Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
The Stone Masters were ruthless.
This was according to the leather-bound book I found while waiting in their library – the headquarters that Lady Bradbury had led us to. The secret society’s townhouse enjoyed its desired privacy, thanks to the extensive land and dense woods that surrounded the building.
Inside, a dying fire struggled to warm the room.
Below the far window sat a writing desk, and up against the three other walls were dark maple bookcases.
Stacked along their shelves was a plethora of books about the supernatural.
I pulled another off the shelf and turned to a random page filled with mishmashes of fact and fiction, distorted truths, documented by men who’d risked so much to gain so little.
Through their investigations, they’d determined that vampires were evolving and mingling more and more with society. This was riveting reading.
I heard footsteps approaching and the library door opened.
The grey-haired man had a weathered face, expressing a lifetime of worry, and his tall, self-assured bearing gave away his background of privilege. He oozed old money.
He stood in the doorway with his hand resting on the door handle.
“I’m admiring your collection,” I said. “Particularly enjoying this book here.” I held it up.
“Vampire lore?” He entered the room cautiously.
“It says here, and I quote, ‘The art of mind reading is common in the elite.’”
He wore an uneasy expression. “I find it intriguing that you’d come here.”
He glanced at the jimmied lock on the wall safe, its contents of papers now strewn over the desk.
“The lock kind of gave way.” I glanced back down at the book. “Captivating reading. ‘Stone Masters,’ which one of you came up with that name?”
“Excuse me?” He took a step closer.
“Well, if I wanted to create a secret cult, I’d name it something a bit more unassuming.”
“We’re not a cult.”
“So, Stone Master, what does it feel like to drink the blood of a vampire?”
“What makes you think that I’m the Stone Master?”
I peered down at the book again. “The art of mind reading is common in the elite.”
“So you consider yourself elite?”
I smiled. “How does one become a Stone Master?”
“One earns the title.”
“Inherits it?”
He shrugged.
“What a lovely gift to bestow to a son,” I said. “I wonder, what does a Stone Master do when his wife bears him only daughters? Who inherits the title then? Which child has a lifetime of carnage to look forward to?”
His right eyelid twitched. “How did you get past my dogs?”
“I fed them.”
“What do you want?”
“I have something that you may find of interest.”
He gave a half smile. “We don’t do business with your kind.”
“Why ever not?”
He glanced at the door. “Your name?”
“Orpheus. And yours?”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“It’s an honor to meet with you, Lord Archer,” I said. “So, do tell, what gave me away?”
“You’re unusually pale. Your irises are enhanced in color. You move in a fashion that is, how does one say, elegant and...”
“And?”
“And you have the ability to seduce.”
“I’m flattered.”
“I think you should leave now.”
“But I have information that could prevent the end of the Stone Masters.”
He gave me a thin smile. “You have to do better than that.”
Our gazes locked and he closed his mind.
It was my turn to smile. “Impressive.”
“Entering this house is a dangerous ploy. I hope you find it worth it.”
“I’m not that different from you.”
“How so?” Sweat settled on his upper lip.
“Well, you seek out the innocent and murder them.”
He approached the desk and gathered up the papers.
I raised an eyebrow. “Pretty interesting stuff, that.”
“You had no right.”
“I’ll note it for next time.”
“Unless this material is read in context, it will make no sense,” he said.
“I found it easy to follow, grasped what you chaps are up to. Let me see how to sum up… Capture vampire, drain their blood, weaken them, and then off to Stonehenge to get your fix. Kill the vampire and—”
“This is all conjecture.”
I bit the tip of my forefinger. His gaze followed the bloody trickle. In a flash, I leaned in and stroked my fingertip across his lips.
He pushed my hand away. A flicker of his tongue was instinctively drawn to the scarlet drop. His eyes rolled and then closed, and he leaned against the table. “That was impolite.”
Flames in the fireplace flickered. Wood in the hearth sparked and crackled.
He regained his composure. “Was that your attempt to keep me in the room?”
“It’s addictive, isn’t it? And as only the Master himself can drink it, only you know what it feels like. The older the vampire, the more potent the effect.”
He loosened his shirt collar.
“Want some more?” I asked.
“No.” He coughed. “How does your blood have that effect?” He reached back towards the desk, his fingers fumbling, and then found the sharp letter opener.
“Put it down or I’ll use it on you,” I said calmly.
He dropped it on the floor, and it landed with a clang.
I kicked it out of his reach. “See, our blood can be pretty persuasive.”
“You had a family once, yes?”
“I did. So?”
“You know what it is to love, to care for someone. When you murder, you kill someone’s loved one.”
“You’re breaking my heart.”
He glanced at the door. “How do you sleep at night, knowing that you’ve done the unthinkable?”
“I sleep by day.”
“Under this very roof, there are at least thirty Stone Lords. You’ll never leave this place alive.”
“I’m already dead. Or is that undead?”
He inched towards the door. “One word from me and I’ll bring down hell upon thee. You should be afraid.”
“From where I’m standing, you and I can both benefit from my visit. Call in your hounds and you’ll never know why. In every man’s life, there comes a defining moment – this is yours.”
He glanced at the door. “Start talking.”
I stared at him. “Creda.”
His eyes widened.
“Their plot to wipe you out is masterful.” I approached him.
“How do you benefit from giving me this information?” He tried to hurry towards the door.
I threw him backwards across the desk and leaned against him, knocking off items and sending papers flying. “I’m not finished.”
He glared at me.
“Being this close to me,” I sighed dramatically, “it reminds you of that desire of yours.”
He tried to push me off.
I pressed up against him. “Don’t you want more than a sip?”
Something passed between us, and we both felt a connection crackle, igniting an unexpected intimacy.
I stepped back and Archer straightened his jacket, though it didn’t need it.
“Please leave.”
“And risk not knowing?” I replied. “And let’s be honest, now that you have me, I doubt you’ll let me go.”
“Orpheus, such aggression is unnecessary.”
“Mine or yours?”
He regarded me with those idealistic eyes of his. “Despite evidence of your remaining humanity—”
“Don’t demonize me.”
“You’re a hunter.” He raised his eyebrows in a condescending fashion.
“As are you.”
“Are you trying to find some kind of approval from me?”
I folded my arms. “I don’t believe so.”
“How did this happen to you?”
“What does it matter?”
“I’m trying to understand you, that’s all.”
“That would be a first,” I said. “I hardly understand myself.”
“Your father, was he a good man?”
“Such questions, do you think the answers will make it easier to hunt me?”
“I find myself alone in a room with a vampire. There’s no guideline on how one proceeds.”
“My father was a good man. Was yours?”
“Yes.”
I waved a hand in the air. “And yet he chose this life for you.”
“I accepted my fate.”
“Your father, did he show you affection?”
“Why?”
I smiled. “Just trying to understand you.”
He glanced at the letter opener. “Assuming anything would be foolish at best.”
“Is that the philosophy on which you base your life?”
“My life is not my own. I serve a greater purpose.”
“But you hate this life, don’t you?”
His expression softened.
I released him and folded my arms. “A reluctant Stone Master.”
“This conversation is over.”
“You’re tired. You hate what you do.”
“Mistakes have been made.”
“It’s the killing, isn’t it? You’ve been feeling this way for quite some time.”
He shrugged. “Do you want me to admit that I enjoy the act of murder, even if it’s meant for the ultimate good?”
“What path would you have chosen otherwise?”
“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you!”
“I could always extract it from your mind.”
“Please don’t.”
“But it’s so easy to rummage around in there. Your thoughts are fascinating.”
“You kill every night. How do you come to terms with murder?”
“They die because I want to live.”
“Has any part of the old you survived?”
I leaned against the desk. “I think so.”
“Can you still experience love?”
“Of course.”
“What were you like as a mortal?”
“Not half as dashing as I am now.”
He almost smiled. “What does it feel like never to age?”
“It is what it is. Eternity has its privileges.”
All fear had gone from him. “How old are you?”
“You’re stalling.”
Silently, he invited me to read his mind.
And I did. “You’re a man of philosophy?”
“What does it feel like to change?”
“So you’ve read the books but not actually spoken with any of your victims?”
“By the time they get to me,” he said, “they’re not in any shape to converse.”
“A part of you dies inside. But you still have a sense of the old you.”
“Can you control the urge to feed?”
“Well, I’m not biting you, am I?”
His smile was like a grimace. “Do you hunt alone or in packs?”
“Alone,” I said. “Only your men hunt in packs.”
“We must agree to disagree.”
I smirked. “Our differences will bring us closer.”
Archer chuckled.
“I dare to believe that, although I’m different,” I said. “I’m no less deserving to share this world with you.”
“Your species has evolved.”
“It seems that it can go either way.”
“Perhaps, but your kind has developed new skills.”
“Tracking us has become harder?” I asked. “That’s good.”
I stared at the far shelves and wished that I had more time to read the books.
Archer followed my gaze. “What other gifts have you developed?”
“Do you have to take a lover?” I asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Hoping that she’ll bear you a son?”
“And you were doing so well. I was rather enjoying our conversation.”
“No, you weren’t. But I do fascinate you.”
“Perhaps we could come to some arrangement. You could teach me more.”
“Visit again?”
He nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Does your invite include a trip to Salisbury?”
He seemed concerned. “I’ve offended you.”
“No more than most who’d like to slash my wrists and then burn me up.”
“Now it’s me being rude.”
I burst into laughter.
Archer smiled. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Really?”
“You have a serene presence. I really am interested in—”
We both froze. Someone lingered outside the door.
“They’ll be wondering where I am,” he said.
“The Creda have turned the tables.”
“In what way?”
“They have a secret rendezvous tomorrow night to discuss your downfall.”
“Where?”
I frowned. “Perhaps secret wasn’t the best word.”
“What time?”
“First, you must swear that you’ll not try to capture me.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I offer you the elite vampires of London, the opportunity to annihilate every last one, and you decline the offer?”
“When something sounds too good to be true, it very often is.”
“I hear the Creda’s plan includes the destruction of Stonehenge.”
Despite his attempt to look disinterested, he failed. “Impossible.”
“In or around 2800 B.C., the Welsh were hired to construct the monument.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“They plan to hire the Welsh to deconstruct it.”
“What do you gain from betraying your own?”
“A way back to being mortal.”
He looked surprised. ‘“And how do you plan to do that?”
I reached for his hand, pried it open, and dropped a small object onto his palm.
He closed his fingers around it. “What is it?”
“One more thing to document in your collection.”
Archer opened his fingers and stared down at the small, black carved rook. “You play chess?”
“The Creda have found a cure but refuse to share it.” Scrutinizing his thoughts, I confirmed he’d fallen for it.
Archer’s brow furrowed. “Where are they meeting?”