"I, Vampyre" - Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Inquisition

 

            ‘Nevik… my darling… come back to us… come back to me…’

“Nevik?”

            I awoke �" wracked with pain, but still un-dead �" brought back by a heavenly-sounding voice in my mind and then my ears.  I was lying in another bed, in another place… and it still wasn’t Heaven.  No one gets to their heaven without a fight.

            The ‘angel’ was gone, but the sweet seraphim named Siren sat next to me, holding my weary head in her lap.  She stroked my hair as I tried to gather my wits, struggling with an odd dichotomy… I felt exhausted and weak, and yet strangely energized at the same time.

            “You know,” Siren said, “you really should stop flirting with Death.  One of these days, she might decide she kinda likes you.  And then I’d have to kick her boney little a*s…”

            I laughed at that, which only served to set off a brand-new nova of agony in my chest.  “What…” I grunted, wincing, “what happened, Siren?”

            Siren ran her fingers over my bare chest, and it did help ease the persistent pain.  “You morphed into your demon-form, seemingly for no good reason.  But I caught an inkling of Bellissima’s intent, right before you were shot.”  I started to roll over, twisting my head and trying to view my back, but Siren held me down.  “You don’t want to see it, dear.  It’s going to be… an interesting new scar.”

            Siren’s hand clenched into a furious fist for a moment, but then she continued. “All Hell broke loose after that.  Katya’s werewolf guards attacked us.  A half-dozen of them were about to do a number on Spike and me.”

            “Spike?  What??  Is she…!?”

            “Relax, Nevik.”  She smirked.  “Let’s just say that Adrianos did a number on them, instead.”

            I finally noticed that we were the only two in the small, fancy-looking antique bedroom.  “Where are the others…?”

            Siren stiffened, and I could sense her sudden worry.  “I’m not sure.  The werewolves captured Bellissima, though I think she managed to kill one of them.  An Inquisitor took Spike and Ad away, and Makenna had to pull the ‘Lady Superior’ off of you.”

            My hand went to my neck.  “Did Katya bite me…?”

            Siren shook her head, a bemused glimmer in her eyes.  “No.  Quite the opposite, actually.  She let you feed on her essence.  I think she realized that you saved her.  And so, she saved you…”

            A faint recollection surfaced, and I felt a silly smile on my face.  “Right...” I murmured.  “I feel cold inside… colder than usual, downright frigid, like there’s literally ice in my veins… but it tingles, too.  Her blood was so… so very… WOW…”

            Siren’s gaze appeared to frost over, and she patted the right side of my chest, above the partially-healed gunshot wound in my back, hard… the ‘tinglies’ went away in an instant.  “That’s nice,” she muttered, as she laid my head back on a pillow and jumped out of the bed.

            I rolled my head to look at the closed door to the bedroom.  “Is it locked?”

            Siren shook her head.  “No… I already checked.  There aren’t any other measures in place to keep us here, either.”  She chuckled hollowly.  “It’s almost like we’re her guests!  I think Katya knows that we won’t try to leave until we get what we came for.”

            I rolled out of the bed on the opposite side, a fresh shiver of pain rocking me as I stood.  I looked out the window and saw the Square from an elevated vantage point; sure enough, we were inside the Winter Palace, on one of the top floors.  I was also relieved to see people milling about again.  However, I was decidedly not relieved to see a lighter shade of deep-indigo sky… time had resumed its march toward infinity, and it was steadily bringing forth yet another dawn.

            I stared for a longish while at the wide building on the other side of the Square, with its distinctive, bow-shaped façade.  A huge statue of Roman soldiers and a chariot, drawn by a quartet of metallic horses, was atop the impressive edifice.  It would have been the perfect hiding place… for a stealthy sniper with malice on her mind.

            “What are they going to do with Bellissima?” I asked, not really wanting an answer.

            Siren squirmed for a moment.  “Well… the last thing ‘Kenna said to me before we parted was that she was going to have to speak to Belli, to prepare her defense…”

            “Her defense?” I parroted, stupidly.

            “Yes.  She’s going to be on trial… for the attempted assassination of a Superior of the Shadow Council.”

            “And what’s the punishment for such a crime?” I asked in a hushed voice, but I already knew the answer… Siren gave voice to it as it crept into my head like a skulking shadow:

            “Death.”

 

* * *

 

            “Who is it…?”

Spike’s voice came through the wooden door of the room on the opposite side of the long, carpeted hallway.  I glanced at Siren, but she just shrugged as she fiddled absently with her opal pendant.  “Housekeeping,” I deadpanned.

“Nevi!  Oh, um… wait just a minute!”  There was a loud THUMP from within the room, and I rattled the doorknob.  It was locked… but a quick flash of pyrokinetic heat melted the bolt into goo, and I pushed the door open.

The room was quite similar to the one Siren and I had just vacated �" what had likely once been modest quarters for servants of the Palace royalty.  Adrianos was lying on the bed, in a conspicuous state of undress, with a knotted blanket draped over him.  Spike’s intense blue eyes glared at us from behind a veil of her tousled platinum hair, as she held a pillow in front of her bare chest.

“Don’t you two know how to knock!?” Spike squeaked, looking around (for her shirt, I presumed).

“I did knock,” I pointed out.  I glanced at Adrianos, who was feebly trying to lift his head to look at us.  He had what looked like claw-marks all over his torso.  Wolves’ claws.

“So you did,” Spike conceded.  “And I said to wait a minute… I was just finishing cleaning Ad’s pipes �" I mean wounds!  Cleaning his wounds… Eeep!”  Spike’s cheeks suddenly looked downright rosy, and Siren and I just shared a wry look as the flustered vampiress continued her scavenger hunt for discarded items of clothing.

            I walked over to the bed, while Siren leaned against a dresser and blatantly ogled Spike’s half-naked body.  Adrianos had already pulled on his pants, and was starting to put on a dark burgundy shirt.  “Ad, buddy,” I said, “you look like I feel…”

            Adrianos coughed lightly.  I found it somewhat troubling that the cough was short and dry, rather than lengthy and wet-sounding like yesterday.  “Here, Nevik… put this on,” he said, handing me his bearskin coat.  I did as he suggested, grimacing as the back of the heavy coat rubbed against the scar tissue over my right shoulder-blade.  I put my hands in its pockets, feeling the tiny Tim Tam that was still there, the ‘pressie’ from Aussie Donna.  And then I thought of Donna… wishing she was there with us.

            Spike finished getting dressed, and she helped Adrianos climb out of the bed.  I saw that she had a quartet of scratches on her chest as well, just below her throat… and that her necklace with the token of Malekus was gone.

            “Spike…” I said, gesturing at her neck, “what happened to your…?”

            “I lost it,” she replied, bitterly.  “It got ripped off in our fight with those mangy werewolves.  It… it’s gone.”

            The four of us gathered in a loose circle in the middle of the room, staring at each other for a few moments.  Adrianos looked like he might keel over if someone blew on him too hard, and I knew it was taking all his effort just to remain upright.  Siren finally said what we were all thinking: “What do we do now?”

            The answer to that came in the form of a deep male voice in the open doorway.  “You four.  Come with me, now.”  It was Katya’s Inquisitor, a hulking specimen of a vampire, wearing red-and-black body armor, his red eyes glowing from behind a face-obscuring black helmet.  “Lady Superior Ivanov demands your presence at the inquisition of Bellissima Bladedancer.”

            My hand angrily squeezed the chocolate Tim Tam as I glared at the Inquisitor.  Something lukewarm and wet oozed out of it.  I pulled my hand just out of the coat pocket and glanced down at the dark-red liquid on my fingers.  It was… blood?

            ‘What’s wrong?’  Siren peered inquisitively at me, but I just shook my head at her.

            “Let’s go,” I said.

            And so we went… unwittingly, to the fight of our unlives.

 

* * *

 

            I wished Aussie Donna had been there with us even more when we gathered to bear witness to Bellissima’s trial… then she, appropriately enough, could have been the one to call it what it was: a kangaroo court.

            Spike, Adrianos, Siren and I stood near the center of St. George’s Hall, the Great Throne Room of the Winter Palace.  It was impressive, to be sure �" an exquisite inlaid marble floor, gilded ceiling, a dozen or so spectacularly ornate chandeliers, surrounded by tall white marble columns, and with a golden throne on a dais at the far end.

            But it was hard to take in all the incredible sights of the historic hall, since all four sets of our eyes were riveted on the terrified, trembling form of the accused.

            Bellissima was genuflecting before the dais, though not from obedience or respect; she had been forced to her knees by the pair of transformed werewolves on either side of her.  They held her arms tightly, growling and being obviously careful to avoid touching the heavy silver chains that bound her hands and feet.  She was wearing only her black lingerie, though one strap of her bra was broken, and the silver sizzled as it burned her bare wrists and ankles.

            We all simmered and stewed with differing degrees of angst and anger, but we didn’t dare make a move.  Adrianos was in really bad shape �" Spike and Siren held his arms, all but propping him up �" and more of Katya’s ‘wolves lined the sides of the Great Hall, eyeing us distrustfully… and hungrily.

            Katya herself sat on the throne, her scabbard and sword leaning against one side of it, and the impassive Inquisitor looming on the other.  She said something in Russian, and one of her lycanthrope guards ascended the steps of the dais, presenting her with Bellissima’s silver dagger.  Katya examined it closely for a long time, almost like she was getting reacquainted with it.

            Eventually, she just nodded her head, tucking the dagger into the belt of her ivory, tan, and red attire.  Adrianos let out a low grumble and took a heavy step forward, but then started to teeter dangerously �" the vampiresses pulled him back, Spike wailing quietly.  Siren looked around the hall anxiously.  “Where the hell is ‘Kenna!?”

            Right on cue, Makenna entered the Great Hall from the back.  She had a notebook in her left hand, and the heels of her boots clicked as she strode across the room.  ‘Kenna threw a desperate-looking glance at us before she stopped behind Bellissima.  Belli looked back at her ‘counsel,’ and I felt a fresh tremor of fear when I saw her eyes… they were a flat shade of blue, disconsolate and devoid of hope.

            Makenna said something in Russian, directed toward the werewolves close to Bellissima, a harsh tone to her voice.  They just snarled at her, and a darkly amused chuckle drifted down from Katya.  Makenna transferred the notebook to her right hand, and then meaningfully rattled her rapier with her left.  The ‘wolves finally backed off, and an echo of an amused chuckle emanated from Siren.

            “Duchess Nikolaevna,” Katya said, addressing Makenna, and I tilted my head in brief befuddlement.  It seemed odd for Ivanov to be calling ‘Kenna by her previous, human title and name… perhaps it was to intentionally rattle her.  “Do you have your… ‘defense’ prepared?”

            “Da, Lady Superior,” Makenna affirmed, holding up the small black notebook.  She patted Bellissima on her bare shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.

            Katya laughed again, and some of the werewolves howled in response.  “Well… I see, but, let’s make this quick, I have other… business, to attend to.  So you won’t be needing that.”

That said, Katya pointed at Makenna with her outstretched finger.  The hall suddenly seemed many, many degrees colder… a flurry of snow began to fall, from out of nowhere… Bellissima began to shiver uncontrollably (a very odd thing, for a vampire)… Makenna took a step back, pulling the front of her fur coat closed, and she abruptly dropped the notebook, like it was scalding-hot.  It hit the marble floor… and, flash-frozen, it shattered into dozens of pieces.

I jammed my own hands back into the pockets of the bearskin coat, feeling the extreme chill from both within and without.  I again felt the odd, bleeding Tim Tam, and, this time, Aussie D’s words echoed in my mind: “...eat it if you ever need a wee bit of a ‘pick-me-up’...”

“In my court, Comrade Bladedancer, you are guilty, until proven innocent.”  Katya stood up from the golden throne, retrieving her broadsword and thrusting emphatically with it again.  “You fired a 2010-model Nosferatu sniper rifle at me, with intent to kill.  You also slew one of my werewolf guards, who was merely attempting to detain you.  What is there to prove otherwise!?”

Makenna opened her mouth, but Katya immediately cut her off, spouting a long, angry-sounding stream of Russian.  I didn’t like where this was going, not one bit.  Rolling the Tim Tam over and over again with my fingers, I finally pulled it out of the coat pocket as I stepped in front of Adrianos and the ladies.

‘Give this to Ad,’ I thought fiercely at Siren, pushing the tiny chocolate biscuit into her hand, ‘make sure he eats it, and keeps it down.’  She gave me a weird look, but then nodded.

“What’s going on?” Spike asked, looking from me to Siren and then back again. “Nevik, we have to do something…!”  She patted her unadorned neck, looking helpless.

“That’s just what I intend to do, Spike,” I assured her.  Then I turned away from them, just as Siren started whispering to Adrianos in what sounded like German.  I started walking toward Bellissima, Makenna, and Katya, ignoring the warning growls from the surrounding ‘wolves.

“Молчание!” Katya yelled at ‘Kenna, waving her sword threateningly. “SILENCE!  It is the decision of this court that the accused is…”

“WAIT!” I bellowed, cutting Katya off, sparking a pinkish flash of ire in her frosty blue eyes.  I mentally crossed my fingers before speaking again.  My long-dead Sire, Reybeart, had been a wretched, sadistic, borderline-insane b*****d of a vampire.  Yet, in being forced to listen to countless rants about the cosmic unfairness of his being passed over as a Scion by the ‘Council, I at least had managed to learn a thing or two about the vagaries of vampiric protocol.  “I hereby summon the full Shadow Council, to pass judgment on the accused!”

Katya’s eyes widened, but then she cackled cruelly.  “You feckless, foolish детеныш!” (again, though I knew basically no Russian, I was pretty sure she had just called me ‘youngling’) “You have to be an Elder to call forth the ‘Council!”

“I call forth the ‘Council, then,” Siren declared, moving to stand next to me.  “As an Elder… and a Scion!”  I nodded thankfully to her, and then peered back at the others.  Adrianos had a bloody smear of cocoa on his chin, and he looked like he was about to ‘chunder’ again.  But, all of a sudden, Spike kissed him on the lips, hard.

Katya ran a hand through her pale-blond hair, shaking her head.  Makenna stepped over to stand next to Siren, and Bellissima tried to get to her feet, but stumbled and fell again as she got tangled up in the chains.

“Being a Scion, has no meaning anymore,” Katya sputtered.  “They are no longer Heirs to the ‘Council.  We are five now… now that the reckless madman, Andilaveris, is no more…”

I had to willfully and deliberately keep my inner-demon in check, as an apoplectic rage coursed through me.  “And just who was it killed ‘Veris!?” I shouted.  “How quickly you forget… it was us!!”  Katya waved her hand dismissively, like that cold hard fact was just an unfortunate technicality.

“I call forth the Shadow Council as well,” said a strong, deep voice, one I almost didn’t recognize.  It was Adrianos, and he stepped boldly and steadily away from Spike, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “And with due cause…”

Katya glared balefully at each of us in turn.  “Nyet… NO, this is NOT a just cause.  This is absurd… trivial…”   She continued with another lengthy diatribe in Russian.  The Scion took another step toward her, looking very much like the Adrianos of old, and Katya’s Inquisitor moved to stand between his Lady and Ad.

            “You started this,” Adrianos snarled, “and we intend to end it.  There are only three Scions left, and we’re going to kill the last one.  What you do after that, I don’t give a damn!  But she deserves a fair sentencing,” he said, gesturing at Belli.  Ad’s eyes were a blood-red that had been leeched clean of mercy.  “Now… summon the ever-f*****g ‘Council.”

            Katya walked backward, plopping back down into the old throne of Russian Tsars.  She rested her hands on the pommel of her sword, and she didn’t seem to actually do anything… but, then, there were six hazy swirls of mist, and six more elaborately-decorated chairs phased into existence, three on either side of the center throne, tiered down the steps of the dais.

            And four more vampires misted into being, sitting upon the new chairs, save the two on either extreme… a shirtless, extensively-tattooed male, with a cloth headdress and an evil-looking capuchin monkey perched on his shoulder… another male, seated next to the first, with close-cropped brown hair, wearing a wrinkled suit and a dress shirt with the initials ‘J.K.’ on the collar… a sultry-looking female, sitting on the opposite side, dressed in a black vinyl skirt and boots, and a flowing red cape that matched the color of her long, wavy hair… and a stern-looking third male, sitting next to the redheaded vampiress, wearing a frilly shirt and jacket and holding a cane with a wickedly-sharpened point.

            Katya turned her head either way to regard her fellow Superiors, and then a cold smile appeared on her face.  “May I introduce… Sagaan, Jeremy King, Lillith, and André Montrenault.”  She turned her gaze upon Adrianos, who stood protectively in front of the rest of us.

            “You should be careful what you wish for, Scion,” Katya purred.  “You might just get it…”

 

* * *