Page 66 of Besieger
Ingenuar could not hear the Countess’ retort as their carriage, finally, was making a turn towards the building. The footmanwho leapt down and hastened to open the door and help the Countess up the steps was also a vampire. He wore a black livery, and his long dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck. At the sight of the valet the Count’s demeanour changed, his posture became more relaxed, his heartbeat steady. Ingenuar had never seen vampires take on the role of servants. Some of his brethren had tricked and robbed humans of their valuables, but they had never made a vampire for the purpose of service.
And Count di Flaviari, Dulior’s prized fledgling, had done precisely that; he had given his lover the Blood, and bound him. It was a perverse thing to do…Yet delving deeper into the Count’s mind and memories, the All Father saw how this—whatever the arrangement between him and Dulior—had never been the Count’s intention. He had been searching for a way out of it, away from the Countess, and was so very desperate. As long as he could keep Emmerique by his side, the Count was willing to do anything, to sacrifice anything, even if that meant exchanging one master for another, as long as he no longer served under this woman.
It had been centuries since Ingenuar had last appointed a Regent. TheSultanaand theBasilissahad fulfilled their purpose; they had gathered the immortals and divided them amongst each other throughout the Ottoman Empire. They maintained the façade that they served the All Father, but Ingenuar knew better. Having Regents did not strengthen his rule—this empire that Felivar had imposed upon him—it weakened it. A third Regent would not restore the balance between the two mistresses. Not when the man Ingenuar intended to appoint wanted but one thing: to be left alone, undisturbed, with his chosen one.
Ingenuar had once been adraugr’schosen one; he could still taste the cursed Blood that had turned him into a daemon. When he returned to Berlin, he penned a letter; an invitation and a proposition. A promise that the title of Regent would grant the Count his desired freedom and divorce. All Silvio di Flaviari had to do in exchange for the title was to answer to Ingenuar’s beckand call, and carve another rift in the blood borders. Help erode Felivar’s work still further.
And in time, the more the Regents fought, the sooner would Ingenuar see it all undone. There were advantages to Silvio’s possessiveness over his valet, to his obsession. The French Regent would not volunteer to defend Ingenuar’s territories but if someone like theSultanathreatened the consort, who could say how far Silvio would go to keep his lover. Not even Death itself had withstood the insistent drum of Silvio’s heartbeat—Rico, Rico, Rico…
Despite being his firstborn, Ingenuar had never been able to truly behold Felivar. Thedraugrhad always been a faceless spectre, casting no reflection in the mirrors of the Berlin Coven. Nor had any other vampire or human ever exhibited the slightest awareness of the man who stood dressed in red and silver behind Ingenuar’s shoulder. And even if one could see the creature presiding over the Court, Silvio appeared the most blind of all the undead; he had eyes only for Emmerique.
Silvio would never see Felivar, nor be swayed by him. There was no room for another in those sharp green eyes.
It would take years, centuries even, to arrange all the Regents in their proper places on the board, but Ingenuar was patient. What were a few hundred years more spent waiting…
*
1991
Ingenuar lost track of how many vampires he had made over the millennia. He shed his blood for any and all mortals who captured Felivar’s attention—men, women, even children. Those that survived the cleansing of the flesh were welcome into their fold. Soon they were so numerous that they needed a place to call their own. They sought out abandoned mounds and tombs, looting the riches and trinkets laid out for the dead. They wore the clothes left for the deceased to wear in the afterlife. And theykilled. They killed and fed, and when Felivar’s fancy fell upon a human, they dragged and carved them out, making room for the new, for the Blood. They called each other ghouls, daemons. Vampires.
By the time they settled in Prussia, Felivar had long since lost interest in his brood.
“You fathered them, you care for them.” Thedraugrmade a dismissive gesture and withdrew into the bowels of the Coven.
Felivar would often vanish for months, years. Sometimes centuries. He appeared and demanded an audience of Ingenuar, his son, the All Father, only when he wanted something. What did this creature want, what more was there to give? Ingenuar had fed Felivar his blood, his life, the lives of countless others; he had built and expanded a Coven, a web of vampires who reached the very edges of the continent. The known world teemed with these hungry, ravenous creatures… and Ingenuar was growing tired of them. They desecrated the land and bled it dry like mold, like a toadstool tipping under the weight of so much blood.
Blood.
Blood.
“Immortality is catching up to you.” Felivar looked up at the mirror hanging high on the wall of Ingenuar’s study. From this angle his reflection was not visible, only the multitude of paintings and tapestries, the vases perched on the mantlepieces overflowing with delphiniums and buttercups. “It is common for an immortal to grow mad the more centuries one has lived.”
“I am not mad.” Ingenuar answered and realised the absurdity of the words.
Felivar did not appear to have heard him. Thedraugrwas pacing around the room, studying the artworks and trinkets Ingenuar had gathered over the years. His collection had grown so vast he had to move some of it to a separate chamber. His antiques aging while their master rotted before the eyes of the court.
“You have almost entirely stopped drinking blood. You rarely leave this castle you’ve built for yourself. And the last vampire you made—” Felivar cocked his head in the direction of the All Father. Ingenuar’s insides churned under the silver glow of those eyes. The room tilted and nausea threatened to overwhelm the more he fixated on Felivar’s features. So many centuries, and he still could not stand the sight of him. “When was the last time you made a vampire?”
Ingenuar opened his mouth to answer, but Felivar ignored him.
“I’ve found you a sibling.”
“I do not need siblings. I have plenty of kin to worry about.”
“Oh, she is not for you.” Felivar dragged a finger over the mantelpiece, his nail gauging the marble. “She is for me.”
What would it be like for Felivar to make a new vampire after the millennia since his last creation on that barren island of Ingenuar’s youth? Could a human survive being turned by drinking Felivar’s blood now? Could a human survive drinkingIngenuar’sblood? This was why he had stopped making others. He was afraid of what he would bring upon the world. A drop of his blood was enough to cleave the earth—a gallon of it would shatter continental plates.
His father did not offer further details. This sibling, whoever she was, was out there, somewhere in the world. It was up to Ingenuar to find the fledgeling and…do what? What would he do once he found his sister? Bring her to the Coven, introduce her to the others? To Scarlett? Give her a piece of mortal land and a title, name her as Regent?
No, Ingenuar wanted to close the circle of blood, to lure as many of the immortals he could find and end it. The ichor that Felivar had fed him all those centuries ago was never meant to give life: it was poison. It was rot.
And Ingenuar would see it burn.
*
2017
