Blood Hunt (23 page)

These were phantom worries, Two thought. Naomi was in full possession of her body, was not threatened by anybody, and was a member in good standing of the American council. There was no Abraham lurking in the darkness, no madness or death around the corner. There was only the council, and the fear that they might deny her request. If that happened, Two was truly unsure of what she would do next. She hoped it would not be necessary to find out.

They had spent the better part of the past week in relative peace, sleeping during the day and spending their nights keeping a low profile. For the most part, this had meant staying in the apartment, chatting quietly or reading while Stephen watched sports or went out for his fights. A few times, Two had accompanied Naomi to the club across the street.

On most nights, Two felt that calming, pulsing warmth whenever she was near Naomi. She suspected that there was a meaning behind this sensation but was not yet sure how she felt about it. Probably, she thought, she should be concerned, but there was so much to worry about already. Two didn’t want to push Naomi away or make the vampire uncomfortable by asking about it, not while she was learning so much.

Naomi enjoyed teaching what she had learned of vampire history, and in Two she found a willing pupil. She explained that the first strain of vampires, the Eresh, had by all indications arisen around 3100 BC in Mesopotamia. Eresh-Kigal, the Mesopotamian goddess of death and consort to the lord of the underworld, was thought to be the first true vampire, though how this came to be was unknown.

The second strain arose when a woman named Ashayt, sometimes referred to in older vampire writings as
The Girl from the Desert
, was infected by an Eresh vampire in ancient Egypt. The blood had mutated within her, altering the effects of vampirism. Of the four source vampires, the
Vamper Ovras,
Ashayt was the last to have been seen alive. She had disappeared more than six hundred years ago, however, and was presumed to have gone at last to her death.

“Given the depression that most Ashayt vampires are prone to,” Naomi had said, “I find it unlikely that she yet lives. So many years alone … surely she would have had some sort of contact with the councils, if she were still alive.”

Ay’Araf, the third
Vamper Ovras
, was a poet and a priest whose work had been revered in Persia for its complexity and beauty. How his progeny had come to be warriors no one was quite sure, but the strain seemed to reward those who sought conflict and confrontation. Ay’Araf vampires were, like Ashayt vampires, dissimilar in many ways from the Eresh. What exactly had become of the
Ovras
himself was a matter of some debate, though it was generally agreed upon that he had been dead for many centuries.

The final group of vampires, by far the most common, was the Burilgi. Their origins were lost to history, but it was believed that the strain had originated in the lower Russian lands near the Mongolian border. It was also suspected that Burilgi vampires were really nothing more than a bastardized strain of the Ay’Araf, created over a period of centuries by young, weak vampires making younger, weaker fledglings. The Burilgi had lost most of the gifts of vampirism, and were left predominantly with the less enjoyable aspects of the blood.

Sunlight would kill them outright in a matter of minutes. Their victims were most often paralyzed not by lust or love, but by an overwhelming terror that locked their limbs and kept them from fleeing. Their blood was not strong enough to fight off high-level toxins, and they could be killed by venomous bites or by poison. Contact with silver, ash wood, fire and the chemical alliin, most commonly found in garlic, would burn them. Many Burilgi were severely altered physically and could not pass for human, and insanity ran rampant among their ranks.

“They live like vermin,” Stephen had said. “They hide in sewers and abandoned buildings, drinking the blood of animals and the homeless and anyone else who stumbles upon them. There are few among them that haven’t been driven mad by the change. In those cases, one only feels sorrow that these good people were not gifted with the blood of another strain. Burilgi blood is a curse, not a blessing. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

During the dark ages, an increase in the number of Burilgi vampires had led to many of the myths that still informed modern vampire lore. The European council had been established, in the years after the fall of Rome, as a direct response to the increased scrutiny and danger that vampires had come to face. The council, following codes supposedly laid down by Eresh-Kigal herself, had established a body of laws by which all vampires were held accountable. These rules – the Code of Eresh-Kigal – had been altered and added to over the centuries, but were still in effect.

“The American council is both an extension of the European council and a separate entity,” Naomi had explained. “We are born of the same laws, but typically govern ourselves and rarely defer to the European council. Abraham made sure of that.”

“What about vampires on the other continents?” Two had asked.

“South America has its own council. I have met with them on occasion in the past two centuries. They, like us, operate independently but will sometimes contact the European council for help in interpreting the codes. The vampires in Africa, Asia, and Australia have remained largely untouched by our rules and laws. Most Japanese vampires, for example, will murder a vampire from another clan on sight.”

“Couldn’t I hypothetically go to one of those places and find someone willing to make me a vampire?” Two had asked.

“You would have to be prepared to never again leave those countries,” Naomi had told her. “If the American council rules against you, you will be an outcast for breaking the laws under which you were originally bound. Theroen was a part of those rules, even if he didn’t know it, and returning to council-dominated lands as a rogue vampire would earn punishment … perhaps death.”

“In other words,” Stephen had said, “if there’s any real chance of you finding what it is that you really want, you’re already in the best place to do it.”

Left with little option but to accept this as fact, Two had spent her time waiting, trying not to dwell on things that might or might not be, until her time with the council arrived. At last that time was upon her, and she would stand before them and be judged.

* * *

The American council of vampires met in a building that had been a cathedral, before the Roman Catholic Church had been forced by financial need to sell the property. Abraham and the other senior members of the council had bought the building through intermediaries and renovated it, and it now held offices for many of the council members in addition to a central meeting area.

Two wondered if it was appropriate to find humor in the irony that such traditional creatures of the night were meeting in this place. She supposed it made sense, in a way. Even those in the mortal world who followed the mythology would be unlikely to guess that the most powerful vampires in the country met monthly under stained glass portraits of Jesus and the Apostles.

Naomi had arranged travel with a car service, and they pulled up in front of the cathedral at quarter to ten in the evening. Standing in front of the building were a man and a woman, both vampires. The man was wearing a dark red suit that, Two thought, would have looked ridiculous on nearly anyone else. With his dark complexion and long black hair, coupled with a general aura of calm confidence, the man had the air of Mephistopheles: charming and debonair and deadly.

The woman was tall, nearly six feet, and also had dark hair. Her skin was very pale, even for a vampire, and her eyes were a light and watery shade of blue. She was dressed in a gown patterned in black and red that matched the man’s suit. The red-suited man stepped forward with a wide smile.

“
Stephen, vate se posir!”
the vampire said, extending his hand. Stephen grabbed it without hesitation and shook it, grinning.

“Far too long, Jakob,” he said. “I trust those Burilgi last week weren’t too much for you?”

Jakob laughed. “Hardly enough exercise to work up an appetite.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Stephen turned slightly and addressed the woman standing behind Jakob. “Sasha, you look lovely.”

The woman nodded and, in an accent that Two thought was eastern European, or perhaps Russian, said, “Thank you. Perhaps one day someone will teach you how to dress, and I shall return the compliment.”

Stephen laughed, stepping backward and to the side, allowing Naomi to move to the front. Jakob took her hand and kissed it. Sasha gave her a brief embrace.

“You both look stunning as always,” Naomi said. Jakob and Sasha thanked her, complimented her outfit, and looked at Two, who tried to return their glances without showing any discomfort or concern.

“Introductions?” Jakob asked after a moment.

“This is Two,” Naomi said. “Two, this is Jakob and Sasha. They are Ay’Araf warriors and members of the council. Sasha is Jakob’s fledgling.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” Two told them, shaking their hands.

“The pleasure is ours,” Jakob said. “We’ve been eagerly waiting to meet Naomi’s human.”

“She’s
Theroen’s
human,” Naomi corrected. “Though I suspect she belonged no more to him than Sasha belongs to you.”

“Theroen was never interested in owning anyone,” Two said.

“Not much like his father, was he?” Jakob asked.

“No, not at all.”

“That is for the best.”

“It was until the end,” Two said, glancing up at the dark sky and thinking of her days at the mansion. “At the end, he could have used a bit more of Abraham in him.”

“Oh?” Jakob asked. “And why is that?”

Two returned from her reverie and looked into his eyes. “Because then he’d be standing here with me right now, and that murdering piece of shit would still be just as dead.”

Jakob tilted his head, glanced at Naomi, and said, “I believe this will be a very interesting evening.”

“Of that I’ve no doubt,” Naomi said.

“Shall we?” Stephen asked and, opening the door for them, he beckoned them inside.

* * *

The American council consisted of nineteen vampires. Of these, the majority were Ay’Araf. There were two Eresh, two Burilgi, and three Ashayt vampires. There should have been four of the latter, Naomi explained, but she had not yet selected an apprentice.

Two felt like an intruder and, beyond that, like an animal in a zoo. While most of the council members were careful not to gape, Two could still feel their eyes examining her. She could feel smoldering disapproval from some, and thought it likely that she was the first human ever brought through these doors during a full meeting.

Only Stephen and Naomi seemed unconcerned with her presence. During the period of general mingling that preceded the actual meeting, Stephen wandered with Two, spending most of his time on the sidelines, murmuring explanations to her.

“These meetings are usually brief,” he said. They stood at one end of the room, which had once been the rear of the cathedral. The altar at the other end had been converted to a podium and, down below, where once there had been pews, there was now a loose gathering of overstuffed leather chairs.

“I think this one might run a little longer than normal,” Two said.

Stephen nodded. Two glanced around at the group and her gaze fell on two men who seemed different from the others. She realized after a moment that this was because they were, while not ugly, not beautiful either. The other vampires all seemed to be amazing physical specimens, perfectly shaped and without blemishes. These two looked much more like average human beings.

“Those are the Burilgi, aren’t they?” Two whispered, making a small gesture toward the men.

“Yes. Good eye.”

“They look normal.”

“Indeed. Burilgi vampires are rarely gifted with any cosmetic enhancements – if anything, they are cursed with deformities. The rest of us are slowly sculpted by the blood.”

“I never thought I was pretty enough to be a vampire,” Two said.

Stephen shrugged. “You have a beautiful face, and I think you’d be well-shaped if you weren’t so scrawny. You’re short, and you’re not going to win any wet t-shirt contests, but I don’t think Theroen cared about that.”

As was common with Stephen, Two was unsure whether she wanted to laugh at him or hit him. She settled for rolling her eyes and said, “Thank you for the warm evaluation of my appearance, Stephen.”

Thank you for the warm evaluation of my work, Melissa,
Theroen’s voice said in her head, and Two had to turn away for a moment, blinking back tears. When she looked again at Stephen, he did her the favor of not asking what was wrong, instead moving toward a table in the back. There were wine glasses and various bottles there. Some were labeled, others – resting on warmers – were not, and when Stephen poured from one of these, Two understood why. The liquid in these bottles was not wine.

“This doesn’t offend you, does it?” Stephen asked, sipping at his glass full of blood.

Two shook her head. “Nope. Would it stop you, if it did?”

“Nope.”

“You can drink things other than blood, though, right?”

“Yes, if I choose to. I think the only ones here who can’t are the two Eresh, and Lewis and Richard over there … the Burilgi.”

“So why are you drinking blood?” Two asked. She poured herself a glass of merlot.

“Because I
like
blood,” Stephen replied. “By the way, that bottle you’re holding is worth about seven hundred dollars. Try not to spill.”

“Jesus,” Two hissed, setting it down hastily. “I don’t know enough about wine to appreciate it at a hundred bucks a glass!”

“Don’t worry about it. To be honest, it’s one of the cheaper bottles on the table. The discerning palate would have chosen the burgundy.”

“Well la-dee-da,” Two said. She sipped at the wine. It was very good, but what might have made it worth the price she couldn’t say.

“It’s all just rotten grapes anyway,” Stephen said, “but if there’s anything vampires enjoy, it’s being pretentious, and it doesn’t get much more pretentious than oenology … that is, the science of wine snobbery.”