A Vampire's Reckoning, page 6
part #2 of Stone Masters Vampire Series
Alex knocked at Lord Artimas’s door and waited. On hearing Father’s gruff voice, he entered. Before him Lord Artimas sat at his desk reading intently. For a long while he seemed not to notice Alex. After several minutes Father peered up, his expression stern.
“Pray tell me, Alexander, why was there a new mare in my stables this morning that neither I nor my veterinary surgeons have permitted to board?”
“Father, that is why I requested to speak with—”
“What if the animal has a disease and infects my stock?”
“The horse was a gift from Lord—”
“And what did you do to deserve such an animal?”
Alex tried again. “Lord Velde saved my life, Father.”
“I am quite aware of that. So why is it not you giving him a horse? Why does he bestow such a gift upon you?”
“I do not . . . I cannot say. We have just—”
“In what manner have you become acquainted?”
Alex blushed.
“Well? Is it business? What kind of arrangements have you made with him?” Lord Artimas placed his hand against his chest. He was silent for a moment, as if trying to regain some composure.
“I apologize if I have offended you, sir,” Alex said.
“Alexander, you must understand, I have enemies that would destroy this family. We must be more guarded. You must be more guarded.”
“Surely those were the old ways?”
Lord Artimas glared at Alex.
“Father, Lord Velde is of noble birth. A gentleman of Spanish Royal decent. And he is a good man and of the highest order.”
“I have heard of his family. He is indeed of noble birth, but I would like to meet him for myself. Two weeks from today I have instructed for a grand function to be arranged. This ball will celebrate your brother’s birthday. Perhaps we can marry him off after all. And be forewarned, you will be next. You will extend an invitation to Lord Velde, and he will accept. If he does not, you will break this liaison off immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father. I have already extended your invitation to Lord Velde and—”
“Check with the stables. If they destroyed your horse, it was for the best.”
Alex struggled for air.
“Alex,” Lord Artimas said. “If I seem harsh, it is because
I have your interests in mind.”
Alex lingered, hoping for some sign of affection or approval.
“You may go,” Lord Artimas said.
Alex searched for words.
“You are still here?” Father inquired.
Alex withdrew.
I found Alex down by the water’s edge and stood behind him, holding a bottle of rum and two goblets. “All is well. Turns out you now own the most expensive and well bred horse in the stables, and mine has been demoted to mule!”
“And she can stay?”
“She can stay. I warned the stable workers that no one was to harm your horse. No one.”
Alex sighed. “I’ll take that drink now.”
“And talk?” I sat down beside him.
“And talk,” he said.
I poured two large cups of rum and handed one to him.
Alex relayed his experiences with Lord Velde, leaving out any information that would indicate they had ever shared an intimate moment. We sat and talked into the early hours of the night in an attempt to catch up on all the time we had lost over the last few months. I reassured him I would do everything in my power to encourage our father to be welcoming to Alex’s new acquaintance, expressing my delight that I would soon be meeting with the man that my brother had spoken of so highly.
Chapter 8
Orpheus
AFTER ENJOYING AN extended sojourn within the luxurious residence, I left the Brandenburg’s home, having overstayed my welcome. No trace of the family or their staff would be found, and I had kept such a low profile that my stay would go undetected. It was during my search for a new residence that I came across a witch’s coven. At first I had considered finding refuge there, but with the discovery of Athena, a female vampire who had ensconced herself within the clan, I considered it would be prudent to avoid them. Fascinated with the occult, I took a few moments to peer through an open window, closing my mind to Athena.
I perceived she had sensed my arrival in Cornwall and had considered coming in search of me. Though concerned I might covet her den, she had reconsidered. She selfishly obsessed over her darling witches. It was easy to probe their thoughts and spy on their ceremony.
With the witching hour approaching, the ceremony was in full swing. The eleven witches stood at the feet of their mistress, their goddess, and offered her their exotic ritual. The coven had been in existence for over thirty years, the very affirmation of their faith in the arrival of their deity, whom they worshiped with fervent sacrifice and idolization.
The coven had embarked with just three women, all midwives. They had developed medicines and magical spells to assist the other villagers with every conceivable ailment as well as ease the suffering of labor pains for those with child. These were the women with whom everyone sought counsel when in need of medicinal sustenance.
But the tide turned now with frightening rumors that other sister cults had disbanded, their members burnt at the stake or even drowned as Christianity swept the nation. Before long the coven had grown in number as witches sought solace within this small house deep in the countryside in the county of Redruth, Cornwall.
If an affirmation was needed for these sisters of witchery, then Athena was it. Though unknown to them, her real name was Grace. She had arrived during a ceremony when they performed an incantation summoning up the goddess of wisdom, Athena, their magic so powerful that it succeeded with unexpected triumph. She descended from the air, as one would expect a goddess to, and invited the worship of the sisterhood. They soon discovered her powers, and if any doubt entered their minds she would soon dispel such thoughts with proof of her birthright, using feats of magic and mind reading.
For those who pleased her most, which all of them strove to do, she would reward their loyal devotion by allowing them to drink her sacred blood from the ceremonial chalice, permitting them to experience her sensuous elixir. Soon the witches of the sect were in awe of this powerful being, and with her promise of great rewards were soon lovingly enslaved.
For Grace—now Athena—the arrangement worked out wonderfully. She would sleep during the day, completely safe from the sunlight and protected by the women who watched over her, bestowing the adoration she believed she so richly deserved. As far as she was concerned, as an immortal she was a goddess. After all, she would never die. Was this not a gift of the gods? She had been born two hundred years earlier into the life of a servant girl, her parents both dead before she was nine years old. She had lived an uncompromising life.
Made a vampire at the age of twenty-one, she discovered that mortals were vulnerable and easily manipulated, especially with her gift of reading minds—as easy, she had thought, as reading the lines in a book for those of noble birth. She would go out into the night to feed after she had been luxuriously bathed and dressed by her loving consorts.
At nineteen, Sarah had hardly been in the cult for a year. With apprehension Sarah approached the goddess, frightened to make eye contact but excited to drink and feel as she had when first initiated. In a moment of bravery, she glanced up at Athena who sat proudly upon her royal throne, appearing so exquisitely regal.
Sarah sighed as she took in the image of the goddess before her: her long brown hair tied, her skin pale, and her fine features flawless in the candlelit room. Athena returned her gaze with brown illuminant irises, attempting to hypnotize Sarah. Fully aware that Athena could read her mind, Sarah ensured her thoughts were those of servitude.
Although Athena had drunk the blood of a mortal far from this place previously that evening, she still looked down with hungry eyes at the beautiful girl and attempted to quell her desire.
“Step forward.” Athena offered the silver goblet to the girl.
Sarah peered up in awe.
Athena lifted Sarah’s chin in order that she would watch as Athena dramatically cut her left wrist, aiming the red blood into the goblet. The cut on Athena’s wrist miraculously healed. Sarah’s gaze fell downward to the full silver chalice, now held close to her mouth.
With a nod of permission from the goddess she drank tentatively, at first savoring and then gulping the blood that overflowed and trickled onto her chest. Sarah stared blankly as the empty goblet was taken from her. The witches guided her to the table at the center of the room and she lay down upon it. They observed in wonder.
Then it began. Sarah writhed, her eyes rolling back as the sensations pleasured her. For a moment, Athena was concerned that she had given too much to the young girl. Sarah shuddered as wave after wave of ecstasy passed over her.
Athena enjoyed the sensuous display. Unable to quell her need, she drew closer toward Sarah. Athena commanded the witches to turn their heads, and they reluctantly complied. Athena tilted Sarah’s head, exposing her neck, and nuzzled in to suckle. Sarah flinched, then softened beneath Athena, who lapped at her paling skin. Resisting drinking further, Athena pulled away, stemming the bleeding with a gentle finger.
Before the end of the ceremony, I had to withdraw from the witches’ orgy as I could no longer bear being so aroused. I flew through the woods and headed for the nearest brothel, paying several coins to the innkeeper before being guided to a back room by the prettiest young redhead. With the vision of what I had just witnessed still fresh in my mind, I doubly enjoyed the girl’s affections. I eventually left her lying fatigued upon the bed, resisting the urge to drink from her, willing myself out of the room. Her death would have been a topic of conversation within the village, and I was trying to keep a low profile.
Within an old chapel I descended into the lower chambers, delighted to discover a new coffin that had been constructed for some poor soul who had not yet died. I took advantage of the tenant’s absence and pulled the heavy lid down, sealing myself in, grateful for the rest.
Oblivion.
I was awoken by the harshest scream.
My head banged against the coffin lid. I leapt out. My heart pounded. Then I realized that the startling shriek had not come from anywhere near the chapel but had been transmitted to me from Athena. She was calling to me. I flew out of the dark room only to stagger back, stopped in my tracks by sunrays that flooded in from the top of the stairs. It was impossible for me to take another step, impossible to save her.
The waking nightmare unfolded.
I withdrew into the darkest corner, crouching low and hugging my knees, recalling when Sunaria had called to me and I had been powerless. Here, now, another vampire begged me to save her.
Athena had been so engrossed that she had not sensed the five masked men until they had burst in. All dressed in black, the assailants worked quickly with their torches of fire, setting aflame the witches who ran screaming. Athena was noticed immediately, her pale telltale beauty revealing that infamous fashion of a vampire. She rose into the air but the men were upon her, grabbing at her ankles. Athena struggled fiercely, her inhuman strength throwing some of them off balance. But there were too many of them. Swiftly, they tied her hands behind her and bound her feet. Then, securing the blindfold, they pulled her from the burning house and dragged her into their darkened carriage.
I mouthed their name, “Stone Masters,” and threw up.
Chapter 9
Jadeon
I AWOKE WITH A START.
“Wake up. It is time,” Lord Artimas said as he loomed over me.
Rubbing my eyes still bleary from sleep, I squinted at his ominous silhouette. My head throbbed, a painful reminder of the previous evening when Alex and I had consumed an entire bottle of rum. I was scared Father would get a whiff of my breath and poke me with his stick again.
“Wear something dark,” he instructed. “Meet me downstairs in the study.”
He withdrew.
“Yes!” I leapt out of bed and promptly fell over. I checked the door to make sure he had gone. I dressed quickly, eager to discover what all the fuss was about. My boredom was slipping away. For some reason my trouser leg seemed to elude me, and I hopped round like a crazy person. My head throbbed and I cursed my brother for making me drink so much rum. Or was it the other way around?
Fully aware that if I was not to anger Lord Artimas it would be wise to be within his presence immediately, I descended the stairs two at a time.
On entering my father’s study, five of his acquaintances addressed me. This looked serious. I was taken aback by the assembled entourage. Immediately I recognized the garments of the assembled men, all clothed similarly to my father in black attire with masks around their necks.
Catherine’s father Edward De Mercy was present, dressed in his priest’s garb. He nodded in greeting. I still blamed him for Catherine’s decision but per etiquette, politely nodded and acknowledged two of the other men as Lord Hawke and Lord Theron, whom my parents entertained frequently. Still, it was difficult to subdue my enthusiasm which was hardly in keeping with the mood.
The men provided me with a dark robe and handed over a mask. I hoped they did not notice that my hands shook. They all fussed about me, checking the mask’s fit. This accomplished, they pulled my mask around my neck, like theirs, revealing my confused expression. I wondered what Alex would make of all this.
“Listen carefully,” my father began, “for on this night and those following, you will be initiated into the oldest order. I am the Master of the Stones, and you will one day take my place. This honor, bestowed upon you by your ancestors, carries with it much secrecy and it will be up to you to continue with the occupation that has gone on for thousands of years. You will maintain its concealment at all times. That even means keeping this secret from your brother. Alex can never know of who or what you are. Do you understand?”
I nodded. What the hell was this?
Lord Artimas continued. “We are an Order that has existed since the year 2900 before the birth of Christ our Lord. Our ancestors were chosen to maintain peace and safety within the land from those who would fulfill the will of the evildoers.
“We continue these duties today. Witches, demons, walkers of the night who suck the very life from humans by drinking their blood, these and many other such beings exist. And it is our duty, as it will be your duty from this day forward, to destroy any and all such creatures that exist.
“There are many of us. That you will learn. We send out men to find and study the evil ones, the Devil’s own. And upon finding them we decide their fate and the manner in which they should die. The responsibility is far-reaching, and I do not expect you to comprehend it immediately. But before this night is out and before you reach your twenty-sixth year, you will become our loyal apprentice in all things. Are you ready?”
Everything that I had witnessed over the years finally fell into place—my father’s distant disposition, his constant immersion in matters of state such as these, his indifference to his sons. I remembered the young girl who was dragged from the room near the dungeons. Irrevocably, I was being drawn into something scary and I wanted to resist the pull, but it was too late. I checked the serious expressions of the other men and wondered if I could decline the offer.
“Well, speak, boy,” my father said.
“Lord Artimas, I am honored, but I—”
“You have much to learn. Soon you will gather the true magnitude of who and what you will become, and the responsibility therein.”
Lord Artimas, escorted by the five men, led the way down into the castle vaults and I followed behind. All this time I had been eager to be in on the old boys’ club, and now all I wanted to do was withdraw. I wondered how much of my time would be taken up with wearing this outfit and hanging out with the oldies. We came to a stop before the room that I had been banned from. The men secured their masks and I followed suit. The mask stifled my breathing and I couldn’t wait to take it off.
As though reading my mind, Lord Hawke instructed me, “Until we say otherwise. Understand?”
I nodded.
On taking a large key from his pocket, my father turned the lock and stepped inside then gestured for me to follow. My eyes adjusted to the dim candlelit room.
I flinched, quickly composing myself so as not to annoy my father.
A woman lay splayed out upon the sizable oak table at the room’s center, tied down with shackled limbs to the floor. My flashback to the beautiful woman of sixteen years ago came with waves of dizziness that unsettled me. I walked around to see her more clearly, noticing she too was as beautiful as the first. Brass chains secured her.
Her eyes fixed on me. “Jadeon, please help me,” she begged.
My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth.
“Silence!” my father said. “See how they manipulate, Jadeon. They use their evil to read your thoughts. Guard your mind.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“She calls herself Athena. Do not let the appearance of the body of a young girl fool you. She is unimaginably old.”
My once-innocent life dissolved as I viewed the seemingly harmless girl. I considered rescuing her, but when she spat at my father and revealed her fangs, I changed my mind, glancing at her shackles and hoping they would hold.
Her cries faded with my light-headedness. I resisted gravity’s pull toward the stone floor and leaned against the wall to support myself.
“Let’s begin,” my father said.
I was wary. There was more to it.
Father’s men guided me to stand at the feet of the girl. Father Edward De Mercy stood in the corner of the room, holding holy water in a golden cup, occasionally splashing it upon the terrified girl. The other men positioned themselves on either side of the table—two men on one side, two on the other—as my father, lord of ceremony, took his place at the head of the table.
Could it get any worse? My question was soon answered.
