Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust (18 page)

         Frightened, Chalice
looked up at her Master and asked carefully, "How strong are the other
clans?"

         "At least strong
enough that I will not risk an open fight with them. We will resort to a ruse
and use some tricks to bring the end upon them." The typical, devilish
grin returned to his features.

         "Oh, how
great!" Chalice exclaimed happily, nearly dancing with joy. "Count me
in! I've got to see that."

         Azrael temper was
restrained. Casually, he mumbled to himself, "My Lord and Master, Apophis,
if only you had realized how much I learned from you. You would never have
underestimated me, thinking that I was no more but an irascible and spoiled
boy. Betraying you and your oh so venerable clan would have never been possible
otherwise. So, thank you, my creator."

*****

         Exhausted, Skylar fell on
her bed and tiredly rubbed her eyes. Clad in a long, white night gown, she
slipped underneath the warm covers, snuggling deeply into the pillows.

         Helena entered the room
and sat down on the bed's edge. Reaching out with a slender hand, she brushed
some stray strands of hair off the girl's forehead and placed a tender kiss on
the smooth skin. "Good night, my precious. Sweet dreams."

         "I wish you the
same, Mama," Skylar replied, yawning widely.

         Helena rose, wanting to
extinguish the candles, but the girl took her hand, holding her mother back.
"Mama?"

         "What is it,
sweetheart?" the huntress enquired softly, once more sitting down next to
her daughter.

         "You once told us
that there are four big vampire clans, right?"

         Helena nodded. "Yes,
that's correct. The Dragons, the Griffins, the Mantichoras and the Serpentes.
Why? Did something occur to you when we were at the crime scene that my eagle
eyes should have overseen?" the huntress asked, smiling. "I did well
taking you with me tonight. Four eyes see better than two."

         Skylar giggled and
declared with childlike charm, "Yes, yes. And the police chief's eyes were
glued to you."

         "That's
nonsense," Helena denied. "Monsieur Dutroit is only grateful that we
are helping him. Although, we must not tell him that it is not a usual killer
we are searching, but a vampire. Now, let's get back to your actual question so
you can go to sleep. I can see that you won't be able to keep your little eyes
open much longer."

         "Alright. If there
are only four clans, how come we have an old document with five heraldic
animals? What is up with the fifth clan, Mama?"

         Their conversation was
interrupted as a beaming Kyrian entered the room, his hair still wet from a
bath, which Monique had forced him to take. "Finally, there you are!
Monique said you were gone with the police chief. Are there any new
insights?"

         Helena rose from the
bed's edge and walked to him. "It is good to see that you found your way
home, my son," she said sternly, her face hard and bare of any emotion.
"Tell your sister good night, then come down and meet me at the library. I
wish to talk with you about something."

         Kyrian was a bit puzzled
about the way his mother spoke to him. But then he shrugged his shoulders.
"Alright."

         Without responding to
Skylar's question, the huntress left the room in direction of the library. She
sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and reached beneath
her locks to rub her cramped neck. "What a night," she mumbled to
herself. "We are not one step closer to catch the vampire."

         "We will restrain
him soon. I'm sure of that," Kyrian threw in as he entered the room.
Light-footed, he glided to the armchairs and sat down with a big grin, facing
his mother. He was dying to tell her about his rendezvous with Christine.
Kyrian had never been happier in his young life. The serious expression of
Helena's face let his grin fade. "Mama? Please, tell me. What's
wrong?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

         The huntress looked at
him and shook her head slightly. "Just what is going on inside your head,
my son?"

         Kyrian wrinkled his
forehead. "I don't know what you mean, Mama."

         "You were supposed
to be at the castle after dusk," she reminded him firmly.

         Apologetically, the young
man lifted his hands. "Yes, I know. But I didn't want to run through the
woods during the thunderstorm. So Christine and I found refuge in a little
barn, where we waited, until the sudden, heavy rain was over."

         "And that is the
point, exactly! Because of a girl your head is floating above the clouds and
nothing else matters to you. It must not be like that."

         Kyrian crossed his arms,
defiantly. "You are exaggerating," he grumbled.

         "Am I?" Helena
exclaimed. "Then how come your sister even noticed? And how is it possible
that my son, who knows how to handle a crossbow and never misses his aim, hurts
a servant with it?"

         Indignantly, the young
hunter jumped from the armchair. "It was just a mishap!" he
vehemently defended himself. "I already apologized to Jean. He accepted my
apology, and he is fine!"

         "Lower your voice
and sit back down, Kyrian!" Helena demanded forcefully. "There is a
very dangerous vampire on the loose out there! You are a hunter, my son! And
you know what that means!"

         "Yes, I know
that!" he retorted angrily, but wasn't about to sit back down.

         "Then please, act
like it," Helena warned, also rising from her armchair.

         "How am I supposed
to do that? You never take me along when you hunt!"

         "I never will, as
long as you don't have your feelings under control!" his mother decided
furiously. "You have a hot temper and you are very stubborn."

         "Don't blame my
emotions. You are still treating me like a little child! How can I prove to you
that I can take responsibility, if you don't give me a chance?" he argued,
fiercely.

         Helena's eyes narrowed
and her voice was dangerously low. She stood very close to him, hands on her
hips. "You had your chance and proved that you cannot take responsibility.
If you are unable to be at the castle before dusk, how do you expect me to take
you with me on hunts with a clear conscience?" Kyrian's angry retort was
cut off with a quick hand motion by Helena. "Enough! This useless discussion
is over, before we say something we will regret later. Go to bed, my son. Think
about my words and your behavior." She left him standing there and retired
to her chambers.

         His face bearing a dark
expression, Kyrian's hand curled into a fist, and he slammed it against an
armchair's backrest. "I will prove it to you!"

*****

           
"A voice, once
familiar, is now silent. A daughter, always there, is no more here. What
remains are memories, until our happy reunion. Keep these lines in mind.
Although you might not always feel our presence, do not despair. Your loving
parents."

         Ajatarah put the quill
aside and folded the letter. She took the red seal wax, lit the wick of a
candle and dripped the molten wax over the folded letter. Afterwards, the
vampire pressed Zephriel's golden seal ring, which bore the sign of her clan, a
dragon's head, in the hot, soft wax. She rose, walked to the window and opened
it.

         Immediately, a hoarse
croak could be heard and a big raven flew excitedly into the room. The black
bird sat down on a chair's backrest, looking around the room watchfully.

         A tiny smile ran across
Ajatarah's serious face. "Hraban, my dear. Are you missing Lilith as much
as I do?" Tenderly, she stroked the raven's shiny feathers. "Soon you
will see your friend again, because you are going to deliver this letter to
Lilith. My words shall give her comfort during the time we are apart. Her heart
is in turmoil, I know that."

         Ajatarah released a soft
sigh and was about to tie the letter to the bird's leg as Zephriel entered the
room. Surprised, he paused. "What are you doing?"

         "I wish to send a
message to Lilith," his wife answered in a firm voice. "She must know
that she has our unconditional support."

         "Impossible, my
Beloved," Zephriel replied, sad. "It is not safe. The message could
be intercepted and the whereabouts of our daughter would be revealed."

         Unusually upset, Ajatarah
opposed her soulmate. "Our daughter needs her clan. She needs us!"

         Zephriel averted his eyes
and kept glancing in direction of the door.

         Ajatarah's realized that
something was wrong. "What happened?"

         "You know that I
instructed Kean to go west as fast as possible, after delivering our daughter
into Sadden's care. I thought it best, instead of sending out a second
messenger to our friend, Apophis. Well, Kean has returned. Lilith is safe, but
he brings disturbing news from the west. Hear him yourself. I asked him to
wait."

         On cue, the big doors
opened and Kean entered, his head lowered. Respectfully, he knelt and kept this
position, until Zephriel ordered him to rise. "You may speak openly."

         Kean began quietly.
"Milord, Milady... the clan of the Serpentes... is no more." He
paused for what seemed like an eternity.

         "What unbelievable
news," Ajatarah gasped, shuddering at the thought that he was telling the
truth. Helpless, she looked at her life mate.

         Zephriel was pacing
restlessly. Unexpected, he smashed his fists down on the table.

         Hraban croaked, her wings
fluttering.

         For a long time, the head
of the Dragon Clan stared at Kean. "Tell us everything you saw. Do not be
frightened to tell us the whole truth. I know, you are a man of clear words,
and I appreciate that."

         "As you wish,
Milord."

         Zephriel reached out a
hand to his life mate, who took it gratefully. He guided her to an overstuffed
bench near the fireplace. They sat down and listened intently to Kean's
horrible report.

         The man wetted his lips
and began to recount. "I rode across the wide plains of Castile, followed
the route, which runs parallel to the cost, because there isn't much
population. After I reached Andalusia, I guided my horse directly to the castle
in the mountains. I felt relieved as the Moorish palace appeared at the
horizon, telling me I had almost reached my destination. After hardly taking
any rest, I arrived at the ancestral seat of the Serpentes. With its last
strength, my horse took the stony path toward the castle, until we stopped in
front of the portal. I was puzzled when I noticed that it was wide open. I
entered, but nobody was there. Nobody."

         Ajatarah's hand clenched
tightly around her Zephriel's.

         Kean went on, "The
sight, which greeted me inside the court, shocked me to the core. Everywhere laid
horribly mutilated corpses scattered about." He paused briefly to observe
the effect of his words.

         With a quick hand motion,
Ajatarah ordered him to continue.

         "Stares from their
dead eyes were following me as I stepped over them to reach the inner sanctums
of the ancient building. On the threshold, I pulled my sword from its scabbard.
I grabbed it tightly with both hands, fearing what might be waiting for me
inside, but I heard nothing, except the sound of my own footsteps." The
words nearly got stuck in his throat, and he hurried to get them out, as fast
as possible. "Then I saw... I saw... in the throne room ... Lord Apophis.
He was dead... all of them were dead."

         Breathless, he stopped
and looked at the floor, his gaze shying away from Zephriel's. Whispering, he
added, "At first, I assumed that humans were responsible, but the clan and
its household were wiped out by the hand of..."

         "Vampires!"
Zephriel interrupted loudly, finishing the sentence.

         Kean managed to nod in
agreement.

         Ajatarah was shaken and
covered her mouth with a hand to keep from screaming out her pain. She rose and
went to the open window, staring at the sea.

         An uncomfortable silence
fell. No one present dared to speak.

         With barely restrained
anger, Ajatarah asked, "Just how precise can your judgment of the
situation be?" She turned to Kean and searched his eyes. The sharp, sad
gaze of his mistress pierced his heart.

         "Milady, I so wish I
could have spared you the details of his death. But it is the truth."

         "What happened to
our friend Apophis?" Zephriel wanted to know.