Page 22

Chapter 22

Blood of Old

Cian

T he sun was edging toward early evening, casting long shadows over the house and gardens. Fenric fished his shoes out of the grass and tugged them on, leaning on Cian for balance.

They trooped up the center path of the gardens, into the deep shadow of the Mansion, before they reached the kitchen and the servants’ hall.

Cian followed his connection to Rory and found his brother and the necromancer in the library, both of them squared off and unhappy. Fenric and Daniel followed him into the library, Daniel heading to his husband immediately.

“Are the two of you arguing about this?” Daniel asked, turning to his former mentor.

“Not really, beloved?—”

“Yes.” Angel was clearly in a bad mood, arms crossed and expression twisted in a grimace. “I’m not sure about Rageshi. From everything Constans has told me about him he seems like a wild card. Involving him in this mess might do more harm than good.”

“You’re afraid to use him,” Cian spoke up. “You worry that it infringes on his free will. You aren’t trusting the people around you to keep you from causing harm.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Angel asked, more than grumpy this time.

Cian strode forward to stand beside Rory, shoulder to shoulder, Fenric on his heels. “Constans holds the medallion, and loves his sire. He won’t let you ask more of Rageshi than the old one is willing to give. You hesitate with me all the time—trust that I am willing and able to deny you if you ask too much, and that I have Rory to champion me if I cannot speak for myself.”

“And me,” Fenric spoke up, taking one of Cian’s hands in both of his. Cian gave his lover a nod and a squeeze of his hands in thanks.

“You’re trying hard not to abuse your position and your authority,” Rory said, Daniel nodding in agreement. “Trust the people around you who love you that we won’t let you become a tyrant. You’re nothing like the High Council practitioners.”

Angel sighed and wiped at his face, clearly thinking hard. He was silent for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Trust my loved ones. I can do that. I need to do that.”

He looked up at them, how they were ranged in a line, shoulder to shoulder, a single unit. Angel glanced at the hand-holding between Cian and Fenric and he huffed out a laugh. “Is Fenric part of the family now?”

“Yes,” Cian declared, chin up.

“If you’ll have me.” Fenric added, a bit nervous. Cian tugged him in closer to his side, glaring a bit at Angel, daring him to say otherwise.

Angel thought about it for a moment, taking in the four of them. Eventually he returned his gaze to Fenric. “We need to talk about your choice of profession at some point, but I have no objections to you and Cian having a relationship. You understand that Cian is under my authority for the next thousand years?”

Fenric nodded. “I do.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“As long as you treat him with respect and courtesy, then I see no issue.” Fenric was all but challenging the necromancer, shoulders back and his expression fierce.

“Alright,” Angel relaxed a bit, hands on his hips. “I won’t get involved in your relationship. Fenric is welcome here and on the grounds. Is this a long-term thing?”

Cian looked to Fenric, lifting a brow. Fenric met his gaze directly and nodded once, firmly. Cian turned back to Angel. “Yes.”

“Welcome then, Fenric. Are you comfortable being here? We are in the middle of a war,” Angel asked.

“I’ve lived through countless wars, and some of them were even with the High Council. I’m here to stay. I’ll fight them if you’ll have me.”

“Thank you,” Angel said. “I appreciate that.”

Angel pulled out his smartphone and sent a text. “I told Simeon I’m on my way to talk to Rageshi. Who’s coming with me?”

Daniel spoke up. “Rory and me, please. I want to help you and learn about blood magic, too. Rory can translate for us if Constans isn’t free.”

Angel gave Daniel a fond smile. “What about the two of you?” Angel gestured to Cian and Fenric.

“I’m curious about how to fight a blood mage efficiently.” Fenric said to Cian. “Killing them before they can cast is usually how I’d do it, but that’s not effective at range. I don’t see many opportunities for an ambush with de la Roche if we can’t find him.”

Cian nodded, then turned to Angel. “We’d like to come as well. I can glamour myself so no one sees me.”

Angel’s phone vibrated and he checked his messages. “Simeon is expecting us in Constans’ suite. We can take the archway there.”

Angel led the way to the arch that had taken over the library hearth, but a sharp chirp from the doorway had them all pausing. Eroch ran into the library, chirping a mix of Dragon and English words as he went to Angel, knocking his wings into Angel’s side, making him wince.

“Easy, kiddo, what’s going on?” Angel asked Eroch, concerned.

Eroch chirped and then focused on speaking in English. “Bored.” The rest was in Dragon, which had Cian chuckling.

“Leo is still in training with Ignacio, and Eroch needs something to do,” Cian translated.

Angel shook his head but gestured to the arch. “Well, come on then. You’ll spend the evening with me at the Tower.”

Eroch chirped in happiness and bolted through the arch that would take them to the Tower. Angel followed, leading the rest of them through.

Cian glamoured himself to be invisible, and walked through the archway with Fenric.

Cian

Constantine Batiste’s suite was at the top of the Tower, the skyscraper in downtown Boston that was owned by the Boston Bloodclan. It wasn’t the tallest building in Boston, only ten levels to it, but it was large enough to house several hundred vampires, their live-in blood donors, and shift employees that came and went by day and night. It was attached to the combo casino, ballroom, and administration building that housed the non-residential workings of the Bloodclan.

Cian and Fenric stepped out of the vault into the hall of the suite and turned to the right, heading for the main room where they heard talking.

Connie sat in his throne, but to Cian’s amusement, another wooden throne had appeared in the seating area of the huge room, and Rageshi lounged in the huge chair, clad in long red robes that left his powerful arms and elegant feet bare. The chairs were arranged so that Connie was no longer sitting alone at the head of the seating area, but side by side with Rageshi. The ancient vampire sipped from a glass goblet, drinking fresh blood, his icy blue eyes cataloguing everything and everyone in the room.

Isaac Salvatore, Connie’s mate, was nowhere to be seen, a rarity in Cian’s limited experience. Usually the fire mage was next to Constans, the two lovers touching constantly.

Cian was surprised to see that Rageshi looked right at him for a heartbeat—the old vampire knew he was there. Cian snorted in amusement and dismissed his glamour.

Rageshi clocked Daniel and Rory, eyeing them warily, but clearly recognizing them from the rescue in the Armenian mountains. He spared a long glance for Angel, one of wary respect for the necromancer. Fenric he glanced at for a long moment as well, but it was Daniel that captivated the old vampire the most.

Daniel followed Angel and Eroch, Rory at his side, and Cian warily watched Rageshi, who in turn was watching Daniel. He spoke in Latin to Constans, a rapid-fire question.

Connie turned to Daniel, who sat nearby, Rory taking the seat next to him. Cian stayed standing, Fenric at his side, wary of the old vampire. If Cian was mercurial, then Rageshi was chaotic.

“He recognizes you as one of the awakened sidhe,” Connie explained to Daniel, grimacing, but he finished translating. “He wants to know if your mate chose you for your gifts or your beauty.”

“ Eum nupsi, quia eum amo, et Daniel me consensit in aeternitatem iungere .” Rory interjected in Latin, expression hard, making eye contact with Rageshi. Rory then turned to Daniel, speaking softly. “I told him that I wed you because I love you, and that you chose to join me in eternity.”

Daniel took Rory’s hand in both of his and kissed his husband on the lips, a soft peck. “Thank you. I’m not that conversant in Latin, but I got some of it.”

Connie was speaking to Rageshi in Latin. “Speak to my guests with respect, my master. The boy is dearly loved and powerful in his own right.”

“I meant no disrespect, my child,” Rageshi replied in Latin. “In my time, the demigods awakened many beautiful youths for eternal pleasures. These two demigods are older than even those I knew in my earliest years. I thought them the same.”

Rory was quietly translating for Daniel at the same time, and Daniel’s expression was pinched and angry. He spoke to Rageshi in English. “You’re old enough to know how to be polite. I’m giving you a pass since you’ve only been awake a few days, but you say one more rude thing about me, I’ll blast you with lightning.”

Cian was very proud of his little brother.

Rageshi listened to Connie translate the last of that brilliant threat, and everyone was tense, even Eroch, who was sitting beside Angel and growling. Rageshi eyed the young dragon but said nothing, a faint smile on his lips, icy eyes glittering. Instead of being upset, he appeared delighted.

“Forgive me,” Rageshi replied in English, setting aside his goblet on the low coffee table in front of him, his long black hair falling over his shoulder in a riot of small braids and thick strands. His accent was definitely from old, old Mesopotamia, though whether that was his birthplace was up for debate. “I was rude.”

Daniel appeared mollified, leaning into Rory with a nod. “Thank you for apologizing.” He paused a beat. “Your English is quite good for only studying it for a few days.”

“Thank you,” Rageshi replied, speaking carefully, his fangs fully extended. Cian figured the old vampire never bothered hiding his fangs or talons, keeping them out all the time, unlike the younger vampires in the room. Rageshi continued, careful with his pronunciation. “English is…familiar.”

It would be—English was a messy mix of many different influences, some of which Rageshi would know, like Latin and some of the older Germanic tongues.

Rageshi was also a polyglot—he probably knew more languages than several of the people in the room combined, and he’d had numerous experiences learning a new language when in contact with new people. Cian had little doubt Rageshi would be fluent enough to communicate effectively in a couple of weeks at the pace he was going.

Simeon came from the depths of the suite behind Connie, putting away his phone. He leaned down next to Connie, speaking in his ear, but everyone present heard him. “My master, there are several potential targets at a likely staging area a block away from the Tower to the west. It’s still daylight for a short while—we can’t get any of our vampiric security personnel near enough to the area with the light. And I won’t risk our human guards. We can wait until sunset.”

Connie nodded, rubbing a hand over his chin as he thought. Rageshi watched in interest, though Cian wondered how much the old vampire understood.

“Daylight does not hinder me,” Cian shared, speaking the obvious. For all that the vampires were powerful hunters, they had limitations. Sunset was coming soon, but the sun was still high enough that most vampires in the Tower were only just waking. For vampires, it was very early. “What is the problem?”

Connie gestured for Simeon to speak while Connie translated for Rageshi. Simeon gave Cian a slight grimace, which Cian returned with a sharp grin. They weren’t friends, by any means, but they were both civil to each other.

“Enforcers have been posted outside the Tower in several locations since the Council came to Boston. There have been attempts to subvert our blood donors, poison our food supply, and kill our fledglings. Those attempts were mostly foiled, but the attacks keep coming in new variations. This time, enforcers are harassing our employees as they come and go from the Tower. Many of our dayshift employees have families they go home to every night and they cannot stay within the Tower for long periods of time for their safety. We are contemplating having them take paid leave and stay home.”

“Do that, my Elder.” Connie said to Simeon once he finished translating. “Have the humans stay home for now if they feel safe there. Paid leave for everyone until this problem gets sorted out. Shut down the casino and reschedule events in the ballroom.”

“The Council is harassing your people,” Fenric spoke up, crossing his arms. “Get rid of the enforcers.”

Simeon grinned, fangs flashing. “We would, but they are off Tower property and congregate in public areas. They disperse before sunset. Our human security guards lack magic, and are vulnerable to the enforcers, so we cannot stop them during the day.”

“Your pet police officer isn’t any help?” Cian asked.

“O’Malley has been ordered to stay out of it unless regular citizens are getting hurt,” Angel answered with disgust. “That meeting I had with state authorities was nothing but a waste of time. They won’t move against the High Council unless humans start dropping in the streets. State authorities are insisting it’s a federal problem, that the High Council counts as a diplomatic entity. All I got from them were thinly veiled threats and double-speak bullshit.”

“Are they backing the High Council?” Fenric asked.

“I think the state government is waiting to see who wins, and punting the issue up to the feds when they can. They’re not getting involved beyond useless meetings and talking points on the news, casting blame wherever they want.” Angel was all but growling when he finished, clearly incensed.

Connie was translating for Rageshi, who listened with a growing air of confusion. He gestured with one sharp-taloned hand to Angel before speaking in Latin, his question blunt and to the point. “Why do you not kill them all?”

Cian snorted in amusement and Fenric grinned, both of them in agreement with the old vampire.

“De la Roche is a blood mage, and I don’t believe in mass murder,” Angel retorted, Connie translating for him.

“Make him bleed, necromancer, and he will fall.” Rageshi said, reaching for his goblet of blood and taking a long drink, finishing the glass. He gestured with the empty goblet. “Blood magic is about consuming. Magic, life energies, it is all the same. Blood magic eats itself in the end.”

“Do you mean that literally, or is there something else I need to do?” Angel asked.

“Both,” Rageshi replied when Connie translated. “Deprive him of power. Is the one you wish to kill a sorcerer?”

Angel nodded. “He can access the veil.”

“Ahh, how perfect,” Rageshi purred, leaning back on his throne. “Wear him down to nothing so he must access the veil. He will be reluctant to do it. Make him.”

“Why?” Angel asked, Connie translating quickly.

“Blood magic consumes. If there is no one for him to bleed for power, and he has used everything he has stolen already, then the veil is the last, most dangerous thing he can do. His nature will try to consume the veil power the longer he has access to it—and there is no blood mage who can consume pure veil power and not burn out from within.”

“Why would a sorcerer turn to blood magic at all if they’re so vulnerable to something that makes them sorcerers to begin with?” Angel asked, confused.

“Power is the answer, always. Its pursuit can be illogical.”

Angel braved asking the burning question he must have been thinking about since he learned of Rageshi. “Why were you a blood mage as a mortal?”

Connie translated that slowly, as if worried about how his sire would react. Rageshi smiled, all fangs and bright eyes.

“You know blood magic as a taking. It is a violation.” Rageshi gestured toward Angel and Daniel, who both nodded in agreement. “As it was when I Turned my Constans, body corrupted by the taking of his blood and life magic. It was not the magic of my youth.”

Daniel and Angel both looked a bit perplexed. Rory spoke up. “I believe he refers to the days before magic was a discipline, before types or affinities were understood, before structured spellcasting. When magic was seen as a gift from the gods or spirits, when even ritualism was new. Back when humans were first learning magic, things were more open, free-flowing, almost unlimited in many ways. And there were different morals and values placed on human autonomy and life.”

“When I was mortal, it was different. It was about willing sacrifice, of one’s self or another. Life, blood, sex. It was more than pain and death.” Rageshi sighed, clearly growing bored with the conversation. “Your enemy now. Bleed him out, or drain him until his magics turn on him and he is forced to use the veil. Outlast him, death mage, and you will watch as he consumes himself.”

Rageshi eyed his empty goblet and then turned his attention to the darkening view outside the windows. “So much is different, but the greed of humans has not changed since I went to my slumber,” he mourned. “Constans, my child.”

“Yes, my master?” Connie replied evenly, not at all perturbed by the faint sense of sulking coming from Rageshi.

“Where is the beautiful young Ricon? I would talk to him. I grow weary of this conversation.”

Cian smirked and shared a grin with Fenric.

There was a group of people coming toward the suite, and Cian quickly glamoured himself to be invisible.

The door to the suite opened, and Isaac Salvatore entered, Ellora Sumar and two younger vampires bringing up the rear. Cian recognized Beryl from Rory’s memories, and the third, a very young vampire, was a well-built man who was dressed in the black suit of a Tower guard. He moved like he was dangerous, so this must be the newly-Turned Miguel. Beryl was a friend of Isaac’s, and Miguel was the latest fledgling Turned by Connie only a few months earlier.

“Sorry to interrupt the meeting,” Isaac said as he crossed the room. “Ellora has some updates about the enforcers and Beryl is here to get Rageshi outfitted in some more clothes.”

Connie translated quickly, and Rageshi perked up, zeroing in on Isaac and Beryl with interest. Rageshi stood from his throne and ignored everyone, heading right to Beryl and smiling down at them.

“You are Ricon’s fledgling.” That was said in Latin, and Beryl must have understood some of it, as they nodded and held out a hand for the old vampire to shake. Rageshi hesitated, head tilting to the side, but he reached out and took Beryl’s hand in his, letting them shake it once before letting go.

“Master Ricon is my sire, yes sir. My sire taught me Latin not long after I was Turned, along with reading and writing and arithmetic, about a hundred years ago now.” Speaking Latin in a Southern US accent with a smooth drawl, Beryl was elegantly dressed in a dark-gray suit and black wingtips, their dark hair swept back in a high wave off their forehead. “I’m loosely fluent in Latin, if you’d like to get started. I brought a few options along to see what you might like.” They hefted a full garment bag that was thrown back over their shoulder.

They spoke a bit stiffly, but their Latin was passable, and Rageshi apparently understood. “Yes, tell me of Ricon while you ply your trade, tailor. He interests me greatly.”

Beryl sent a glance to Constans, who waved a hand toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Beryl nodded and led the way, Rageshi following, intently asking Beryl about their sire.

That was one obvious crush Rageshi was nurturing, but then Cian wasn’t one to judge—he fell into loving Fenric as easily as breathing once they were reunited.

Ellora Sumar and Miguel were speaking to Simeon, and Angel was grumbling to Connie. “Your sire is a bit chaotic.”

“He can be, yes.” Connie agreed. “But he’s not a danger to you or our allies.”

Ellora and Miguel were still speaking to Simeon in quiet tones, heads close together, tension in the lines of their shoulders and faces.

“Master,” Simeon interrupted, “There’s a potential disturbance in the casino.”

“What?” Connie demanded.

“Security reports that there are several practitioners in the casino, new faces, and they are casing the place, acting strangely. None of them are gambling, and those that have drinks haven’t imbibed anything.” Simeon clarified. “I agree with Ellora and Miguel—Council enforcers in plain clothes are in the casino.”

“Remove them from the premises—without hurting our regular patrons. Let’s not cause undue alarm,” Connie directed. “If you can, of course. Violence is an option if they resist leaving.”

“Understood, my master,” Simeon nodded once, gesturing for Ellora and Miguel to head for the door. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

“I’m coming, too,” Angel said, standing. “I’ve had enough of the Council fucking with our lives.”

Angel, Daniel, and Isaac all looked at each other and followed Simeon to the door, the Salvatore men moving together as a unit, Rory lockstep with Daniel. They passed Cian and Fenric, heading for the door.

Connie looked like he wanted to follow, but he sent a glance to the hallway, clearly needing to stay within reach of his sire. The ancient vampire was only days out of hibernation and was surrounded by a modern world he had no bearings for—such a powerful being adrift without an anchor was dangerous. Cian understood.

He removed enough of the glamour for Connie to see him.

“Stay here, Connie,” Cian said. “We’ve got this. We’ll protect the Tower and your people.”

Fenric and Cian shared a look—and Cian disguised himself with the glamour he used previously on his date with Fenric, changing appearance in a blink of an eye. Connie lifted his brows in surprise, but nodded in approval. “Go, and thank you.”

Cian and Fenric exited the suite, and instead of waiting for the elevator to return, they ran down the stairs at a fast clip, heading for the casino.