Some things never seemed to change: day or night, police or holy order, normal world or real world. Samantha attended a funeral, which was held in the smallest of circles, but was nonetheless glorious and honourable. There were 30 strange faces around her, joined by Brother Caballero, Hagen and Commander Janek, and as was usual for funerals, black was almost universally the colour of mourning, but there were no uniform uniforms for it among the Knights. Samantha seethed inwardly, for this funeral was purely symbolic and dedicated to the fallen from the battle for the virus, not one of whom could be recovered.
“Favoured in the service of humanity,” Brother Caballero said thoughtfully, in the middle of a memorial speech. He was the only one not wearing black, but his dark brown monk’s habit “There is no greater and more tragic honour. We all know it - never will the world know what these brave men and women have done. No glamour, no glory, only we remain to remember and record their deeds, for the knights that will one day be.”
On the one hand, Samantha had heard these words spoken in a similar vein dozens of times before, when a colleague in the police service had died or otherwise passed away. On the other hand, the speech gave her at least a little comfort, especially because Caballero sounded extremely sincere and wasn’t just uttering hollow phrases in order to handle one funeral after another. In the end, however, this did nothing to quell her anger as she looked stony-faced at the modest but hand-carved marble headstone: a church cross adorned with the insignia of the knights and a bronze plaque with the names of the fallen.
“And don’t forget that their sacrifice was not in vain,” Caballero emphasised, even if his following words were now generously interpreted. “We helped stop the vampires and prevented this virus from poisoning the world. Our brothers and sisters are the reason why humanity can continue to exist in peace and we can live to fight another day. In nomine Patris, et Filli, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen. Introibo at altare Dei.” Caballero crossed himself and ended the funeral. “Pay them your last respects and go in peace.”
Flowers and lit grave candles were laid in front of the stone by many of those present. There was also a medallion and a kitschy grey-blue teapot, whereas Samantha only had one thing that she had fetched from Peter’s room to give him - his police badge. As she laid it down, she didn’t shed a tear or move a muscle of her face, her voice soft. “Goodbye Peter, I hope you’ll be at peace.” That and a hearty salute was Samantha’s farewell to her partner. She couldn’t take any more and returned to her room.
It was still quite modestly furnished, but in the meantime Samantha had added a few comforts, because they were not forbidden. One of these was a laptop, which she sat down to read the latest news about the night of the accident.
Following the initial assessment by a team of fire safety experts, a commission sent by the Civil Protection Department has now also presented its initial findings on the night, which has since been dubbed the Night of the Firebugs. The unusual weather phenomena, which can be seen on amateur video recordings, were an extremely rare combination of different elements. The resulting storm not only reduced the roof of the Carsons Climb to rubble, but also set fire to waste in the waste disposal facility, which started a major blaze. Fortunately, there were virtually no employees present at the facility at the time and the damage was not too seri-.
Samantha closed her laptop and angrily and carelessly pushed it off the table. “They’re everywhere,” she muttered to herself, stunned. After this fight, she felt for the first time a full dose of the influence that the vampires had long had on society, covering everything up wherever they could. At least the knights had said that was the case and she fervently hoped it was true. That people could actually be so abysmally stupid and really believe what they said and heard about weather phenomena and other things, she simply didn’t want to imagine. A knock on the door tore her away from these thoughts. “What is it?”
Hagen entered the room, a full tray in his hand. “Brother Caballero asks that you eat a little,” the man said calmly. On the tray was freshly baked bread, various types of sausage, cheese and a fresh pot of coffee and a glass carafe of water.
Samantha wanted to remain polite, but a sigh rather cancelled that out. “I’m not hungry. Please leave me alone.”
“You haven’t eaten for four days and you’ve hardly had anything to drink,” Hagen said, setting the tray down on the bedside table next to the bed. “Fasting is enshrined in the faith, but your version is not healthy.”
“Tell Brother Caballero that I appreciate his concern, but I’m a big girl,” Samantha dismissed the request tensely. It was rare for her to feel so irritable. “Eat it yourself for all I care.”
“Condemning yourself is not a sin, but hunger will not bring your friend back,” Hagen replied. He made no move to take the food for himself or carry it away, and after all that had happened in the last few days, he was almost impassive even now, with no sign of grief or emotion. “He’s dead.”
What was wrong with this man? Samantha didn’t understand. “I know, I saw him die,” she managed to control herself, but she stared at him. “And if I stuff my stomach, he’ll still be dead!”
“But with a full stomach, you won’t follow him.”
“Follow, ha,” Samantha squeezed the air between her lips when the man wouldn’t let go. Why didn’t he just leave? She wanted to be alone! “That brings me to a question that’s been bothering me for days - where were you during the battle?”
As if it were self-evident, Hagen explained. “I was guarding our vehicles and keeping an eye on the retreat route.”
“You didn’t understand my question - what did you even contribute?” Samantha gasped, and although the man was a lot taller than her, she wasn’t afraid to approach him, eye to eye. “Didn’t you have some kind of huge sword? What was that? Decoration?!”
“A weapon that wasn’t used.”
“You don’t say. Perhaps your intervention would have saved Peter and others!”
“The anger of loss speaks from you,” Hagen remarked callously. “Chains of command have their reason, and disobeying orders could have worse consequences.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Samantha burst out. She grabbed the glass carafe full of water and smashed it on the floor, followed by other crockery. “Get out of here! And don’t you dare speak of Peter or me again!”
The hysterical screaming didn’t upset Hagen one bit, but he left. “As you wish.”
Unnoticed, Commander Jannek had probably positioned himself in the doorway during this conversation and nodded silently to the man leaving and waited until he was out of earshot. “I told Brother Caballero that you should be given time,” said the rustic, approximately 45-year-old Eastern European. His voice was raspy, matching his rugged face. “As if you were dying of hunger or thirst.”
“And yet you’re here now too,” Samantha realised. She had only taken her anger out on Hagen once, but it was still there.
“Not because of the food,” replied the commander, whose figure literally screamed fighter, trained and scarred. “And believe me, as much as I appreciate Hagen’s skills, there’s little he could have changed. Not with our strategy.”
“You’re the commander, so you were responsible for this failure?”
“Yes,” Jannek replied resolutely. This was not a man to be dragged down by this defeat. “Unfortunately, you can’t win every battle, or did you catch every criminal who ran away from you?”
“No,” Samantha admitted honestly. However, she also thought that was a poor comparison. “Sometimes it’s more important to help a victim of crime first.”
“Correct,” nodded Jannek. The shards in the room cracked under his footsteps before he cast a considered glance out of the window. “Priorities are constantly changing, situations are never fixed and, unfortunately, a battle never goes according to plan. Moltke already said that.”
“Who?”
“Helmuth Moltke, a Prussian field marshal from the 18th century,” Jannek explained patiently, but with a steady, controlled sternness in his voice. “No matter how good a plan is, it will never survive first contact with the enemy, and considering how thin our window of opportunity was, we did well.”
“And still lost...”
“And still lost,” Jannek agreed. He didn’t sugarcoat it and looked back at her. “And now? Are you going to let defeat break you? Or after the first taste of harsh reality because your colleague has died?”
This manner was the complete opposite of Hagen. “You’re good at stating the obvious,” Samantha said demandingly. “Is there more to it?”
“Do you blame yourself?”
“Hell yes, I should have helped him!”
“I’m not just talking about Peter,” Jannek replied more calmly, walking slowly towards her as if he knew what was going on. “You might have been able to save others if your gun hadn’t jammed. Does that gnaw at you as well?”
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Samanmtha avoided the man’s gaze and, for the first time, she was unable to respond to this remark immediately and sincerely. “Me, my weapon ... it all happened so quickly.”
“I don’t judge you,” Jannek conceded before placing his hand somewhat roughly but understandingly on the woman’s shoulder. “In the end, we’re all just human, a disadvantage against the creatures of darkness and all the higher, malevolent forces we fight.”
“And how does this realisation help me?” asked Samantha, now helplessly and seethingly seeking eye contact. “I want to kill these beasts, all of them! At least I know that!”
“And I will help you achieve that,” nodded Jannek and he took his hand back. “Your rage is a great motivator, but channelled wrongly, it will lead you down a path little better than that of our enemies. With my training, however, I promise you will be a knight who brings justice to the world - if that’s what you want.”
Samantha didn’t care about anything right now. Her old life, even her views and values, were now fading into the background, because she wanted revenge, or no, as Jannek put it, justice. “Show me the way, I’m ready.”
Elegant, provocative, regal. These were the words that best described Lady Gardner’s outfit when she came into the room. She was wearing an orange-coloured, shimmering dress with a very pronounced, pointed collar that was completely open and split down the middle. This clearly revealing piece of fashion was held together by a hooked overlap that was positioned over the lady’s private parts. “What a glorious evening for someone so young,” she smiled calculatingly as she began to straighten and smooth her protégé’s suit. “After all the commotion, I’m afraid we haven’t had time to talk. Regrettable, don’t you think?”
“We don’t have time now either,” Ryan said politely. He was in the restaurant where he had turned and where a similarly large gathering of all the important vampires of Great Kingston was waiting as on that night. “If we don’t want to be rude and keep everyone waiting.”
“Clever,” Lady Gardner replied. She tugged her collar extra tight and removed her mask, though she remained eerily composed. “So much has happened in a short time and you have achieved so much ... much that was beyond my control, partly hidden in the shadows. I can’t tell you how much the last few weeks have upset me. Is that what you want? Upset me?”
Ryan had had no contact with Stein or any other higher vampire since the fight on the roof. He was all the more wary of this direct confrontation. “I don’t even know myself what’s happened in all this time. If I’ve done anything to offend or upset you, I’m truly sorry.”
“Nice words,” Lady Gardner said as she let go of the man and folded her hands over her chest. “The only question is how seriously you mean it.”
“This may sound like school, but - I don’t want any trouble.”
“A word of wisdom from me, then,” Lady Gardner said, and for a moment her entire presence was like that of a giant shadow, a devouring darkness whose voice was just as sinister. “When I call you out in a moment, you will be granted a wish by the Tenebrae, by me. For your loyal service and heroic deeds, you can wish for anything your heart desires and I know you desire nothing more than to thank the woman who has always stood behind you, helped you and encouraged you - me, the mother you never had and whose clan you long to join.” After this clear request, the lady put on her cool smile again and stroked her hero’s cheek before leaving the room.
Ryan would have loved to talk to Stein in more detail after they had passed through the blood portal to the patriarch’s estate. However, to avoid unnecessary complications, and because Stein had to make contact with the Tenebrae immediately, he had had Ryan taken to his flat in a hurry. Not even his helper had been allowed to see Ryan there, or even since. In the end, he was just a pawn, wasn’t he? He asked himself this question after he left the room a few minutes later and waited in a side corridor for his cue.
Beyond velvety red curtains, Lady Gardner delivered a triumphant speech. “Of course there was never a quarrel, between the Tenebrae or House Stein. Only a fool would believe that the Tenebrae would doubt such loyal members of the night.”
Politics, it occurred to Ryan wearily. Just as the Patriarch had predicted. Lady Gardner, the mother he never had. Undoubtedly a mother he would dwell on as a character while she made the moves and ruled his life. To deny that would surely be fatal and Ryan could forget any peace and quiet.
“But even though this was a great victory, we must not rest too much on it,” Lady Gardner announced emphatically, but not too seriously. “The Apostles are still in Great Kingston and there is no doubt that they will not easily give up the war they started. However, they have learnt once again why the Tenebrae is the face of the night, the protective umbrella of our society. A society that, with its traditions but also its ability to adapt and its spirit of progress, has produced a new, important personality. A young child, a blood moon child, who has played a leading role in this victory - Ryan McTavish.”
Unlike what Ryan had known or would have expected in the past, there was no thunderous applause or any other kind of clear recognition as he pushed aside the curtain and took the stage of the large restaurant hall normally used by musicians.
There were a few more faces tonight, many of them still unfamiliar, but there were familiar ones too: Vivienne, Mato, Patriarch Forkner, Dalia, even Lithia in her cloaked shadow form. At least that was probably Lithia, but who else was walking around like that? Patriarch Stein was also present, alone and again watching from the first floor.
“This is what the Tenebrae is capable of doing,” Lady Gardner continued. She walked along behind Ryan and round the front of him. “Taking a young child, moulding him and making him a valuable member of our society in the shortest time possible, although those words are an understatement. The design was that of Patriarch Stein and myself, but in the end Mr McTavish was the executive part, exceeding all our expectations. Without him, our beautiful city would now be plagued by a deadly sickness, but thanks to him, we were able to stop it and worry not, everyone. We were able to secure this virus and have taken the necessary steps to force the manufacturer to give us the antidote.”
After the last statement, an approving, relieved murmur went through the crowd and there was even restrained applause while Ryan looked at the strangers’ faces, tried to interpret them and continued to think. Not only did certain facial expressions give him a new insight, but his nose had also improved. Were humans and vampires not so different after all? Sweet smells were in the air and this time it wasn’t the restaurant’s kitchen. Ryan ignored that. There was also a huge smell of lemons coming from the crowd? He didn’t know what to make of it, but the way some people were looking at him, they were either jealous or saw him as a threat. Looking up at Patriarch Stein was a change. Not that the mighty vampire and his marble mien gave much away, but he at least gave Ryan a curt, standing nod.
Lady Gardner opened her arms wide before solemnly bringing up the aforementioned request. “So it is, given the weight of Mr McTavish’s actions, and in concert with the Ninth Circle, that the Tenebrae will grant our young hero a wish, whatever it may be. So let us hear what the child has to say. Please, Mr McTavish.”
Indeed, the Lady took a step back, albeit without a polite bow, and Ryan stepped forward a little. Even if he hadn’t been standing in front of a hall full of vampires, he had never performed in front of a large audience or given speeches, so he loosened his collar a little. “What remains to be said after Lady Gardner’s pompous beginning?” he began thoughtfully. He had suspected that he should have written down something before that night, but hadn’t prepared anything, because what do you say in such an exotic situation? “Everything here, everything really, is still new to me and now here I am, a young child ... a blood moon child and being called a hero.” That was the state of things, Ryan left no doubt about that, but if there was one thing he could do, it was not to forget. “Let’s not forget, though, that the whole thing was an interplay of many. Vivienne, who accompanied me on my first steps. Mato, who gave me a few clear instructions and let’s not forget my partner, Gordon Mitchell. I guess because he’s human, this party here isn’t for him?” Ryan jokingly surmised, but the rows looked serious and their eyes silently said yes, because Mitchell was a human. “Nonetheless, I hope he gets high praise or a hefty pay rise and as for me... I have one wish? That’s unexpected.” It was very doubtful that anyone believed Ryan’s little suprise lie. “If I’m completely honest, I’d wish for my old life back, but even the power of the Tenebrae has its limits, I suppose, and the human Ryan is dead and the vampire Ryan, for all the help he’s had with this audacious plan, feels pretty much alone in the night.”
These frank and well-chosen words made Lady Gardner smile with satisfaction, just as the onlookers looked eagerly at the blood moon child.
“Over the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if my mother hadn’t committed a crime and I had become part of House Stein,” said Ryan. This statement of his drew Lady Gardner’s attention as he looked up at Patriarch Stein meaningfully after a sideways glance at her. “I could wish for it now, as a reward for all the work, but I won’t, because the fact remains that my mother committed a crime.” Not that Ryan really understood everything about vampires, but like any society, rules were rules and he found himself recalling his first night more and more. “Maybe it was her fate, maybe it was coincidence, but it doesn’t matter now. If I were to demand entry to House Stein with my wish, I would be undermining the patriarch’s attitude, because he rejected me for precisely these reasons, so as not to support the behaviour of his deceased daughter, as painful as it may have been for him.”
These sentences caused a mixture of impressed murmurs, approval and disapproval to pass through the audience, but above all Patriarch Stein seemed grateful for Ryan’s behaviour, just as Lady Gardner’s attention returned to relaxation.
No, Ryan couldn’t fool himself - he was just a pawn and couldn’t make moves. “However, there is someone else I consider trustworthy enough to go under her cloak,” he announced, turning to the crowd with conviction. “Like Mr Gordon Mitchell, she has always been by my side, with advice and support, no matter what. Without her, I wouldn’t be here now, and you might call it sentimental, but she’s the mother I choose.” The moment of Ryan’s wish was near and had not only captivated the majority of the crowd, but had Lady Gardner stepping forward timidly and elegantly. Yes, Ryan was just a pawn and was being pushed around, of that he was now fully aware. He lacked the power and, more importantly, the influence to be a player, but there was one thing he could control! “Kayra, of House Stein!”
Immediately, Lady Gardner froze in the background. Any emotion of triumph drained from her muscles, any confidence of feeling in control of the situation, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what was going on inside her now.
The crowd, on the other hand, had clearly been taken completely by surprise by Ryan’s request. “Unfortunately, Kayra is not here today because she was very badly injured in the fight for our safety, but she has stood by my side all these nights, hidden in the shadows and before them, and if I am to walk through the night, she shall show me the way, if she wills me. That is my deepest wish!”
Even Patriarch Stein could no longer remain seated at this wish, even though he stood up extremely slowly and loftily. His flashing, yellow cat eyes did not seek Ryan’s, however, but crossed for a few moments with the equally fleeting, deep blue, transparent ice eyes of Lady Gardner. She must have thought that this was a subtlety on the patriarch’s part, but it was not. This action had been Ryan’s alone and born of passion, a desire not to have to serve just anyone. If it had to be this way, then he wanted to determine the circumstances in his favour as much as possible, while Lady Gardner turned to the audience, forced to comply with the game. “That is an ... unexpected but understandable wish. A child without parents feels alone, although I must say that we cannot force Kayra to agree to this, but of course the Tenebrae will ... talk to her. So for now, consider this wish granted.”
What did Ryan have to lose? He was now certainly at the top of the Apostles’ hit list, his heroic deeds had certainly made him the envy of one or two others and, as a child of the Blood Moon, he was the enemy of some people and shouldn’t even exist exist in the first place. From that point of view, Ryan really had nothing to lose and everything to gain. “I thank the Tenebrae and you deeply, Lady Gardner,” he said with an implied bow, before turning his gaze confidently to the audience and literally feeling his emerald eyes light up. “And so the eternal night lasts.”
“And so the eternal night lasts,” the audience obediently repeated the mantra and an unknown, but perhaps interesting future awaited in the cool of the darkness.