The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (3 page)

“I’ve had enough,” I said, taking the iron rod and holding it horizontally against my enemy’s throat. “Don’t try to hide it—you kidnapped my mother because Titus killed Celia. Never mind that she stole ten million dollars from him and tried to set him on fire. Now, I’ll ask you one more time,
what have you done with my mother
?”

The vampire laughed, or at least laughed as well as he could with a piece of metal pressing against his windpipe. His insouciance made me furious all over again. His fingers pulled fruitlessly at the rod, but he made no other attempts to escape.

“You think Celia mattered to me?” the vampire scoffed. His missing eye was still hard to look at, as was his crushed nose. But I was determined not to turn away until I had answers. “She was an amusement, I’ll grant you—and a pretty one at that. But she has nothing to do with your mother.”

I narrowed my eyes, mentally weighing the possibility he was bluffing. But who laughed like that when their life was on the line? And why falsify the reason for the fight?

“It doesn’t? Then what the hell have we been trying to kill each other for?” I demanded.

“It has to do with a certain piece of quartz—about the width and breadth of a large thumb,” the vampire taunted. My father stared at the vampire and cocked his head. “Completely clear from one end to the other. In other words . . . a crystal.”

A chill ran through me. I knew the exact stone he was referring to, and I was fairly certain my father did too. It was a crystal owned by my mother. Nothing fancy to look at; not a diamond worn by starlets or royalty. More like a rough-hewn thing that seemed as if it had just been pulled from the ground. Some say the crystal once belonged to a powerful witch-queen—one from another dimension, if you believe such things.

“What about this crystal?” my father asked. His penetrating eyes were still on the vampire, as if he were trying to remove the block on his mind through sheer force of will.

“It’s reputed to possess enormous power, of course! And the rumor was
she
kept it.” The vampire continued struggling against the iron rod, but he was weakened from his injuries. I leaned in closer, using every ounce of physical and magical strength to keep him pinned down. My shoulders ached from the effort—even more so where my back had slammed into the wall. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!” the vampire sneered.

I actually
didn’t
know. Everything I heard about the crystal from my mother was a fairy tale to me. I wasn’t even sure whether
she
knew what it did, if anything. She rarely talked about it.

My father’s eyes flickered over to me, but he wouldn’t let me see what he was thinking. Although he’d certainly heard of the crystal, it was unlikely he knew it was in my mother’s possession.

“Why now?” he asked. “Why is the crystal so important to you all of a sudden?”

The vampire all but ignored my father’s question. “When word got out that such a powerful item was still in circulation, as it were,” he said, “we wasted no time trying to acquire it.” He was breathing heavily, his voice growing weary.

“ ‘We?’ ” I looked at Titus, who shook his head. Neither of us had any idea what the vampire meant.

“Anyway,” he continued, “if Mommy dearest had the crystal, she wouldn’t tell us where it was.” He looked directly at me and grinned. “Then things began to get
very
interesting . . .”

I took the rod off his throat and punched the creature in the jaw. I could feel bile rising in my throat, and it wasn’t the result of the fight. I didn’t even want to think of what they’d done to my mother. The vampire managed to turn his head and spit out a tooth. Fury made blood pound in my forehead, worsening the pain already there.

“What do you want with the crystal?” I asked. None of the other vampires my father and I came across had said anything about it. What the
hell
was going on? I held one jagged end of the iron rod over the vampire’s bloody face, just above his good eye. “TELL ME OR YOU LOSE THE OTHER ONE!”

“There is an ancient vampire who lies in wait beneath Rome,” he rattled. “We alone can feel him in our midst, struggling toward consciousness. We, the chosen ones, the descendants of those he made.”

My mind rapidly calculated the possibility of this. It was true that Rome possessed an underground world unknown to most. As the city had grown over the centuries, certain parts were sealed off or buried to make way for new structures. Intrepid explorers might find temples, villas, forums, and other ancient monuments if they dug far enough. It was theoretically possible than an ancient vampire could lie buried there. Vampires can survive for centuries without blood if they go into a deep slumber—not their normal daytime sleep, but more like an immortal’s hibernation.

“Are you referring to . . . Callix Ferox?” My father put one elbow in his palm, and scratched his chin with his free hand.

I knew that name. He had been a contemporary of my father’s—and an enemy. Although not a senator, he was a patrician who wielded a lot of power in the Senate. There were years of hostility between Titus and him over the best way to expand Rome’s empire and influence. Each wanted to accomplish this in a way that gained them the most power.

Some say Ferox was so brutal and bloodthirsty that even the most merciless vampires feared him. But then one day he disappeared, much like my mother. It was assumed he was assassinated by one of his many enemies (my father’s name was bandied about, though he denies responsibility). There was also a darker rumor, one that involved the witches of old. The rumor held that these witches weren’t strong enough to kill Ferox outright, so they used a sleeping spell on him because he was getting out of control.

An enormous grin spread across the vampire’s face when he heard Ferox’s name. It was the biggest, ugliest smile I’d seen him give so far. I grimaced and tried to keep the iron rod poised over his face.

“The very same,” he replied softly, and I had to lean in even closer to hear him. “My companions thought they needed the crystal to bring
back
this magnificent ancient.” The vampire’s voice grew stronger. “But they were wrong.” Before I could blink, he grabbed the rod, hit me in the eye with it, and leaped up.

Bugger all!
He’d pretended his injuries were worse than they really were. My hand flew to my face, but the vampire’s aim had been off. Surely he’d meant to take out my eye as I’d taken his. But he’d hit me with the blunt end of the rod, not the jagged one, and only across my cheekbone. Still, I imagined that only losing an eye could hurt more than this.

Cursing and clutching my face, I saw the iron rod start to fall. But before it hit the ground, my father’s hand shot out and caught it. The vampire only got a few feet away before Titus collared him, pushed him back onto the pile of garbage, and stabbed him in the jugular.

It will come as no surprise to you that vampires can die for lack of blood. As I held one hand over my throbbing cheek, I saw Titus grab this vampire by the hair and hold the rod in place, preventing the wound from closing. Blood was pouring from his throat like water from a broken faucet, and he grew paler and paler. The vampire’s breathing got shallower—in earnest this time, for I could also see the skin tightening over his face.

“It’s too late. Too late, do you hear me?” he said. “I alone know the truth!” The vampire laughed like a lunatic, then started coughing blood. The lids on his now-sunken eyes began to close. “I am privy to knowledge the others did not have.
He has already begun to rise.
I only wanted the crystal because it would show him the depths of my devotion, my loyalty. I knew it would simplify his mission, allow him to . . . to . . .”

“To
what
?” I grabbed the vampire by his blood-soaked collar, pulling him partway up. I shook him so violently that my father stepped back. “SPEAK, damn you!”

But it was too late. His head lolled to the side, and he stopped breathing. He was gone.

I dropped the body back on the garbage heap and threw up my hands. It sent splatters of blood everywhere, but I didn’t care. All that trouble and pain for nothing. I looked over to where my father stood. I tried to form words around the anger in my mind.

“Wonderful,” Titus said. “Just wonderful. Now do you see what you’ve done?”

My jaw dropped—which hurt like hell, since it had been on the receiving end of several healthy punches. “What
I’ve
done? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t stuck your damn nose in!
And
stabbed our friend there in the neck.” My chin jutted towards the lifeless vampire. “What the hell were you doing here anyway? I thought we agreed you would follow up on leads in San Francisco, and I would track down this . . .
thing
. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, but then I discovered my trust was misplaced.” My father wiped his hands over one another, as if brushing away imaginary gore from the fight.

“I
told
you, I had him right where I wanted him.”

“Oh, absolutely. With his fangs inches from your throat. A fine fighting stance, my son.” Titus heaved a deep sigh and I rolled my eyes. “Besides,” he continued, looking down, “San Francisco was a dead end.”

“That’s what I figured.” I rubbed my upper cheek and winced. “Ow! Eee.”

“Real men do not say ‘owie.’ ”

I glared at my father. “Perhaps I should just whimper, then.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Oh, I don’t think it can possibly get any worse,” I said. “Now we’ll never get the information we need. That was the last vampire who had any knowledge of Abigail’s whereabouts.” I ran my hands through my hair before realizing they were covered in blood. I decided to wipe them on the ends of my torn shirt, which was bloody already. Then I took out a handkerchief and wiped what I hoped was the majority of the blood off my face. Titus had a few drops of blood on his cuff from when he’d opened the vampire’s throat, but was otherwise spotless. That was my father—always impeccable.

Body aching, I slowly peeled myself out of my blazer. I was drenched with perspiration. I glanced back at the dead vampire, but tried not to focus on him. I find that no matter how many times one has killed—regardless of the reason—it never gets any easier. Though technically, it was mostly my father who’d killed him, but I doubt he felt anything close to remorse.

I looked around the rest of alley as if it would yield answers. There were still no curious mortals in the vicinity, but that wasn’t my main concern. At the moment, I was far more worried about something the dead vampire had said. “How many of these descendants could there be?” I asked Titus.

He shook his head and glanced around as well. “It’s impossible to tell. There could be thousands, or only a handful. Or it could simply be a group of vampires under the delusion they are descended from someone powerful.”

There was a brief silence before I spoke again.

“Do you think . . . do you think she’s still alive? I mean, if they didn’t get what they were after, did they . . . could they . . .” I choked on the last few words.

My father shook his head again, more sharply this time. “Not likely. If they killed her, they’d never find the crystal. I imagine they thought enough time in unpleasant circumstances would change her mind. But if it hasn’t, then . . . I don’t know. And
we
don’t know if they ever got the crystal or not.”

I took a few deep breaths. Perhaps there was still hope after all. “From what we could gather from the dead man,” I said, “it would seem they
didn’t
get the crystal. I may have been able to find out definitively if you hadn’t—”

“Hadn’t what?” My father turned to me. “Hadn’t saved your life?
Again
? Besides, it was clear to me he’d outlived his usefulness. He wasn’t going to tell us anything more.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to regain my composure. Sniping back and forth like this would get us nowhere.

“Do you really think an ancient vampire has begun to rise beneath Rome?” I finally said.

My father glanced to the left and the right, then lowered his voice. “It’s impossible to say. Rumors have come and gone for years that he’s risen, and new acolytes and followers appear at every mention. Frankly, I think he’s just dead. But that doesn’t stop the rumors from spreading. Look, we don’t have time to worry about every whisper of gossip on the wind. The important thing is that this idiot,” Titus motioned to the corpse, “and his cohorts wanted the crystal for their master, and thought your mother had it.”

At the mention of the crystal, I could almost see the wheels turning in my father’s mind. If he
had
known my mother possessed such a powerful magical tool, I couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t attempt to gain that power for himself. Maybe he still wanted to.

“But that can’t be it,” I protested. “It can’t be it, the crystal. Abigail . . .”

“What?”

“Ah, nothing.” I realized it was impossible for me to say what I wanted to next. “I . . . I don’t think she still had the crystal,” I said honestly.

My father waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t. If her enemies believe she did, it might help us find her. If we can find out what it is reputed to do, and why they wanted it, it might provide a clue to where they took her.”