Chapter 27 #2
Phoenix presses her point, and I can see her mind working tactically.
She knows her grandfather. Knows what arguments will land.
“Think about how long you’ve been building this city—this country.
Your wealth isn’t in gold bars anymore. It’s in Swiss banks.
That’s all numbers and digitized currency that’s secure so long as the government is stable. ”
She lets that sink in.
“You think it stays secure when an AI run by a rogue element has control of that government? Any force seeking power will go after the world’s banks right after it gets control of the most volatile governments’ militaries.”
Ah. Now we’re speaking his language. Wealth. Power. Survival.
Vlad finally shifts in his chair, visibly moved by this argument at last. His posture changes—less dismissive, more alert.
“Chase down this spirit with your computers, and then Phoenix and I will go to defeat it!” He stands, energized by the prospect of battle.
“My family and I will stand beside you,” Abaddon says confidently, also rising.
But Phoenix only sighs as Layden jumps in. “It’s a different world than we’ve known in the past. We can’t fight whatever this is with cannons or muskets. It’s about server farms and AI.”
“What is this AI?” Abaddon barks, obviously frustrated by his lack of understanding.
Phoenix answers when Layden looks exasperated. “Artificial intelligence. Computer programs the humans build to do tasks—programs that can think for themselves.”
“But the runework I’ve seen overlaying the human programming is allowing the AI to advance far beyond what the humans ever dreamed,” Layden adds.
“It’s speeding up what the AI is capable of by centuries.
And from what Phoenix and I were looking at last night—” interesting, that admission, “—it’s only days away from completely wresting control away from the humans. ”
“Even if we could track it down—which we can’t because the AI or the entity programming the runes is smart enough to bounce the source code off server farms all over the world—” Phoenix’s voice carries frustration, “—we still don’t know what we’re dealing with or how to fight it.”
“So what are we to do?” Vlad asks, rising fully from his throne and throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Did you bring us all here to warn us of a coming apocalypse we can do nothing to stave off?”
He begins pacing—theatrical.
“I tell you, Granddaughter, that I have seen kingdoms rise and fall, and I fear nothing! I have always risen to greatness, and this shall be no different. Let these human armies come for me. I shall decimate them and put their heads on pikes as far as the eye can see, like my honored great-grandfather Vlad Dracul the First before me! Blood will rain down on the fields near and far!”
“Dad would have loved this guy,” I mutter under my breath.
Vlad’s face snaps toward me—sharp, predatory hearing.
But Phoenix obviously has many years of experience managing her grandfather’s tirades because she stands up quickly, hands in a defensive posture. “Layden and I are monitoring the situation. And now that Sabra’s here, we’ll cast a circle to see if we can learn more.”
“Bah! What has witchcraft ever done except make things worse?” Vlad says, throwing a hand dismissively toward Sabra.
But Phoenix’s eyes narrow—dangerous. “You know what gifts the witches have given us through contact with the spirits. Even if they came in unexpected ways.”
Vlad turns away from her. “You call betrayal a gift?” He snorts.
“You would not have me but for the witches,” Phoenix says, standing her ground. Voice steady despite the emotional weight.
“And what have you been but a thorn in my side?” her grandfather shoots back viciously. “And now a canary to warn of coming doom it sounds like you can do nothing to stop?”
Phoenix swallows hard, taking a step back. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that his words have wounded her deeply. Not that he seems to notice or care. Casual cruelty from someone who should protect her.
“And what can you do?” Vlad says, turning his venom toward Abaddon and me. “You come here for safety, but it sounds like you’ve only painted a target on our backs if this spirit finds we’ve given safe haven to whoever’s watching it.”
Abaddon looks like he wants to stand toe to toe with Vlad—his body coiling, ready for violence.
I put a warning hand on his knee. Steady. Not yet.
Huffing in annoyance, he stays seated. “My family has many gifts,” he says through gritted teeth, voice tight with controlled rage. “We can help in the coming storm.”
“How, exactly?” Vlad comes to stand over my brother—deliberately intimidating, invading space. “What do you bring to the table? Tell me or leave the sanctuary I have offered immediately!”
I see Abaddon’s face coloring with rage—jaw clenching, muscles bunching.
Time for the tactician to make an appearance before this devolves into violence we can’t afford.
I lift smoothly from my seat, stepping between Vlad and Abaddon. I make sure to stoop slightly so that Vlad retains the advantage of height—deliberate submission, feeding his ego.
“As Layden says, we have some experience with spirits from other realms.” I keep my voice respectful, measured. “You’ll forgive our reticence to expose any weaknesses we may have to one as strong as you. We’ve never met any beings of such might.”
I bow my head slightly and hear Vlad huff—pleased by the flattery, as expected.
It’s an old tactic. One I’ve used on warlords and emperors for millennia. Bullies who are scared love to be mollified by praise, reassured they’re the biggest and baddest in the room, regardless of the truth of it. Reason is of little use with them. Only flattery and manipulation.
“But I promise we are allies you may rely on.”
“I rely on no one but myself,” Vlad sneers—but the heat has gone out of his voice. The immediate danger has passed.
“Whenever your wise granddaughter finds this spirit to target,” I continue smoothly, “will it not be better to send us out as soldiers to face the threat first—at least before endangering your own far superior family members?”
I glance up carefully through my lashes, gauging his reaction.
The idea of using us as cannon fodder clearly appeals to him. I can see it in the way his eyes light up, calculating.
He huffs out his displeasure—keeping up appearances—but steps back. Then glares at where Phoenix and Layden are standing together near his golden throne.
“If you don’t have something more concrete for me by the end of the day, I will expel every last one of them from the compound.” He looks pointedly at Sabra. “Including the witch.”
Then Vlad looks Phoenix’s way, lifting his eyebrows significantly. “Now. Your uncles and I will do our part to siphon you strength for any coming conflict.”
Phoenix sighs and looks toward the floor—resignation, defeat. “Moderate feeding should be enough.”
I have to work to keep my eyebrows from lifting in surprise. So she is not a vampire but still gets power from them when they feed? How exactly does that work? Symbiotic relationship? Magical bond?
Is “granddaughter” as loose a term as “son” is with these vampires? How exactly are they all related to one another?
Layden mentioned there was a god here. Did he mean Phoenix?
As soon as we can get our hands on him alone, Layden has some serious explaining to do.
Vlad glares at Phoenix. “Now is not the time for moderation,” he snaps. “And a better leader would know that.”
As he turns and begins to walk toward the door, his “sons” immediately move in perfect formation to flank his sides and back—military precision, centuries of practice.
“Yes, Grandpapa,” Phoenix says to his retreating figure, her posture deflating the second he turns the corner out of sight. All the strength draining out of her.
“Fuck,” she says quietly, looking between Layden and Sabra with exhaustion and defeat. “What are we going to do?”
Layden looks worried—genuinely concerned for her.
But Sabra just rubs her hands together with dark anticipation. “Blood magic, baby.”
Phoenix winces but looks resigned. Accepting the necessary evil.
“I’m going to check on my wife,” Abaddon says, finally standing. The tension in his shoulders makes it clear he’s barely restraining himself from violence. “Keep me informed.” He looks around, mouth curling in disgust. “The sooner we’re gone from this place, the better.”
I keep my peace, torn between competing priorities.
Part of me wants to stay and find out what will be involved in this “blood magic” the witch speaks of. Information is always valuable, and understanding the full scope of our allies’ capabilities could prove crucial.
But I also need to get back to Lauren to ensure she’s unharmed in this dangerous vampire’s nest. Left alone in enemy territory with only Kharon as protection.
“What did you mean with that last bit about feeding?” I ask, unable to let it go. Strategic information.
Phoenix and Layden both look my way. Phoenix drops her face, turning away—shame, perhaps?
“Can I tell h—” Layden asks her, seeking permission.
She waves a hand without looking. “Whatever.”
“Phoenix isn’t like... them.” Layden scowls, looking toward the door with clear distaste. “Not exactly.”
Phoenix huffs out a mirthless laugh. “Aren’t I? Just indirectly.” She turns back toward me, meeting my eyes with unexpected directness. “When my ancestors feed, it feeds me. Don’t ask me why.”
Ah. Part of the blood magic, I take it. A connection maintained through—
Before I can ask more, though, I feel my head getting heavy. My vision starts to dim at the edges.
No. Not now.
Dammit, not now.
This is an incredibly delicate political situation we’re all navigating—vampires and witches and spirits infiltrating human technology. Not to mention how precarious things are with Lauren. Remus better not screw anything up—
But then my vision goes black as I fall helplessly into deep, undreaming sleep.
My last conscious thought is a prayer that my brother doesn’t destroy everything I’ve carefully built.