Chapter Eight
Viktor moved to the door, positioning himself between the potential threat and Ant. He cracked it open just enough to see Nathaniel standing in the corridor, his hands clasped behind his back, as if to prove he wasn’t a threat.
“Lord Claudius expects you both to attend an early dinner in the formal hall.” Nathaniel’s tone was totally devoid of emotion. “He assumes Doctor Channon will require darkness to conduct his investigation and has arranged accommodations accordingly.”
Of course he did. Viktor kept his expression blank. “What time?”
“Sundown, which is in thirty minutes.” Nathaniel’s gaze flicked past Viktor to where Ant still sat on the bed. “Formal attire is required.”
You can stuff your formal… Viktor nodded and shut the door in Nathaniel’s face before he punched it.
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Ant said from behind him.
Viktor turned. “We don’t have to go.”
“Actually, you just mentioned, we do need to eat.” Ant stood, brushing dog hair off his pants. “And refusing would be interpreted as either fear or disrespect. Neither of those impressions helps our position.”
You’re not wrong, but I still fucking hate it. Viktor crossed to the wardrobe, scowling at his shirts. “Claudius thinks you’re some kind of stage magician who needs candles and mood lighting to work.”
“I’ve encountered that assumption before.
” Ant joined him, apparently, feeling the need to study their small shirt collection as well.
“It stems from outdated folklore about psychics requiring specific atmospheric conditions. In reality, ambient light has no bearing on my abilities whatsoever, as you already know.”
“Should we correct him?”
“Not unless we have to.” Ant pulled out a crisp white button-down. “Let him continue making his incorrect assumptions. In this situation, the more he underestimates me, the better.”
Viktor grinned. I love how my mate is always thinking five steps ahead.
Twenty-five minutes later, they descended the main staircase.
Viktor had changed into dark pants and a black shirt he’d left partially unbuttoned.
It was formal enough to pass Claudius’s standards, but casual enough to make it clear he didn’t give a shit about impressing anyone.
Ant wore his gray shirt with charcoal pants, looking every bit the academic professional he was.
Able walked at Ant’s left side, his working harness clearly visible.
The formal dining hall was exactly as pretentious as Viktor remembered.
The high ceilings gave the illusion of grandeur while the massive chandelier dripped with a hundred crystals.
All around the walls were more portraits of long-dead vampires glaring at the diners as if disapproving of the need to dine at all.
The wooden table could’ve seated forty, but for the formal dinner, only twelve vampires were seated, all arranged with Claudius at the head like a feudal lord holding court.
Every single vampire turned to stare as Viktor and Ant entered the room.
Showtime, Viktor sent through their bond.
Indeed. Ant’s mental voice was calm, analytical. Seven males, three females, and then Claudius and Nathaniel. The average age appears to be two to four hundred years based on the residual magic I’m detecting – Claudius and you being the exception.
Viktor got a case of mental ick. He’d been around that same age when he thought Claudius’s ideas meant something. He wondered how long it would be before the blinders came off for the current diners - if they ever did. Show-offs, the lot of them, he sent back to his mate.
Claudius rose from his seat, arms spread in a gesture that might’ve looked welcoming if not for the cold calculation in his pale eyes. “Viktor. Doctor Channon. How gracious of you to join us.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Viktor said flatly.
They were directed to seats halfway down the table - close enough to Claudius to be monitored, but far enough away to be clearly marked as outsiders. Ant took his chair with perfect posture, and Able settled immediately at his feet. Viktor sat close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
A female vampire across from them wore a dress that would’ve been fashionable during the Renaissance, complete with a ruff collar that looked actively uncomfortable. She studied Ant with undisguised curiosity.
Is she wearing a literal ruff? Ant’s mental tone held a trace of fascination.
Yep. That’s Vivienne. From what I heard about her, she’s been wearing variations of that same outfit for three hundred years.
That seems highly impractical.
She thinks it makes her look distinguished. I think it makes her look like she’s being strangled by lace.
Ant’s lips twitched, and he immediately took a sip of water to hide it.
Silent human servants brought out the first course - some kind of soup that smelled like mushrooms and thyme.
The vampires made a show of eating small portions because apparently, even consuming food like regular people would be considered beneath them.
Viktor and Ant were the only two who cleared their plates, before they were whisked away.
“Tell me, Doctor Channon,” Claudius said, swirling wine in his glass, as they waited for the next course. “How does someone with your particular talents find himself in service to the Justiciary? I would think a mage of your caliber would pursue more...elevated endeavors.”
“I find investigating murders elevating enough,” Ant said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “Ensuring justice for victims serves society in a meaningful way.”
“Justice.” Claudius smiled, but Viktor noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “Such a modern concept. In my day, we understood that some lives simply mattered more than others. Order required hierarchy and structure. Not this...egalitarian chaos you mages have embraced.”
He’s trying to bait you, Viktor warned.
He’s being very obvious about it.
“Hierarchy based on what metric?” Ant asked, his tone genuinely curious.
“Age? Magical ability? Accidents of birth? If we’re measuring value by contribution to society, then Ronald Finch - a forensic accountant who spent his life exposing financial exploitation - would rank significantly higher than vampires, for example, who isolate themselves on warded estates and contribute little to the common good. ”
Several vampires shifted uncomfortably. Claudius’s smile tightened.
“You speak of contribution as though all beings are capable of equal achievement,” Claudius said.
“Surely even you must recognize that some creatures are simply...superior. Vampires possess strength, speed, and gifts that humans can only dream of. We are apex predators in the paranormal and mortal world. We’ve shaped empires and toppled kingdoms while humans lived and died in the span of a heartbeat. ”
That pompous bastard needs new material, Viktor sent to his mate. He’s been giving this same speech since the sixteen hundreds, by all accounts.
It wasn’t impressive then, either?
He once gave it to a duke who laughed in his face.
Ant took another sip of water, and Viktor knew he was hiding another smile.
“That’s an interesting idea.” Ant set down his glass. “By that logic, then, I would be considered vastly superior to you.”
The entire table went silent, and Claudius’s fingers tightened on his wine glass. “Explain.”
“You cited physical strength and gifts as markers of superiority,” Ant said.
“While I am obviously the smallest person in this room, I’m ranked as a Level Twelve mage.
I can manipulate reality itself, read events across time, and if I wanted to - which I don’t - but I could destroy this entire estate with a single thought. Such is the nature of my abilities.
“You are right in that vampires possess excellent physical capabilities and, after five hundred years of age, they gain one single gift. I was born with the powers I have. By the very metrics you established, my abilities are objectively more impressive than yours - not that this is a competition in any way, just an observation.”
Holy shit. Viktor fought to keep his expression neutral. Babe, you’re incredible.
He established the parameters. I’m simply following his logic to its natural conclusion.
A male vampire with a goatee that belonged in a period drama leaned forward. “You speak boldly for someone currently standing within Claudius’s wards.”
“I’m sitting, actually,” Ant corrected. “And wards are defensive structures, not offensive ones, so they are not an indication of strength in themselves. The wards control who enters or exits, but they don’t negate magical ability.
If anything, the fact that Claudius requires seven layers of external magical protection suggests a certain lack of confidence in his own capabilities. ”
Viktor wanted to kiss him. Right there, in front of everyone.
Later, Ant sent, and Viktor could feel his amusement through the bond.
Vivienne cleared her throat. “Surely you understand, Doctor Channon, that our coven leader merely seeks to honor the old ways. We have preserved vampire culture and tradition while others” - she glanced at Viktor with obvious disdain - “have abandoned their heritage to grovel before humans.”
“I have never groveled in my life,” Viktor snarled.
“No?” Another vampire, this one clearly mimicking his leader with his own slicked-back hair and a cravat, smirked. “You took orders from a human crime lord for decades, so we hear. You lived in his shadow like a common thug. That’s not groveling?”
His name is Edmund. He once tried to fight me, and I broke his nose. He’s still bitter about it.
How petty.
Extremely.
“If you’re referring to my work with Tony Manzano,” Viktor said. “We had a mutually beneficial arrangement. I provided services, he provided payment and territory. That’s called a professional relationship, not groveling.”