"I, Vampyre" - Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Assassin

 

            I awoke �" again �" however many hours later, with the remnants of a dream still flashing through my confounded mind.  It is said that vampires have the most vivid dreams… and nightmares.  And why wouldn’t we?  ‘Living’ for multiple unlifetimes, fueled by intense blood-memories, dwelling in the deepest shadows of endless darkness.

            I had dreamt of Llewellyn Salisbury, an incomplete remembrance of the beginnings of our star-crossed love betwixt man and vampiress.  A ‘date’ in Colonial-era Philadelphia… a first kiss… a desperate fight with another vampire, a Scion… Vo… Vor-something…

            “Sweet dreams, Nevik?”

            Makenna was standing in the middle of the bedroom, getting dressed, her impressive silver rapier dangling in a thin scabbard from her belt.  The only light creeping in past the shuttered window was from the snow-covered streetlamps outside.  Darkfall had descended… time, once again, for the creatures of the night to come out and play.

            “Help tie me up?” Makenna requested, and I paused for a beat or two.  I imagined Siren having a hearty laugh if she’d been able to see where my gutter-minded thoughts had ventured.  I finally understood what ‘Kenna meant as she adjusted the front of her corset.  I slid out of the bed and sidled over to her, again willfully avoiding the blanket-covered body of the dead boy.  Her pale-blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at me.

            As gently as possible, I laced up the back of the corset… it seemed extraordinarily old, like it would crumble to dust if I handled it too roughly.  It was encrusted with jewels in staggered vertical stripes, although I couldn’t quite tell if they were real or not.  And… were those handfuls of blackened holes in the front and sides from gunshots?  I poked my finger into one of them, and I felt Makenna stiffen slightly in response.

            “I was wearing this,” she said, “when I died.  When Ermakov and his Bolshevik goons tried to kill me… but they failed.”  She paused.  “In many ways, I owe my continued existence to Grigori…”

            “Grigori?” I repeated.  I had an inkling who that might be, but it was nearly too incredible to believe.

            Makenna turned to face me, her eyes partially focused on the distant past.  “Yes… our old family friend, Grigori Rasputin.”

            It was still hard to believe, though it made a certain insane sense.  “Rasputin?  The Mad Monk!?”

            In the next instant, I saw an absurdly fast blur of movement… or, perhaps, I only imagined that I did.  I thought I almost saw Makenna draw her sword, hold it to my neck with fresh fire in her eyes, and then sheathe it again.  I blinked, and ‘Kenna was just standing there �" but her left hand was across her waist, resting on the pommel of the rapier, and there was a hint of violet fading from her eyes.

            “That… is a rather unfortunate epithet, that I’ll thank you to not use again in my presence, Nevik,” she stated.  I took an italicized mental note of that, still wondering why the right side of my throat had an unpleasantly chilly tingle to it.

            “Rasputin was our friend, as I said,” she continued.  “We met him in 1905, and he helped my baby brother.  Alexei had a terrible blood disease… hemophilia, I later found out… he bled too easily, almost died more than once.  Grigori was able to heal him.

            “What I didn’t realize, at the time, was that Rasputin dabbled in the occult… black magic.  And that he had somehow befriended… a vampire.”

            My eyes widened, and Makenna nodded in advance of my next words: “Your Sire…”

            “Yes,” she confirmed.  “Rasputin was murdered in December of 1916… some of the sordid details of his demise, I’m sure you’ve heard.  However, by then his vampiric acquaintance had become somewhat infatuated with Nicholas and Alexandra’s eldest daughter.”  Insomuch as vampires are able to blush, ‘Kenna did.

            I ran a hand through my black-and-red hair.  It felt like some puzzle pieces were starting to align, but one of them wouldn’t quite fit, no matter which way it was turned.  “Is your Sire still… ‘alive?’”

            Makenna nodded again.  “As far as I know.  After I was turned in 1918, he wasn’t a part of my unlife for very long.  He taught me the essentials for a Fledgling to survive �" our fatal weaknesses, how to hunt, how to feed.  He’s a very skilled swordsman… he taught me how to handle a rapier.”  The fingers of her left hand caressed the grip of the sword in a way that stirred some tasty memories from the previous evening.

            I put my hands on Makenna’s shapely hips. “So, ‘Kenna… about last night…”

            She cut me off with a short kiss on the lips.  “It was fun.”  She hooked her fingers into the belt-loop of my jeans and pulled me even closer.  “It was a lot of fun.  But let’s just leave it at that, da?”

            “Da,” I agreed.  And that was that.

            With another quick kiss, this time on the cheek, Makenna stepped around me.  “Finish getting dressed, Nev,” she urged.  “Tonight’s a very big night.”

            “Why’s that?” I asked, looking around for my boots and jacket.

            ‘Kenna looked over her shoulder before leaving the room, her face very serious.  “Because we have an audience… with Lady Superior Yekaterina Ivanov.”

 

* * *

 

            When I came downstairs a couple of minutes later, there was already a flurry of activity.  Spike had on her all-white ‘Russian spy’ outfit, and she was pushing furniture against the walls with mere waves of her hand.  Bellissima was dressed all in black, and she acknowledged me with a brief nod before going back to sharpening her silver dagger.

            Makenna was talking with Ad; the blood-splatters that had garishly stained her white coat were mysteriously gone.  Adrianos had a large brown ushanka pushed down low on his brow, and his eyes were unsettlingly bloodshot, but he seemed to be in generally good spirits… and why shouldn’t he be, after his little vampy foursome?

            I walked over toward Siren, who was crouched down next to Tier, petting the hellhound’s heads and whispering sweet nothings into his six ears.  Two of Tier’s heads snarled at me as I approached… but the third actually licked my hand.  I suppose that could be considered progress.

            “Where are we going?” I inquired, zipping up the punkish leather jacket.

            Makenna turned to look at me, and the amazing blue of her eyes never failed to startle.  “To the Winter Palace, on the south bank of the Neva River.  I’ve arranged a meeting with Lady Superior Ivanov.”

            “And just how did you manage that?” I asked.

            ‘Kenna gave us a secretive smile.  “That’s for me to know, and you all not to find out.  It’s not important.”  She turned to our ‘secret agent.’  “Spike?  Are you almost ready?”

            Spike nodded, and we all gathered together in the living room.  “Are we going to walk there?” I asked, oddly annoyed at being left out-of-the-loop.  Adrianos looked to (still) be in bad shape, and I didn’t relish the notion of crossing the wide expanse of the Neva.

            Spike sighed dramatically.  “Really, Nevi?  C’mon now, I haven’t been ‘redecorating’ here just for the fricky-frak of it.  Now, gimme some of that spiffy half-demon blood of yours!”

            Next thing I knew, Bellissima was clutching my left hand and slashing the blade of her dagger across its palm.  I worked my jaw in a noiseless expression of injury, but Belli just grinned at me.  “There, there… you’ll be fine,” she said.  “Doesn’t this bring back fun memories??”

            I stuck my tongue out at her, and then added an extra sneer for Adrianos as he chuckled.  Spike just beamed happily as she squeezed some of my precious essence into a cup that magically appeared in her hand.  She then started pouring the blood onto the floor, smearing it into a large circle… one that could encircle about six people, give or take.

            Spike rubbed the medallion around her neck, and then closed her eyes before she started chanting… the rough ring of blood began glowing, pulsing in syncopation.  Bellissima wrapped her arms around Spike as the sorceress stood at the center of the circle, and the rest of us made sure to step fully within its circumference.  There was no room for Tier �" perhaps by design, he was a little bit conspicuous after all �" so the ‘hound barked in triplicate before bounding upstairs.

             “Nevik,” Adrianos said, and his usually silky-smooth baritone of a voice was instead an inharmonious rasp.  “We need to… erase the fact that we’ve been here…”

            I nodded, understanding the implication, and I had a sudden flash of Darius in Bellissima’s shared blood-memory.  She must have been thinking the same thing, because she gasped audibly as I used my pyrokinesis to swiftly set the entire apartment ablaze around us.

            “Akem-d****t!” I cursed, suddenly realizing something awful.  “What about Tier!?”

            Siren chuckled softly.  I had to admit, the feel of her near me again was quite comforting.  “My dear puppy’s a hellhound, Nevik… he’ll be fine.  Just like us.”

            I smiled at her, and Siren’s eyes looked more green than blue… right before the world imploded and everything went completely black.

 

* * *

 

            The teleportation was near-instantaneous, and we exchanged the burning bedlam of the apartment for the cold quiet of a downtown St. Petersburg alleyway.  A frail, homeless babushka was the only witness to our arrival.  Spike staggered forward, woozy from the effort of the spell, and then descended upon the old woman… quickly ending her suffering.

            “Let’s go, gang,” Makenna intoned, and she pulled the front of her coat over the hilt of the rapier before stepping boldly out of the alley.  We all followed her, stepping out into the wide, open expanse of the Palace Square.

            It was only an hour or so past sunset, so the Square was full of people.  Makenna turned her head to and fro as she walked, in the lead; I could only imagine the looks she was giving the hapless humans as the crowd parted before us.  We continued to march toward the Alexander Column, an impressive red-granite bit of architecture that was the focal point of the Square.

            “Be ready,” ‘Kenna said, glancing back at us, “for anything.”  The blue of her eyes was, at that moment, a match with the center stripe of the Russian flag that flew atop the Winter Palace on the far side of the Square.  “Lady Katya will have her guards with her.  She might even still have an Inquisitor or two…”

            I noticed Bellissima’s awkward stutter-step at Makenna’s pronouncement… she fell back to walk next to me.  “Inquisitors?”

            “The vampiric ‘peacekeepers’ of the Shadow Council,” I explained.  “Very powerful Kindred… they enforce the laws of the ‘Council.  Most notably, of course, The Edict.”  Belli shuddered at that, and I could easily empathize… we were both turned post-1771.  Our deceased Sires had both been Edict-breakers.  We were… ‘illegal,’ in a sense.

            “They often serve,” I continued, “as judge, jury… and executioner.  And so, I rather think it serves us to be on our best behavior.”

            Bellissima glanced back at Adrianos, who was shuffling along behind, Spike on one side of him and Siren on the other.  Spike flashed her teeth at us, a pale imitation of her usual wicked-grin.

            “I’m taking the high ground,” Belli suddenly announced.  “Overwatch.”

            “OverWHAT?” I blurted out, but before any of us could say anything else, she was on the move.  I saw her surreptitiously ether-pocket something long and black, concealing it underneath her coat… something that looked suspiciously like a certain exploding-silver-bullet Nozzie sniper rifle.

            “Spike!” I exclaimed, pointing at Bellissima’s retreating form, but Spike just shrugged unhelpfully.  I lost sight of Belli as she approached the edge of the Square… until I saw a pillar of red mist, rising up the side of a building �" another stunningly beautiful example of Baroque architecture �" and disappearing over the edge of the rooftop.

            I was so distracted by (and concerned about) Bellissima, it took me a moment to realize that my companions had stopped, the moon-shadow of the Alexander Column nearly falling upon us.  I took a wary step back from the pitch-black shadow of the cross-holding angel that perched atop the Column, as if it were the lip of a bottomless pit, one that dropped all the way down to Lucifer’s favorite stomping grounds.

            And we weren’t the only ones who had abruptly halted.  Impossibly, the milling mass of humanity, the cars on the surrounding streets, the clouds in the sky… the entire city itself… seemed to be frozen!  As I stared in wonder at a snowball, suspended in midair between two no-longer-frolicking Russian children, I realized what had happened.  A very rare, extremely powerful vampiric ability: time-stop.

            A vampire �" female, light-blond hair, dressed in powder-blue and white �" was striding toward us, flanked by a half-dozen guards.  As she approached, I tried to stay calm, and reminded myself that time had not really ‘stopped’… it had just been briefly, infinitely sped-up, for any vampires or other ‘supernaturals’ in the area.  But seeing was disbelieving, and the illusion of time being frozen to a complete stop was disturbingly compelling.

            Makenna bowed slightly as the blond vampiress drew near.  “Lady Superior Ivanov,” she said, with a distinct note of deference, “Privyet.  We are honored that you have graciously agreed to hear our grievance.”

            Katya, while slightly shorter than Makenna, still somehow managed to look down her nose at the other vampiress.  Katya’s eyes were such a pale, crystalline blue, they nearly seemed completely white.  She was wearing an opulent white mink coat with a matching ushanka, and there was an undeniable air of pompous entitlement about her.  The two women talked exclusively in thick, incomprehensible Russian for about a minute… until Makenna gestured toward Spike, Adrianos, Siren and I, and ended her last statement with a conciliatory-sounding “…da?”

            “Da… yes,” Katya agreed, dismissively waving her light-blue-gloved hand.  “I will speak in English, if that is all that your… comrades… will understand.”

            Katya threw off her fur coat, which was caught by one of her bodyguards.  The guard was tall and bulky, but appeared human.  He glared at us with yellowish, close-set eyes, and the nostrils of his long nose flared as his high-set, pointy ears wiggled.  His features seemed almost, well… lupine.  The Lady Superior was wearing white, light, tight-fitting clothes, and she had a broadsword strapped to her back.

            She drew the sword, fast and clean, and I tensed, immediately thinking of the whereabouts of the ‘Bane.  But Katya didn’t appear to be looking for a fight… or, at least, not yet.  Instead, she merely seemed to like the feel of the sword in her hand, and she thrust it for emphasis as she spoke:

            “I will, indeed, turn over the whereabouts of the Broker to you.” (thrust) “The Vampire War is over, the Shadow Council has so decreed.” (thrust) “There should not be encouragement of conflict amongst Kindred… even the remaining Scions, such as yourselves, Lord Adrianos and Lady Daniela…” (double-thrust)

            The Lady Superior continued to speak-slash-sermonize, while the rest of the world stood still, and my mind began to wonder.  Katya’s heavily-accented English was beginning to slur together… the continuing thrusts of her weapon were becoming rather distracting… and… an interesting, glowing little red bug was buzzing around the blond bangs sticking out from under her hat.

            Except that it wasn’t a ‘bug’ at all.  It was a laser sight… of a high-powered sniper rifle, currently in the hands of a deadly vampiric assassin who apparently also had not been affected by the time-stop.

            I didn’t know why Bellissima was lining up a shot on Ivanov, and I didn’t have time to ponder it.  The dancing laser-dot settled on a spot just above Katya’s left eye, and there truly was no time left.  I gave in to instinct, surrendered rational thought �" to the devil within…

            Black demon-wings tore free of the flesh on my back, spreading wide, rending my jacket apart… serrated ebony talons painfully split the tips of my fingers, and jagged bone spikes curled out of my arms and legs… my eyeballs seemed to catch fire, and I knew my eyes were now a diabolic reddish-yellow… my blood boiled hellishly hot as I grew near-instantly to twice the size of my ‘human’ form… and my jaw fell inevitably open as my mouth was crowded with a jagged bramble of razor-sharp teeth and fangs.

            Katya pointed her silly-looking sword at me, yelling something in Russian, and one of the last things I saw was her entourage of guards starting to… morph, in a troubling sort of way.  But then there was the excruciating pain… followed by the *CRACK* of a rifle-shot.

            “Get DOWN, you FOOLS!” I gurgled, steaming blood gushing out of my mouth.  I fell to my knees, and then flopped down on my wide, grotesquely muscular chest.

            I saw huge wolves, running on two feet… I heard Spike and Siren yelling, and a flash of fire behind me illuminated the Alexander Column like it was a huge, demonic finger, pointed fruitlessly heavenward… I tasted my own blood, and I convulsed as what felt like molten silver flowed through my chest.

            And then I saw Katya, bending down toward me, bright and white and looking a bit like an angel.  She spoke kindly to me… “Ah, the blood… the krov…”

            Her fangs were dripping like melting icicles.  A wolf howled at the moon from a million miles away.

            The angel took me.

 

* * *