Chapter 5
Tobias
After Christo’s departure with the vampires, they bounced a few theories back and forth about what could have caused the suicide.
Before they’d had time to discuss anything, Tobias felt a sharp pain at the core of his being.
For a fraction of a second, it was as though something had tried to suck all of his vampiric power out of a pinprick-sized hole in his chest. The power was still there of course, but the sensation was quite debilitating.
He knew without a shadow of a doubt another vampire was dead. This time, it wasn’t a member of Althea’s entourage, but a long-running member of the NYC Kiss. Before he’d had time to process what might have happened, Tobias blurred from the room, making a beeline for the scene of the disturbance.
As he threw open both doors to the large living space where some members of the Kiss had gathered, he saw an expired vampire on the floor.
Nearby, an unfamiliar individual staked another vampire, who also fell, never to get back up.
Tobias produced a dagger, pivoted his grip on the handle into a striking position, and staked the murderer before he could do any more damage. It was not a vampire from the NYC Kiss.
Behind Tobias, a second outsider staked two more vampires, who had rushed forward to assist their king. He ended the additional threat and swiftly assessed the surroundings in search of further peril.
On the other side of the room, four mortal servants had also died.
Unable to live without their masters, and unwilling to succumb to a painful rapid ageing process and slow agonizing death, they had staked themselves, much like Althea’s vampires had.
Eight unnecessary deaths. People he’d sworn to protect. Subjects he had failed.
His heart was caught in a vice. Unbearable pressure enveloped him, rendering him almost entirely speechless. Conceiving words took everything he had.
“Is there anyone else in this room who is not oathed to me?”
Once it was confirmed the room was safe, Tobias assigned all vampires of senior rank to close the club and banish anyone who was not a member of their Kiss. With the promise he would return as soon as possible, Tobias blurred back to the storeroom.
“What just happened?” Althea demanded, when he came to a stop.
“Four more vampires and their servants are dead. Two outsiders murdered them. I ended their sorry asses straight away, but it occurred to me afterward that we probably should have waited until we’d had time to question them.”
“This is going to be messy.” Rion said telepathically. “We must tread carefully.” Out loud, he said, “You had to end the threat to prevent more tragedy befalling us. Safety was the priority.”
“What’s the sitch out there?” Will asked. “We should probably close the club.”
“Already done,” Tobias responded gruffly.
“Good.” Rion exhaled slowly. “I think it is time we use this room for its original purpose. They need to see you on the throne. It is a position of power. With the right speech, your reassurance could be the difference between unity and pandemonium.”
Tobias nodded, but spoke aloud. “We should gather the Kiss here. It’s the only space big enough to hold everyone at once, and the hounds are here to help keep order.
If that’s all right with you?” He turned to Lemures, who remained stoic in his regal pose.
It was a tenuous approval, but he’d learned the hound king was extremely vocal if he didn’t agree with something.
“No!” Althea shouted, as though it had been her approval he’d sought. “This bond with you is affecting my connection with my females. I cannot face them until I know which of my vampires are dead this time!”
Tobias turned slowly and looked at her. “Not yours, mine. Trust your senses, Buttercup. This is bigger than you.”
Admitting the scale of what they were dealing with did a number on him.
Grief and guilt fought to take hold, over the failure to protect those who were his.
Nausea manifested in the pit of his stomach, swirling and roiling; threatening to make a violent arrival.
This was a not a common sensation for the Undead.
“What’s going on, Martelli?” Concern laced Will’s tone.
“I need a minute,” Tobias muttered.
Rion’s brows pinched. “Who did we lose?”
After Tobias had rattled off the names, he leaned forward, gripping both lower thighs in a bid to suppress the recently-consumed blood rising in his throat.
“Eight is a lot to lose at once,” Will said softly, remembering the time he’d lost a charge. It had been agony, and over only one death. “Especially after oathing thirty-ish new vamps. He really does need a minute.”
Will pushed off the desk, walked over to Tobias, and gently rested a hand at the vampire king’s back.
Tobias could feel his body soaking up the divine energy as the angel wove a miracle.
This was a world apart from feeding on the male’s blood, an already overwhelming experience.
It couldn’t possibly erase the discontent within, but at least it curbed the urge to throw up.
“What do those vampires have in common with Althea’s?” Rion mused.
“Do you think it could be some kind of sickness?” Keziah asked.
“Vampires don’t get sick.” Althea said. “This isn’t the movies.”
“I know that!” Keziah’s voice crept up a notch. “But these are not ordinary circumstances. Mila was my blood sister, we were raised together as children, sired by the same vampire as adults, and now she’s experienced the True-Death. I will not stand by idle, while you make light of this!”
“Kez, I’m as pissed as you are.” Althea’s tone carried irritation, but her expression was soft. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
A look was exchanged between the two females, something more than sisterhood or loyalty.
It suggested a deep level of affection that could only come from a physically intimate relationship.
He knew this look, because she had once looked at him this way.
He’d forgotten that even the coldest enforcer could still possess a softer side.
“Were you all sired by Marquez?” Rion asked thoughtfully, thus shattering the runaway thoughts Tobias had been entertaining.
“I was,” Althea answered at once. “But Keziah and Mila weren’t. Their sire is the King of Brazil. Why?”
“I was looking for something in which to connect all who had perished.” Rion sighed.
“What is the name of their sire?” Tobias’ unreadable stare was fixed on Althea.
“Ramón Carvalho.”
With both lips pressed together; he nodded in response. “Are there others with you who do not share Marquez’s bloodline?”
“I believe Alice and Helga were sired by Viggo Westergaard,” Althea said quietly.
There was a moment of silence as the immortals digested this information.
Tobias massaged his brow, trying to grasp passing thoughts in a bid to solidify some sort of plan.
The loss of eight vampires weighed upon him.
They hadn’t even died in the same way as Althea’s female, but it had to be connected.
This was all far too much of a coincidence.
Two attacks in his domain, Undead suicide, and Undead murder. I don’t believe in coincidences.
“We must determine who sired the vampires that ended our eight,” Rion said, “along with which Kiss they owe allegiance to.”
“Exactly.” Will nodded. “What were they even doing here?”
With a sigh, Tobias folded both arms over his chest. “Well, despite my insistence those residing here oath themselves to me, there are legitimate reasons for outsiders to be present. Unless it was someone sent by Marquez, I think there’s a bigger picture here, one we cannot see.”
“The Unholy vault,” Rion murmured. “During the Middle Ages, and several centuries beyond, everything was documented. That didn’t change until about sixty years ago. If a book about the nine original vampire kings exists, it will be there.”
With lips pressed together and brows drawn, Tobias thought about the suggestion. “If what you say is true, it will only be a viable plan if every vampire tied up in this mess was sired more than sixty years ago.”
“There is no way in Hell anyone documented every vampire sired up until sixty years ago,” Will said. “If you believe that, you’ve lost your damned mind.”
“Maybe not, but it isn’t as crazy as it sounds,” Althea mused. “If you can find a document with the original kings, maybe a few of their early protégés, we can narrow the search. I know for a fact Marquez has his own records. We’re expected to tell him if we bring anyone new into the fold.”
“You’re right,” Tobias gazed at her thoughtfully. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“My sire is one of the original kings,” Keziah announced, “but I don’t think he keeps records of anything at all.”
“Do not fret,” Rion offered a hint of a smile. “We have a starting point.”
“There’s five and a half hours until dawn,” Tobias said, “so, here’s what we’re going to do. Will, you should head to the vault and see what you can find. Bring back anything you think is even remotely connected. We have a number of trusted allies who can help search.”
The angel nodded. “Sure, no prob.”
“Rion, can you investigate the vampire who ended ours? Find out who he came to meet with here, how he’s connected to us and where he’s from.”
“Of course.” The demon gave a respectful nod.
Tobias turned back to the females. “Althea, Keziah, we’re going to talk to the vampires.”
Will
It wasn’t the first time Will had been to the Vatican, however this time he wore his mortal form.
He knew exactly where he was going, and by materializing directly inside the Unholy vault, he didn’t need to bother any of the Vatican citizens.
This was fortunate, as on a previous occasion, the sight of him in all his Holy glory had caused a cleric to suffer a heart attack, and he’d been forced to drop everything to heal the poor male.
Nope, it’s better this way. I’ll grab whatever I need, and be gone before anyone knows I was even here.
By casting out his senses, Will located the appropriate area of the vault, by focusing on Undead energy and themes that might be helpful.
As with his previous visit, he strode past all the bright and wide aisles, with their immaculate polished tile floors.
He continued deeper, until the space between the rows of shelving was barely wider than a winged angel.
The clean white ceiling lights gave way to dimly lit wall sconces that barely penetrated each row.
This was where some of the darkest secrets of the Unholy were kept.
He walked slowly, eyes scanning the shelves. Searching by instinct was incredibly frustrating, as it was impossible to know what you were looking for until you found it. Eventually, he stopped and stooped down to examine the bottom shelf.
In just a few minutes, Will had an armload of books. He walked up and down a few more rows to be certain. Satisfied at last, he prepared to return to New York.
“Zadkiel!” A voice shouted. “How did you get here?”
At the sound of his former Holy name, particularly by this voice, Will froze. Michael… Why does he show up every damned time I try to come to this place? Thank the Savior I chose my mortal form for this outing, otherwise explaining how I still have wings could be a nightmare.
“Michael.” He stepped out from the row into plain sight.
Michael awaited in all his angelic wonder, wings flexed, and contempt up on his face. Beside him, another archangel, Uriel, stood wide-eyed.
Will could understand the panic. The angels who resided in the higher realms adhered to a rigid system teeming with rules and regulations. Their belief system and expectations were absolute, leaving no room for compromise.
It had taken him an eternity to realize he didn’t belong in that world.
He’d chosen to sleep with Vixen, and embark on a quest through the lower realms to rescue Rion.
Both these actions should have seen him become a Fallen.
However, the angels of the higher realms were not aware there was another choice.
They did not know angels only Fell if they chose darkness over light.
Since he would never entertain such madness, Will had been welcomed into the Outer Realms instead. A secret place, where the Holy and the souls of mortals could go when they did not meet the strict criteria the higher realms demanded, but still chose to serve the Savior.
Michael knew none of this, but Uriel did. As one of the Savior’s very few double agents, Uriel could go to both the higher and Outer Realms, and he knew everything about Will. Will, who by Michael’s rulebook, should not have been able to dematerialize.
There was no way for Uriel and Will to exchange any sort of understanding with Michael standing right there.
“Your fall from grace was most disappointing, though not unexpected,” Michael said.
“I’m at peace with my decision.” Will paired the confident statement with a slightly less confident smile. He was happy, he just didn’t want to talk to Michael.
The archangel’s jaw ticked. “I shall repeat my question. What are you doing here?”
“Rion Le Roux brought me here,” Will said smoothly, as though he’d rehearsed the alibi in advance. “He is conducting research, and I offered to assist.”
“So, you serve a demon, now.” Michael’s face took on a look of pity. “You may have Fallen, but you do not have to give up completely. You can still live a good life in the In-Between, among the mortals.”
“If I might interject,” Uriel said after politely clearing his throat. “We are already behind schedule. It would be wise to get the texts we came for and return to the sixth level promptly.” His gaze remained on Will as he spoke, conveying far more information with what he did not say.
Michael stroked his jawline, as though trying to reach an important decision. “I do not think either of these males should be poking around in the Unholy vault. How did the demon even know it existed? Was that your doing, Zadkiel?”
“No, and I don’t go by that name anymore. It’s Will, now. I also don’t answer to you anymore. So, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” With that, he strode off back into the section he’d come from and pretended to be searching for something else.
“Did you see what he did?”
Michael’s outrage would have once brought shame and humiliation to Will, but right now it just seemed hilarious.
The angels of the higher realms had their own vital purpose in the grand scheme of things, but it paled in comparison to the Outer Realms and the real battles fought in the In-Between.
He found it difficult to fathom how he’d managed to keep fighting against the grain for so long, trying to win their favor.
“Let us return to the task we came to fulfill,” Uriel said diplomatically, and began ushering Michael away. As they left, he glanced back over a shoulder at Will, and smiled, just a little.