts, you will be under Victoria’s care. See that you represent her well.” He strikes his hands together. “The ceremony is done! You may now return to your lives.”

The vampires scatter, leaving only me, my Father, and Victoria standing there.

 

***

 

“Why did you speak for me?”

I’m pacing the empty floor in the middle of my guest chamber. Victoria brought me here, sat on a stool, and has been silent ever since.

I repeat my question. She simply watches me like an odd curiosity.

My anger rises. But I cannot display it here, for even she is stronger than I. And she can’t have been made more than a hundred years ago!

Whatever the secret is to their strength, I need it. I need it more than I need air and passion. I need it more than I need blood.

I turn on her. “Answer me!”

She taps her lips.

“Why won’t you speak? You had no trouble with it in front of the King!”

“I find,” she says finally, “that the more I let men talk, the more information they will give out for free.”

She grins and hops down from her spot. She’s a lot shorter than she seemed to be when I first saw her from the floor.

I grunt. “And what information have I given you?”

“That you’re rash. Impetuous.” She waltzes up to me and runs a finger along my chest. “All qualities,” she says, looking into my eyes, “that I like most in a man.”

I stare at her. “Is that what this is?” I say softly. “A seduction?”

“Hardly,” she laughs. She pushes me away and spins around. “I simply thought you might be useful to have on my side.”

“So you pick at the bottom of the barrel to find an ally.” I can’t hide the disdain in my voice. I am used to being strong, but in The Crypts, I am no better than a fledgling.

“Oh, you give yourself too little credit, James.” She twirls a strand of her pretty hair. “You have the King’s blood in you. You could be Prince.”

I scoff. “If it wasn’t for you, my Father would have killed me. Tell me, what type of Prince am I?”

“One who hasn’t glimpsed his full potential,” she replies. “One who doesn’t know the things he is capable of.”

“I don’t lack confidence in my abilities… when I know what I’m up against. Here?” I gesture angrily around the walls. “Everybody here is stronger. How can that be?”

Her eyes twinkle as she regards me and considers the question. “You’ve been around a long time,” she says. “What do you think?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking!” I explode.

That laugh comes again. It reminds me of Mother’s.

“Who are you, Victoria?” I ask. “What do you really want with me?”

“I want,” she lounges on the bed. “The same thing that you do. Power. I see how you crave it. I see it in your eyes.”

I sneer. “Power? You have it. You’re stronger than I—”

“Not strength.” She clicks her tongue in irritation. “Strength is easy. Everybody here is granted strength.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You think a vampire’s abilities are static? You think once one is transformed, a vampire stays the same?”

“Of course not. We grow stronger as we age and feed. Don’t lecture me. I’ve been on this earth five times as long as you.”

“Or more,” she says casually.

“More?” My voice is flat.

“I was made forty years ago.”

I simply stare. She has forty years, compared to my six-hundred? That’s all the time it’s taken her to surpass me in strength?

“Strength is an illusion, James. Strength comes and goes. It can increase, just as it can fade. But power… power lasts forever.”

“Forgive me,” I say sourly, “If I don’t see the distinction.”

“You have power,” she says. She points to me. “You may not know it, but it’s there, lying latent in you, like a great beast waiting to be awakened. It comes from your bloodline. I —” she flips her hair back, “— possess only strength. What you see, with me, is what you get.”

And it’s a damn lot more than me, I think.

“I can tell you the secret,” she says sweetly. “’I know it’s eating away at you. ‘How can a vampire so much younger be so much stronger?’ The question is clear on your face.”

“Our powers grow as we age and drink blood,” I repeat. “There’s no way to expedite the process.”

She smiles. “And yet here you are. And here I am. And the contrast between our abilities is simply… staggering.”

My jaw tightens. “How, then?” I say.

“The Blood of The Ancient.”

I advance on her. “Tell me.”

“You met him. You felt him. You know his strength.”

“Yes,” I say. “But he would not spread his blood amongst all of this coven. What vampire would share? There are too many here, he would be a shell. No,” I shake my head. “He could not have given it away. Not like that.”

“Are you truly so limited in your beliefs,” she asks, “that you think there is only one way of transferring strength?”

My head snaps to her. “What do you mean?”

“There is a chalice,” she explains, “rimmed with eighteen rubies. It’s an ancient artifact, guarded jealously by your father. It is what lets him rule.”

“How do you know this?” I ask.

“There’s little of The Crypts I don’t know,” she answers obscurely.

“Who are you?” I ask her again.

“Someone with ambition,” she tells me. “Someone… a lot like you.”

“Fine.” She won’t give me a better answer, and I’m in no position to press. “So this chalice. What does it do?”

“One drop of The Ancient’s blood, placed inside the rim, multiplies and expands to be enough to feed our whole coven,” she says. “The rubies on the edge are infused with a dark and powerful magic. There are ceremonies held, every ninety days, in which that blood is shared with all. But,” she sighs, “only the tiniest portion is given to us. Your father hoards the majority of it for himself.”

My eyes fill with greed. “The chalice is key to his power,” I say.

“Yes,” she nods slowly. “Now you’re starting to understand. His rule is accomplished by two things. On the one hand is The Ancient’s unwavering loyalty to him. On the other, is —”

“The magic chalice,” I say. My excitement is growing. “What more do you know of it? Does it enhance anybody’s blood? What if a vampire drinks more than is distributed by the ceremony?”

“Well then, such a vampire becomes even stronger,” she says. She comes to me. “The potential of such a vampire becomes… limitless.”

My mind swims with the possibilities. “If I controlled the chalice…”

“We,” she corrects.

I nod impatiently, “If we were to control it…”

“Then we would rival any who walk this earth,” she says.

I start pacing briskly about the room. My strides are long and sharp to go along with my thoughts. “The strength the chalice gives, it’s temporary?” I ask. “That is why the ceremonies take place again and again. Am I right? Or does every drink build on the previous one?”

“Temporary,” she agrees. “You want to know why none who enter The Crypts ever leave? Why they all have such loyalty to the King? It’s because he has them all addicted. Who would turn away?”

“But you’re different,” I say. “Why? What’s made you so?”

Her eyes take on a shadowy look. “This and that,” she says softly.

“This and that,” I repeat flatly.

“Yes,” she snaps. “This and that.”

I stop in front of her. She stares up at me, defiance clear in her eyes.

I want to kiss her.

I don’t, of course. The natural hierarchy of power stands in the way of that. But if I had a sip from the chalice, if I could have even the briefest understanding of that strength. . .

“You don’t share the others’ loyalty.”

“No.”

“You would go against your King.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. Will you help?”

“You knew,” I pledge, going down to one knee, “that I would be yours from the moment you saved me.”

Until it’s my turn to rise above.