Page 123 of Besieger
*
ELAY, 2020
For centuries the sun bled into the stars and the stars haemorrhaged in the glow of a merciless sun, as Elay waited for Rorgon to come. The last he had seen of his master was the nightof his turning. It had been a fraught and disorienting birth—to awaken as a daemon, alone, on the second setting of the sun, with Rorgon nowhere in sight. He had promised to come back for Elay once he was rested and had replenished his strength. Making another daemon, Rorgon explained, took too much of him, leaving him blinded and weak.
“But there is no rush,mon ami,” Rorgon sighed, sweeping Elay’s hair from his temples, so he might marvel at his creation. “I have wed you to an eternity by my side.”
An eternity of waiting: first in Paris, then in Béziers. Vampire after vampire darkened the doorstep ofMarquisBracci, but none of them his master; none of them had heard of the silver-haired magician with golden eyes.
Rorgon had been right when he proclaimed that Elay would make an excellent groom…if he had meant to wed him to solitude itself.
Elay was still waiting in the tower when the call came.
“There is a telephone call for you, Monsieur. From theMarquis.” The butler gestured nervously for Elay to follow him into an alcove, a corner of the house he had never been before.
A rotary-dial telephone was perched on a masterfully carved table. The brass dial gleamed, polished from years of use, and Elay felt a sudden urge to plunge his fingers into the holes and turn it, eager to hear the metallic sound of the mechanism as it rotated. He could not recall ever hearing the telephone ring; his hosts had little fondness for the wonders of the age. Yet the heavy handset lay on its side, waiting for him to pick it up.
Elay lifted it to his ear, and the crackle on the line was only drowned out by Emerick’s voice, as it poured in a series of instructions. Elay listened, the sculptures lining the hallway staring down at him in mute witness. He did not need to write down theComte’s order—no, theMarquis, Elay reminded himself; he had yet to get used to the shift in power. It was a simple request, there would be no delay in fulfilling it.
“I will do as theMarquisinstructs.” Elay nodded and returned the handset back on top of the telephone. The jacks gave a nice click. He wished he had heard it ring, to have been the one to answer the call.
He was sure any human could have completed the task, and handled it better than he ever could, but theMarquishad requested a vampire. The thought made Elay swell with pride. He had never been of use to Silvio or Emerick. They had treated him with more consideration than the servants, but with less attention than they gave the numerous artworks and trinkets scattered about the house.
His assurance wavered when he stepped into the master bedroom. Following his sister Madame la Countess di Flaviari’s visit, the maids had swept the broken shards of glass and a new mirror had been installed above the bed. There had been no damage to the frame, and it looked identical to the one before it. To be certain, Elay browsed through the catalogues detailing all the riches Silvio had amassed over the centuries. There was no mention of a mirror. Therefore, it seemed to hold neither sentimental nor monetary value, which meant his masters would not notice the replacement.
“Take both swords down,” Elay instructed the footman who had followed him into the room.
Emerick had not specified which sword he wanted or whether it mattered. Elay arranged for both to be restored. Once the iron was reforged and polished, and the leather scabbards mended, he would choose one and send it to Berlin.
*
ASTRA
Mihaela had always been a fidgety curious sprite impatient to learn and throw herself into the annals of history, even as a mortal. It has been that spark within her that drew Astra to the young woman. Mihaela dreamed of unearthing the ancient, theunmentionable. When Astra claimed her, she promised Mihaela endless possibilities. She ensured that all the relics of the ancients would find their way to Mihaela, offering their riches, their knowledge, and their histories, no longer forgotten, but waiting to be witnessed, and recorded. Mihaela’s eyes were meant to see civilisations rise, and fall, and crumble into ruin.
What Astra failed to foresee as she allowed herself to be bound, was how strong the hunger for knowledge had been within that morsel of human flesh. How Mihaela’s desires were barely confined to the practical and the academic. The girl wanted to plunge both hands elbow-deep into the world and tear out every tomb, every skeleton, every urn and parchment, and drag them into the light.
Mihaela wanted time to learn. She was not dying, she was not sick or fragile, and yet she did not trust the confines of her body. She did not trust herself to accomplish everything alone.And what a better meal than a human whose own mind is eroding her body, Astra thought as she gazed lovingly at Mihaela. It was easy to seal the deal, and nurture and sculpt Mihaela’s strengths as the young woman scurried from library to library filling her notebooks with appendices and bibliographies for later study.
The night Mihaela was turned into a vampire had been a mistake, an oversight. Astra knew of the lycans in Tarnovo; Mihaela had interacted with them on numerous occasions, oblivious to their true nature. They were of no concern or consequence. But a vampire? And one who sought not to kill, but make others of its wretched kind? Astra should have been more careful. She did not worry that immortality would affect the deal or tamper with the soul. The soul would grow beautifully under Astra’s guiding hand, but it no longer was a quick meal.
Cheating mortals of their souls was a trade reserved for lesser demons, creatures who did not dine at the Devil’s table. Astra had long forgone the need for this kind of entertainment; it had been centuries since she last struck a bargain with a human and offered her services; bartering her true name in exchange for amorsel of flesh. It was beneath a demon of her rank to meddle and dawdle in the human world like this.
Nevertheless, she had let Mihaela draw her in and ensnarl her. Astra found the woman amusing… and, to her regret, the she-demon found herself missing the taste of a corrupt soul freshly plucked from its host. She no longer needed to rely on souls to sustain and grant her power, but the appetite within her had awakened anew.
Hunger. Every deed, every sin, every deal at the hands of a demon had always been born of hunger; to gobble, gulp and swallow.
Had Mihaela remained human, she would not have aged beyond thirty, turning herself into a quickly earned meal. Astra had seen Mihaela’s future and had been eager to watch the few remaining mortal years erode… Instead, as a vampire, Mihaela had outlived the time allotted to her, thus escaping the fate Astra had glimpsed in the threads. Two decades had passed since her turning, and Astra was growing ravenous.
“An eternity to fatten a soul,” she sighed.
Nothing was eternal. She had seen dukes and counts and princes fall and rise in Hell. Immortality did not guarantee a long existence. Mihaela, like many of her damned kind, could grow weary and lose her mind, walk willingly into the sun. Another vampire or creature could easily kill her.Astracould kill her.
Such an easy thing to do. Squeeze a little too tightly when her hands found their way around Mihaela’s throat. Devour that sweet little heart as Astra toyed with her in the privacy of the bedroom, death melting into ecstasy. A meal befitting a Prince of Hell.
The first sin had been a mortal taking a bite. Astra wanted Mihaela to sink her teeth deep, tear a mouthful of sin, and chew until her gums bled.Souls ripen from madness and fear. The other vampires—all these covens and their masters—would do Astra’s work for her. They would equally torment and enchant Mihaela during the long stretch of time when Astra left her side.
But Astra had underestimated the cruelty of vampires. The state in which the so-calledComtehad left Mihaela was wretched, yet not beyond repair. He had done her the kindness of sparing her the burden of outliving her parents, by erasing Mihaela’s very existence from their minds. Mihaela had not been there to bury Vladimir and Ophelia when they died—of old age and in peace, no less—nor did she know at which grave to go and weep at.
