Chapter 5 #2
Gideon spun, behind him the creak of the door opening, and before him a cloaked figure. It loomed above him by a good foot, the top half of the man’s face hidden by a drooping hood. Gideon opened his mouth to protest the interruption, and the figure raised a gnarled finger to its bloodless lips.
The door closed behind them, and the figure smiled, his sharp-tipped canines flashing.
Vampire.
“Mr. Sperry, if you’ll follow me? We need to talk, and the weather’s not conducive to niceties.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed at the odd invitation.
Had the court sent someone out here? The thought of being micromanaged infuriated him.
The cloaked figure turned and started away before he could formulate a retort.
Gideon took one last look at the door. He had no fear of a single vampire, and Ophelia wasn’t going anywhere.
Now that he’d tracked her down, it would be easy enough to return.
He followed the cloaked figure to the back of the library and up the steps to the building proper.
Gideon filled his lungs as he stepped inside, the air redolent with the vanillin and furfural of moldering tomes.
They lined the walls and were stacked throughout the cavernous space, a balcony running the circumference of the room.
Heavy tables dotted the floor with volumes spread about their crowded surfaces.
His brow rose. It looked more like a madman’s private study than a public space.
The vampire wended through the chaos and stopped before a low fire burning in a hearth at the far end of the room. He removed his heavy fur cloak and laid it over the back of a chair, then held out a long-fingered hand, inviting Gideon to sit.
“Welcome to my demesne,” the vamp said, his voice heavy with age.
“And you are?” Gideon replied amiably, navigating the jumble to the proffered chair by the fire.
The vampire took the seat across from him, his fine white hair settling to his shoulders in a cloud. His eyes were dark pits within the tatuaj staining his skull. Gideon had never seen their like. Whoever this vampire was, he was ancient enough to make Gideon reassess his lack of fear.
“But a player, as are we all.” The vampire smiled and reached over to pour himself a glass of something from a crystal decanter on the table between them.
“The town of Havers knows me as Thaddeus Brock. You may call me Thaddeus, and you, Gideon Sperry née Spallou, are not supposed to be here, you naughty boy.”
Gideon bristled at his past persona being so carelessly thrown upon the table. As far as him being here, the vampire wasn’t mistaken, but… Gideon pursed his lips. “My presence in Havers has nothing to do with the case.”
Thaddeus sat back with his glass and crossed his legs. “Doesn’t it?”
“It does not.”
“Mmm. A personal matter then?”
Gideon blithely stared back at the vampire, and Thaddeus hummed, taking a sip. “The sherry’s quite good, if you’d care for some.”
Tempting, but— “Thank you, I’m fine.”
“Pity. It’s so rare I’m able to offer any of my collection to a fellow connoisseur and, as you know, 1942 was an exemplary year.” He took another sip, holding it in his mouth before he swallowed.
Gideon’s brow rose at the vamp’s allusion to his one remaining passion. He’d obviously done his homework and knew entirely too much about him. Best to end this quickly. “Indeed. You said we needed to talk.”
“We do. I find your associations problematic.” Thaddeus held up a hand at Gideon’s snort, his retort cut short as the shadows wavered around him and drew closer. The need for caution tripped up his spine. “Now, pour yourself a glass and allow me to tell you a story, won’t you?”
It wasn’t a request.
“Very well.” Gideon leaned over and filled the waiting tulip-shaped glass, unable to resist holding it aloft to examine the color.
“Like you, I once hailed from the far continent,” the vampire said, once Gideon was settled. “My wife and I fled after the first of many purges, seeking someplace where our kind weren’t reviled. Not surprisingly, it didn’t exist, and with good reason. This virus…changes a person.”
Obviously. Gideon grunted, holding the glass to his nose. Almond. Citrus. And the barest hint of toffee. He took a sip. Damn the man, but it was remarkable.
“I’m not just speaking about the reanimation of flesh,” Thaddeus clarified.
“As the need for fresh blood to sate the virus comes upon us, so do its whispers, and the paler our irises grow, the louder the Great One’s voice sounds within our minds.
You know this, or should. That last case of yours, the vampire up north that killed two dozen people. You argued that she was schizophrenic.”
“I did. What of it?”
“You should’ve argued that she was possessed. There’s a reason vampires can’t utter certain titles without duress. Believe me when I say, some take far more joy in the creator’s absence upon our tongues than others.”
Gideon took another sip of his sherry, enjoying it despite the vampire’s company. “And it’s important for me to know this because…?”
“Because I have worked very hard at keeping this particular hamlet free from Vesper and her deranged cult, and would become quite enraged should some pissant gargoyle ruin that for me. Do you have any idea how long it takes to cultivate a hedge of roses?”
Gideon paused. He didn’t, but that hardly seemed relevant. “You’re not part of the tribes?”
“No.” The vampire shook his head and scowled. “I want nothing to do with any of it or her.” Gideon had no doubt as to whom the vampire referred to, and his rancor spoke of personal association.
Gideon’s brow rose, intrigued despite himself. “You know her, Vesper.”
“Once upon a time, I thought I did,” Thaddeus muttered, the words too close to the ones Gideon had thought in Judge Carey’s chambers. “Have you heard of the ‘rakash?’”
Gideon frowned. His last client had used the term, but refused to elucidate. “I have, though I couldn’t tell you what it means.”
“Mmm. It’s the ceremonial practice of depriving oneself of blood and allowing the virus to take over.” The vampire leaned in to pour himself another glass. “The lack causes visions, mania. It’s said that the Great One speaks, and those who listen bring back his will.”
Gideon snorted. “Before or after they murder scores of people whilst ‘thinning the herd?’” he asked, his lips pruning with distaste at the vampiric term for the wholesale slaughter of innocents.
“Well, during, of course,” the vampire said, either not catching the sarcasm or ignoring it entirely. “A sacrifice is always needed when dealing with dark forces, and the greater the offering, the richer the payout.”
“And this…payout…is?” Gideon asked, his gaze roaming over the tomes littering the tables around the room.
“Messages from beyond, my boy,” Thaddeus said, resting an ankle over his knee. “Make no mistake, the Great One is very real, and the virus creates a direct pipeline to his realm. Through it, he’s been influencing this plane of existence from beyond the veil for centuries.”
“As unfortunate as that sounds, what does my case or the Vampire Court gaining access to the node have to do with it?” Gideon asked, leaning forward.
The vampire’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “Nothing. The node is only of tangential importance. However, the quality of blood it engenders to the residents of Havers and the effects on those who imbibe of it are a very different story.”