A part of me wishes I had my weapons. Not that they would do much good against beings like this. But they would lend me a sense of assurance that I do not have now.
I grunt, irritated at myself for thinking that way. I am not some pathetic fledgling faced with an older vampire for the first time! It doesn’t matter that the difference in strength between Vasile and me is at an even higher relative amount—I should be more sure of myself, even in his presence, because of my centuries in the blood!
An uncanny itch forms at the back of my head. I feel like I’m being watched, even though I am certain these pathways are abandoned.
Just to be sure, I flare my senses, test the surroundings, and find… no one.
I suppress a shudder. Nothing about the situation sits well with me.
But I keep a straight face as I follow Vasile, letting my expression betray none of the internal discomfort.
We walk a long way, through uneven, forever-twisting tunnels. I wonder just how large the compound is—and what secrets it holds.
I feel the tiniest twinge of greed within me. Four of the strongest vampires I’ve ever met, each of them many times stronger than I could ever imagine one to be… four of them have made their homes here for millennia…
The power, the might, the hidden knowledge contained in this place is immense. Being frightened of it does not make any rational sense. The four ancients have not shown me any threats. They rescued Beth and me from the river, removed Cierra’s blasted curse. So far, they have proven themselves much closer to allies than enemies.
But the enormous gulf between us makes it impossible for me to trust them in full. No matter how much good-will they show me, they could turn around on a dime and squash me like a bug. Which means, of course, that they will forever be a threat… and anything that is a threat can never be trusted in full.
A few more minutes of walking in silence finds us before another sealed stone door. Vasile stands before it, raises both arms slowly, and uses his immense mind gift to open the barrier.
I wonder in that moment just how closely our gifts are linked to magic.
“Come inside,” he says. It’s not quite a command, but neither is it a suggestion.
Either way, I step quickly to do what he asks.
I discover another vast, circular room, unfurnished except for a cleaved boulder in the middle. The bottom half remains. The top is nowhere to be seen.
Vasile steps to it and motions for me to come closer. As I do, I realize the surface is a smooth, reflective black—that same sort of material that Logan’s otherworldly orb is made of.
Immediately, I want to ask what it is, but the hierarchy makes it impossible for me to pose impertinent questions.
He moves one hand over the surface, and suddenly it all shifts, as clouds of smoke stream across the plane.
“This is an artifact that allows us to peer anywhere in the world,” he explains, as he continues to hold his hand over it, and the clouds within swirl and storm. “It is omnipresent, but there is a caveat. It will only show you what you need to see.”
I glance at him, then look back down.
“Right now, it is calibrating itself to the two of us,” he continues. “It uses our presence in the room and connects that to the world. I have been here many times by myself, and this object always shows me the same thing. Were you to come by yourself, it would show you something wholly different from what we will see now, together.”
“You can’t direct it where you want?” I ask.
“No. But you can be assured that it only shows you what you absolutely must see. Ah. Look.” The dark clouds part, and a hazy vision begins to form. “It has found what we need.”
He takes his hand away. The halved boulder—a torrial, unless I miss my guess— continues to form its final rendering. I peer intently into it, waiting for the haze to clear.
Once it does, it reveals a nondescript cave in the side of a nondescript mountain.
I frown. That does not help very much.
“Patience,” Vasile says. “We will see more.”
Sure enough, after a few moments, the view zooms closer into the cave. Suddenly, we are thrown inside. We throttle through the long, long tunnels, until we come to a halt at the very end.
There, a woman is bent over a series of decrepit cages, each containing what looks like some sort of starving, rail-thin child.
My breath hitches. Even from behind, just by the hair, I can identify the woman.
Beatrice.
Vasile doesn’t miss my response. “You know the woman?” he asks.
“Aye,” I say. “I do.”
He returns his attention to the granite slob. “Watch.”
I do. Beatrice moves slowly from cage to cage. From her movements, I can tell she is exhausted. She dips a hand inside, and the vile white thing surges up to snap at her fingers with hungry, hissing fangs.
She lets each drain a certain amount of her blood before moving to the next.
On the opposite side of her hideout is a makeshift desk—made of a large log sliced in two with the flat side up. On top of it lies all sorts of papers and parchments, along with a multitude of vials, stoppers, metal instruments, and a whole host of other apparatuses.
On a ruin beyond that sit dozens and dozens of small, intricate, metal figurines, each made of the same light-gray shiny metal silver.
Beatrice turns from the fledglings and goes to the desk. She wraps her hand in a thick cloth and carefully picks up one of the figurines.
She walks back and drops it in a cage.
The thing inside—some sort of child vampire, no doubt an extension of the awful creatures she was making in The Crypts—shrieks in delight and grabs at the figurine to play with it.
Beatrice watches on, emotionless—until the hideous offspring vampire pulls the figurine in and holds it tight to its chest.
A weary but satisfied smile touches Beatrice’s lips.
The vision fades into obscurity and the clouds of black storm back.
Vasile looks at the stone slab for a very long time, silent, in thought. My own mind is questioning the importance of what we saw. He told me this torrial reveals what we need to see? What was so special about this vision in particular that it would—
“You must go to her,” Vasile says, breaking me from my thoughts. “It is clear.”
“What?” I ask, incredulously.
“It is the only reason this vision was revealed to us. You must journey to this woman.”
“Why?”
“You question my command?”
“No.” I burst out too quickly for my liking, too quickly to retain any dignity. Damn the vampire for exerting his goddamn influence over me like that!
“Then what is it, Dagan?”
I have to choose my words very carefully. I feel the hierarchy pressing down on my entire being.
“I know this woman,” I say. “She was my King’s concubine. She conducted horrible experiments deep underground. She was trying to create a breed of vampire immune to light.”
“It seems her research has continued,” he observes.
“I killed all the ones she made after she fled,” I say. I decide not to mention Riyu’s greater role in that. “They were physically weak, but they proved to be formidable opponents.”
“Do the wretched things we saw in the caves frighten you, Dagan?”
“No,” I bristle. “But they are barely formed! We have more important matters to tend to. Like the second girl of prophecy!”
He shakes his head, almost in pity. “How little you understand,” he says softly.
“Tell me what I don’t understand,” I challenge, fortifying my place for a moment.
His lips thin. “In the outside world, you are very strong, yes? You are among the very top of vampires who make themselves known?”
What does he mean by “those who make themselves known”? Is he implying there are more as old as him?
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
“That means you are unused to being made to subjugate. Is that so?”
You know it’s so, you miserable old bastard, I want to say.
Instead I answer with another, “Yes.”