《Eternal is the Night - The Child with the emerald Eyes》


 Ryan - 1

    Ryan Walker had been in a drunken stupor at a party a few times before and had strong or not so strong hangovers afterwards, but just at that moment his head felt like a heavy anvil and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t even begin to lift it. He didn¡¯t perceive much and added to that was the fact that a barely transparent black cloth bag was draped over his head. Voices were echoing around him, but he couldn¡¯t understand a word right now. Everything was as if someone was talking through a thick pane of glass and someone was dragging him across the floor. He was aware of this and he dimly noticed the golden light visible through the tiny mesh of the sack. Ryan tried to pull the sack from his head but he couldn¡¯t lift a finger, let alone his arms, which reminded him of overdone naps. Lying wrong once and everything was numb, only it just manifested itself a whole level more extreme and yet there was one thing he could clearly feel. It was a twinge in his left breast, where something had definitely been stabbed and was still stuck in it, but strangely he couldn¡¯t see anything suspicious. Was that why he had just been taken to hospital? Was that why he didn¡¯t feel anything? Had he had an accident? If so, they weren¡¯t treating him very gently and gradually he heard fragments of words.


    ¡°... And the night was just beginning,¡± a scratchy male voice complained.


    "Disturbing," said a second gruff male voice. More words followed, but again most did not penetrate the glass and only a residue remained. "Incinerate and be done with it."


    "What else? Lady .... will do nothing else.¡±


    "On nights like this ... ... impossible."


    It was a short conversation, for Ryan heard neither clear nor muffled words. However, smells began to creep into his nose, reaching his otherwise numbed senses and all of them Ryan did not know, but he recognised vanilla, roses, pepper, curry, steak, fresh lettuce, lemon, even seawater was there and no matter how much more entered his nostrils, Ryan could clearly separate this bomb of scents. Perfume and after shave of various natures also joined in.


    "The infant is perking up," the raspy male voice noted. "Too bad he won¡¯t be around long."


    The gruff voice seemingly gave Ryan a pat on the back of the head. "You hear that? Don¡¯t get used to it. Soon you¡¯ll be dust."


    Ryan tried to speak but couldn¡¯t get a sound out and wasn¡¯t pulled any further. He was brought to his knees so that he sat upright and the bag was pulled from his head. The light blinded him as if he was staring directly into the sun, at least as long as they held his head. As soon as he was released, his head fell forward and Ryan¡¯s eyes paused, soon taking half-blurred note of the varied patterns and the fine, burgundy threads of an expensive-looking carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone else kneeling beside him, but he wasn¡¯t one hundred percent sure if that was really the case. Without the sack and as time went on, however, he could better make out sounds as a woman above him let out her soft but grave voice.


    "A good evening to you all," the woman said, walking past Ryan at one point. More than her waist was not visible of her, but she was clearly wearing a cherry red evening dress that was free to the knee on the right side and not too tight. "And I thank you all for coming in such numbers, when it is one of those nights when many prefer to stay in the shade. Unfortunately, circumstances left me no choice but to call this meeting, for one of our most sacred laws was broken today."


    Law broken? Ryan didn¡¯t understand the world. If there was one thing he could say about himself, it was that he had always been an upright, righteous man. So what should he have done? And the police certainly weren¡¯t doing this.


    "I sense the doubts of some here, but the accused was caught red-handed," the woman asserts, moving a little to the side where the alleged other person was kneeling and harsh words were spoken. "And even after initial questioning, Julia Perkins refuses to explain the reason for her actions, when we all know that under absolutely no circumstances is it permissible to pass the dark gift during a blood moon."


    Julia? Dark gift? At least Ryan could remember the first thing. He had met a beautiful, warm-hearted woman named Julia in a bar today. Was she here? Next to him? He strained as hard as he could and shifted his head and eyes millimetres to the side - indeed, there she was.


    Julia remained in a similar pose, but she was not held by a single hand. It seemed much more as if she was in a kind of trance or not present at all.


    Ryan could make no sense of it. His thoughts were fuzzy, but he was quite sure that he and she had not taken any drugs or anything like that, which would explain Julia¡¯s condition. At least he assumed Julia hadn¡¯t taken anything. Sure, alcohol had been flowing properly and he had smoked a harmless Johnny, a joint, in the toilet of the club, but Ryan had experience with light drugs and they had long been legal. A little weed would never have such an effect on him and gradually, Ryan was able to get a better look at the woman who was still relatively unknown to him. He only saw one side of her, but he could still remember the rest.


    Julia¡¯s condition did nothing to change her attractiveness where there was not one noticeable thing on her rosy skin that could be called a blemish. Her hair was like dark fire, shorn short in stages on the left side, giving the impression of different, red hues. On her head and right side, on the other hand, it was more like her hair was perfectly smoothed, reminiscent of the wings of a bird that had put on its magnificent wings for a swoop, with the tips of its wings touching the back of its head. But it wasn¡¯t just her hair, for Julia¡¯s eyes, made up with purple around the edges, radiated self-confidence. Not in the way of belligerence or arrogance. You just looked at her and knew she was more likely to buy you that first drink than vice versa if you treated her kindly. Added to this was her attire, which was a smart mix of loose evening wear and rocker, with an ash grey leather jacket whose sleeve only went to the elbow on the right side.


    "Julia," spoke the woman who had earlier thrown a serious breach of the law into the room and she stopped facing the accused. There was a lot of weight in her words. "Let no one say that the Lady of Great Kingston would not give one a chance. At least to speak up. Not that that will save you from her punishment, for the laws are too clear and strict about that. Perhaps, however, we can understand your reasons and remember you with dignity when you speak." The strange woman in the red evening gown squatted as playfully as if her tight clothes did not exist.


    Ryan saw her now at eye level, a young beauty who could hardly be older than 30 and possessed a pale cocoa complexion. A little thin she might have been, but for that Ryan stiffened as his gaze crossed with hers.


    It was only a fraction of a second, but the stranger¡¯s deep blue eyes seemed made of ice, transparent and devoid of any feeling, framed by long black hair. Her gaze, however, was entirely on Julia and she raised her delicate wrist towards a wooden stake.


    What the?!, ran through Ryan¡¯s mind. Yes, there was indeed a stake stuck in Julia¡¯s chest, which he only noticed now, also because of her concealing jacket.


    The stranger wrapped her lanky fingers around the stake and pulled it out as if it were no effort and rose back over the kneeling woman. "Here¡¯s your chance."


    What followed was a heavy cough from Julia, with no little blood firing from her mouth and staining the fine carpet. All at once though, she could suddenly move again and how she could. "Lady!" she said hot-temperedly, and had to be powerfully restrained by the hands that were now hastily gripping her. When Julia realised that there was no escape from her sitting pose, she calmed down again and her voice went into a normal, but still unruly, manner. Julia did not seem to be afraid. "Many of you have been in the night too long to understand me, nor do I give you the satisfaction of knowing why I did what I did." Steadfastly, she looked up at the so-called Lady and did not dignify Ryan with a glance. "But I know how devious some of you can be and I will say this one thing very clearly - no one knew and no one helped me in any way. It was me, all by myself, who fathered a new child that night!"


    As Ryan sank more into perplexity with each new word, the lady lifted her chin and seemed to look up to a far higher position before her eyes fell back on the accuser, slightly annoyed. "So this is how you want to be remembered? A disgrace to our society?"


    "If I¡¯m significant enough to be remembered, go ahead," Julia smirked bitingly. "It¡¯s good to know that in some, dusty minds, I will live on forever."


    "You want it that way?! So be it!" the lady announced measuredly, turning meaningfully yet so elegantly to the opposite side that the hem of her dress swung along. It was briefly visible that from her right wrist a long strip of fabric went to her waist and was part of the coverlet she wore over her shoulders. "Dear congregation, you have seen and heard for yourselves: no understanding, no hope, but as Julia Perkins has her attitude, so will the Tenebrae answer: no understanding and no mercy."


    Ryan would have liked to say a word to Julia, who was visibly defeated and surrendering to her condemnation for whatever. In general, Ryan would have liked to speak, but although his senses were sharpening, he could not move his lips or any relevant muscle.


    "But we are a just and law-abiding community," the Lady said, presenting her hands, in a sort of inviting and supplicating posture. "Your Honour, the floor is yours."


    Whoever was now addressed came slowly to the red evening gown and stopped for a moment in front of it. His get-up was less spectacular and more everyday. "Of course, Lady Gardner," spoke a too friendly sounding, but soon harsher male voice, as the figure likewise waved around, sounding entirely like someone doing his duty. "Our lady speaks the truth. Witnesses have been interviewed and the clearest evidence is right next to Julia Perkins. We can all see it, smell it, feel it. The burgeoning darkness beginning to manifest in this young man, equal to that of his mother and those same, emerald green eyes."


    Emerald green eyes? Had Ryan missed something? He had always had light brown eyes and smell? Feel? Mother?! Was his mother here?! Suddenly Ryan could stir a bit, a huge improvement on the last ten minutes, and he could see a lot of things.


    Wherever this place was, there were plenty of tables, mostly with two pairs of chairs, and to say the d¨¦cor was luxury and swank would have been an understatement. Further back there was a double door painted snow white, like you would see in restaurants and there were men and women spread out everywhere, maybe around 30 to 40 and everything was given: Fine liveries, regular, rockers, bankers suits, punks, even a mechanic?


    Never before had Ryan seen a single person from this bunch and he lost the strength to maintain his gaze. Still, a sound reached his ears, an astonished murmur from the crowd.


    "His power is showing," the judge said, pointing at Ryan. "Just one more piece of evidence, but it doesn¡¯t need any more and our laws are unbreakable in this matter. I hereby confirm the legitimacy in this case and that Lady Gardner is acting justifiably. My sentence as judge of Great Kingston, is death." After pronouncing this final fact, the judge departed.


    Death?! Are they going to kill Julia right here and now?! Ryan had to be having a bad dream! He couldn¡¯t explain this situation any other way and raised his eyes again as far as he could.


    Lady Gardner asked. "My dear Dalia, be so good as to bring me the sword."


    In response to the request, a woman came to the scene, who not only impressed with her good six feet, but also appeared quite strong physically. An Amazon, that was the most apt description, and wrapped in a transparent black silk cloth, she truly carried a sword.


    It was a longsword, its blade as wide as the palm of a hand and gleaming like a mirror, but although it had a certain elegance despite its size, it seemed nothing special. Only the golden seam spiked round pommel stood out, with a focused eye on the blood red ruby set in the centre. Its aggressive shape was almost tantamount to a mockery of the holy cross of the church, and around the gemstone was a symbol that was just difficult to recognise, like that of an important noble house.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "You are ever a faithful servant to the Tenebrae and to me," Lady Gardner smiled at Dalia. "Execute the sentence and let order return to our society."


    "As you wish, my Lady," Dalia replied, her eyes closed and her posture respectfully modest. She was clearly taller than the Lady and yet she obediently submitted to her before Dalia grabbed the two-handed sword and stood parallel to Julia¡¯s right cheek.


    If Julia had been defiant before, now she offered no resistance as she was bent forward a little and she stretched her neck voluntarily.


    Not a word was uttered, nor was there any audible movement in the audience, and Dalia took a wide circular motion from behind.


    Ryan could not watch this and dropped back into his paralysed stance so that all he could hear was the clean cut. Fortunately, no head rolled to his feet, but suddenly he heard a sound as if someone was pouring sand and for a few seconds, ash apparently flew before Ryan¡¯s eyes, still filled with a faint glow before the particles disappeared altogether.


    "And so the eternal night lasts," Lady Gardner pronounced mantra-like, crossing her arms in front of her chest, but it didn¡¯t last long. Now her eyes narrowed and the cold stare took on an added note of deliberation. "But we are not done yet, dear community. The child remains."


    Ryan understood that, for he was meant, and he watched as Lady Gardner now came to him and extended her hand to his left arm. She pulled something from his left side and all at once, he was able to stir. However, the men behind him were holding him tightly and, as with Julia before, Ryan now saw a wooden stake in Lady Gardner¡¯s hand. Had that been stuck in him?! "What¡¯s-?!"


    "Shhht," came softly from the Lady. She looked deep into his eyes and put her index finger to his lips and as if by magic, silenced the confused man. She then rose to speak calmly and with understanding to the audience. "Now, however, we are in conflict. The laws are clear: reborn in darkness, every child is pure. It is against our order to kill an innocent child, but we all know how blood moon children have been treated normally for thousands of years. Let us not let this child suffer any longer than necessary and give him peace. All this, is not his fault."


    That didn¡¯t sound good at all and Ryan wanted to scream, but he just couldn¡¯t. He heard his own words in his head, but they wouldn¡¯t leave his mouth, let alone move his lips. He could continue to move the rest of his body, but his guardians effortlessly applied the necessary force and kept him pinned down, but at least he could now look around properly.


    Suddenly one of the watchers puffed appraisingly. "I certainly hope the Lady of Great Kingston isn¡¯t doing this because she¡¯s superstitious."


    The phrase sent an indecisive murmur through the ranks of those present and Lady Gardner folded her arms in front of her stomach in consideration. "Do you mean to contradict my suggestion, Mr Forkner? Or how may I understand your statement?"


    "Exactly as I meant it - are you superstitious?"


    "Hardly, why?"


    "For thousands of years," Forkner repeated in a way that could be interpreted as a subtle provocation. It somehow suited the stranger sitting on a recliner, whose get-up was a cross between a tanned gigolo and a businessman, with some jewellery on his fingers, an extravagant gold chain around his neck and an open evening shirt, with a discernible chestline. The classic barrel cut of his hair, went along with the neat full beard and every strand on his head was dark, turning to a light grey towards his face. "Did I miss something? A new famine? A solar eclipse? Or the new war in the Middle East? Is that this blood moon child¡¯s fault, just like the old days?"


    "So that¡¯s how it is," Lady Gardner smirked as she probably understood what the man had meant earlier and calmly explained herself. "Of course, we no longer live in times when every disaster is blamed on the unknown or we fearfully behave like an animal. I just wonder why you spoke up? Do you have any desire to take this child into your family?"


    "No, my new duties as a patriarch fully engross me," Forkner denied with a grateful wave of his hand. "That is why I cannot take on this responsibility."


    "And why else would you question my proposal and compare it to blind faith of the past?"


    "That¡¯s what it is, the past. I consider myself a progressive vampire," Forkner asserted, as if washing his hands of the matter. Had he just said vampire! "It¡¯s long past custom to kill a blood moon child. Not to mention it¡¯s against our laws."


    Lady Gardner refused to be drawn out and thrust her right hand almost presentationally on her hip. "Well, we haven¡¯t had many, known blood moon conceptions in the last 300 years either."


    "You said it," Forkner agreed, making a finger pistol. "In fact, I¡¯d like to remind those present that the last known blood moon child was also spared 67 years ago and played a significant part in helping us drive the Eyes of the Apostles out of Britain."


    Blood moon child? Eyes of the Apostles? Vampire?! Ryan just had to be in the wrong movie and although he could move and tried with all his might to get loose, he did not move an inch, nor did he look like he was stirring the slightest muscle. What he did hear, however, was the sound of breaking stone, under the carpet.


    Lady Gardner glanced back at the detained man and sighed artificially, apparently feeling disturbed by Ryan. Or was the tone directed at Mr Forkner? "The question is - who would take the child?" she addressed them all, spreading her palms in front of her stomach as if waiting for an offer. "Not you, Mr Forkner, and understandably so. After all, you have so much to do as a fresh patriarch."


    "I thank you for your understanding," Forkner replied sympathetically, but it sounded like political politeness. Not that he and the Lady were tearing each other apart with looks, but there seemed to be a certain rivalry in the air. "You of all people, as a Lady, know about the greater good of the community, which is why I actually have to reiterate my concerns: should we really break our laws that are thousands of years old? Vampires of the past were not as enlightened as we are, so perhaps they can be forgiven for that, but today? Please. Nowadays we know why the moon turns red on nights like today, why there are droughts or plagues and that nothing in this world is determined by higher powers. Only by persons who really have power."


    "I must confess my confusion, Patriarch Forkner," Lady Gardner conceded, giving the man a look as if a trap had just snapped shut. "If we are so enlightened, why do we follow ancient laws, such as no children being conceived on a blood moon?" This question seemed to tilt the mood in the audience in the Lady¡¯s favour and a victorious smirk formed on her lips before it suddenly stopped.


    "Order," Forkner replied, equal to an audacious counter-attack that didn¡¯t even elicit a teeny bead of sweat from him.


    Stopped in her triumph, the corners of Lady Gardner¡¯s mouth quivered in anger for a few seconds, but a matte line quickly formed on her lips. "Order ... a word, a strong word. Only, what could you possibly mean by it?"


    "Whether vampire, human, even werewolves live by rules. We need rules," Forkner cemented, pressing his pointedly extended index finger repeatedly on the back of his chair. "And the Tenebrae doesn¡¯t have that many rules. So if a rule says - don¡¯t father children on a blood moon - and someone does it anyway, that someone doesn¡¯t recognise our society. Would it have killed Julia to wait a few more nights? Or to do it before that night? Certainly not. So to punish this young man for that is absolutely wrong."


    Now the mood among those present finally tilted in favour of Forkner¡¯s proposal. It was not an uproar, but Lady Gardner probably had little choice. "I see we all want to be more progressive - so be it," she agreed, and with her authority once again spoke her final trump card. "Only, who will take the child? For this is the condition I set. The child lives if someone takes care of him." Lady Gardner¡¯s gaze was iron, piercing through the crowd, and at one point, she even lifted her head. "Patriarch Stein, you are so silent. After all, Julia belonged to your house and you are known not to abandon yours. Was this child supposed to be the exception?"


    Ryan only now stretched his head higher with the Lady¡¯s gaze, and had not been aware before that this large, round-built room could be seen from above.


    An open railing of bright polished bronze separated the upper areas from a lintel and more tables with pairs of chairs could be found there. One could see down from two storeys, although these tiers were hardly occupied by spectators.


    There was, however, one, characteristically conspicuous man. Lady Gardner¡¯s question was directed at him, but he seemed introverted, like the calm itself, and perhaps it was due to the upper location, but his chin was raised as if he stood above everyone. "Mine are dearer to me than anything else in this world, that is an open secret," spoke the stranger, whose voice was deep and memorable, like a storyteller. If everyone in the room so far did not look really old, this man¡¯s features alone reflected experience and wisdom. His face was carved out of stone, with wrinkles and furrows in prominent places and a tight, long bridge of the nose. Silver-grey, straight hair formed a balding crown on his head and if these were truly vampires, the dark brown cloak, stuffed with broad, dark-red shoulder pads and a chin-high collar, most closely matched the image of such a creature. "But in the same way I expect obedience from the children and dependents of my house. Were I to take charge of Julia¡¯s child, it would send the wrong signal to my House and the Tenebrae. House Stein of Nassau, will not tolerate such behaviour, even though Julia¡¯s loss pains me."


    "Wisely spoken, as I have come to expect from Patriarch Stein, and since no one seems to want to take on this child, the only thing left to do is-"


    "Excuse me, Lady Gardner," came a young female voice accompanied by a French accent from the audience.


    The lady¡¯s ears must have been incredibly sensitive. "Vivienne," Gardner said with compressed lips, taking in the far corner, next to the double doors. "What would a chronicler like to contribute to this case?"


    "To make a suggestion."


    "Oh, instead of observing, you¡¯re actively intervening? That¡¯s unusual, so I¡¯m very curious. Speak."


    "Too kind, dear lady," Vivienne thanked. So far back, she was hard to make out, but she came forward as she spoke, walking along between the tables. Graceful and small she was, wrapped in a black latex jacket that came to her knees. Snow-white skin adorned her face, half hidden by the brunette parting of her long, fringed hairdo, and her devilish red eyes, were like the antithesis of Lady Gardner¡¯s ice blue. "I agreed with Patriarch Forkner. Our laws are clear and Julia has received her punishment. Killing this man would only show how backward we still are and that is not befitting when you are at the top of this world." Vivienne didn¡¯t go all the way to the front, but she didn¡¯t need to. Her voice alone was sweet honey, so all attention was on her. "So how about the Tenebrae herself taking care of the child?"


    So far Lady Gardner¡¯s fa?ade had been mostly solid, but this statement made her left eyebrow move higher. "When you say Tenebrae, you mean me, because in Great Kingston I represent the Tenebrae ..."


    "That¡¯s what I meant to say, Lady Gardner."


    "I always thought you were a woman of facts and sought the truth," Gardner doubted, losing a little of her composure. "How would that look if I agreed with that? Patriarch Stein spoke wisely when he gave the reason for his refusal. If I were to place the child under the protection of the Tenebrae now, would I be rewarding Julia¡¯s crimes or how do you see it?"


    "An understandable point of view, no question," Vivienne replied, putting her index finger thoughtfully to her lower lip. There was also something playful and teasing about it. "But I see it more as you would set a good example. Perhaps Patriarch Forkner was right. Not as far as you are concerned, of course, dear lady, but perhaps the others present here are hesitant because a little superstition still resonates somewhere. The messengers of disaster, blood children who bring us only misery and suffering. The way I see it, as the leader of this city, you should take the chance of being progressive and if it bears fruit, the rest will definitely be more open-minded in the future."


    This time the crowd kept a low profile, though all were reproached, and Lady Gardner smirked with an amused tone. "Suppose I say yes: what exactly do you have in mind? For I will not act merely to set a good example."


    "I expected nothing less. A test would suggest itself. If the child passes, he may live. If not, he will have died in his test or will await the judgment of the Tenebrae."


    "And if it fails, my name is tarnished because I said yes ..."


    "Not at all, Lady Gardner," Vivienne shook her head. Whoever she was, she took quite a discriminating approach to everything. "If the child succeeds, you stand for progress. If it fails, you stand for tradition, for you will uphold our laws and punish it, just as you spared it according to our laws."


    It truly sounded as if Lady Gardner could not lose and who did not like to have such a situation? "Indeed, I am for both tradition and progress," Gardner gave herself demonstratively and widened her arms. "So be it decreed. Should no one present raise an objection, I, as Lady of Great Kingston, will spare this child conceived under a blood moon in accordance with our laws." She waited a few moments, but there was neither a sound nor a stir among the audience. "With that, it is decided. This child will be placed under the direct protection of the Tenebrae for the time being and tested to see if he is worthy to walk the night. With that, I declare this meeting officially over."


    Ryan was less than the audience, who now rose one by one in orderly fashion and left the hall. He was just an object, an it, to these people. That much he had witnessed, but he was safe and a brief relief came over him, despite the lingering tension. At last Ryan did not see many people and raised his eyes.


    Lady Gardner stood before him. "My dear Mr Saunders," she said, and a man who, although wearing an expensive-looking business suit, complete with matching briefcase, resembled an elderly gravedigger in appearance, stepped wordlessly beside the lady. "Be so good as to organise everything and stop Vivienne ... She brings the proposal? She is taking the child to his new home."


    "As you wish. I will arrange everything necessary, Lady Gardner," Saunders replied, indicating a slight bow, with his right hand placed across his chest, bringing with it a certain butler attitude. "Dalia, go after Vivienne, please."


    "Of course," the Amazon nodded, even though she seemed reluctant to do so. Before she did so, however, she wove the large, bloodless sword back into its noble black cloth sheath and went after Vievienne with the weapon in her hands.


    "Excellent," Lady Gardner sighed, as if she had completed an exhausting shift of several hours. She bent low and again placed her finger on her prisoner¡¯s mouth so that her eyes were relatively close. "If you can speak again in a moment, you will behave yourself throughout the night and obediently obey everything Mr Saunders tells you to do. Would you do that for me?"


    Suddenly, all panic and sense of escape drained from Ryan¡¯s body and mind as he looked directly and so closely into the strange woman¡¯s eyes. Every word of hers penetrated Ryan¡¯s hearing clearly, but almost in a whisper, and every syllable seemed to him pure truth to be obediently obeyed. "I¡¯ll be no trouble and I¡¯ll listen to Mr Saunders, Lady Gardner."


    "Good child," she smiled. But that was merely a gesture, for she looked to the guards and gave orders as if all her senses had been offended. "We¡¯re done here. Make sure a cleaning crew cleans my restaurant of every crumb Julia left behind and that the workers get rid of that disgusting smell some guest brought in. That some people are vampires. Urgh, it stinks in here."


    And so it came to pass that although Ryan was still on his knees, he was let go and had his freedom.

 Ryan - 2

    Great Kingston, the pageantry project in America. A showcase for all that modernity had to offer and yet here Ryan was, at 2am, sitting in the back seat of a cheap taxi, driving through the seedier streets of the northern, outer part of the city. Not that you could call this district ghetto, but it was built first back then and with the rapid growth of the city, this part was increasingly neglected.


    Vivienne sat to his left and so far kept silent towards him. "I admire your ambition," she said. Her words were directed at the taxi driver. "And how long have you been waiting for the answer?"


    "Six weeks, I think," the Asian-featured young man replied enthusiastically. He had told them his name was Kenneth and he was studying archaeology. ¡°Mind you, the dig starts in a fortnight. If I were there, I¡¯d probably know by now. Not everyone can have the privilege and good fortune to work with Professor Alvarado."


    "My colleague at the museum sometimes exchanges ideas with him. The professor is not only a real expert, but is also said to be very sociable. Sometimes even too much so if there¡¯s a good beer."


    "Really? Your colleague sounds enviable."


    "I do love Alvarado¡¯s technical articles," Vivienne confessed. For almost twenty minutes now she had been talking to the driver about history, historical places and what so ever belonged to the past. "And his columns in Stonehenge magazine often make me smile."


    "Yes, especially when he cleverly puts people through the ringer. Who said archaeology was dry as dust?" the Kenneth grinned broadly in the rear-view mirror.


    "Only people who don¡¯t understand our enthusiasm for ancient things," Vivienne giggled brightly and glanced at Ryan.


    The taxi driver did the same as he eyed the rear view mirror. "He¡¯s not a relic though, is he? At least he¡¯s as quiet as one and seems a bit mysterious too. And Jesus, his eyes ... I¡¯ve never seen green like that."


    Ryan sat there with his hands folded on his lap and he looked introspectively into the mirror.


    "Creepy, too, in a way," Kenneth added, focusing fully on the road again. The traffic was moderate, for the time of night.


    Vivienne grew more serious. "Would you believe me if I told you there was some kind of spell on him?"


    "Mhh, difficult, difficult," Kenneth admitted. "I¡¯ll risk it: yes, I believe you."


    "Fooled you," Vivienne winked and pretended to be silly, casually tapping Ryan¡¯s arm. "No, no. He¡¯s just had a bloody exhausting evening."


    "And with the night just getting started."


    "A connoisseur."


    "Well, it¡¯s just my time," Kenneth said, lifting his fingers from the steering wheel for a moment to give himself a confident air. "I know about it."


    "A kindred spirit," Vivienne smiled. She slid onto her knees and leaned forward between the seats.


    Meanwhile, Ryan just wished the taxi would reach its destination, because if his companion kept her word, he could talk to her there. Until then, he obeyed her command and remained composed, but at least he had realised that his thoughts were entirely his own.


    He thought back to the place from before, which had turned out to be one of the finest restaurants in Great Kingston. True Paradise they called it and after Lady Gardner had spared him, only Mr Saunders was present. "Please, follow me," the gravedigger with the gaunt face asked politely. Although every stitch of his clothing combined drab and graceful design, his hair somewhat broke the image of the fine gentleman. The wide forehead and half-baldness was not the reason, however, but his hair to the side, which stood tousled and spiky to the sides.


    Though Ryan shakily straightened up, as the lady had told him to, he listened to the man and walked with him through a nondescript side door of the great hall. These were back rooms, which consisted mainly of a lounge and some offices in narrowly branching corridors.


    "Here," Mr Saunders invited his obedient guest and let him pass through a door that housed the suit-wearer¡¯s name on a filigree gold plaque. "That must have all been exhausting for you. Won¡¯t you sit down?"


    Yes, questions upon questions piled up in Ryan¡¯s mind and yet he was so strangely calm, which he himself did not understand. "Yes I, it¡¯s been a long night." Ryan replied erratically as he sat down on one of two chairs in the cramped room.


    "And it¡¯s only just begun," Saunders said monotonously, and despite the small room, there was a spacious office desk made of ornately crafted wood. It was no problem for the slender man to slide through the side and sit down in a no less noble chair, with a generous backrest, before he placed his briefcase on the table and opened it. "But don¡¯t worry: I¡¯ll take care of the pesky details. New flat, new identity, disposal of your old identity. By dawn, Ryan Walker will no longer exist."


    "What?" blinked Ryan, rubbing at his eyes. "I ... I will do as you say, but why should I no longer exist?"


    The rather unusual behaviour of Ryan did not seem to bother or surprise Saunders. His briefcase contained a modern, handy laptop and he used it with nimble fingers. "If Ryan Walker still exists, he leaves tracks and tracks can be followed. That won¡¯t happen and introducing you to your new world will be Vivienne¡¯s job. As a human, my knowledge of the creatures of the night is limited anyway. I know some of the culture and the rules, but I have never been initiated into deeper secrets or the life of a vampire per se. It honestly doesn¡¯t interest me either, although working for the Tenebrae is interesting even after 60 years."


    "Vampires, Tenebrae," Ryan repeated. His thoughts were as if subdued as he asked about all this now, without the slightest excitement. "Vampires ... exist?"


    "As sure as I¡¯m sitting here. There is a lot of fiction that exists and you are now a part of it. You¡¯re a vampire."


    "This must just be a bad show," Ryan said, actually wanting to shout it all out. He grabbed his head with both hands, which was extremely painful for a moment, and lapsed into a plain tone again. "Please, it¡¯s like that, isn¡¯t it? In a minute you¡¯re going to tell me I¡¯ve been had."


    "I prefer a good cabaret as a source of humour, which is why I would never participate in such a sleazy charade. No, this is real and you¡¯d better accept that as soon as possible or you won¡¯t last long, which would be a waste of my efforts and I¡¯d be obliged if I didn¡¯t pull out all the stops now for nothing."


    Saunders was polite and monotone, but he didn¡¯t mince words and, after all, Ryan was going to listen to him. "I¡¯m doing the best I can, but how do I do it? I know something is expected of me, but I¡¯m feeling lost right now and my head isn¡¯t quite together."


    "I know, Lady Gardner has certainly seen to that," Saunders asserted, pausing briefly in his typing to look searchingly at his counterpart. "Your first task will be to seek out your new home. I will give you the address and Vivienne will accompany you. Whatever questions come to mind about your new life as a child of the night - I advise you to pester Vievienne. As a respected chronicler, she knows a lot anyway. To what extent she answers, of course, I cannot influence."


    "So I¡¯m at the mercy of someone else?"


    Now Saunders formed a creepy smile on his lips. "Your first lesson, very good," he said, and already his mouth was becoming a line again. "Now I need some personal information from you before I send you and Vivienne off."


    "So here we are," Kenneth said as he brought the taxi to a halt at an extra stop lane. "That was a really pleasant ride and I almost don¡¯t want the $42.79."


    Vivienne pushed Ryan towards the door and one by one they got out before the woman leaned into the open window with her elbows and upper body bent perhaps a little too far forward. "Here, it fits like this," she said, handing Kenneth a fifty dollar note.


    "Wow, thanks!" the taxi driver was genuinely pleased. "Maybe one day soon I will visit the museum where you are working. Then we can happily continue our conversation about your theory on the first advanced civilisations. That¡¯s really exciting."


    "Oh ma Ch¨¦rie, that¡¯s so sweet of you," Vivienne said gently, pulling her mobile phone from inside her jacket pocket. "It¡¯s unlikely we¡¯ll run into each other during the day. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m often terribly busy, but give me your number. You never know, we might run into each other again after you get back from the dig."


    "You think I¡¯m in?" doubted Kenneth. It wasn¡¯t pessimism, it was real thinking. "No, like I said. I¡¯m sure I¡¯d know by now if I were in."


    "Well, I can¡¯t promise anything, but I will approach my colleague about your application. Maybe he¡¯ll bring you to Professor Alvarado¡¯s attention."


    "Really?! You would do that?!" asked Kenneth in amazement. The two had known each other for less than an hour when he pulled out his mobile phone and revealed his number. "I could never pay you back though. You don¡¯t have to do that."


    "I do like to nurture promising talent, though, and I¡¯m always curious to see how things might turn out," Vivienne smiled warmly. She put her right hand to the driver¡¯s cheek and gave him a friendly kiss on that very skin, followed by the finest French. "Merci, et au revoir."


    For a moment Kenneth looked as if he was under the same spell that Ryan was under. That quickly subsided, however, and he seemed to have simply been taken in by the woman¡¯s manner. "Eh, yes. A good night to you both."


    After the taxi pulled back out onto the street, into the lights-joyful night traffic, Ryan felt as if he had just stood up and he stretched instinctively. "Holy shit," it escaped him pleasantly and his block was blown away. At least as far as speaking itself was concerned. Still, he wasn¡¯t in one hundred percent control and he had long been aware of that "You promised."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I did and so here we are," Vivienne replied sincerely. Although a complete stranger, she at least seemed the complete opposite of Lady Gardner and walked off with her companion. "Mind you, I think you¡¯ve answered quite a few things for yourself by now."


    "Not a bit," Ryan shook his head. The street beside him was a long straight, in a neighbourhood full of tenements lined up end to end, though there were also front windows of shops on some ground floors. Most of them were closed at the moment, though, and Ryan saw - For Rent - notices as well, while he felt sick. "And also, I just, right-"


    Vivienne guessed what was bothering the man. "It¡¯s your senses. They¡¯re a lot more sensitive now."


    Ryan covered his mouth in an attempt to suppress his nausea,but it didn¡¯t help. He yanked up the lid of the nearest bin and threw up in it. "Urgh! Disgusting!" he coughed, spitting up pure blood and no food scraps. "This place stinks worse than any septic tank!"


    "Hey, you drunken pig!" bellowed a scowling, raspy female voice whose volume was like an overclocked sound system. "Stop puking in my barrel!"


    Ryan¡¯s stomach settled and he took a deep breath of air through his mouth before following the sound of the voice, extremely rude to him, coming from above. "That was an accident, I¡¯m sorry! But you don¡¯t have to shout to burst your eardrums!"


    A woman of a good 60 or 70 had stretched her upper body out of one of the windows in the highest row of the house. "I¡¯m about to burst something else entirely, and that¡¯s my collar! Get off my doorstep, you scum!"


    Yes, things were often lively and verbal in Great Kingston. This was nothing new to Ryan and he would normally have become more caustic, but the promise to the lady always came into his head: behave, behave, behave. His response was appropriate, but not entirely defenseless. "There is no need to be abusive, Werteste. I am not so well tonight."


    "Surely a drunkard or a junkie!" the old lady accused him, and suddenly she threw down an empty milk bottle. "Get lost!"


    As unexpected as this throw was, Ryan now saw it clearly and the fall of the bottle he felt for several seconds was extremely slow, far too slow. Briefly it had something of slow motion and like a baseball pro, he caught the glass.


    The old woman lost faith before hurriedly closing her window. "I¡¯m calling the police!"


    As Ryan put the bottle down and looked at it, Vivienne giggled. "Nice catch."


    "So it¡¯s true?" murmured Ryan softly. "I¡¯m a ..."


    "Now and forever," Vivienne said, coming over to the man. She gingerly took the bottle from him and threw it in the bin. "Let¡¯s go to your flat. On the move, it¡¯s safer to talk."


    "Safer? Who would vampires be afraid of?" asked Ryan, looking around. There were few people out and about now anyway. Besides, the pavement in front of him was perpetually bathed in shallow shadows, with streetlights set up at even intervals, illuminating a large area with a fleeting blind spot at the edge.


    "It is the supreme law of our society not to reveal ourselves. Anyone who acts negligently and endangers our secret is punishable by death," Vivienne stated frankly, pointing over her shoulder, towards the old lady¡¯s flat. "If people ever found out about our existence, our days would be numbered. We may be top of the food chain, but even the strongest animal is powerless against a swarm of angry insects."


    Ryan held his nose. He smelled all sorts of things, but smells he¡¯d rather not think about dominated too much. "What has Lady Gardner done to me? Why am I like I¡¯m on tranquillisers? Why can¡¯t I do what I want?"


    "Blood magic," Vivienne replied, drawing an imaginary circle in the air. "Our kind are natural users of blood magic, since we can no longer avail ourselves of normal magic, and Lady Gardner is powerful. She¡¯s practically burned a command into your head."


    "Are you kidding me? Something like mind control?"


    "Not quite. Even for extremely skilled blood mages, complete control is next to impossible. However, you can interfere with your targets, if you want to call it that, and you, as a newly born vampire, a child, were defenceless against that power anyway. However, the magic will soon disappear and you will be completely yourself, although you may then be overcome by all your fears and bad feelings."


    "Great outlook," Ryan sighed, running his hand over his mouth where he wiped blood residue from his lips and looked at it on his fingers. He was more than uncomfortable with the following question. "Do I have to kill people from now on? Or won¡¯t they turn into vampires as well when I bite them?"


    Vivienne had clearly expected this statement and dismissed it as a joke. "That¡¯s not how it works, hahaha," she cackled. "Humans aren¡¯t turned by a mere bite. Before you can do that, some time will pass and then you¡¯ll need to know how."


    "So what becomes of my victims? And don¡¯t pointed teeth stand out over time?"


    "In this day and age there are so many, more particular personalities, it wouldn¡¯t be a problem," Vivienne spoke unconcernedly. "Haven¡¯t you ever seen these body artists? The ones who get painted, reshaped, teeth filed sharp and the like?"


    "I might have. It¡¯s not really my cup of tea."


    Vivienne demonstratively made an Ah mouth and showed her incisors, which had nothing of vampire. "Biology is a wonderful thing," she said, releasing her finger with a loud plop. "We are hunters and you don¡¯t recognise a good hunter as one. If you¡¯re about to drink, you¡¯ll have the tools you need."


    "You are evading my victim question ..."


    "Not so impatient, child," Vivienne rolled her eyes briefly. She had been kind so far, but everyone had their limits. "As long as the blood is chilled and fresh, you can live on preserves, but ... it¡¯s not the same as driving your teeth into the skin and then ..."


    "... then? I¡¯ve never done that before."


    "Don¡¯t worry - you just have to follow the rule of secrecy. Don¡¯t get caught out. If you drink, and believe me you will want to, it will be as if you have done it thousands of times before. It¡¯s the purest instinct there is in this world and it may be true, blood," Vivienne pointed out clearly, pressing her lips together in demand, accompanied by a hint of arousal. "Blood is everything to you from now on. Blood is your tenderloin, your hamburger, your absolute favourite thing in the world. Once it trickles down your throat, you will never feel anything more intense in your life."


    "So I can¡¯t eat anything else?" came Ryan¡¯s disappointed reply. Italian pasta dishes in particular were his favourite. "No more pasta with tomato herb sauce and cream?"


    "It would be just for the taste. It won¡¯t fill you up no matter how much you consume."


    "Phew, all the same. I die for good pasta dishes and many a morning without a Baconator from Wendy¡¯s Breakfast, would be a horror."


    At a set of traffic lights where the light was still red,Vivienne came to a stop. "Yeah, about that morning," she admonished prudently, leaning against the traffic light post. "Never catch the sun. Don¡¯t even put your finger in daylight in case you get curious about what would happen."


    "What would happen?"


    "For a few seconds, a trail of smoke would develop and you¡¯d have an unpleasant tingling sensation. A second longer and you¡¯re ash. If your whole body is bathed in sunlight, you don¡¯t even have a second. Think of it like this: Your body is like gasoline and a tiny spark of sun is all it takes for a chain reaction."


    Ryan noted with a serious tone. "I¡¯m not going to test it out," he indicated, joking bitterly. "So I can only live on blood now, and I¡¯ll turn to dust in the sunlight. Please some benefits now, or I¡¯ll just wait for the sun to rise."


    "Oh, ma cheri¨¦," Vivienne gave herself rapturously as the light turned green and she led the way, exultant. "You will never die if you do it right. Your powers can be unparalleled. I bet you could already run faster than our good Kenneth¡¯s taxi. Walls turn to sand against your strength, or do you like Star Wars?"


    "Why the question? Do vampires get a laser sword?"


    "Better watch out," Vivienne said, pointing to an open food stall, near a bus stop.


    There was only one customer standing there right now, about to get a hot dog. Every word of conversation could be heard despite the distance. "Mustard please and don¡¯t be stingy with it," the customer said.


    "A big blob of mustard, coming right up," the vendor promised, but something got out of hand. A veritable fountain of liquid gold burst from the dispenser and not only messed up the shop assistant¡¯s apron.


    The customer¡¯s jacket also became a canvas. "What are you doing! My beautiful jacket!"


    "I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on!"


    Vivienne had raised her right hand and fixed it on the food stall. "Telekinesis," the woman grinned with amusement. "Not bad,is it?"


    "Yeah," Ryan admitted, though he found the action too silly. "Nice demonstration effect."


    "You would have preferred Darth Vader?" murmured Vivienne sombrely, forming a half-closed grip with the same hand.


    It was a blink of an eye, but Ryan¡¯s throat tightened and his breath caught. "Got it!" he gasped, and was released again. "Fierce."


    "Nothing that could really hurt you. Even in your newborn state, you have immense self-healing powers," the young woman explained, wiping her hand past Ryan¡¯s eyes. Already she had disappeared and found herself out of nowhere at the bus stop.


    Ryan hurried after her at his normal walking pace, though apparently no other person seemed to have registered this action by the woman. "What about crosses or garlic?"


    "Fictitious nonsense," Vivienne denied. As an experienced vampire, she now felt she was being made fun of. "Silver doesn¡¯t help any more than that. At most, the cross becomes a danger if you sharpen it and ram it into your heart. That paralyses you. But you are not immortal either. Fire is our greatest enemy and if someone tears off your head, that¡¯s it. Only extremely powerful creatures of the night survive that."


    "Dracula, for example?" immediately came to Ryan¡¯s mind. "Or is that one fiction too?"


    "Hard to say."


    "What?"


    "Whether he still exists," Vivienne mused. It was the first time the educated and buoyant woman had radiated uncertainty. "His last sighting was in the Second World War when the vampires were fighting the Nazis and you hear rumours of his person at best."


    "No shit?" grasped Ryan¡¯s head. Vampires against Nazis? That sounded like a Hollywood idea to him. "Vampires fought the Nazis?"


    "We did, though I must confess France had a certain charm under occupation," Vivienne mentioned, believably describing it from the point of view of someone involved. "Paris in particular. Even I couldn¡¯t believe there was a war. It was like another world where everything was whole and everyone just wanted to live."


    Ryan still couldn¡¯t quite believe it. "Next you¡¯ll be telling me about Jesus."


    "One thing at a time," Vivienne replied simply. Now she looked deep into her companion¡¯s eyes and pointed to her own. "At least you don¡¯t have to change your eyes. That emerald green still passes for natural."


    "Yes, but why?", Ryan didn¡¯t understand. It felt a little like he¡¯d only been talking about trivial things so far and not the elemental events that had taken place in the restaurant. "My eyes are like that now because Julia¡¯s were?"


    "Like real parents. When Julia chose you, she passed something on to you."


    "Only, why did she turn me?" asked Ryan weakly. Lady Gardner¡¯s command still held him in check, but grief did not fall under it. "I can¡¯t really get any of this through my skull."


    "That question will occupy many tonight," Vivienne surmised, seeming interested in the solution herself. She walked a little further before stopping in front of a nondescript tenement.


    "What would the answer bring?"


    "Power," Vivienne gave significantly. "But those are more political things you shouldn¡¯t be worrying about right now. I¡¯ll give you that advice too, to help you get started: a lot of vampires are selfish. Everybody wants something. Don¡¯t trust blindly and don¡¯t give everything away."


    "Does that apply to you too, dear Vivienne?" inquired Ryan blatantly. What did he have to lose if the woman¡¯s statement was true. "Why did you stand up for me in the first place? Apart from Mr Forkner, no one else seemed to care what was going to happen."


    Vivienne did so again. For a long time, and with an almost piercing gaze, she looked at the newborn child. "Like I said - don¡¯t give it a thought," the woman smiled warmly, amid the cool night air. Then she was gone.


    Ryan noticed afterwards that he had something in his hand and looked at it. It was a flip-open mobile phone, which Vivienne had, by all appearances, slipped into his hand unnoticed. On the display was an email box, with a new inbox from Mr Saunders and reading Ryan.


    Assuming you have reached your destination, here is the information you need for now: Your flat is on the fifth floor, number 42. The landlord has made arrangements with me before and is very discreet, but he knows nothing of the Tenebrae or your kind. You also don¡¯t have to worry about rent for the time being and there is a windowless bedroom, suitable for your needs. I¡¯ve also arranged for a messenger to deliver your new ID and any documents tomorrow night, along with some fresh blood and $5,000 cash. A generous gesture, from Lady Gardner.


    Repay her and the Tenebrae by internalising my directives, and this especially applies to your contacts. As of now, you are dead to your family, friends and co-workers. If you make contact with any of these people, it could end not only your own life, but also the lives of others. Remember this if you are tempted. Protect your loved ones, as well as the Tenebrae. Everyone wins but you, but you will soon have a chance at a whole new life. In this regard, I will send you new instructions in two or three days, when everything else is done and I have found an appropriate task. Until then, try to get used to the new circumstances and don¡¯t make any trouble.


    Yours sincerely


    Mr Saunders

 Kayra - 1

    The narrow, high arched window was closed, but its curtain, artistically embroidered around the edges, was drawn open and the shallow light of the blood moon shimmered through the colourless glass into the luxurious kitchen, directly onto Kayra. She was finishing the onion tart for her patriarch, even though within these walls and his clan he was normally addressed as Father or Oskar. However, Kayra wasn¡¯t sure if her father was in the mood for his favourite sweet tooth tonight, but out of a sense of duty alone, she had made the cake anyway. Not only her loyalty, but also her love, the love of a daughter, belonged entirely to her patriarch and he was surely suffering badly in these hours. Kayra regretted more than she mourned, for if she was honest, she had simply never had much to do with the dead woman. The clan had simply been too big for everyone to know or like each other, as was the case in every family. My poor Lord, Kayra thought as she picked up the small ceramic cake plate and a matching plate in her other hand and headed for the library where Oskar was staying. She knew that the study was his favourite place when her father needed rest and time and once more, he would go through this torturous process. Others did the same, Kayra heard as she strode through one of the mansion¡¯s long, very high-ceilinged corridors. No matter where one was and what tone was struck, however, musical tones always echoed well in the corridors of the building and always gave Kayra a sense of security. Someone, somewhere, was playing a slow, comforting melody on one of the pianos, providing a fitting ambience to the classical candlesticks, framed by bronze glass boxes, on the wall, although there was also normal lighting, but it was usually switched off and so the grandiose corridors were bathed more in darkness than light.


    Heavy footsteps came from one side. "Cake for Raug?" asked a familiar clumsy voice.


    "No Raug, this is for Father," Kayra smiled to the only ghoul of the clan she had known for over 40 years.


    "Father sad," Raug commented, scratching his tousled hair. His skin alone betrayed him as a monster, so pale blue and full of scars. In addition, Raug¡¯s body was unusually muscular, but ignorant people would see that more as a deformity, and just then slight anger rose in the ghoul. "Who makes father sad? Raug punishes."


    "There has already been a punishment, Raug," Kayra reassured the servant. "And let father have his peace, will you? He needs to think."


    The ghoul just didn¡¯t know any better and could only obey. "Raug understands," he nodded leisurely. He was smarter than a zombie and not undead, but he still lacked a complex understanding and he was just as little alive. He could be seen as a human with diminished intelligence. "Raug¡¯s assignment?"


    "We¡¯re getting a visit from Judge Fletcher soon," Kayra mentioned, because as her father¡¯s personal assistant, she had received notice of the upcoming visit. "Please be so kind and wait at the door until he knocks and then lead him to the library."


    "Raug is waiting. Raug is receiving guest for father," the ghoul replied, stomping down the corridor with arms swinging weakly.


    Kayra reached the study, where the wide double door stood open a tiny crack. Flickering light blinked steadily out through the opening and Kayra heard the crackle of burning wood before she slid the door noiselessly open. She waited and looked across the dark room.


    Huge it was, a good three storeys high and much wider still in its footprint. All the curtains were drawn and, apart from a few scattered candle lanterns, only the light from the inviting, huge fireplace at the far end provided some brightness. Four spacious armchairs were perfectly spaced in front of the fire, but for a long time they had mostly been more symbolism than usable, for only one person sat on one of the silky soft pieces of furniture and had hogged the visible armrest with his resting arm.


    "Kayra," the patriarch¡¯s voice spoke introspectively, but offering. "Please, do not linger in silence for hours again."


    "Certainly not, Patriarch Stein," Kayra replied, walking to the armchairs. She herself extremely rarely called Oskar Stein Father or Oskar even in this private atmosphere, for the sake of respect alone, and whenever she wandered through the library she was reminded of why.


    Times were modern and in the mansion, even in this oversized room, there were the conveniences of the best computers and digital databanks, but on the whole this library was a mecca of bound leather and home to scrolls, some of which were several thousand years old. Literature from Kayra¡¯s native Palestine was also to be found here, which Oskar had obtained in 1249 when he had made a pilgrimage through the Kingdom of Jerusalem.


    "I¡¯ve made you an onion tart, just in case you feel like it," Kayra said, setting the plate and platter down on a round, linen cloth-covered side table beside the armchair.


    "Very thoughtful of you, but I think this delicacy will only be an ornament today," Oskar declined politely but sadly. "Or perhaps I can persuade Fletcher to have a piece."


    "You¡¯ve been trying to do that for nearly a hundred years," Kayra commented, putting her hand in front of her mouth to suppress what she considered an inappropriate smirk. "I rather think he will prefer the good drop. I¡¯ve already had a bottle of young blood brought from the cellar, to be served when the judge arrives."


    "Good, good," Oskar nodded weakly. He was talking to his servant, but he did not take his eyes from the blazing flames of the wide fireplace for a second. "How is the clan?"


    "Well, I¡¯m sure you can hear for yourself," Kayra remarked, closing her eyes as if she felt for the music and Oskar¡¯s suffering. "Everyone grieves in their own way, and I¡¯m immensely sorry about Julia."


    "Really? I didn¡¯t think you were that close."


    "We werent, patriarch," Kayra replied diplomatically, forming a perfect stance where she folded her arms behind her back. Despite the situation, she wanted to maintain her high standard as a servant. "But I know what she meant to you, as do all your children, and you know what you mean to me. That is why I feel your pain."


    "A self-inflicted one," Oskar asserted with conviction. He did not bathe in self-pity, for that was not his way. Even in this situation, his presence as master of the house and clan did not fall. "I have significantly underestimated Julia¡¯s desire for a child of her own, I think."


    "Was that the reason? Do you think she wanted it so badly that she disregarded the laws?"


    "I don¡¯t think, I know," the Klan leader revealed. "Just a fortnight ago, I was talking to her about the issue. However, with all the trouble over the past few months, I did not think it wise to father another child now."


    "Ah yes, the other charge," Kayra remembered thoughtfully. It was no secret that Julia was at loggerheads with the Tenebrae for allegedly collaborating with the Eyes of the Apostles. "I take it Julia was less than enthusiastic about your view of things?"


    "Let¡¯s just say she didn¡¯t share my view and I vehemently asked her to trust me."


    "Unfortunately, it seems she couldn¡¯t bring herself to do so," Kayra stated guardedly, dissatisfied. She wasn¡¯t the only one who loved her father, she knew that. Every clan member was extremely important to him and he got that affection back just the same, even if there were disagreements from time to time. That was why Kayra had to suppress her frustration at Julia¡¯s decision. "Julia¡¯s actions ... this will lead to more tension."


    "That¡¯s to be expected," Oskar agreed. Humans could be political beasts and drag whole lives through the mud. Politics among vampires, however, was like an echo that would haunt you for a thousand years and at the slightest mistake, a black hole would open up that could destroy whole generations of vampires, socially or permanently and Oskar had been around long enough to sense the danger. "This breach of the law, is like cattle ripe for the slaughter to Lady Gardner and all our enemies. House Stein will not fall, but certainly more intensive investigations will be made into our clan."


    "We are loyal to the Tenebrae," Kayra said with conviction, even as she thought of Oskar¡¯s ill-will towards the vampiric leadership. "This should come to nothing."


    "Someone with enough ambition, might fake something," Oskar warned quietly but darkly, his left eye wandering in Kayra¡¯s direction without his head turning. "No, someone will fake something."


    The servant was aware of this. "I didn¡¯t think it needed any extra mention," she said, lowering her head anxiously with her eyes closed. "This business about Julia and the apostles - you hold to your conviction?"


    "It¡¯s not a conviction, I know it for a fact," Oskar pronounced under brief strain, so that his fingers formed themselves into pointed claws and he scratched the back of his armchair a little. "Someone has lured Julia into a trap and sullied her reputation."


    "Of course, I didn¡¯t mean to imply I believed that either," Kayra said carefully, looking at her father. "I¡¯m much more concerned that Julia has shaken your confidence with tonight."


    The tension remained in Oskar¡¯s body for a moment, but then it left him and the patriarch had to smile sadly. "I have been on this earth for almost a thousand years, Kayra. My children may disappoint me at times, but my faith in every clan member is hard to shake."


    "And we all appreciate that very much, Father," Kayra allowed herself to say, but that personal moment was quickly put aside. "So should we be proactive? Or remain passive?"


    "The first move has been made, but its purpose will not soon become apparent," Oskar murmured thoughtfully. The nearly 1000 years of experience in his life reflected anew, for he was not only a collector of knowledge, but had also participated in enough wars and conflicts that the clan leader exuded a natural general attitude as he calmly reflected. "We¡¯ll leave the field to our opponents for now, but I have a very important task for you."


    "I am at your service, Patriarch," Kayra leaned forward devoted. "What are your orders?"


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    "Julia¡¯s child ... retrace his steps," Oskar said guardedly. He tried to hide it, but Oskar cared that nothing should happen to the child. "How you do it, I leave entirely to you, only no one must notice."


    Yes, Kayra guessed that this was not just to observe, but to protect. "Of course, patriarch. I will personally take care of it and ... shall I ... intervene in the most extreme case?"


    Oskar hesitated and took his time with his answer. Never letting one¡¯s guard down entirely was certainly a hard-won and learned lesson of his life and had nothing to do with distrusting his own. "If you really must, cover all your tracks in the process and put Ryan where he won¡¯t be found again so quickly. Otherwise, I just want reports on his actions."


    "That is how it will be done. I will begin tonight."


    "Thank you, Kayra," Oskar murmured in relief and the moment could not have been more appropriate.


    The library door opened and a massive figure blocked the entrance. "Raug bring guest to father," the ghoul said, making way.


    Judge Fletcher emerged, wrapped in a long, greyish leather cloak. He barely glanced at the ghoul and entered.


    Just as Kayra turned to the guest to be polite, Oskar knew how to rise and greet his old friend. "Oliver, it¡¯s good of you to come, though it wasn¡¯t necessary. I¡¯m sure you have a lot of work to do."


    "Not at all," Fletcher replied level-headedly and began to open his coat. Kayra came to take it from the judge as he continued. "Like I¡¯d leave you to your own devices on a night like this. Thank you, Kayra."


    Kayra took the coat. "My pleasure, Judge Fletcher," she said, taking the garment to a hook near the fireplace. As the men took their seats, she walked briefly to the door afterwards. "Raug, I have a new assignment for you."


    "Raug is listening," the ghoul nodded.


    "I want you to tell Ashford that he will be taking over my duties for the next few days," Kayra instructed. Oskar didn¡¯t have many servants, for belonging to his clan didn¡¯t necessarily mean being a servant. At least that was the case with him and Kayra¡¯s services were entirely voluntary. "After that, you go to Mr Allister¡¯s house. You remember where the house is, don¡¯t you?"


    "Raug knows. Necromancer lives there."


    "That¡¯s right Raug," Kayra nodded with satisfaction. She had picked up worrying reports from the surrounding country folk over the last few days that needed to be investigated. "You tell him to keep his creations in check. If he does not, Patriarch Stein will no longer tolerate him. Once you¡¯ve told him that, you search the area around his property and the forest. A few zombies are said to be roaming around there - kill them and then bury them nice and deep. Got it?"


    Raug¡¯s gaze remained dull. There was no movement in him, barely a twitch of facial muscles. "Raug urges control. After that, Raug flattens zombies and buries them nice and deep."


    "Perfect. Get going."


    "Raug¡¯s looking for Ashford," the ghoul said, and behind him the library door was left ajar.


    Kayra returned quietly to the fireplace where the men were already talking. "You¡¯re asking for a lot there, Oskar," Fletcher said irresolutely. "I want to help, but enforcing it could be dangerous."


    "More of a request than a demand," Oskar corrected. Quite obviously, the patriarch had started the conversation right off with a bang. "Julia is dead. There is no longer any reason to pursue this any further."


    "She is dead, and I am truly sorry for your loss beyond measure," Fletcher regretted, but it sounded more like a phrase. "Still, you know I couldn¡¯t stop it even if I said yes. Lady Gardner certainly does. I only judge and watch that she doesn¡¯t abuse her power."


    "I can assure you - Julia had nothing more to do with the Apostles," Oskar expressed clearly. There was no doubt in his mind, neither about the deceased, nor about his clan, and he became more serious for a moment. "No one in my house has. If they did, I would immediately deal with this transgression personally and without mercy."


    Silently, Kayra placed herself behind her patriarch and earned a scrutinising look from Fletcher. This was not the first round Kayra had attended as a silent witness, however, which was why the judge continued to focus on the conversation. "Who would doubt that? Only fools."


    "Lately the nights have been full of fools, stupid, greedy fools."


    "Does that surprise you?" asked Fletcher. He knew good reasons why this was so and they visibly worried him. "After the Apostles managed to kill not one but two members of the Ninth Circle in the last few months, there is a tremendous imbalance within the Tenebrae. I tell you, there¡¯s something in the air these nights, and then now the Blood Moon Child."


    "A harmless fellow who had bad luck," Oskar dismissed this statement with a wave of his hand. "Most vampires didn¡¯t have a choice when they were sired and in his case there was just a blood moon shining. Just don¡¯t get caught up in the hysteria."


    "Not me," Fletcher shook his head. At the same time, another woman entered the library with a tray of wine glasses and a full bottle of blood that clearly smelled human, but the judge paid the lady no attention. "The masses, on the other hand, do. I¡¯ve spoken to enough already. Many are nervous and worried, while others are developing unhealthy ambition. The people need stability."


    "Well an age-old wisdom that applies to humans, us and many other beings alike," Oskar agreed, folding his hands together over his lap. As much as he loved his children, it had long been known that Oskar thought little of the Tenebrae for decades, and he could hardly be blamed. "It would be all the more important to me that my house would not be thrown into more turmoil. In Great Kingston and throughout America, House Stein has been a guarantor of loyalty and stability for centuries. So why continue the investigation?`"


    Kayra, meanwhile, approached the human servant with the tray. "Thank you, Emilie," she spoke in hushed tones.


    The human woman was nearing her 40s but looked very pretty for her age and as an often stressed single mother of two. Over all, she had a bit more meat on her bones, but she was by no means chubby or fat. "Here you go, Kayra," Emilie smiled. She was wearing appropriate maid¡¯s clothes, even if it was a marked departure from the typical maid¡¯s style, with no apron, skirt or cap. "Is there anything else I can do?"


    Kayra felt a little scrawnier than she really was next to Emilie, with her own gaunt, six-foot-five figure, and every now and then she thoroughly wished she had the same kind of curves she could have had with shape-shifting, but the constant expenditure of energy for a purely cosmetic look was not worth it to Kayra. "The bats and ravens need to be fed. Be so good."


    "Of course," Emilie curtsied simply and was about to leave the room.


    "Emilie, one moment please," Oskar¡¯s voice came from the armchair and he beckoned the woman with a granting motion.


    At his word, the servant elegantly turned around and approached the armchair. "What can I do for you, Patriarch Stein?"


    "How have you been?" asked Oskar with interest, but probably he just wanted to hear other things that night, far from grief and politics. "We haven¡¯t seen each other for a few weeks."


    "Soon the Christmas madness will begin," Emilie replied with played horror. "But my children are already madly looking forward to their holiday in the mountains."


    That the patriarch had not seen her for so long was normal. The few, human employees of his house, mostly worked during the day. "So how¡¯s the new school?"


    "Oh, right!" it embarrassingly occurred to Emilie. "I haven¡¯t had a chance to thank you yet! Without your recommendation and help! So the school is really stunning and my kids don¡¯t stop raving about it! Especially the many clubs and activities in the afternoon, are just bombastic for them! A thousand thanks to Patriarch Stein!"


    "Not at all. It¡¯s thanks enough for me that the two of them like it," Oskar said contentedly. He always preferred loyalty and diligence to be rewarded, which was why he had used his influence and money for Emilie¡¯s children. "But I¡¯m sure you have a lot of work to do and I¡äm keeping you here."


    "Oh not so, so yes," Emilie stumbled fleetingly before she caught herself. "Yes, there is a lot to do. I¡¯m sure we can find another occasion to talk, if that¡¯s convenient for you, Patriarch Stein."


    "Whenever your time and mine permits," Oskar nodded curtly and Emilie took her leave with a polite bow.


    Kayra looked after her briefly, but not for control. She knew Emilie was extremely reliable and had worked for Patriarch Stein for almost ten years and that was saying something. Not every human justified a vampire choosing mortal servants, for it was not forbidden. It was always a huge risk, though, and failure could bring harsh punishment for a vampire, but Kayra wasn¡¯t worried about Emilie and took the tray to the masters. "I think you¡¯re thirsty," Kayra guessed and she put her fingers to the cork of the bottle and pulled it out effortlessly with the typical plop of a wine before pouring the glasses half full.


    Fletcher was already getting excited by the rising scent of the blood, a real connoisseur. "Very, very young blood," he guessed correctly, and after toasting with Oskar, he tasted rapturously. "A virgin male to boot, so delicate ..."


    "That¡¯s right," Kayra confirmed politely, holding out her hand. She had to cover the corners of her mouth to hide her disgust. The bottle contained the blood of an eight year old boy and as was the case with normal food, the taste and quality of blood varied depending on the source, but Kayra found it disgusting to distort the blood of such young people. To her it had something of vampiric paedophilia about it and supposedly Judge Fletcher liked to take younger victims here and there and not just to drink blood. "Would you like a slice of onion pie too, perhaps, Mr Fletcher?"


    The judge smirked in satisfaction, with the sweet taste of blood on his lips. "Oskar has been trying to get me interested in his pie for over 90 years. Let¡¯s give it another 90 years and I might consider it."


    "You¡¯ve never tasted it," Oskar remarked.


    "The smell is enough for me. Not very appealing to me."


    "Well I¡¯ve tried again," Oskar conceded defeat, but the small talk was not to last and out of the corner of his eye, he looked anxiously at the judge. "Just as I am trying to keep the peace. So you agree with me that Haus Stein is an important pillar of order?"


    "In all respects," Fletcher agreed, enjoying his glass of blood. "But as I said, unhealthy ambition causes some to forget or overlook that fact."


    "Which is why it is vital that you bring Lady Gardner to her senses," Oskar made his point abundantly clear again without raising his voice. "She¡¯s not even 400 years old, but her rapid rise within the Tenebrae is making her drunk with power, and from what I¡¯ve heard, someone has put the ideas in her head that I¡¯m an enemy of the Tenebrae, which is why she sees me as a great opportunity to gain even more recognition and power."


    "Enemy, mhpf," Fletcher murmured indecisively. Nearly a hundred years of friendship might have sounded a lot, but it was rather fresh for vampires, and yet the judge was more than aware. "You haven¡¯t been a friend since then either, though."


    That was a subject Oskar didn¡¯t even want to broach and he responded accordingly dismissively. "I¡¯m fully aware of that and we¡¯ll leave it at that, please."


    "I¡¯m sorry, Oskar, but unfortunately there are more than a few who consider your attitude towards the Tenebrae to be highly questionable. You are certainly no enemy, but you try to stay out of just about everything the Tenebrae undertakes."


    "Keeping my distance is better than me tearing it apart," Oskar murmured in a subliminal warning tone. Each syllable was as weighty as the one before and his cats yellow identical eyes looked to the judge in a mixture of threat and weariness. "I seek no conflict, as I seek no friendship, but should the Tenebrae threaten my home, no one can say what will happen, Oliver"


    The judge was more than aware of the weight of this statement and here was the end of blood enjoyment for him as he put down the almost empty glass. "I¡¯m sure no sane vampire would want that, Oskar," Fletcher said as a diplomat and friend. "And as for the ambitious ... I¡¯m sure we can find a solution, but ..." Now the judge looked to the silent listener and asked politely. "The details, let¡¯s settle them between us, please."


    "You¡¯ve been my friend for so long," Oskar replied, pointing at Kayra with the back of his hand, "Her loyalty and discretion should be very familiar to you."


    "Secrecy is not the problem, comfort is," Fletcher asserted, showing the typical side of night-time politics and power games he was used to. "In private, I just feel more comfortable. So would you be so kind?"


    "We always treat welcome guests of this house with respect and comply with their requests," Oskar said, and that settled it. "Kayra, please leave us alone."


    "Of course, Patriarch Stein," Kayra complied without resistance, with a formal one-handed bow that was equally addressed to the judge. "A pleasant night I wish you gentlemen."


    "Thank you and good luck," Oskar wished. Even in front of one of his few friends, there was no need for him to go into details about his servant¡¯s important mission. To that one, the patriarch offered another glass instead. "So, another sip of blood?"


    "Always," Fletcher grinned, as Kayra disappeared noiselessly into the darkness of the house and into the night.

 Ryan - 3

    Oh how Vivienne had been right! Three days had passed since Ryan had been turned into a vampire and after the spell, curse or whatever you could call it had disappeared, it had all come crashing down on him and he had almost only entrenched himself in his windowless bedroom. It had been a small room, with a bed through it, and in desperation Ryan had clung to the only thing that sustained him - the TV programme on his flat screen TV. It hadn¡¯t mattered to him whether it was the news or a tearjerker film, a long-running commercial or even a test pattern with music. The main thing had been that he could feel human, as if everything was the same as always and he had even ignored the prolonged ringing and knocking at his new flat door two days ago. However, Ryan was a vampire now, but so far he hadn¡¯t felt any thirst or anything that could be called hunger for blood. That irritated him and that was why he still clung to the vague hope that it was all just a very bad joke. On the other hand, he had seen what Vivienne could do and it was real, as far as Ryan could tell. Then there were the noticeable changes to his body that he had noticed and surveyed. Ryan had otherwise been of average nature, but the way he saw it, from society¡¯s point of view, he would probably now be considered very handsome and extremely well trained. His face in particular not only looked better, but his features had changed a little. Perhaps enough so that none of Ryan¡¯s acquaintances would immediately recognise him, but what did it matter? The rules were clear - Ryan Walker no longer existed and his family and friends had to believe that, for their own good. ¡°What now?¡± he sighed wearily as his mobile vibrated once again. Yesterday he had already received a message from Saunders regarding his new names and a new message from the lawyer had arrived on the device¡¯s display.


    Mr Walker, I hope you have acclimatised and got used to your new existence by now, because there is work waiting for you and I don¡¯t have to stress how important it is that you solve this task to the complete satisfaction of the Tenebrae. More information will be given to you by one of our contacts. His name is Gordon Mitchell and he is a private investigator. He has his agency on 53rd Street, not far from you and has been informed about you and your task. You don¡¯t have to hide from Mr Mitchell either - he knows what you are, what the Tenebrae is, everything. Should you succeed in your task, contact me. Should you fail, I recommend you enjoy one last sunrise. That would be far more humane than possible alternatives.


    O. Saunders


    Ryan clapped his hand over his face and ran it over his face unwillingly. It must be, he thought. His situation still caused him a lot of discomfort, but he didn¡¯t want to just surrender to its end either. Besides, he somehow had the strange feeling that it might not only affect him if he failed. Forkner, Vivienne, both had stood up for him in their own way and if there was one thing Ryan had always done, it was to return the favour and at least in doing so he could also get in touch with someone who knew. So he freshened up a bit, although that didn¡¯t apply to his 3 day old clothes. He probably should have ordered new ones, but it was what it was and an hour later, around 9pm, he left his flat.


    "Well hello stranger!" came from behind him.


    Ryan had just locked up and turned around in surprise. "Mh?"


    A woman of about 25 to 30 was standing in the hallway, at the opposite flat door. "Welcome to the neighbourhood," the stranger greeted with an amused shake of her head. She had a sleeping boy of about 2 years on one arm and a paper shopping bag on the other. "I¡¯ve liked it so quiet so far, but feel free to say something."


    "Oh, yes, hello," Ryan finally raised his hand. Vampiric abilities? My ass. The woman had snuck up on him like a mouse. "Sorry, I haven¡¯t quite arrived here yet."


    "I noticed," the woman said, trying to fish her flat key out of her pants, but it wasn¡¯t that easy with full arms.


    Ryan was well behaved, though. "I¡¯ll take that for a minute," he offered and had the shopping bag handed to him.


    "Thank you," the woman said and then had no trouble opening hers. "I¡¯m Melissa Hard, by the way, and who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"


    "Ryan."


    "Ryan who?"


    "Oh, Ryan," Ryan faltered. He hoped that kind of just came across as more shy than confused, because at least with his new identity he¡¯d been allowed to keep his old first name. "Ryan Tavish."


    "Again then - welcome, Ryan Tavish," Melissa greeted, getting the shopping bag back. "By the way, I have something for you."


    "For me?"


    "Yes, a messenger was here the day before yesterday, but you didn¡¯t answer your door. So he rang my doorbell and I took the package."


    Briefly Ryan swallowed and he hoped she hadn¡¯t peeped into the delivery. "That¡¯s very kind of you."


    "Yes, don¡¯t mention it, but I want to know one thing right away," Melissa pointed out seriously, taking the box from behind the door with her foot. It still looked sealed. "There¡¯s nothing illegal in there, is there?!"


    "What? No!" affirmed Ryan. It was questionable to him whether the cash and blood were really legal, but from his point of view they were. "What makes you think that?"


    "Her predecessor, he used to get packages too, which I sometimes accepted," Melissa explained, looking anything but happy. "And then at some point the cops not only kicked down his door, they kicked down mine too!"


    "Why? Did he have a drug lab?"


    "No, he was a pusher and dealt in prohibited items: Pictures, guns, videos, you name it and I can tell you!" sighed Melissa in frustration. "Convincing the police that I didn¡¯t know about it wasn¡¯t exactly easy!"


    "That must have been really bitter," Ryan empathised with his mother and reiterated his statement. "I¡¯m not involved in anything like that, I promise! I¡¯m in IT and I work from home a lot." Lied wasn¡¯t even a lie and it clicked with Ryan! His former job was the excuse. "That¡¯s why I¡¯m more of a night owl and must have been asleep when the delivery guy brought the package."


    "So you¡¯re a bit of a nerd?" grinned Melissa cheekily. "You look more like an Olympic runner or a model."


    "Haha, model," Ryan dismissed the statement and ran an embarrassed hand through his oak brown, medium length hair. "I¡¯ve heard some things, but not that."


    "Well I should know," Melissa said with conviction and began to gently cradle the child in her arms as the latter became restless. "I work as a photographer for an agency and we take those great pictures you see of products on websites and in advertisements."


    "So," Ryan smirked for the first time in days. "If I see a gorgeous can of beans, maybe you photographed them?"


    Melissa smiled proudly. "Among other things. Isn¡¯t quite as exciting as working with models or larger objects, but even the essence of a can has to be captured!"


    "Definitely sounds more exciting than fixing bug 34 over and over again that isn¡¯t actually a bug," Ryan ranted expertly, but also annoyed. "In short, people just type codes wrong and some still don¡¯t understand to this day."


    "You¡¯re right," Melissa agreed, swinging her curly, luscious blonde hair out of her face. Over all, it was only now that she noticed her sweet lavender scent. "I have the more exciting job."


    "Ouch, that one was sitting," Ryan laughed and the longer he looked at the woman, the more he noticed every little detail about her. Silky smooth pink skin, with no freckles or anything, the gorgeous contours of her body, the light brown of her eyes and her brightly painted but not overly long fingernails. The little boy¡¯s nascent whining, however, snapped Ryan out of that focus. "Oh, someone¡¯s getting feisty."


    "Rather cranky," Melissa sighed, shoving the box outside her door. "I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s my cue Ryan. The little one really needs to go to bed."


    "You¡¯re welcome, nice to meet you Melissa," Ryan replied, picking up the package.


    "Ditto, have a good, less busy night," Melissa bade a friendly farewell and shut her door, followed by a multiple lock click.


    At least the neighbourhood seemed to be in order, which gave Ryan some comfort as he set the package down in his flat. As advertised by Saunders, inside was an envelope containing $5000 cash, but Ryan only pocketed $500 of it. Also in the package was another black box. It was completely sealed and after Ryan opened it and a gush of ice-cold air poured out of the sides, he found half a dozen units of blood inside. Don¡¯t! No, he didn¡¯t want to deal with that now and sealed the box again. He felt fine and he had no desire to consume blood. Instead, he called a taxi.


    Not far was always a relative term for anyone, but it took Ryan 20 minutes to reach 53rd Street. At least it looked more mannerly than his neighbourhood, even if police car sirens kept blaring in the vicinity and in the distance.


    The main focal point of the street was a Y-junction, at the fork in the road of which was a busy, for this time of night, triangular-shaped kiosk. A good ten customers stood around the substantial mini-building, where all sorts of things were available. Smells of meat, such as burgers, chicken or hot dogs, pizza and similar fast food favourites rose up there. Various drinks were available as well, and next to TV screens, there were also information columns that were the newspaper of today and could be consulted for a fee, as there were hardly any printed paper publications left. At least not as far as magazines and the like were concerned.


    Ryan also saw a display on the kiosk, with the time and temperature. It was actually a frosty seven degrees below zero, but he didn¡¯t even feel a shallow draft and suspected that vampires were much more resolute about environmental influences. "Gordon Mitchell," Ryan muttered to himself after pulling out his mobile phone and searching for the address.


    The destination could well be described as a backyard business, because even though the actual building was on the street, you had to go down a narrow side alley where dumpsters and wire fences dominated the scene before you reached the entrance. On the doorbell, however, there were almost only normal names and only the private eyes agency stood out.


    G.M., private investigator


    Search, peep, protect


    Peep, it went through Ryan¡¯s mind. A very elegant word for spying. However, he didn¡¯t want to judge. Everyone had to make a living somehow and in the IT field there were far worse things when it came to gathering information. A man who worked for vampires, however, had to be of a completely different calibre and was certainly not out to prove the infidelity of men or women.


    After the bell rang, a young woman¡¯s voice listened over the intercom. "Yes please?"


    "Good evening," Ryan greeted. "My name is Tavish. I have an appointment with Mr Mitchell."


    "Just a moment," the voice asked, loosely humming for more than a few seconds already. "There you are, Ryan Tavish. Fifth floor. You can¡¯t miss us."


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    Ryan didn¡¯t have to lift a finger. A beep sounded and the colourless door slid open of its own accord. Inside it was quiet, appropriate for this time of night, and truly Ryan couldn¡¯t miss the agency, for on the 5th floor was a heavy, metal door that had the same inscription as the bell. "Yep, definitely anything but a regular detective."


    "Hey, we live in a dangerous neighbourhood," the young woman¡¯s voice chimed in again, but she didn¡¯t really sound concerned. "If you only knew, but come in first. Press once."


    A rustier beeping sound came to Ryan and he pushed the metal in the hinge. "Cosy," he said immediately. The hallway ahead was narrow, with the reception desk taking up much of the available space.


    "Just our little world," a woman in her early 20s grinned, her whole style screaming goth. From her hair to her eye shadow and lipstick, to her casual clothes. Almost everything about her was black, or at least with a dark tinge. Only the snowy blue strands of her hairstyle, tied into a sort of cross on the back of her head and bristling with a lone, long parting on her forehead , stood out against all the black. "MG has another session right now. Why don¡¯t you go to the waiting room for that long. I can also bring you something to drink if you want. A water? A Coke?"


    "MG?"


    "Well Gordon Mitchell," the woman said naturally, clearly listening to music through a wireless earpiece on the side. "He solves a lot of cases so fast, though, that I prefer to call him MG. Fast as a machine gun."


    "Ah, MG," Ryan rubbed his index finger across the side of his forehead. "And what may I call you?"


    "Aeternitas, but only when MG isn¡¯t around," the woman sighed, making entries on her PC as she chatted without really looking. "He gives me a lot of liberties, but for the sake of professionalism, Kylie Cameron is preferred."


    "How about KC?"


    "Not just pretty, but something in the head," Kylie grinned coquettishly. "So Ryan, something to drink?"


    No, Ryan still didn¡¯t feel any urge, although he was a little dishonest in saying so. "No thanks, I¡¯m not thirsty."


    "Okay then, take a seat with your bum for once."


    Ryan nodded mutely and followed Kylie¡¯s pointing. To his right was a doorless frame containing a room that, in terms of space, could have been more accurately described as a storeroom. But at least there were six comfortable wooden chairs, all spread out along the walls, and there was even an information pillar in the middle. Ryan didn¡¯t use it, however, and he didn¡¯t have to wait too long.


    The slide of a door could be heard and two men were soon standing outside the waiting room. "Well, I hope this helps you," said a man estimated to be 40 years old, who didn¡¯t have a single hair on his head but did have the crisp brown beard of a strapping lumberjack sprouting on his face. Physically, his stature said the same and he wore the matching black and red tiled shirt and trousers with straps.


    "Thank you so much, Mr Mitchell," said a much older, white-haired man, rubbing a tear from his face. "After so many years, I have found my daughter."


    "A real pleasure," Gordon replied, shaking his obvious client¡¯s hand firmly. "I hope you¡¯ll be able to make a connection. Good luck."


    "Thank you very much," the old man repeated himself, refusing to be bounced for a hug.


    It seemed routine for Gordon, but he still seemed very cordial and patted the man warmly on the back. "So if you hug your daughter half as well, she¡¯ll be in tears of joy."


    The old man smiled happily and eased away from the detective, rather nodding politely to Kylie and leaving the agency.


    "Mr Tavish, I presume?", Gordon glanced into the waiting room and curtly beckoned his guest. "Come."


    Even as Ryan was about to get up and comply with the request, there was a brief conversation at the counter.


    Gordon did not seem happy. "Miss Cameron, has our special case finally paid?"


    "Nope, just checked fifteen minutes ago," Kylie shook her head buoyantly. "No entrance MG."


    "Unbelievable," Gordon ran his beard through his widened eyes and spoke plainly. "Write him a final warning. Either he pays at least half or I let his partner know and instead sell him the information I found."


    "Will do MG," Kylie replied lightly and set about pounding the keys.


    "Trouble?" asked Ryan forebodingly.


    "Since I¡¯m getting my money either way, not really," Gordon now said unconcernedly. He put an arm around his guest and led him along. "But let¡¯s talk in my office."


    Somehow Ryan liked the private investigator immediately. He seemed like the kind of guy who would tell you everything to your face and still not be an ass. "I guess I listen more," Ryan guessed, taking a seat across from an electronic desk. "This is ... all new territory for me."


    Gordon¡¯s office was halfway more spacious than the waiting room, with old-fashioned filing cabinets and an open window that let fresh evening air into the room. He closed that now, though. "Yes, I¡¯ve been told that much," the detective confirmed, but interestingly, he seemed as uncomfortable with the situation as his guest. "And I can tell you, the two of us have really ended up in deep shit."


    "Sorry, I had no saying in it," Ryan defended himself calmly. "If you¡¯re in trouble for it now, complain to Lady Gardner or this Tenedae."


    "Tenebrae," Gordon corrected, dropping into his swivel chair. A half-smoked cigar was needed, which the detective relit. "And no kid, I don¡¯t blame you. I probably would have got the job anyway because the other vampires were apparently too stupid to pull it off."


    "That bad?"


    "I told you, really in deep shit," Gordon remarked with a deep draw on his cigar. "That¡¯s why I¡¯ve worked something else out for you for now."


    "Something else?" listened Ryan thoughtfully. "What do you mean by that?"


    "No offence, but our assignment is getting really dangerous and I want to know first if I can rely on you," Gordon clarified, dabbing ash from his cigar into an ashtray. "That¡¯s why I¡¯m giving you another task for now, a little test."


    "But there was nothing about that in Mr Saunders¡ä memo," Ryan replied, caught off guard. He already had no say in any of this, but should it be standard for everyone to use him as they pleased? "This really fucks me off. So now I¡¯m being tested to take a test?"


    "Believe me, I still mean well by you," Gordon spoke blankly honestly and he had his reasons for wanting what he wanted. "I¡¯ve been working for the Tenebrae for 30 years and if what they say is true, that¡¯s a strong thing for humans to survive that long. That¡¯s why I want to know I can count on you. Otherwise, I¡¯ll do Saunders¡ä job alone."


    "Is that even allowed?" questioned Ryan, and not just out of spite. "I don¡¯t know the rules, but I¡¯m supposed to be doing a job for the Tenebrae, not for you."


    "Retract the claws, kid," Gordon tried to reassure. "I¡¯ve been given a free hand and you do as I tell you. If that¡¯s a problem for you, please - there¡¯s the door."


    Ryan folded his arms and slumped back in the chair. He looked at the door and considered it grimly to himself. Yes, he could just run away now, preferably far away and disappear into some backwater. Maybe he would be able to disappear and the vampires would leave him alone, but then Julia¡¯s fate came to his mind again. He still didn¡¯t understand, but she lost her head just because she had turned him into a vampire. Surely there was more to it than that, only it showed Ryan that vampires certainly wouldn¡¯t leave anything undone and Saunders had made it clear to him again what would happen if they failed. "Fine, fine by me," Ryan panted reluctantly and slammed his arms down on the table.


    This caused a loud crack and left more than one dent before all the electronics gave up the ghost with a crackle. "Indeed, a child," the private eye noted with little surprise, ticking it off unconcernedly. "Don¡¯t worry about it, the Tenebrae will pay for it."


    Kylie hurried through the door. "MG! Everything all right in here?!" the receptionist asked, looking at the men and the damage. "Do you want me to call the police?!"


    "Calm down Miss Cameron," Gordon shook his head nonchalantly, taking his guest in his stride. "Mr Tavish got up a bit unhappily and I always knew that table was scrap."


    "Well MG, that¡¯s what you get for buying it off a truck," Kylie said knowingly. She bought the investigators statement, or maybe she had just seen enough in this trade and at this time of night to not ask further. "I¡¯ll order another one right away, but a real one this time!"


    "Sure thing, you do that."


    "Then I might as well order a new air conditioner too!" added Kylie as she left, the door closing behind her. "The old one doesn¡¯t heat properly anymore!"


    "Hey i-!", Gordon spoke up, but by then the woman was gone and the room closed. The private eye scratched his head in defeat. "Like I could stop her, and it¡¯s true, it¡¯s mighty nippy in here."


    The conversation between the two had given Ryan a moment to get down and enjoy this human conversation. "The girl¡¯s got a strong personality, eh?"


    "She¡¯s perfect for the job," Gordon praised without overdoing it. "Twenty-two years young and has worked for me for more than three years, but shhh! She knows nothing about vampires and co! I needed someone who could cope with our nocturnal clientele and with my working hours in general. If you only knew what sometimes happens when others are asleep."


    "I guess I¡¯ll find out for myself soon enough," Ryan replied after his suspicions were confirmed that Kylie had certainly seen a lot of things. "So what do you want me to do to prove myself?"


    Gordon¡¯s cigar was almost a stub, but there was still something left. "Keep things tidy," he said sarcastically, stubbing out the cigar in the ashtray where he left it. "I mean, here we are in one of the greatest, most modern cities in America: what else would you do here?"


    Ryan was undecided how to respond. "Become a movie star?"


    "Yes, oh yes, the second Hollywood," Gordon grinned broadly. "With all its undiscovered waiters, taxi drivers and dishwashers." For a moment the mood remained relaxed, but then Gordon put on a professional face. "No seriously now, this area has a problem that was brought to my attention just a while ago. A small gang has set up shop here and is terrorising the people. They¡¯re stealing, dealing drugs and extorting protection money."


    "Isn¡¯t that a job for the police?" asked Ryan logically. If the problem was known, why wouldn¡¯t they do something about it? "I mean, you make the problem sound more than obvious. Surely it should be dealt with by the law?"


    "That¡¯s how it goes in a world of imagination," Gordon sighed and for a moment, the seemingly 40 year old looked a few decades older and he turned slightly sour. "In this part of town, the police budget has been cut in recent years. You have to spend so much on other pointless shit."


    "You¡¯re saying there¡¯s not enough officer presence?"


    "Yep, and I know some cops in the area," Gorodon mentioned, stroking his portly beard thoughtfully. "Most of them are good, hard-working cops, but they can only do so much and in some cases their hands are tied. Not to mention the problem is hardly official. This gang intimidates people and threatens families."


    This was the first time Ryan had come into contact with such things and it was uncomfortable for him, he couldn¡¯t deny that. "And you now expect me to ...?"


    "Precisely not!" emphatically denied Gordon. The man knew his business, it became clear. "In case you haven¡¯t figured it out yet - the Tenebrae doesn¡¯t want attention. Sure, you could make the bodies disappear and we wouldn¡¯t have any problems, but don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to go unnoticed, because you want me to be honest kid?"


    "I don¡¯t think you could be anything else," Ryan said, honest and pleased. "What¡¯s the catch?"


    "I¡¯ll bet my ass you¡¯re being watched," Gordon surmised, pointing to the shuttered window. "At least a pair of eyes, or even two, three."


    "Watchers?"


    "More like snitches," Gordon waved it off contemptuously, sounding like he already knew quite a bit about the situation, but not necessarily from Mr Saunders. "The point is, everyone is trying to piss on everyone¡¯s leg and I¡¯ve already heard about your story. Pure dynamite that could tear some people apart."


    Vivienne had already hinted at it and now Ryan was hearing it again. Whether he could endure this world for long he didn¡¯t know, but at least he could now better understand Gordon¡¯s desire. "Now then, what exactly do you want me to do about this gang?"


    "Teach them a lesson," Gordon said, leaning forward to look his guest straight in the eye. "Don¡¯t kill them! Under no circumstances! I want you to chase this scum away. Words will hardly do it, but I¡¯ll give you complete freedom on how. The main thing is that they disappear! No more blackmail, no more drug dealing, the end of the line! If they know what¡¯s good for them, they¡¯ll leave Great Kingston!" That was the instruction from the private eye, who looked at the damage to his table and tapped his index finger on his intact side. "I want to see how reliable you are. Maybe break a few bricks first so you can get a feel for your strength, otherwise these gangsters¡ä heads will fly off their shoulders at the first blow."


    First Ryan looked at the damage to the table and then at his hands. Yes, this was his doing and he tried to comprehend the brute strength he now called his own. "Do you know where I can find this scum then?"


    "About. You must have a mobile phone?" asked Gordon. Having seen the mobile phone, he had it handed to him and tapped away on it. "There¡¯s a haulage company on the edge of the district. There was a fire there a few months ago and the owner went bankrupt. Supposedly the gang is hanging around there. If that¡¯s not the case, you¡¯ll just have to do some investigative work."


    Ryan jokingly reached out and got the phone placed in his hand. "A new job, great. How much are you paying me?"


    "I like your humour," Gordon laughed. There was no money from him, but he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a bunch of keys. "As a token of my trust, you even get my second car. Old, but sturdy."


    "For the couple of blocks?" doubted Ryan as he reached for the bunch.


    "It needs an inspection," Gordon merely commented, eyeing his counterpart for a while before tempering the latter¡¯s expectations. "Hey, the workshop is on your way. I so rarely get a helper from the Tenebrae."


    Ryan let his shoulders and the corners of his mouth hang appropriately stultified. "Do I ever actually want to work for vampires? What will they ask of me?"


    "Difficult question, but you¡¯ll have to find that out for yourself," Gordon admitted, turning a little in his chair. He had a mini-fridge from which he pulled out a thick, juicy sandwich with all sorts of toppings. "I try to stay out of politics as much as possible."


    The smell of the sandwich was a relief to Ryan¡¯s sensitive nose and yet he felt little appetite for it. "In that case, why are you working for the Tenebrae in the first place?"


    "Long story, some reasons," Gordon replied, biting heartily into his sandwich, his mouth full. "You should care less about me." He smacked his lips a few times first and swallowed the chunk. "Take care of the gang first. After that, maybe we can play a little future music."


    The private eye was probably right. "Aye, aye, boss," Ryan agreed and rose. "Do you have any more well-intentioned advice for me?"


    "Don¡¯t look around."


    "What for?"


    "Your watchers," Gordon wiped his mouth. "You won¡¯t spot them, but you¡¯ll make yourself more vulnerable. You¡¯d better not do that."


    "I¡¯m curious what I get to do, after all those bans," Ryan puffed in amusement and went his way.


    At the counter, Kylie was still waving at him sweet as sugar. "Bye, bye Ryan."


    "See you soon, KC," Ryan winked nonchalantly. Maybe he was going down soon, but if he was, he was going down in style.

 Samantha - 1

    ¡°You shot the suspect?¡± asked Samantha as the patrolwoman questioned the owner of the gas station inside the nice, warm interior of the building.


    "A warning shot with my revolver, yes," confirmed the Mexican-looking, rustic owner. "This homeless guy wouldn¡¯t stop chasing my dog and he ran off in a panic. That¡¯s when I fired in the air once, but the guy completely ignored it and hobbled after my dog."


    "Hobbled?"


    "He must have been drunk as hell," the owner surmised, carefully retrieving his revolver from under the cash register. ¡°Here, I shot it once with this.¡±


    Another officer was present. ¡°What makes you think it was a homeless man?¡± asked Peter Brown. He had been Samantha¡¯s patrol partner for a year, a skinny guy of just over six feet and her age at 29.


    "It was dark, but his trousers were full of holes and the hem of his shirt had seen better days too," the gas station owner explained, perplexed. From him and from the area, these were not the first complaints, after all. "Apparently Great Kingston is bursting at the seams and your bums are heading for the countryside."


    "Sir, I can assure you," Peter objected politely, but in a clear voice. "The city has problems, but not so much that the homeless are moving to the countryside. There are enough aid programmes and subsidies."


    "Your word is honourable Policeman Brown, but I don¡¯t see it that way."


    "That¡¯s your right," Peter nodded, making perpetual notes on his handy Black Pitch, a miniature data carrier. "Anything else?"


    "He went that way," the owner said, pointing straight ahead at the row of windows and running his finger to the right. "Into the field."


    "Then we¡¯ve taken in everything we need for now," Samantha noted, trying to strike as steadfast a pose as possible. "We¡¯ll take a look in that direction. If the suspect returns, call the police immediately, but avoid any violence if possible."


    The owner saw the woman glance at the revolver. "If possible, sure," the man replied, making no secret of his willingness. "But if that bastard gets too close to me, I¡¯ll defend myself!"


    "That¡¯s your right too, sir," Samantha agreed, looking to her partner. "Police officer Brown, let¡¯s go on a search."


    "Sure," Peter nodded and said goodbye to the petrol station owner. "Have a good evening."


    "Yes sir, good evening," Samantha agreed and went out into the chilly night, against which she and her partner were armed with woolly warm jackets. It was nearly 24 o¡¯clock and a gossamer layer of white snow lay on the tarmac, just as it did on the roofs of the houses in the vicinity. "How many incidents is this now?"


    "This week or month?", Peter specified. He and his partner were in one of the suburbs of Great Kingston, a good 20 kilometres from the big city. There was a lot of land and forest here and on average the population was between 5 and 10,000. "I think this week is number eight."


    "Unusual," Samantha murmured suspiciously as she climbed into the passenger side of the police car parked at one of the gas pumps. "I can understand if the owner says something like that then. Do you think the homeless problem has moved out of Great Kingston?"


    "Even if it has," Peter remarked, starting the car and the heater. "I mean, homeless people cause trouble every now and then, but what¡¯s going on around here? It makes me uncomfortable."


    Before Samantha responded, she put a message through to dispatch. "HQ, this is car 211."


    "HQ listening," a smoky female voice rushed back.


    "We have investigated the land disturbance incident at Brooks and are now exiting the gas station," Samantha reported routinely. "There has been no sign of the suspect in the incident and we are heading north on a tip from the gas station owner to search for the possible perpetrator."


    "HQ understands, keep your eyes open and be careful in this weather."


    ¡°All right HQ, 211 out,¡± Samantha said, tucking the radio operator back onto his essay before putting on a mean smirk. "Well, as long as it¡¯s just rioters. There¡¯s a report from this area where the witness swears a giant wolf, even a werewolf, tore up his cows."


    "Country folk," Peter snorted and drove off. He turned the corner and followed a side road, towards an open field and he turned on his high beams. "Still, the fact remains that somebody slaughtered those cows. Have you seen the crime scene pictures?"


    ¡°Yes, very unappetising,¡± Samantha mentioned, looking out into the slightly snowy night. In addition, she activated the swivelling headlight on the roof of the car to keep an eye out for the suspect. "This reminds me of a case in Great Kingston a few years ago. There was this woman who was doing Satanic rituals in her flat. Everything was painted with blood and sacrificed goats were spread out in a pagan circle."


    "Some people are just through," Peter sighed pessimistically, concentrating on driving rather than looking. "Any sign?"


    "No. Neither dog, nor anything else," Samantha replied. Despite the snow and darkness, she could see relatively far and, after all, at this time of year the fields were completely harvested. On the side, however, she glanced at the car¡¯s electronic map, ¡°But according to the map, there¡¯s a farm in about a kilometre and a half, right in the suspect¡¯s direction of travel. With that direction and the cold, he might find a warm spot there."


    "Hey, definitely better than looking for him in the open," Peter joked, stepping on the gas a little more. "That would probably be more to your liking, you with your dad and his hunting cabin in the woods."


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "Nothing wrong with the cabin," Samantha grinned nostalgically. Yes, hunting and being out in nature was what her father had taught her to love and the policewoman still did. "There¡¯s nothing like sitting in the warm cabin after a long day with a big kill, watching it snow heavily outside with a crackling fire in the fireplace."


    "Just stop it," came a delighted Peter. "It just makes me want to call it a day when I hear something like that."


    "If you¡¯re buying the first beer? Count me in!"


    "Ha ha, later Sam," Peter offered as a fleeting light was so gradually visible in the darkness.


    "That¡¯s it," Samantha agreed as she made out the vague outline of the farmhouse and two lights in rooms around the farm. Right next to it was a large barn. There was also a small silo and a cattle pen marked with signs going into the wide. "Looks like someone is still awake too."


    "Looks like it," Peter agreed, steering into the driveway that passed under a carved wooden arch on which Randal Farm was engraved. "Do you want to talk to the residents and I¡¯ll have a look around?"


    "I don¡¯t know," Samantha contradicted her colleague. Given the weather and the location, that didn¡¯t seem like such a good idea to her. "I think we should stay together. Not exactly the best conditions to split up."


    "I guess you¡¯re right," Peter agreed after a makeshift look around and turned off the car.


    Deactivating the searchlight, Samantha got out first, always with one hand braced at her side to show authority but also within reach of her gun holster. "The wind is more annoying here. Too much open space."


    "Well then, we¡¯d better hold on to our caps tightly," Peter spoke louder to drown out the whistling of the wind and headed towards the front door. First he rang the bell, but after no one answered and he rang it again, he tried a knock on the solid wood of the entrance. "Huh?"


    Samantha shared her colleague¡¯s astonishment, for the door was pushed open a crack by the knock. "Open?" she murmured suspiciously, putting her hand to her holster, the hallway in front of her being very well lit. "Hello?! Anyone home?!"


    "GKPD!" announced Peter. He was scrawny but still taller than his partner and took the lead with his pistol holstered after no response came and he whispered admonishingly. "You see that there?!"


    "Blood," Samantha realised. A few drops were scattered on the fluffy carpet, leading straight out. Otherwise, however, there was no sign of violence for her, as all the jackets hung neatly and no furnishings were damaged. "That one in front must be the kitchen." She came to this assumption after peering halfway into a dark room to her left that clearly looked like the living room.


    "Oh God!" gasped Peter indignantly, but he kept his nerve and got down on his knees! In the kitchen lay a middle-aged woman, in a pool of blood and she was covered in wounds. "No more pulse ... no chance."


    "I¡¯ll call for backup right away!" said Samantha, grabbing the handheld radio attached to her left chest. "HQ, this is Car 211!"


    Again the smoky female voice called in. "HQ listening!"


    "We¡¯re at Green Barrel country road, outside Brooks, house number one, and we have a 187! No sign of the perp! We need backup and a forensic team!"


    "211, copy that! Backup should be with you in 20 minutes! Secure the scene until then.


    "Copy HQ, 211 out!" confirmed Samantha, looking back down the hall. "We should sight the upper floors!"


    Suddenly there was a clang in one of the lower kitchen cupboards and Peter aimed in that direction but said nothing. Instead he tried to listen and a very soft whimper could be heard. "It¡¯s all right, it¡¯s the police," he spoke quietly, keeping his fingers off the handle of the cupboard. "You can come out."


    It takes a while, but very gently and distraught, a boy of perhaps 6 years old opened the door, but he did not dare to come out of his little cave. No words passed his lips, but pure shock was written all over his face.


    Peter had long since put his gun away and tried empathetic words. "Come here, it¡¯s all right. We¡¯re here to help."


    In the meantime, Samantha took a step forward to stop a possible line of sight between child and victim, but after the boy didn¡¯t dare come out of the closet, she tried her luck. "See this?" she asked, pointing to her gold-plated police badge where her name and badge number were inscribed. "I¡¯m Police Officer Rockford and this is Police Officer Brown," she said warmly, even though it wasn¡¯t that easy. Her little sister had annoyed Samantha more than anything in the past, and so far she hadn¡¯t been much for children either. "I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard this before - we serve and protect."


    That was apparently more than enough for the boy to come rushing from within and cling tightly to the policewoman. It was probably simple instinct that the boy trusted the woman more, or her approach had simply been better. "Where¡¯s Richard?" the boy murmured, barely audible.


    "Who¡¯s Richard?" asked Samantha cautiously, exchanging searching glances with her partner. "And what¡¯s your name?"


    "M-my big brother and I¡¯m Ben," the little boy gulped, gripping the woman¡¯s uniform tightly. "He¡¯s always stuffed me in the closet all mean, but, but this time ... Richard said if I came out now, he¡¯d lock up for good."


    Peter kept his eyes on the surroundings and continued to let Samantha do the talking. "Has your brother been causing trouble? How old is he?"


    "N-nine. He, he hid me from the loud man that Mum was having trouble with."


    "The loud man?" asked Samantha, getting a nod. "Where is the loud man? Where¡¯s your brother? What about your papa? Do you have a papa?"


    Ben failed to say more and fell into a clinging stupor.


    Peter, on the other hand, murmured softly. "Sam," he used the policewoman¡¯s nickname and looked from the dead, supposed mother to the back door of the kitchen. It wasn¡¯t damaged, but a bloody streak of fingers was emblazoned on the wood and knob.


    "Probably," Samantha held herself tersely. Neither she nor her partner needed to spell it out that Richard and the attacker were outside somewhere and Ben didn¡¯t need to be rattled any further. "Come on, let¡¯s get you into our police car first. Have you ever seen one or sat in one?"


    "Seen one, but only bad people get into one."


    "Mostly yes," Samantha replied as she carried the boy out and was escorted by her colleague. She tried her best, but she knew her words had to come across as wooden. "But it¡¯s also how we protect good people, and how cool is it to get to be in a police car?"


    "Pretty cool," Ben babbled after her.


    The thought seemed to put him at ease, given the circumstances, and he was parked by Samantha in the barred, secure back seat of the warm police car. A uniform jacket was thrown in for good measure. "You stay in here, alright? We¡¯ll lock the car. No one gets in here without us."


    As the driver, Peter had the keys and locked the car. "Are we going to search the house further?" he enquired, looking towards the scene of the crime. "We haven¡¯t been upstairs yet."


    "I think we should rather go in pursuit of Richard and the loud man immediately," Samantha suggested. Every minute she and her partner waited for backup gave the perpetrator a chance to disappear or even harm a child and that wasn¡¯t why Samantha had become a cop. Not to let crimes happen. "The more we hesitate, the more likely another murder will happen."


    "I¡¯m afraid that might be the case," Peter surmised, but he had always been less impulsive and of the thoughtful variety. "The order was clear, though, and there are only two of us right now, unfortunately. As you said earlier, it¡¯s night and the weather could get worse. Not the best conditions for a search. Besides, we shouldn¡¯t leave little Ben alone."


    "Mhpf, that¡¯s right," Samantha pressed her lips together. She didn¡¯t like it and she had to fight with herself, but she knew her partner was right. "Then you stay in the car with Ben and I¡¯ll at least have a look around upstairs. There must be a father, apparently."


    "Be careful," Peter agreed, getting into the driver¡¯s side of the police car. "Meanwhile, I¡¯ll call for more backup. We¡¯ll need them for a search."


    Samantha went back into the house without a gun in her hand at first, but as soon as she was out of sight of the child, she was on high alert again and her gun was her best friend. However, she didn¡¯t need it and the search of the upper floors was fruitless and without a trace of violence.

 Samantha - 2

    Barely 24 minutes later, a considerable number of other police cars and mostly patrol officers had arrived. Forensics would probably take a while, but at least there was a two-man investigative team on the scene and a sergeant who was currently the highest ranking officer on the scene.


    ¡°I just got word from headquarters,¡± said the sergeant, whose badge bore the name Feather. ¡°Forensics will be a good half hour.¡±


    Samantha had held back so far. She didn¡¯t know the sergeant, but if there was one thing she had learned, it was never to barge in on rank superior police officers with demands or even make it sound like they were undermining their authority. Solving situations with questions was more her approach. ¡°Sir, does this mean we¡¯re forming a search party?¡±


    ¡°You bet your ass,¡± Feather confirmed. The man had a prominent, portly grey moustache, but he seemed in pretty good shape for his advanced age and a man of action. ¡°Two officers will stay with the investigators and wait for the forensics. The remaining twenty of us are heading in the supposed direction of the perpetrator, to the north-eastern edge of the forest. I¡¯ve already placed a check point there and they¡¯ve found several tracks in the snow that are still half visible!¡± Feather looked briefly through the ranks of his officers, with two volunteering for house security. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste any more time - move out!¡±


    Peter and Samantha left their car, in which Ben had long since fallen asleep, and rode along with other colleagues.


    Police lights flickered across the front of the house and a few siren howls were let out, so that in the end a column of six cars drove along the country road until they turned onto a dirt track to the east.


    The driver of Samantha¡¯s car was really charged. ¡°Dirty child molesters!¡± she spat out insinuatingly. ¡°He¡¯s dead as soon as I see him with my shotgun!¡±


    Peter joined in. ¡°Don¡¯t forget there¡¯s another boy,¡± he reminded the rest. ¡°He¡¯s the priority. Then the killer is due.¡±


    Samantha served justice body and soul and she knew that wasn¡¯t the way to go. However, it had never stopped her before, because being a police officer meant more than following rules all the time. If she had always done that, many a crime would have gone unpunished and she also knew that many of her colleagues sometimes didn¡¯t quite follow the rules and most of them covered for each other internally. They were all just people and things like child murderers, rapists or police killers were a red rag for many, like an unwritten law. ¡°Guns are more targeted,¡± she said, equally concerned for the safety of the missing boy. ¡°With shotguns, we could hurt Richard.¡±


    ¡°Fine, no shotgun then,¡± the driver replied, briefly stretching all her fingers up from the steering wheel. Fortunately, this conversation was being had now because police officers on active duty had to turn on their body cameras - regulations. ¡°But we have to take the big torches with us. The storm seems to be getting tougher and it¡¯s a dark forest.¡±


    ¡°GPS transmitters should definitely be activated,¡± Samantha said, remembering a hunting trip where she got lost and was on her own for a few days. That had been a hard and unpalatable lesson for her. ¡°The forests here are manageable, but with the darkness, the snow and the cold, it can quickly turn nasty.¡±


    Peter growled. ¡°Not just for us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the kid¡¯s been out for a good while and we don¡¯t know what he¡¯s wearing. I¡¯ll take an extra jacket then and borrow your thermos of warm coffee.¡±


    ¡°For once, for little Richard,¡± Peter nodded less seriously. One last, brief moment of exuberance before things could get really ugly. ¡°Look, there in front is our vanguard.¡±


    At the edge of the nearby deserted country road, a police car waited near the start of the forest, which stretched from horizon to horizon along the tarmac. Here the snow was a good deal thicker than near the small town and not a single, civilian vehicle was in sight.


    Two policemen stepped out of the waiting vehicle, as did the twenty-strong arriving team who greeted them. ¡°Sergeant Feather,¡± said a middle-aged woman with a queasy stomach. ¡°About time you showed up. I don¡¯t want to be here any longer than necessary.¡±


    The sergeant looked around, but there was only forest, darkness and snow. ¡°Why?¡± the police officer asked sternly. ¡°Fresh air is always good.¡±


    ¡°You say that now,¡± the woman admonished, rubbing her arms together because of the cold. ¡°There are the tracks there. A small pair and a big one and there were some vicious sounds coming from that direction.¡±


    ¡°Vicious sounds?¡± raised an eyebrow at Sergeant Feather. ¡°That¡¯s a forest and there are animals there.¡±


    ¡°I just don¡¯t like it, Sergeant,¡± the woman insisted anxiously. ¡°That didn¡¯t sound like animals.¡±


    ¡°Oh, enough of that!¡± the sergeant cut off this conversation. ¡°You¡¯re staying here anyway. We¡¯re going in!¡± The officer turned to his crew and ordered. ¡°So, unpack some high beams and every third man take an assault rifle! No shotguns! We don¡¯t want to accidentally hurt the boy! We¡¯ll form a straight line, with me as the centre! Ten paces between each and strictly straight out, and we did it yesterday! Go!¡±


    The boots flipped open and the policemen helped themselves to their extra equipment. Heavy, cumbersome torches were packed and six officers took AR17 assault rifles, along with some extra ammunition.


    Samantha had a torch and Peter an AR 17. Together they formed the edge of the deploying search line, on the left.


    ¡°Now, eyes open and step by step!¡± shouted Feather, blowing an old-fashioned whistle. ¡°We¡¯ll find the boy, alive!¡±


    The beams of the high beams cut through the shadows of the forest, taking away a good portion of the elemental force of wood, wind and snow¡¯s deterrent. Certainly not everyone here was comfortable walking through a storming forest at night, but none of the police who arrived let on and soon the rotating lights of the parked cars dimmed until they disappeared. Cracking branches took over the scenery and the creaking of snow under the crew¡¯s feet.


    ¡°So?¡± murmured Peter softly. ¡°Like that time with your dad?¡±


    ¡°Not in the least,¡± Samantha denied unequivocally, searching intently for clues along the cone of her lamp: more trees, bare bushes, blown rocks and no sign of the ones they were looking for. ¡°We did hunt to kill, but my father taught me respect for nature and life as such.¡±


    ¡°When you hunt, you hunt animals,¡± Peter pronounced deprecatingly. ¡°And that¡¯s what we¡¯re doing now - hunting a rampaging animal that doesn¡¯t give a damn about life.¡±


    ¡°We do, but unlike with my father, I don¡¯t feel any pleasure in it,¡± Samantha remarked without sympathy. ¡°Instead, it¡¯s an unwavering duty.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sorry,¡± Peter nodded. ¡°A poor comparison on my part.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all good, partner.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Sergeant Feather murmured to himself, not looking in any particular direction. ¡°Concentrate and be quiet!¡±


    Samantha had to admit that was easier said than done. She was used to this environment, but the longer the team trudged through the forest, the more Samantha noticed the tension in many a face and fingers rubbing nervously over the casings of their assault rifles.


    ¡°Hey!¡± one of the policemen made himself known. ¡°Look! There!¡± He had one of the lamps and circled its cone of light a few rounds near a tree to highlight the spot.


    They all stopped and fixed on a rocky outcrop that ran right across this area and was a natural obstacle, or much more of a deadly trap.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± Peter murmured fearfully and how could he not. He saw a blood-covered, motionless body lying on the stony ground. It was a body that matched that of a developing young man.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Feather blew out a bubbling cloud of breath from his mouth. The officer¡¯s wrinkles tightened in anger, but he kept order. ¡°Okay, everybody. Advance slowly. If I hear so much as a crackling branch, there will be shooting.¡±


    To Samantha, the conclusion of the instruction had been purely rhetorical, and to everyone else I¡¯m sure it was as well, as she moved with the line towards the rock and a semi-circle slowly formed around the supposed victim. What she found strange, however, was that next to the motionless body was a rather uncharacteristic bloody circle in the snow, as if a bomb had exploded or someone had been forcefully smashed into the ground.


    Sergeant Feather got down on his knees and examined the faintly snow-covered body. ¡°... No pulse ... that¡¯s Richard, no doubt,¡± the man gave the sad assurance, pressing his right hand as a fist on the stone. ¡°He has bruises all over from brutal force and probably cuts. What kind of beast does that and where is that bastard!¡±


    ¡°If I may, sir?¡± murmured Samantha as she stepped closer and the rest of her colleagues followed at half a distance, all looking around in alarm.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Feather beckoned the woman closer, curious. ¡°Did you notice anything wrong, Rockford?¡±


    ¡°These aren¡¯t cuts,¡± Samantha explained, running her finger over the injuries without touching the victim. To an untrained eye, it took more than a glance, but the flesh was literally ripped out in several places, with one bite. ¡°Someone literally mauled poor Richard, and I¡¯m not talking about an animal. The bite wounds are too small for that.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    ¡°Hunting experience, sir. I¡¯ve seen a lot of wounds, inflicted by hunters or wild animals on animals.¡±


    ¡°Hell,¡± Feather groaned uncomfortably, rubbing his thick moustache. ¡°Did the victim in the house look the same?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get that close a look at the woman, but she looked more like blunt force trauma.¡±


    ¡°Mhpf, doesn¡¯t matter either,¡± Feather said firmly, looking at the woman who was carrying an extra jacket. ¡°Give me that, please.¡± The officer received the garment, which he gently placed over the upper part of the lifeless child¡¯s body. ¡°I have a grandson that age.¡±


    Samantha stood by the old officer. ¡°I think we all feel the same, sir.¡±


    ¡°Very good, because we¡¯re about to go hunting,¡± Feather said, clenching his fist as he rose and sought contact over the police radio. ¡°This is Sergeant Feather to response team, come in.¡± There was a crackle in his spark and no reply. ¡°Sergeant Feather to response team, does anyone read me? ... ... No signal, fucking weather! Then the old fashioned way!¡± the officer determined and gave new instructions. ¡°Officer Rockford! You and your partner get back to street control or at least until you get a radio signal and call for more backup! I don¡¯t give a shit if the HQ has to ring entire precincts out of bed, but I want to find this freak and we need more people to do it!¡±


    Dutiful and more than motivated, Samantha nodded. ¡°You can count on us sir!¡± she said and at a run she walked over to Peter. ¡°Come on!¡±


    ¡°For the rest!¡± clarified Feather. ¡°Me and two policemen stay with the body! The rest of you form groups of 5 and search the nearby area! Find that bastard and give him hell!¡±


    The search party had covered quite a distance into the forest, which was why the way back was not done after five minutes, although the envoys hurried. They were not running, if only because the snow was such a hindrance, but the steady blasts of heated air from their mouths testified to their prolonged exertion.


    ¡°I wonder if there¡¯s something to that werewolf story after all?¡± asked Peter uncertainly, his face wet with sweat, though it certainly wasn¡¯t from fear.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t an animal,¡± Samantha affirmed with conviction, shining her light left and right again and again, looking for something suspicious. ¡°I¡¯d almost guess we¡¯re really dealing with a freak here, some kind of cannibal.¡±


    ¡°All the better if the others take him out immediately,¡± Peter said, when suddenly there was a bang in the distance! It was the shot of a pistol and he turned hastily. ¡°Do you think they have him?!¡± The shot was swiftly followed by more pistol shots and several volleys from an assault rifle. ¡°They¡¯re really perforating him!¡± said Peter, before the officers¡ä radios crackled moments later.


    ¡°Sir, we have two wounded!¡± it went through the frequency.


    Sergeant Feather inquired. ¡°What happened!!!¡±


    ¡°Out of nowhere sir! This madman came out of the bush and attacked us!¡± the male voice described excitedly. ¡°We put several bullets into him before he went down! He must have been full of drugs! We need help right away! Jenny¡¯s neck is completely ripped open!¡±


    ¡°Feather to Brown and Rockford!¡± the sergeant demanded.


    Samantha reached for her spark. ¡°Rockford copy?!¡±


    ¡°Order an ambulance for backup and do it yesterday!¡±


    ¡°Right away sir, we¡¯re flying!¡± confirmed Samantha, looking at her partner. They both knew that caution was now no longer the first priority and they hurried through the forest and snow as fast as they could. Both she and her partner stumbled a little and Samantha landed once in the snow, but she was alright and kept going.


    Suddenly it echoed ticked off through the frequency. ¡°- to?!¡±


    New shots whipped through the forest and not too scarcely. An entire unit had to unload their magazines into who knows what ¡°To ..ch!¡± commented a woman in the spark.


    ¡°Hello?!¡°, Peter contacted the rest. ¡°What¡¯s going on?!¡± He was not granted an answer, but instead seemingly every weapon in the distance was fired, so much did the sounds bang through the forest and pained screaming sounds joined in. ¡°HELLO?!¡±


    ¡°We have to try from here!¡± responded Samantha, trying to reach the road control. ¡°Rockford to road control! Do you read me?!¡± Shots continued to be fired, meanwhile, but Samantha did not get the response she had hoped for and the sound of the guns diminished. ¡°This is police officer Rockford to road control! Do you read me?!¡±


    This situation made even a seasoned policeman like Peter panic slightly. ¡°What the hell is going on Sam?!¡±


    Samantha felt little different from her partner. ¡°I don¡¯t know Peter! What do we do now!!!¡±


    ¡°Go on to the road control!¡± suggested Peter, surely steeped in adrenaline and the will to support his comrades, unlocking his assault rifle. ¡°I¡¯ll go back and help our colleagues!¡±


    ¡°No, let me go back to the forest!¡± retorted Samantha, holding out her hand with the high beam. She wanted to trade light for rifle. ¡°I know my way around better and I¡¯m smaller, which makes me less conspicuous!¡±


    Peter hesitated unwillingly. ¡°But I¡¯m stronger and this sounds like a fucking war!¡± the policeman opined, but the gunfire was getting less with each passing moment.


    ¡°I know,¡± Samantha nodded honestly, wiggling her light promptly. ¡°But I¡¯m the better slayer! Please Peter!¡±


    ¡°Mhh, mhpf!¡°, Peter continued to grumble indecisively, but conceded defeat. ¡°All right!¡± He exchanged his rifle, complete with spare magazine, for the lamp. ¡°But you better not get hurt! You owe me the after-work beer today for that!¡±


    ¡°Role reversal, eh?¡± came in a bitterly joking tone from Samantha as she checked the gun. ¡°Deal! Go now!¡±


    ¡°Take care!¡± demanded Peter plainly and continued on his way back. ¡°See you later!¡±


    Samantha looked after her partner before taking a deep, cold breath and going inside. It was not a good sign for her that there were only scattered gunshots, with ever increasing intervals between them, but for this she became as focused as she could be. It was an extremely dangerous situation, with all her senses sharpening and she took another sip of warm coffee from Peter¡¯s thermos to calm down. Then it was - hunting time, but Samantha did not take the exact same route back as her tracks had been too conspicuous for possible attackers. Now, as she made her way through the snow and undergrowth as quietly yet as quickly as possible, Samantha made a muffled attempt at a renewed contact to the large unit. ¡°Officer Rockford to Sergeant Feather,¡± she said, but it remained silent. ¡°Anyone there? Please respond.¡±


    No, the only thing to be heard now was nature itself. The wind made the branches of the trees dance and play a concert of beating and cracking wood. A howl mingled with it, a lone wolf in the distance, but otherwise it was unusually quiet.


    Samantha had only now really registered this, because even though it was night and winter, there were almost no animal sounds in this forest. She had never experienced anything like this before and it definitely scared her. What the hell was going on in this forest? It was a question that made her pause halfway through the walk, hidden between two sturdy oaks and in a hollow over which she could scout the otherwise flat area. She saw no sign of movement and heard nothing as she rested her assault rifle on the earthy ledge and peered more closely. She steadied her breathing, driven by instinct, hidden in this concealed hunting position and then she saw something!


    Someone was swaying cross-field one among the trees, but even in this poor visibility it quickly became clear that it was not one of the policemen. Judging by the outline, it could be a man, but what was he doing here? Who was he? Had he not heard the shooting? Because he seemed very boisterous, even drunk.


    It was more than suspicious to Samantha and she followed the stranger¡¯s movements until he disappeared between the tree, blowing snow and the night. ¡°Officer Rockford to Sergeant Feather,¡± she contacted again. ¡°Please um-!¡±


    Suddenly, an ominous rumble sounded from the direction in which the wavering figure had disappeared and a thud followed. Soaring high, the figure flew up between the trees and almost landed in front of the Slayer¡¯s hiding place. The impact was so ungentle that the man must have broken arms, legs and spine.


    Startled, Samantha dived down and hid herself, shivering, but still convinced she was safe. She had a good hiding place and peered cautiously to first inspect the flying object that had landed. The man, dressed in extremely tattered clothes, did not move a bit and his folded posture alone gave Samantha certainty: he is definitely dead!


    Whatever was responsible for this damage was slowly making itself felt on the other side of the area. It had to be huge, because the steps were quite heavy, so that not even the soft snow could quite cushion their force. It couldn¡¯t be a human being, never, and yet a human-like silhouette was forming, a real, muscularly bloated colossus of easily two or rather three metres!


    Jesus Christ!, Samantha feared in her mind. What did she see there?! The shadow and storm made clear identification difficult, but this creature was an abomination, with abnormal deformities, like a malformed, over-inflated weightlifter.


    ¡°Raug bury,¡± the thing gasped audibly and ran to the shattered body.


    It wasn¡¯t just Samantha¡¯s trigger finger that was shuddering. Her whole body was a wreck and she wondered. Did this thing attack my unit! She did not look closely at the approaching monster¡¯s body to see if it had bullet wounds. She just retreated as deep as she could into the hollow and prayed that the thing would not notice her!


    Audibly the dead man was lifted and the heavy footsteps moved away, but after a few metres the movements paused in place and the forest became more active. Murmuring, senseless sounds made their way through the undergrowth and several footsteps formed an audible echo. ¡°Raug eliminated,¡± the figure said without emotion, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Apparently it dropped the worn body again and from zero to hundreds started a stampede that could rival the trampling of wild elephants.


    Despite the threat, Samantha had to see what was going on! She watched as this mountain of muscle ran without a shred of mercy into a group of ten to twenty people, blasting them like a battering ram.


    Those who didn¡¯t fly through the air lunged at the juggernaut baring their teeth, grabbing or punching fists, but it cared zero. His brute strength seemed unprecedented, superhuman, and what bit into his arms he threw off with massive movements before the mighty fist knocked one head off his shoulders and another made bloody mud out of the next.


    Yet the many attackers were and remained equally without fear and many a one was a figure no less bizarre. Alone from the often ragged, filthy hobo clothing, one saw torn open old wounds and skin that must have been rotting for a long time. God, even bare finger bones stood out, as did jaws without flesh!


    All of a sudden someone fell on Samantha and she screamed shrilly! A half-rotted body burst into her hollow from the side and yanked her to the ground, dropping her assault rifle. It was a disgusting woman, with outlandish hair and a sickly complexion, who held the policewoman away from her with her hands. Nevertheless, the ever aggressively panting assailant made it and bit into Samantha¡¯s forearm so hard that neither jacket nor police uniform could stop the pressure as rotten teeth pressed into her flesh. ¡°Ieeehjaaaa!¡± she screeched her pain into the night and with all her effort and desperation, Samantha managed to throw her attacker off her. Wounded and shocked, she hastily fished her assault rifle and ran out of the hollow, closely followed by the snapping attacker. Samantha didn¡¯t think for a second about calling out, but immediately fired three semi-automatic volleys into the body of her pursuer, but she just kept running towards her. Incredulous and almost paralysed, she dropped her assault rifle, stumbled back and crashed to the ground.


    Now, however, the colossus was there and its steam hammer blasted the pursuing woman¡¯s body, but there was no blood splatter. Only its chunks flew about and the monster looked grimly at the policewoman while another of the decomposing figures made an appearance.


    Now all Samantha had left was her pistol, which she drew with shaking fingers, but at whom should she aim or shoot?! And would that do any good at all?! But as the colossus did not move towards her, she instinctively shot at the moving target: belly, legs, even once between the eye!


    Nevertheless, the figure staggered on before the mountain of muscle gave her its attention and grabbed her by the shins with just one hand. Effortlessly and like a doll, he heaved it over his head and smashed it into the snow a few times, then tossed the figure carelessly aside.


    Although the colossus seemed more interested in the downed rotter, Samantha did not put her weapon down. ¡°Stay away from me!¡± she warned him hysterically, but she could barely hold her pistol still and the giant reached for it. Helpless, Samantha fired, but the enormous hand simply swallowed the bullet, as well as the second shot.


    Without any force, the mountain of muscle took the pistol from her and clenched it in his hand. The other hand he slowly reached out to the woman.


    That was it! Samantha could do nothing more. She was drenched in sweat and exhausted, her heart was racing and her arm wound continued to bleed incessantly until the big hand blocked her entire field of vision and she went black.

 Kayra - 2

    For a newly made child, he hadn¡¯t done too badly at all, and Kayra had her standards when it came to other vampires and how they did things, but this Ryan was perhaps worth keeping an eye on. A statue equal to the others around her, perfectly nestled in the fa?ade of the apartment building on whose high ledge she stood and merged with the shadows, Kayra had followed the young vampire. It was snowing lightly and her matte blue winter cape coat flew noiselessly with the wind in those heights, while her lined hood hung half over her face.


    Ryan was visibly under tension after a fight with four people on the forecourt of an abandoned, fire-damaged warehouse. Astonished, he palpated his right shoulder, where he had been shot and was now healed. Surprisingly, he hadn¡¯t killed any of the four people who had fled, but he had done two of them pretty badly.


    Kayra was definitely curious about the why. Had Ryan really just been here to beat up a gang? She had tracked him to a private eye named Mitchell, whom she did not know, but she had noticed a very familiar smell about the private investigator and therefore suspected that Mitchell was a Tenebrae agent.


    That¡¯s who Ryan seemed to be going back to now, because he left the grounds of the warehouse and walked down the street, but he wasn¡¯t alone. Ever since he had left Mitchell¡äs agency in a car, a human pursuer had been on his tail.


    After the car had been dropped off at a workshop, the unknown man had followed him here on foot and continued to do so.


    Very bungling, in Kayra¡¯s opinion. That the child was not yet aware of this stalking she blamed on Ryan¡¯s inexperience, but it made the patriarch¡¯s servant more than a little suspicious. Who was the spy working for? What vampire, or whoever, would send out such an amateurish scout?


    Moreover, the this spy at the end of the road now turned around and came back to sneak into the warehouse.


    I can¡¯t quite figure this out, Kayra thought, and took a slight step forward. Her cloak coat fit perfectly and she dropped down silently. Her skill alone made her more than safe, but the time of day and moderate lighting of the surroundings alone hid the skilled servant very well. Before coming up, however, she used her telekinetic powers, her master discipline, to slow herself down and hover above the ground for a fleeting moment, and then step up onto cat paws.


    Just as Ryan had been previously unaware of his pursuer, the spy was completely unaware of Kayra¡¯s presence as she glided across the street and leapt onto the wall of the warehouse compound. "They were talking about drugs," the stranger murmured gleefully. ¡°And that guy put those bums on the run. Time for daddy to get himself a bonus."


    So that was what it was all about, Kayra realised. The dark-skinned man wanted to get rich and went into the half-burned warehouse.


    Where the damage was not so prominent, the former gang had made themselves at home, with an electric heater, television, sofa, cots and a table full of small calibres and two thick, pre-packed bags with a white powder film on them.


    "Oh baby, awesome," said the spy, his eyes widening as he cut open one of the packets for a taste and snorted the powder rapturously. "Premium stuff! They haven¡¯t stretched that yet!¡±


    Indeed, a more than lousy scout, Kayra was now certain of that. To neglect one¡¯s target for one¡¯s own gain, that definitely appealed to the dutiful servant and the thought tempted her to simply slaughter this human. However, a muffled hum interrupted that idea.


    "Great," the spy sighed, reaching into his jacket pocket where he pulled out a mobile phone and pulled himself together. "What¡¯s up?" What he was told was incomprehensible even to vampiric ears, but he listened obediently. "Just now he broke up a gang of drug dealers and I¡¯m following up on him. He¡¯s probably going back to that private eye."


    It had clearly been the patriarch¡¯s right decision to watch Ryan and Kayra lowered her eyes in humility as she was once again reminded that her devoted loyalty to Stein was fully deserved. Her father would always protect his family.


    "What?!" the spy felt caught. "I¡¯m not high! What makes you think that?!" Any vampire with some experience could notice the spy¡¯s change in voice pitch, which was probably why there was one on the other end of the line. "So what if so?! As long as I do my job!"


    The man was a bad liar, but Kayra noticed something unusual, a brushing warmth, like a warm breeze. Her eyes narrowed and she retreated more into the shadows.


    Meanwhile, the spy pretended to be more submissive. "I¡¯ve never let you down before, right? I¡¯m your man, I promise!" the man asserted and swallowed. "Yes, yes okay! I¡¯ll report every little thing! I¡¯ll get back to you tomorrow night at the same time!" Furious, he ended the call and stuffed his phone back into his jacket, just as he bagged the drug packets and grabbed one of the light submachine guns. "Fucking vampires! If they don¡¯t give me some of their blood soon, I¡¯m getting out!"


    Patiently Kayra waited, even long after the spy had disappeared. She was in no hurry to follow him and Ryan again. She was aware that the child was not in danger right now and besides, there was something much more important to sort out here. "Come out," the woman demanded in a gentle tone, but no one had better be fooled by that, for the fingers of her right hand became sharp claws. "Or my claws will turn the sinister black to clear red and your glowing ashes will light the darkness."


    At first there was merely a dark corner from which the outline of a meagre shelf rose. Then came a fluttering, as of curtains moved by the wind. "Impressive," came slimily from seemingly nowhere. A pair of poison-green, glowing eyes without pupils snapped open, and from a defensive stance, the figure also showed its left hand, shaped into claws. Unlike the woman, however, this was the hand of a beast, with scaly skin peppered with a small growth on the back of its hand. "How did you know?"


    To Kayra there was no doubt - she was facing a Juda¡¯aerith, or Maledictus. "Show yourself fully and perhaps I will do you the courtesy of an answer."


    "But then I would not be a good scout if I showed myself."


    "You¡¯ve already been caught," Kayra noted relentlessly, with no intention of stirring up conflict. "It hardly gets any better than that."


    "I guess the same goes for you then, because I¡¯ve been seeing you for a while," countered the slimy voice, in which there was a hint of gleeful malice. "Don¡¯t you agree?"


    "You have the considerable advantage of shadowwalking and yet I have uncovered you," Kayra stated impassively, though this word play was becoming repugnant to her. "But enough of that, choose: words or deeds?"


    "Truly, the iron maiden," the voice opined, and as if the darkness were a moving mass, it pressed outwards and contours formed. The forms were typically human, but the surface was distorted, a creature anyone would immediately recognise as not human. The face alone, angular with a long, pointed nose and a horn emblazoned over the left eye that had grown over the head. "Only what good is my face to you if you do not know who I am and whom I serve?"


    Sharp-witted, Kayra made her claws disappear and assumed a less threatening posture. "That you serve someone is already worth knowing to me."


    "Hardly worth knowing," the Juda¡¯aerith waved it off. "What great vampire would go to that kind of trouble? Of course I serve someone."


    "Possibly," Kayra merely returned, taking a moment to contemplate. No, she didn¡¯t know this vampire, but that was true of most of his kind.


    They were the only vampires whose lineage could be clearly named. Juda¡¯aerith came from the bite of Judas Iscariot, one of Jesus Christ¡¯s apostles. Much was legend and hearsay, even for long-lived beings like vampires, but for Judas¡ä betrayal of his Master, Jesus had supposedly cursed him to bear the mark of shame forever, reflected in the hideous appearance of these beings. To compensate for this severe malus, the Juda¡¯aerith had created the unique art of shadowwalking, a secret they had kept very well until now and which no vampire outside their kind had mastered.


    For this very reason, Kayra would not reveal how exactly she had discovered the scout, for the Juda¡¯aerith kept their secret by any means necessary. "However, we face a bit of a dilemma," the woman said, for distraction and fact. "You know who I am."


    "The shadows just know a lot, daughter of Patriarch Stein, the iron maiden of Palestine," the stranger enumerated in a matter-of-fact tone, though equal to provocation. "Our very existence is a dilemma, don¡¯t you think? So what could stand between us?"


    Kayra had disappointed her patriarch and been found out. "The fact that you know who I serve," the woman said. For her, there was only one alternative to fighting. "I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t tell me who you serve."


    "A reasonable observation."


    "Regrettably, but surely you know something about our thief from before," Kayra surmised, because the Juda¡¯?rith were masters of espionage. It was a clich¨¦, but one that was normally true, and she believed the stranger had useful knowledge. "Who does he serve? Who would use such an amateur?"


    "Information has a price and you want me to tell you for free?" the spy asked doubtfully as he millimetres wisely readied his stance to defend himself. "Would you do that?"


    "The price is your life," Kayra offered, turning her body sideways so that she offered little surface for attack. "Don¡¯t you j think you could escape with your shadowwalking or have any advantage now."


    "Yes, you are a resourceful being," the Juda¡¯aerith stated, narrowing his poison green eyes so that the glow grew stronger. "I know something, you know something. My life is not payment enough. Put a cherry on top and we¡¯ll trade."


    This was a difficult choice for Kayra. She was convinced she could defeat the spy. Only perhaps that would enrage its master and make watching Ryan far more difficult. On the other hand, she didn¡¯t want to reveal that she had learned a weakness of shadowwalking from her father, a rare piece of knowledge that the Juda¡¯aerith might want to bury. "My knowledge is far more valuable. A bad deal."


    "Then we are running out of options," the spy pronounced in a threatening voice. He was ready for a fight, but his eyes betrayed that he was bluffing and probably guessed himself that he would lose. "The Apostles. Our dark-skinned friend is a stooge of the Apostles."


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "The Apostles are in Great Kingston?" echoed Kayra in control. This was indeed surprising, if ungodly, information. In so far as it was true. "Then you do not work for the Tenebrae. If you were, it would have been known long ago that the Apostles were in the city."


    "Truly, your father can be mightily proud of such a clever little mind," the Juda¡¯aerith praised honestly, but he was growing tired of waiting. "Only enough about me - it¡¯s your turn."


    Now Kayra could have simply remained silent and the spy would have been powerless. However, House Stein had stood for honour for centuries and honour meant keeping one¡¯s word and she did, conditionally. "The friction," she revealed. She concealed that Oskar had discovered this weakness. "I¡¯ve met a lot of Juda¡¯aerith, only they always revealed themselves before I suspected anything. Over the centuries, though, I noticed that just before they appeared, there was always a kind of warmth, a breeze around me, and I suspect it¡¯s the shadows that your kind probably drape over themselves like a cloak. There is a minimal friction that creates warmth and once you know that and have distinct senses. Well, you saw the result."


    It now seemed to be the very motto of the House of Stein that satisfied the spy. "Honourable indeed," he said, but he was not yet finished and probed. "Who knows of this?"


    "Just me, or have you ever been caught or heard of by anyone else?"


    "Good call," the Juda¡¯aerith extended his fangs in warning and was slowly swallowed by the darkness again. "Leave it at that or it won¡¯t do you any good."


    Kayra narrowed her eyes warily but left this warning unanswered. She felt the Juda¡¯aerith disappear across the shadows and she left the building. Once she was sure she had no other competitors, she walked along the pavement as a passerby.


    Near here, Kayra had a hotel room and was on her way there. That gave her time for her own thoughts. This bumbling person was a spy for the apostles? I wonder if she had been deceived by the Juda¡¯?rith? No, Kayra didn¡¯t think so. In fact, it made sense to her. The Apostles were rarely choosy about their members and they forced more than a few into their bondage, whether they left them human or transformed them.


    What made the Apostles so dangerous, despite their smaller size compared to the Tenebrae, was their nature. The Apostles stood for absolute power, for superiority and the promise of domination. Of course, the Tenebrae also pulled a lot of strings in today¡¯s world and moved the levers of human politics to some extent, but the Apostles wanted to become so powerful that people would one day know who ruled them. That was the core of the apostles, the ideology of being a superior species and putting humans in their place.


    It wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, that was clear to Kayra and every of her kin. Vampires were better in many areas, if you broke it down to physical and certain abilities. Still, for them, there were enough scum among their kind who were lower than worms and now more such worms were supposedly in Great Kingston. Kayra suspected bad things if the Apostles were to gain a foothold in the city. All the possible influence, not just on the US, but on significant parts of the world, carried out by big companies and celebrities from the arts and politics.


    "No, I really don¡¯t need any help," an uncertain female voice said, but its tone was a more than familiar one.


    Kayra stopped abruptly and turned her head barely noticeably to the right. The underlying tone of fear was not unfamiliar to her and came from one of the many side alleys, between the apartment buildings.


    "Great Kingston can be confusing," a deeper, male voice said slowly but insistently. "Especially for newcomers like you."


    Politely, the female voice dismissed. "My grandmother lives just a few blocks away. I know my way."


    "How shall I put it," the male voice played thoughtfully, and then it came, the smug tone of eagerness . "My offer is binding."


    Instantly, the usually controlled Kayra was overcome by unpleasant feelings buried deep within her, instinctively driving her towards the dark alley.


    The scene of the voices was almost on the other side, near a bend between the houses and there were more than two actors involved. The man had two more friends with him, but they kept away from the action, but all three convey the image of young wannabe rockers who go to the gym too often.


    In contrast, the woman, who not only symbolically had her back to the wall, looked very petite. She was not five foot six. "I appreciate your caring," she said, but she was not na?ve and aware of the situation. "But please, give me room now."


    "Fuck no!" her pushy counterpart retorted sullenly, kicking the nearby dumpster. "What are you thinking? That you¡¯re too good for the helpful citizens of Great Kingston?!"


    "I didn¡¯t mean that- "


    "Sure you did!" the bully cut her off. He and his friends reeked profusely of alcohol, but that was no excuse for the aggressor now pressing very close to the frightened woman. "But you can show how nice you are."


    As a surreptitious observer, Kayra could barely contain herself. She had to fight inside not to be overcome by the images and her traumatic feelings: Palestine, the Crusaders, no, not now! And most certainly what was happening in front of her would not take place! Silently, Kayra slipped the loop of a chain from the sleeve of her cloak cape and, using her telekinetic powers, stealthily moved the loop like a snake across the night ground.


    "Come on Johnny Boy!" one of the onlookers bellowed. "Get a move on, so we ca-!"


    Quick as a flash, Kayra threw the noose around the crony¡¯s neck and yanked him towards her, only to fling him into the side alley trash with a broken neck.


    "What the?!" startled Johnny and the other bystander. "Frank?!"


    Terror, oh yes that¡¯s what Kayra wanted to hear! The terror in the voices of these unworthy and remained mysteriously hidden. She let moments pass as mobile phones were pulled out and their lights shone light into the darkness Kayra had long since avoided. She was directly above the two, like the spider in the web that only had to dial and pull spectator number two up to her.


    Neither the frightened woman nor the previously pushy guy could follow that pace. "Guys, cut the crap!" he said in a panic, hastily searching every nook and cranny around him to no avail.


    Again Kayra let the situation work. Sorrow, she mentally feasted on the act.


    Johnny pulling out a switchblade was pure amusement. "Who¡¯s there?! Show yourself!"


    Kayra wasn¡¯t worried at all about this demonstration and what she was about to do. "Your undoing," she whispered ominously from the darkness she was leaving at a leisurely pace. "This night, will be your last on God¡¯s earth."


    "What are you! Batwoman or what?!" roared Johnny, waving his knife in the direction of the hooded woman.


    Pathetically, that was what this knife game was for Kayra and it didn¡¯t stop her steps. It was only when the panicked man reached for the other huddled woman and pressed the blade to her throat that Kayra paused. "Yes, I am acting correctly. You are dirt."


    "Shut the fuck up! I slash-!" the man suddenly groaned painfully as his knife hand was paralysed. The vampire¡¯s telekinesis was in full use, guiding his hand away from his victim¡¯s neck. "WHAT¡¯S GOING ON?!"


    That roar sealed Kayra¡¯s decision and she twisted the wrist cracking loudly before she was beside Johnny with her superhuman speed and unceremoniously thundered his head into the bricks of the front of the house so that he had seeped several inches into the stone and she left him hanging there.


    This action, of course, did not leave the innocent woman unscathed as she staggered back between fear and gratitude. "W-what just happened?" she asked in an intimidated voice. "How did you ...?"


    There was no need for Kayra to explain herself. She simply looked to the stranger out of routine. "You shouldn¡¯t worry about that," she explained, walking towards the woman. Surely she came across as no less threatening with her tall figure and after what she had done. "I am not your enemy. That¡¯s enough to know."


    "Ne-No, certainly not," the stranger nodded, hunching her shoulders and hands together, but at least she remained standing. "T-Thank you for intervening. How can I repay you?"


    "Just let me do it."


    "W-What?" the stranger blinked in confusion as the taller woman stood close and looked down at her. "I don¡¯t understand."


    "You don¡¯t have to, either," Kayra whispered empathetically, already slightly befuddled. The bully had inflicted a gossamer cut on her lady in distress, through which Kayra could smell her sweet-smelling blood. She stroked the woman¡¯s face and without any force, bit into the just inviting neck whose artery throbbed so tantalisingly.


    Blood, the lifepool of every vampire and intoxicant at the same time. It radiated a warmth that the children of the night could rarely experience and led them into ecstasies that the strongest drugs in the world could not induce. Especially the first moments were always the best and most difficult.


    Kayra let herself go completely in the first few seconds, the most vulnerable moment of any vampire and all her senses were overstimulated to the extreme. A more than orgasmic snort escaped her nose, her eyes fluttered and she wanted to grip harder. She was tempted to drink far too much, but that was never good and the tried and tested servant moderated and drank more slowly, almost able to read her donor¡¯s history through the blood.


    The woman tasted sweet, though the fear from before had left a slightly bitter note. However, her life up to here must have been very carefree, well-mannered and nurtured, always diligent and determined, but no longer a virgin.


    Moreover, the source of the blood would not remember anything, neither the bite, nor the minutes before and after. Only the experience of pure ecstasy, that would hang hazily in the woman¡¯s memory, for just as vampires were overwhelmed by the experience, it was no less a climax of emotion for humans.


    Kayra knew that from her own experience. One last gulp, then she detached herself from the paralysed woman¡¯s neck and the two holes in her throat were already beginning to heal. "Don¡¯t ever get lost in dark alleys again," she said rhetorically before pushing the innocent woman towards the street where she disappeared around the corner without a care in the world. Kayra didn¡¯t look after her, but swung her chain loop around Johnny¡¯s leg to drag him carelessly behind her. No, she didn¡¯t see herself as a saviour and a hero. The other woman had merely been lucky, in many ways. Kayra had been thirsty anyway, and she killed Johnny and his cronies because she was still slightly charged from her encounter with the Juda¡¯aerith and had experienced such intrusive treatment herself, and would have died hundreds of years ago because of it if Patriarch Stein had not rescued her and given her a choice so close to the brink of death - dying or eternity.


    For Johnny and his friends, that choice no longer existed and it was more than deserved. They were just lifeless, fleshy rubbish bags hanging from the chains that wrapped Kayra¡¯s body beneath her clothes. Hanging from her coat, however, was an electronic voice kit called a Mouth Button and consisting of a receiver and insertable earbuds, a mini mobile phone so to speak, which now vibrated and identified the caller. "Ashford, what can I do for you?" asked Kayra calmly, even though she knew her Klan relative wouldn¡¯t contact her at the moment unless it was urgent.


    "You¡¯re not going to like this Kayra," Ashford announced, annoyed but composed. Every now and then he liked to beat around the bush or take a running start instead of just talking things out. "The Allister situation has got out of hand."


    Immediately Kayra stopped, but her tone remained moderate. "What happened?"


    "Last night an entire police force was massacred in the forest near Allister¡¯s area," Ashford reported appraisingly. He liked to talk, but he was also mostly thinking. "I¡¯ve sent out some scouts to find Raug and check out the situation."


    Cursory concern drifted through Kayra¡¯s mind. "And, did they find him?"


    "Yes, he¡¯s intact and to quote him: Raug cleaned up, zombies and police all buried."


    "Nothing else I expected from him," Kayra said with satisfaction, but she guessed that wasn¡¯t all. "But I take it you weren¡¯t finished."


    "Yes, no, Raug saved a policewoman, it seems," Ashford told her, less than enthusiastic. "My scouts wanted to take her out but, like many ghouls, Raug is stubborn in his own way and wants to take her to the Patriarch and the scouts didn¡¯t want to mess with the stupid ghoul."


    "Raug may be acting for simpler reasons than you think, but leaving the policewoman alive is anything but stupid," Kayra raised, for even if Raug was a ghoul, she would not let him offend easily, for he had already given more to Patriarch Stein than most. "Questioning her might give us some insight into what happened."


    "Not much room for imagination, if you ask me," Ashford rebuffed the idea, but of course he obeyed. "Just as you like. Let¡¯s just hear the story of how the zombies ate."


    "At least it¡¯s confirmation, if that¡¯s all it is - does the patriarch know?"


    "Sure, and has been summoned to Lady Gardner¡¯s house immediately. The machinery is already in motion to cover it all up."


    "I suppose I should return," Kayra said irresolutely. It occurred to her immediately: was this already the first trap to harm House Stein?


    Ashford was prepared for that. "Patriarch Stein suspected you would say that and clearly said no. You are to take care of your assignment. He¡¯ll be in touch if he needs you elsewhere."


    "Of course," Kayra murmured humbly, but not to Ashford. "Still, keep me posted on this zombie incident."


    "Sure thing. I¡¯ll be in touch when we¡¯ve questioned the policewoman. Goodbye."


    Now all to herself, Kayra allowed herself a deep sigh: a zombie massacre, a possible Apostle invasion, growing trouble with the Tenebrae, and who knows what else - was a Blood Moon child supposed to be the messenger of great evil after all?

 Samantha - 3

    Birds chirped and warm rays of sunlight fell through the glass of the high arched window between the half-opened, long purple curtains. An ambience of freshly cut, delightfully fragrant flowers stood on the bedside table, right next to a more than comfortable, ornate wooden double bed, with high corner posts and surrounding cherry red sheer curtains.


    This was the sight Samantha saw when she awoke again, but this time she felt much stronger and was able to pick herself up on her wide, back-supporting pillow. She was silent, for someone was flitting about this room and there was a slight clink, but she also heard the smell of freshly brewed coffee and of pastries, grapes and sausage.


    "Oh, you¡¯re finally awake?" a woman¡¯s voice remarked from beyond the curtains.


    Samantha hadn¡¯t the faintest idea where she was, but she remembered: there was this huge monster, the snapping freaks, gunshots, gunshots everywhere! She rubbed her face hastily, wondering if that had just been a bad nightmare and maybe she was just waking up from her sleep, somewhere on holiday? ¡°How could I not wake up to that lovely smell?¡±


    "That¡¯s what I like to hear," the woman said, revealing the silhouette of a maid through the curtain, her clothes having a style of their own. "You have no idea how seldom I get to serve up a proper breakfast, and then really on an early morning when the sun is smiling."


    "When else should you have breakfast?" asked Samantha, slightly confused, as the sluggishness of awakening gradually faded and she wondered: where the hell am I supposed to go on holiday? On the other hand, she didn¡¯t want to embarrass herself and call the maid on it in case she was just wrong and had perhaps had one too many drinks yesterday "What did you say your name was?"


    "Oh, we haven¡¯t had the pleasure yet. I¡¯m Emilie," the woman introduced herself and prudently opened the curtains so that more of the beautiful sunlight could be seen and felt. Then she quickly began dusting some stuffed birds on pedestals. "I¡¯ve been checking on you for the past few days and also cleaning your wound."


    "My ... wound?" it horrified Samantha and only now did she see the multiple bandages around her left forearm, where the memory of the pain when she was bitten immediately flashed through her mind as if it was just happening again! This was not a dream?! She let herself ask. ¡°Wh-what the hell happened?¡±


    ¡°The way Raug reported it, a zombie bit her,¡± Emilie told her matter-of-factly, setting the tray of breakfast down on the bedside table. "I saw one in the labs once. Creepy, disgusting creatures."


    "Zombie? Bit me? Is that supposed to be a bad joke?!" questioned Samantha huffily. That was absolutely not her sense of humour. "And who is Raug?"


    "Your saviour, the only ghoul of the house."


    "What house? And what is a ghoul?"


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I¡¯m not too deeply versed in the matter,¡± Emilie admitted sheepishly, assuming an expectant posture in front of the bed. "Patriarch Stein once titled it that: Not alive and not dead, that¡¯s a ghoul."


    "You keep adding more and more expressions and names foreign to me ...," Samantha remarked in frustration, dropping her face into her hands. "I beg you, if this is a bad joke, please stop it now."


    "I¡¯m sorry, the patriarch figured you hadn¡¯t digested all this yet," Emilie said, leaning forward apologetically, but she wasn¡¯t going to let it get the best of her either. "But everything I¡¯m telling you is true. Here, let me show you and don¡¯t be scared, okay?"


    Suspiciously, Samantha squinted between her fingers to the entrance of the room where the maid opened the door and Samantha widened her eyes in disbelief and out of fear!


    There it was! The muscle packed monster that could rival an action figure like Hulk! "Woman must stay in room."


    "I know Raug," Emilie nodded at the giant, inviting him in with an outstretched hand. "But please, come in for a moment, or our guest won¡¯t believe me."


    "Raug enter," the ghoul murmured, making a few stomps into the room.


    Hastily, Samantha pushed herself to the far corner of her bed! She wanted to get away from this critter if possible and fumbled carelessly around, looking for her pistol. "Just stay away from me!"


    "Take it easy," Emilie placated gently. "Raug only smashes his enemies."


    "I SHOULD TAKE IT EASY?!" cried Samantha, stunned, and with no weapon to be found, her hand darted for a throw first to a cushion, then to a vase of flowers, and finally to the china coffee pot! "FUCK OFF!"


    Not a flinch came from Raug as everything in turn flew against his head and the pot shattered against his face. Clearly the scalding hot contents boiled on his pale skin as the colossus looked untouched at the maid. "Police woman is ungrateful. Raug saved her."


    "I know Raug," Emilie patted the ghoul¡¯s thick arm as an aside, but she glanced at the bed. "You do realise that, don¡¯t you? Without Raug, I¡¯m sure you would have become zombie grub, like ..."


    "Like what?", Samantha narrowed her eyes and stared at the two strangers.


    While Emilie looked away sorrowfully, Raug revealed simply. "All the policemen in the forest were dead. Raug was killing zombies. Then Raug buried zombies and policemen well hidden."


    " ... They¡¯re all dead?" gulped Samantha, dropping into a defeated crouch. "This must be a nightmare."


    "Yes," Emilie swivelled her head back and forth in understanding. "So it is with many when you are first confronted with such things and then so harshly at the same time. Fortunately, the patriarch was the first to open this world to me."


    "You speak as of this great patriarch," Samantha grated sceptically. "Who is that? The supreme ghul?"


    Raug looked displeased. "Patriarch no ghoul."


    "Right, he¡¯s the head of this house, but not a ghoul," Emilie denied, becoming more composed. "He wanted to speak to you anyway, as soon as you were fit. When you have eaten, I will be happy to let him know."


    "You expect ... me to eat now?!" asked Samantha incredulously, slapping the soft mattress. "Seriously?! If he¡¯s the boss, I want to see him now or I¡¯m going to get really pissed off!" That¡¯s what Samantha needed now - control. She had dedicated her life to the law and needed to keep a level head at all times, but how was she going to do that here? Talking to the leader was her only option.


    "As you wish," Emilie leaned forward politely. "Raug, back to your post."


    The ghoul stomped back in front of the door. "Raug is guarding."


    "And in your interest, please note one thing," Emilie indicated, as she now not only drew the curtains on the window but, via an electronic input panel beside the entrance, extended metal flaps on the outer facade that shut out all sunlight with a heavy closing. Then, as she left, she was still sweeping up the fragments of the can. "This room, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re not allowed to leave for the time being."


    This blackout action did not make things any better for Samantha and she wondered what it was all about. However, tasteful floor lamps and wall torches set in casings now unfurled their light, creating a pleasant after-work atmosphere for her and for want of better options, and because she was damn hungry, she ate from the breakfast that had been brought and at least still had a carafe of water to drink.


    The meal had been really tasty and had made Samantha papp full. The knock on the door just as she had put everything away gave her the impression that she was being watched. "Come in," Samantha said indecisively. Who would knock here, when she was guarded by a ghoul and not in her own home?


    Raug was still covering the background when the door opened with a creak, but in the foreground was an elderly man. "Good afternoon," murmured the stranger with white hair who could easily have been an actor! He possessed a characteristic stony face and a melodious announcer¡¯s voice, though the loose six-foot-four man seemed amused. "Rare that I say that."


    "Who doesn¡¯t say good afternoon?" retorted Samantha directly. "It¡¯s common courtesy."


    "That¡¯s why I knocked on this door in my own house."


    "Your house mh?", Samantha folded her arms. In bed, she was no longer. "So you¡¯re that patriarch?"


    "Yes, Stein, Oskar Stein of Nassau," Oskar introduced himself with a deep bow, placing his right hand over his heart.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Scarcely, Samantha returned. "Police Officer Rockford."


    "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Oskar said erect, in voice and posture. "Even if the circumstances are far less pleasant, and therefore, full of self-disappointment, I wish to express my regrets to you."


    "Full of self-disappointment?" questioned Samantha, combining suspiciously. "Did you set the so-called zombies on my unit and me?"


    "No, no one sicced the zombies on you," Oskar affirmed composedly, walking around the room inspectively. His whole, preened get-up had something of a mixture of nobility and German officer about it anyway. Grey was the tone-setting colour of his clothes, supported by black and red. Leather formed the main part of the material, but yarn was woven into it as well, with the thighs of the trousers bulging out in a balloon shape and Oskar wearing an extra overcoat over his already broad-looking shoulders. "Still, it all happened in my territory. I bear the responsibility."


    The words meant nothing to Samantha and she did not hide her displeasure. "Your territory? Who are you? The head warlock?"


    "Normally someone like me is called a vampire," Oskar mentioned casually as he slipped the blossoms of a flower placed in a vase between his fingers. "But yes, I lead the clan that controls this area."


    "Zombies, ghouls, vampires," Samantha enumerated sarcastically on her fingers, but there was also a pinch of disbelief playing from her. "Now, if we add the werewolves and gargoyles, we¡¯ll have everything we need for a scary story. Spare me such nonsense and tell me what¡¯s going on!"


    "Your frustration I understand," Oskar confessed and now turned his full attention to the woman, standing taut and what was that look? His eyes seemed like a cat¡¯s. "But your doubt? You saw those things in the forest, you saw Raug there and at your door, and from what I have learned about you, you are a highly intelligent woman. So why would you close yourself off like that?"


    "You know about me, eh? What have you been doing? Visited my social media profile?"


    "I prefer more old-fashioned methods, such as enquiries, inspection of files, favours."


    "Bribery and corruption," Samantha said lawfully, but it all went nowhere and she gave the man a chance. "But well, let¡¯s assume for a second I believe everything you tell me - why am I here? What do you want from me?"


    "Insight and assessment."


    "About what?"


    "How about this: a classic question and answer game," Oskar suggested, holding out his palm. "Someone asks a question, gets an answer, and then gets asked a question themselves."


    "Fair deal."


    "Wonderful, and as a gentleman of long ago, Ladies first."


    "Lady," Samantha snorted jokingly, but that mood immediately gave way to seriousness. "Are all my colleagues dead?"


    "According to Raug, yes," Oskar replied with a sweep of his eyes to the closed door. "He buried them all. But according to media reports, your partner Brown survived, as did the policemen at the road check. You yourself are presumed dead."


    "Great ... your question?"


    Oskar¡¯s interest came across as trite. "Why were you in the woods?"


    "We were chasing a suspected murderer," Samantha told him, guessing that the man already knew anyway because of the media. "But that¡¯s not news to you, right?"


    "Correct. Your partner said you were at a farm and found the body of a woman there, as well as the surviving youngest child of the house."


    "Why am I here?"


    "Ghouls are simple, but not completely stupid. Raug¡¯s targets were the zombies and you gave him no valid reason to eliminate you immediately."


    Samantha quickly drilled further. "What exactly is a ghoul anyway?"


    "You¡¯re going too fast, my platoon: I know this is going to sound strange, but did you notice anything suspicious in the forest beyond zombies, screams and gunshots?"


    Only one thing came to Samantha¡¯s mind. "There were virtually no animals there."


    "Yes, I¡¯m sure it was the zombies," Oskar murmured soberly, scratching his marble cheeks with conspicuous, claw-like fingers. "I¡¯m talking about strange symbols, phenomena or other people."


    "No, I don¡¯t remember anything. There were no other traces to indicate such things, and as an avid game hunter, I consider myself to have a good eye, even in the dark."


    "Never underestimate the night," Oskar underlined loftily and came closer to the woman, but he kept enough distance not to become intrusive. In return, he became mysterious and rabid, as if he were caught between two stools of gratitude and contempt regarding Raug. "Even though ghouls are not bound to the night. Ghouls are humans who can be bound to this world on a knife edge to death by a powerful blood mage. It is a gruesome existence, neither alive nor dead, plagued by fragments of memories of the previous life, with no chance of reclaiming that or a real will of their own."


    Anxiously, Samantha put a hand over her mouth. "This is inhumane and wrong, worse than many punishments."


    "It is, but it was Raug¡¯s dying wish and he was my first and last ghoul," Oskar added as he seemed to drift off for a fleeting moment before reflecting. "He is bound to my life force and his obedience is mine alone."


    "I ... don¡¯t like this game anymore."


    "And yet we¡¯ve only scratched the surface," Oskar asserted macabrely, not missing another whimsical question in the same tone. "Do you want to live?"


    "I¡¯m sorry, what?" asked Samantha slowly, rolled over. "What kind of absurd question is that?"


    "How can that question be absurd?" countered Oskar, and even though he seemed elegant and distinguished, he now showed a subtle, threatening note in his manner. "A world has been revealed to you of which very few people have any knowledge, and yet you know nothing. You may be my guest here, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already guessed that there¡¯s a catch. So do you think you could leave so easily, with your present knowledge?"


    Samantha had rarely felt so small in her life. "No."


    "Then again, do you want to live?"


    "That would be fine with me, yes."


    "Excellent," Oskar nodded and sat down on the edge of the large bed. "However, in order to do that, you will have to make a choice."


    "Which one?" retorted Samantha, taking a few steps back from the patriarch. "Is this the moment by which I am to become the immortal bride?"


    "Don¡¯t mix fantasy and reality," Oskar pointed out, lowering his head in thought before murmuring into his hands. "There will only ever be one bride for me."


    "Glad that¡¯s settled," Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. "So what is attached to my life?"


    Oskar indulged his previous thoughts for a moment longer, revealing a moment of humanity, but the vampire drowned that out with a quick rise from the bed. "The best option for both of us would be for you to commit to me. Good cops within the GKPD are a rarity."


    "Commit myself to you?" asked Samantha pointedly. "How old are you, Lord Vampire? Do I have to imagine this is like the Middle Ages, with knighthood and oath of allegiance?"


    So far Oskar had been polite, but the brash attitude of his guest did not quite pass him by. "I like you, but please extend the same courtesy to me that I extend to you, because I might as well save all that and make it quick and easy for myself."


    That had been a clear announcement for Samantha. "Forgive me, please: So, what exactly does your offer mean?"


    "You will continue with your life as usual," Oskar explained contentedly. "With the difference that I am your new secret boss, if you like it that way."


    "I don¡¯t mean to be insulting, but there¡¯s something about Mafia methods," Samantha stated, crossing her arms several times in denial. "I¡¯m not a corrupt cop."


    "I would see it more as an expansion of your horizons," Oskar argued frankly. Suddenly a vase of flowers began to float towards him, rotating above his right hand. "If you want true justice, you would gain insights into human society through me as never before."


    This levitation trick certainly impressed Samantha. "Would I also, hypothetically, have to kill people? Something like unwanted witnesses?"


    Oskar levitated the vase into his guest¡¯s arms before speaking clearly. "A rare but possible situation. Everything just has a price."


    Carefully, Samantha placed the vase on the dessert. "I¡¯m not a murderer."


    "You would let the chance to act more freely pass you by?" doubted Oskar demurely. He must have had a different opinion of the woman. "Spare one perhaps innocent soul and let hundreds of vicious ones escape in exchange?"


    Yes, Samantha could not immediately deny. The thought of being able to do so much more for justice was tempting, but her conscience was stronger. "I would."


    "Honourable, but if you live to see 20 more years, you will see it differently - believe me."


    "Perhaps, but I must have that experience myself," Samantha said steadfastly and with conviction. "I would rather die than accept that offer."


    The patriarch¡¯s look seemed all the more interested after hearing that. "Principledness is an even rarer commodity these days and your decision will not necessarily lead to your end."


    "It doesn¡¯t? How else can I live?"


    "Everything you have seen and heard must never leave your mouth," Oskar declared less affectionately and he turned away. Instead, he looked at himself in a large oval mirror, negating the fictional stereotype that vampires had no reflection. "But unfortunately, that doesn¡¯t guarantee your continued existence."


    That didn¡¯t sound good, but it was a better choice for Samantha right now. "And why is that the case?"


    "Rules," Oskar said, looking back over his shoulder at her. "I am willing to let you go for your silence, but even though I have enormous influence and control over these lands, I am part of a much larger society and I must answer to it. Therefore, your oath of silence may not be enough for them and you may be mercifully killed ."


    Mercy didn¡¯t quite make sense to Samantha here, "What¡¯s merciful about it?"


    "Mental destruction would be an option," Oskar pronounced mirthlessly, playing out the scenario. "You would be the perfect target for such a campaign: the incident in the forest has taken a heavy toll on you and unfortunately your mental state is very unstable. That¡¯s why you¡¯re being committed to a closed psychiatric ward and then when you start talking about vampires and zombies who did this to you ... do you realise how diabolical that would be? Locked away for eternity and incapacitated."


    "Holy shit," Samantha muttered to herself and swallowed. That really would have been far worse than her death, but still, her sense of honour still prevailed.


    Oskar realised this and made a new suggestion. "Your choice is in no hurry. Be my guest and think about it for a few days."


    "You say guest, but I am captive," Samantha observed. She was not taken with the idea. "And I don¡¯t think my answer will change."


    "I could well imagine that," Oskar admitted, but the patriarch was still pursuing an approach with his suggestion. "However, things will settle down a little more with each passing day. Perhaps enough so that the Tenebrae would accept your current choice."


    "The Tenebrae?"


    Oskar smirked. "As I said, stay here a little longer and broaden your horizons. It might be worth your while and of course the whole estate and grounds would be at your free disposal."


    "Ah yes?"


    "Certainly, but please no bad escapes," Oskar admonished, angling his left arm like a perch. All at once feathers flew from above and one of the stuffed ravens fluttered nimbly to the vampire. "We see a lot and if you find yourself in a place were you feel like you shouldnt be there, just turn around."


    Samantha wanted to lie to herself, but she couldn¡¯t quite. This vampire certainly piqued her curiosity, even if the bird thing was more like a cheap, if good, magic trick, and he seemed genuinely interested in her wellbeing. So if a few more days could ensure her survival, what difference would they make now? "All right, I accept the offer of your hospitality. Just one more question absolutely must go out."


    "I¡¯m curious."


    Clarifying, Samantha raised her doctored arm. "Am I not becoming a zombie too?"


    "Pure fiction, my dear," Oskar laughed softly to himself. "But it¡¯s about time. I will rest now. You have a pleasant day."


    "And to you, er, a good night later?" waved Samantha tensely as the vampire left after a polite bow.


    "Raug, she¡äs free to move about our place," Oskar was still saying outside, becoming more thoughtful at the end. "I have to leave later. You go patrol the estate."


    "Raug guard Klan," the ghoul grumbled and slowly left his post.

 Percival - 1

    A bark went through the house and Percival grinned inside the pantry. ¡°Be good,¡± he said loudly and filled a huge metal bowl with dry dog food. The portion would have been enough for three dogs, but Percival¡¯s faithful companion had always had a healthy appetite. Before leaving the pantry with the heavy bowl, he snapped his free fingers and the small flames from the illuminating candlesticks fizzled out.


    Downstairs, the barking became more insistent, but who was surprised? Brutus always had a sixth sense for special days or as soon as trouble was on the way.


    That things could get really nasty for his teacher at today¡¯s meeting was something Percival was more than aware of and he had been chosen to accompany him to the hearing. ¡°Papa¡¯s on his way!¡± announced Percival cheerfully, when the barking was joined by scraping at the cellar door, but it took a few moments to get out of the branching vault. "Well, who¡¯s hungry?!"


    Excitedly, Brutus wagged his stubby tail and the hellhound¡¯s dozen nostrils sniffed in anticipation. His sense of smell was extremely special, if only because he had no eyes and the main food of hellhounds was actually rotten souls.


    "Off, sit!" admonished Percival. His dog was well trained, but sometimes he was too impetuous and that was when the animal could become a danger because of his stately 1.60 shoulder height and his almost 200 kilos weight. "Good boy!"


    Faithfully, the leathery hellhound sat down on his butt and waited patiently for the bowl to be set down, although he could not contain his enormous tongue, from his alligator-like mouth, and drooled profusely.


    "Good boy," Percival praised and placed the bowl a little way away from the animal, which was still waiting. "Dig in Brutus."


    Hastily and hungrily the hellhound went to the bowl and ate. His pleasure was all the more evident as the prickly scaly spines stood up on his long and broad back.


    Percival stroked the animal¡¯s eyeless skull and grabbed his stylish, wolf grey coat as he walked to the front door. "I¡¯ll be back tomorrow. Take good care of everything and don¡¯t eat the neighbour¡¯s cats again," he said jokingly, because what did it matter? True, the owner nagged every time, but they were undead cats anyway, and she simply revived them after every Brutus meal.


    Outside Percival¡¯s house, the blue sky was draped in white clouds, but the midday sun broke through in places. The strong whistling of the wind could be heard clearly, but because this tiny place, with its nine houses, was a walled community, the breezy draught was mostly kept out.


    "Master Allister will be with you in a moment," greeted Roger cautiously, who had been living in the enclave of the magical teacher just mentioned for six months. "And ... the blood knights are already at the frontgate, too."


    "You sound very enthusiastic," Percival remarked, but he already guessed why his classmate was less than enthusiastic. Blood knights, especially directly under the tenebrae, tended to be arrogant. "But I know. Even my Brutus is way better educated and well-mannered than many of them."


    "Well, you have the Master with you. I think the blood knights will keep a low profile."


    "If the Master is there, I¡¯m sure they will," Percival said, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the group of four walking towards his house. "Ladies and gentlemen, a good day to you all."


    "How distinguished," replied the apparent leader of the escort the Tenebrae had sent here. "That is why I like to come to the enclave of Mr Allister. The noble treatment of his students, has rubbed off on him."


    Perhaps these blood knights were different, Percival thought. "Respect opens many doors," Percival said with conviction, leaning against the pillar of the porch of his house. "Though I think the Tenebrae are exaggerating a little. Such an outcry for Mr Allister. Who would be foolish enough to attack him?"


    "I think that¡¯s as much a gesture of respect, from Lady Gardner."


    "Mhh, there¡¯s something to that. A bit of a fanfare tune, eh?"


    "Sure thing," the leader stifled a grin, but quite faintly. She glanced briefly at her group and then spread her arms. "What do you people think? More flags and a kneeling honour guard, for the mighty Percival, the Black Mage himself." No, this group of blood knights were no different and burst out laughing after the leader scoffed.


    The black mage was especially popular among Percival¡¯s envious, and a less than clever allusion to his very dark skin colour, as was known from tribes from the deepest jungles. "That won¡¯t be necessary," he politely declined. This plain manner did not provoke him, which had also been a lesson from his master - always maintain poise, even if Percival liked to add a pinch of salt with elegance and cheek. "At least not today."


    "Very funny, mighty Percival," the leader¡¯s laughter died away and the tone shifted to disapproval. "Let¡¯s see how long that lasts, because I hear the Tenebrae is going to skewer your master for this zombie thing and then this enclave will be levelled with his disciples."


    Roger was less restrained. "As if your masters would ... or could ... eliminate Master Allister without further ado."


    "Who¡¯s that?!" the leader swivelled her eyes to the newcomer. "I don¡¯t even know you yet! Fresh meat for the old bag, eh? It just always takes Boots Licker."


    "I bet that Boots Licker can turn you all into living ice sculptures in one go!" threatened Roger, stepping forward ready for conflict.


    The leader and her blood knights immediately gathered close around him. "Is that so?" the woman retorted, unimpressed. "You¡¯d better stick to defenceless corpses, you have a chance of winning there."


    Gently, Percival pushed in front of Roger before making physical contact with the group. "Dont Roger," he shook his head and placed his hands reassuringly on the newcomer¡¯s shoulders, gently pushing him away from the cluster.


    "Please!" gritted Roger softly, not resisting the shoving. "They come into our enclave, mock the Master, insult you! Surely I cannot let that go unanswered!"


    "Then here is a lesson that marks a true master magician," Percival spoke eruditely, patting his fellow disciple encouragingly on the shoulders. "Be like nature, a slumbering elemental force."


    "I ... could you make that less cryptic?"


    "There is power in silence," Percival simplified his master Allister¡¯s lesson. "Let them talk. What would they be without the blood of their owners?"


    "Nothing."


    "Correct, nothing, but your power and skill are real and forever."


    "Are you two about done whispering?" the Blood Knight leader complained. "If you have something to say, say it to our faces!"


    Percival looked questioningly at Roger, the newcomer still seeming unconvinced by the lesson he had just been taught. Not that Percival wanted to violate that principle now, but he turned and smiled. "I was merely teaching my friend a lesson, though I prefer practice to theory."


    "I see, and what is that lesson?"


    "There is power in calm," Percival said, swinging his wrist in a circular motion before it became entwined with energy and he pointed at the group.


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    The energy fizzled out and nothing had happened, which was why the leader grinned. "...!" she wordlessly moved her lips. No sound came from her, no matter how much she opened her mouth. The same was true for her soon-to-be-unsettled comrades-in-arms - the curse of silence.


    "Do you see Roger? Silence."


    "Ah, now I see!" laughed Roger, clapping his hands.


    The blood knights were clearly anything but pleased and about to draw their firearms! "Percival!" an aged, bright voice called from far away and the Blood Knights stopped what they were doing.


    From the finest and largest house in the community, marked by classical elements from the colonial era, came Saxon Garrett Allister, one of the most renowned necromancers in the world, and he presented himself in his own unique way. Befitting his house, his get-up and movement was that of a British gentleman and noble aristocrat from other times, with matching top hat, walking stick and plump, auburn upper lip beard.


    "Master Allister," Percival inclined his head in respect. "We would be ready for your departure."


    "Excellent, and we¡¯re still ahead of schedule," Saxon said, pulling out a gold-plated pocket watch and reading it with a monocle. "And the sooner we clear up this misunderstanding, the sooner we can get back to more important matters."


    Meanwhile, the blood knights, despite cursing, behaved decently and drew attention to their silence.


    Saxon again took his monocle to help him, and though he spoke in the direction of the knights, his words were directed at his pupil. "It seems the envoys have a concern, but why do they say nothing?"


    "Well, I was just telling Roger about one of your lessons: Be like nature, a slumbering elemental force," Percival mentioned. He had already taught the blood knights humility and did not mock them further. "Our guests have been kind enough to offer themselves for a practice demonstration."


    "Formidable lesson, my good Percival," Saxon surveyed the silent figures and leaned towards Roger. "You too, Roger. Keep up that inquisitive attitude and I see a great future for you."


    "Oh, thank you Master!" bowed Roger excitedly. "I should get back to my studies immediately then!"


    "Busy as bees," Saxon gloated, tucking the monocle away before dissolving the curse with a wipe of his hand. "Then up, up, fresh to work."


    "Yes, master!"


    Dignified, Saxon leaned on his walking stick and looked at his pocket watch again more for clarification than interpretation.... "And you, fine ladies and gentlemen, we don¡¯t want to be late, since you were here so early. Bring your carriage forward."


    Percival allowed himself a faint smirk, for the blood knights merely nodded silently, like trained dogs. After all, the envoys were so clever. Even the fewest vampires did not dare treat Saxon in a condescending or rude manner. Percival had never seen his master use his full power, but he didn¡¯t need to and that alone was reason enough not to mess with him. "I remain concerned, Master."


    Saxon¡¯s tone often had that sweep of lightness in his voice. "Oh, still about that little incident in the woods? I¡¯ll sort it out today."


    "That is not what concerns me Master. That would concern more the lingering question of how the zombies escaped."


    "That too shall not be your concern, my dear Percival," Saxton said, giving his student a harmless nudge on the head with his walking stick. "Continue to fill your thoughts with wisdom and not worry, for I still want to send you to Europe to establish a new enclave there. For that I need you at your best."


    Percival was more than aware of his abilities, but each praise from his teacher made his chest swell even more. "I will do my best, Master Allister."


    "That¡¯s right, my dear fellow. On to the Tenebrae then."


    With two armoured, luxurious Mercedes in black, the Blood Knights had arrived. Caution was always advised and while the leader drove ahead with two of her men in the first car, Percival and Saxon sat in the back seat of the second vehicle.


    Every now and then a police car came along the country road, but who was surprised? For some days now, because of the zombie incident, there had been an exceedingly high presence of Great Kingston¡¯s finest, searching for their missing colleagues and traces of what had happened in the woods.


    This still worried Percival, even after his master¡¯s words. He trusted Saxon¡¯s experience, but so far his teacher was rather reticent about solving the incident. Maybe the necromancer just wanted to wait until the dust had settled, but until then Percival was still worried: Who had released the zombies? And even if they had escaped through carelessness, the mages of the enclave could easily have found them. However, the necrotic bond, the bond between owner and possession, had been severed, which is why the zombies had not been easily tracked down, and the severing of the bond had to be done by a mage with full intent! This led Percival to conclude - so someone wanted the zombies to roam unchecked.


    "A new control?" the driver complained. "It wasn¡¯t there earlier."


    For a control, the number of cars was quite considerable. "The ladies and gentlemen are simply doing their job," Saxton opined, prodding his walking stick on the ground. "Although the choice of location of this post surprises me."


    The column of blood knights turned a corner which was enclosed by a clearing of trees and came to a halt in a built-up one-way street. Five policemen spread out around the limousines, checking, and on each driver¡¯s side there was a knock on the windows, which were rolled down. "Afternoon constable," said the driver from Saxton. "What can I do for you?"


    "Driver¡¯s licence and registration please," the constable demanded protocol but rudely.


    "Sure thing," the driver nodded and pulled out his multicard, which had all the important data on it.


    "What a hassle. Like having the IRS breathing down your neck," Percival joked dryly. "Isn¡¯t it Mr Allister?"


    "Worries of the common people," Saxton replied just as dryly, not even looking at the officials. They might be doing their jobs, but they weren¡¯t worth his time and time meant a lot to him.


    "Perhaps," Percival agreed, but he had never bent his opinion before. "However, one should always keep the concerns of the mob in mind."


    "Well, then it is fortunate that I can call your eyes mine."


    "Of course. Mr Allister," Percival said, though this light conversation did not lessen his attentiveness. He sensed power, holy power, and one did not call that one¡¯s own easily. The only question that remained was from whom exactly it emanated.


    Moreover, more police appeared, with machine guns and they seemed more interested in securing the perimeter.


    "Dilettante," escaped Saxton with British composure and without the slightest movement, he created an invisible barrier of necrotic energy around himself and his student. "I wish no more continued delay - assume it."


    "Assume what?" the driver turned his head cluelessly backwards. As a result, he did not see the police officer at the window point a pistol at his head and pull the trigger!


    The same thing happened at the first car and one of the policemen there held his MP through the window to shoot the surprised passengers with continuous fire.


    Saxton¡¯s previously invisible shield put a stop to this in the second limousine and the vehicle¡¯s armour easily coped with the oncoming storm of bullets from all the police officers.


    Since necromancy was merely a part of the field of magical arts, Percivals had a large arsenal to fall back on and teleported out of the car to the outside! He appeared in the back of two police officers and grabbed their shoulders. In seconds, he completely froze them and knocked them over so that they shattered into thousands of pieces.


    There was no time to pause, however, as the attackers organised themselves and fixed on the black mage.


    Instead of a simple shield, Percival intercepted the bullets with a power pool. It was my art, where he absorbed the energy of an attack, flowed it through his body and directed it back at several policemen as a kind of lightning bolt!


    Not only did it hit the targeted opponents! These lightning bolts jumped to nearby targets and struck down all but one of the attackers.


    "Rotten scum! ", insulted the last police officer. It was he from whom the holy power emanated. "I¡¯ll send you and your master to hell where you belong!"


    "How¡¯s that? I¡¯ll bring hell to us!", Percival implored not only with words, but created demonic circles on the surface around him and fire blazed within them.


    Imps, lowly creatures of hell and barely bigger than a baby, leapt nimbly from the flames and grew rapidly in number! The crowd was their greatest strength, where they resorted to their claws and spat weak fireballs.


    With his holy power, the police officer shielded himself from the fireballs and the Imps running towards him on all fours, he decided with his MP and maintained his shield . He hit targets but some were too agile and jumped at him! Without further ado, his barrier exploded forward, disintegrating the Imps. All that remained was the fire-breathing remnant from the second row. "Was that all?!" Sleight of hand!"


    "That¡¯s all it takes for a squire like you," Percival countered, unimpressed.


    Simultaneously, Saxton sat impassively in the carriage and pulled out his pocket watch.


    Percival used the remaining Imps to buy himself time, for he now cast a thorough veil and raised all the fallen police officers as undead.


    The holy warrior had no problems with the Imps, but the sight of his revived comrades-in-arms made him hesitate for a moment. "Allmighty God, how can you let this happen!" he doubted. He then redeemed the zombies shuffling towards him in turn.


    When the last undead was right in front of his target, Percival used arcane magic to rip a chunk of asphalt from the roadside and fashioned it into a spear. He hurled it violently towards the zombie¡¯s back and impaled it with the squire. "Hunter," Percival grumbled, patting imaginary dust from his coat before taking the dead blood knight¡¯s place in the driver¡¯s seat. "Master, it seems the Inquisitors have tracked us down."


    "Tenacious fellows, no doubt about it," Saxton admitted, overlooking the corpses. "But that was truly a miserable performance. I¡¯ll discuss it with Lady Gardner - up, up now and request a cleaning party quickly. Don¡¯t give the police any more cause for concern."


    "Do you mind if I listen to a little music while I drive?"


    "For your little effort, you¡¯re welcome to it. Though I¡¯m not comfortable with that yowling."


    "Too kind, master," Percival said with amusement, turning up the radio to search for rock music from the 70s and 80s until he came across what he thought was the best band of all time - Queen. "Oh yeah, dont-stop-me-now."

 Ryan - 4

    It was winter and yet the rain had Great Kingston firmly in its grip that night, while Ryan merely used his hand to shield himself from the drips flying sideways. Hastily he got into the parked car at the side of the road and wiped his wet face. ¡°There¡¯s your stupid hoagie!¡± he cursed, tossing a paper bag to the driver¡¯s seat.


    Gordon caught it and shoved his hand in hungrily. ¡°Extra gravy, I hope?¡± he asked, looking at the juicy top, of the richly topped sandwich, which the detective bit into heartily. "Oh, come to papa."


    "Yeah, extra gravy!" grumbled Ryan, looking defiantly out the rolled-up passenger window. His mood had been tilting more and more for a few days now, but who would be surprised? "Will you get to the point?!"


    "Hey, hey, not so uptight," Gordon teased his sidekick. "Have you had a drink lately or why are you so pissed off?"


    "I don¡¯t know," Ryan played the ignorant one, frustrated. "I¡¯m chasing the street gang, you send me on an observation tour to uncover a possible affair. I catch the wife cheating, you have me break into a pawn shop to steal an ancient woman¡¯s late husband¡¯s jewellery. I have the jewellery and you say -I¡¯m up for a hoagie-.


    The sauce spilled a little into Gordon¡¯s beard as he chewed with relish. "I don¡¯t see the problem?"


    "One week, one week I¡¯m helping you now and every time it¡¯s like, after that comes your real job!" complained Ryan, looking incredulous. "What comes after the hoagie? Burger King?"


    Gordon eavesdropped, not letting his guard down. Briskly he had devoured half the sandwich before placing it with the bag on the shelf between the seats. "Okay, I may have overdone it a little," the detective admitted. "But you¡¯ve done a really good job and hardworking employees are in short supply, more than ever."


    "Eternal theme, for decades," Ryan agreed, expecting nothing more as he looked out the window again.


    "Alright plain speaking now: I didn¡¯t keep you on tour just for that. I just needed more time to ask around. You may remember, but we¡¯ve got some real shit on our shoe and I had to pull out some stops."


    "And what shit would that be?" squinted Ryan brightly to the side.


    The hitherto frugal Gordon turned serious. "Ever heard of the red artist?"


    "Red artist," Ryan repeated. Something rang a bell in his head. He considered and snapped his finger. "Isn¡¯t that a fucking serial killer!"


    "And what a one! The police have been hunting him for nearly five months. There have been six victims so far and all of them were literally mauled, torn to shreds and the blood was spread in such big blobs on the walls that the media call him the red artist. That¡¯s who we¡¯re supposed to find and put out of circulation!"


    That got more than enough of Ryan¡¯s attention, though not willingly. "I don¡¯t understand? What does the Tenebrae have to do with a serial killer? Why should we take him out?"


    "There are tracks at the crime scene," Gordon explained, pulling his Black Pitch from his coat pocket. "Claws and heavy damage to the furnishings, which points to a vampire. Maybe one that can take the form of animals or real beasts with blood magic. It¡äs called animus helix."


    "Sounds like a vampire who is very strong."


    "Most likely," Gordon agreed, and he too was frustrated. "The police has no leads and I¡¯ve heard from inside sources that no one wants anything to do with this case."


    "This isn¡¯t shit on a shoe," Ryan deliberately understated. "This is our funeral."


    "That¡¯s how I see it," Gordon joked with gallows humour. "Way out of our league, for sure, but we have to make the best of it."


    "What if it¡¯s a werewolf?"


    At that, Gordon tightened up for a moment. "Little tip: never say that to other vampires. Werewolves are feared, even by them, and they take it more than seriously. However, werewolves normally stay in the wild and there¡¯s only been one case in the Tenebrae in the last 50 years where one was up to no good in a big city."


    "You know all about it."


    "Thank you and you know what else? We¡¯re going to the last crime scene now."


    "I¡¯d rather not have known that now," Ryan grumbled as the car, which was Gordon¡¯s second car, started to move.


    Ryan had driven past here often in the past, but this was the first time he had spent any length of time in one of Great Kingston¡¯s better districts, which they called Silvertown. It was mainly characterised by beautiful and individual family homes and well-arranged shopping districts, but that was not where he was heading.


    Instead, he went to the wide Silver River that flowed through the middle of the area and gave it its name. With this magnificent view on the doorstep, high above the water it was teeming with lofts, once used to store building materials in the construction of the city, and later converted into beautiful, expensive flats.


    "Someone was murdered here?" asked Ryan, puzzled. "Without being caught?"


    "Which makes it even more concerning," Gordon noted as he parked the car. "Little crime and the police are there within five minutes at the latest for incoming calls."


    The lofts didn¡¯t look to Ryan like you could just walk through the door there. "That¡¯s with ID security. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a friend staying there?"


    "No, less complicated," Gordon said casually as he got out of the car. "I called all the residents last night and was able to make an appointment with one."


    For Ryan, it was just as much rain again. "How¡¯s that?"


    "Well what am I?"


    "Pretty greedy."


    "Okay, that one was on the house," Gordon admitted to the aide. "I¡¯m a private investigator and I said in all honesty that I was investigating the murders and I had a few questions"


    "And at this time of night?"


    "I don¡¯t pick my hours and $500 does a lot, even to wealthy people."


    Ryan was amazed at the Tenebrae agent¡¯s effort. "That¡¯s a lot just to open a door."


    "It¡¯s not my money," Gordon shrugged, because of course the vampires paid for everything. "It all goes on the expense account, right next to the hoagie."


    "Vampires are bloody generous, aren¡¯t they?"


    "If you do your job well, then hell yes they are. Come on."


    "Maybe this vampire thing isn¡¯t so bad after all," Ryan opined, lured for a moment by the prospect of money. Who didn¡¯t like having a lot of it? And he thought so, as a formerly well-paid IT professional.


    Bluntly, Gordon pressed one of the buttons at the loft¡¯s main entrance. "Who¡¯s bothering at this hour?" came a slightly unfriendly voice from a young woman¡¯s intercom.


    "Gordon Mitchell, private investigator," the freelancer introduced himself. "We were talking on the phone."


    "Did you bring the money too?"


    "It¡¯s raining, so the green grows even in winter," Gordon said, pulling a folded bundle from his coat pocket.


    "Let¡¯s get this over with quickly then," the woman replied and the door unlocked several times.


    It was immediately much warmer in the stairwell, though that mattered little to Ryan. The dry was more important to him. "Very sympathetic, your source."


    "I couldn¡¯t care less about the girl," Gordon held his ground and called for a lift. "I just wanted to get in and I¡¯ll distract her with my questioning. In the meantime, go down to the basement."


    "And ... do what there, exactly?" blinked Ryan in confusion. At least he had expected the whole thing to provide access to the victim¡¯s flat.


    "They¡¯re clamping down on the house server and searching everything for usable information," Gordon explained, pressing his Black Pitch into Ryan¡¯s hands before stepping into the arriving luxury lift. "The victim¡¯s name was Brad Sedrik, fifth floor. The police confiscated all his disks, so we¡¯ll have to hope for back ups in the house server."


    "I don¡¯t even know what to look for."


    "I never know either," Gordon smiled meanly as the doors closed. "That¡¯s what makes the job so invigorating."


    "Asshole," Ryan grumbled, seeking out the nearby basement. It wasn¡¯t locked, thankfully, and even if it was, he could have hacked his way in there, since there didn¡¯t seem to be any surveillance inside the building.


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    The basement was nice and clean, but even with the lights on it was a little scary and there wasn¡¯t even a map. Fortunately, Ryan found the right wiring harnesses to orient himself by and follow them to their source - the house server. He needed a password, but he knew the routine and a few tricks to get around this parental lock. "Let¡¯s take a look," he murmured to himself and started using explicit keywords for the search. Quickly Ryan¡¯s eyes were flooded with streams of files popping up, so he had to categorise everything, which made it considerably clearer. "Photos of family, friends and holidays," he guessed, looking at typical pictures. "Nice job." He was amazed, because the dead man had had files from his work at home and had been a senior head of a well-known chemical company when he was alive, but none of it seemed to matter: just loud numbers, a few project names and recorded business meetings. Maybe the killer had been a partner, I download the meetings.


    Suddenly something jangled very loudly and Ryan startled. Was that near or far? His new super-hearing made it extremely difficult for him to judge and so he listened for a few moments, but it remained silent. Meetings are a good approach, he thought, and returned to the search and without narrowing it down much, he downloaded all sorts of chat histories from emails and social media. To this he took the few deposits and withdrawals from his online banking, but there wasn¡¯t much else relevant after that, pipes rumbled and Ryan slipped back out of the basement, looking nervously around.


    On the ground floor, Ryan had to wait a little while for his partner to return in the lift. "For a fake interview, that took a long time. I¡¯ve been waiting for twenty minutes."


    "You¡¯re really really fast," Gordon marvelled. "But I mean, you¡¯re a vampire. What do you care about time? You¡¯ve got eternity. So waiting doesn¡¯t hurt you."


    "Yes, but it¡¯s rather dull and you old connoisseur: can vampires die of heart attacks?"


    Curious at the question, Gordon smirked. "Why the question? Do you even have a heart?"


    "Mine definitely slipped down my pants in the basement," Ryan complained, handing the detective back his Black Pitch. "I think we have everything that might be of value."


    "Splendid, let¡¯s get back to the detective agency then!" said Gordon, walking back to the car with his aide.


    At least the rain had eased off considerably as the old timer of a car drove through the streets of Great Kingston and the fine neighbourhood was behind it again.


    As he did so, Ryan noticed that Gordon had seemed unusually quiet and fixated on the traffic for some time, but he didn¡¯t complain about the silence. This allowed him to be to himself and he looked out the passenger window. Not that he wanted to do this sidekick activity forever more, test or not, but he had to admit that it had helped him to do something and feel useful over the last few days. Just lying around in bed doing nothing would definitely have been the wrong approach and who knew: maybe this life as a vampire wasn¡¯t so bad for him. With a passed test he would hopefully be free to do what he wanted and there were still those skills he could learn, after all. Blood magic, telekinesis, that animus something and who knows what else was possible. For a resourceful mind like Ryan¡¯s, it didn¡¯t sound too bad, except for never being able to see the sun or his family and friends again.


    Suddenly Gordon parked at the side of the road. "Hungry?" he asked out of nowhere.


    "Are you trying to sell me your blood or something?" retorted Ryan, further unwilling to think about drinking. "No need."


    Unfriendly, Gordon was, but the previously casual manner had disappeared. "Yeah, sorry about that. Completely forgot who was sitting next to me," he said. He and forget who sits with him? There was something funny about the private eye, but maybe he was just thinking about the next steps and was therefore a bit distracted. "I¡¯m going to get breakfast first."


    Ryan laughed. "What a surprise," he commented, now seeing the lights of the fast food restaurant across the street and his eyes widened. It actually had the addition of Wendy¡¯s +, which was why Ryan now had the chance even at 3am! "Wait!"


    Gordon had almost shut the door. "Huh? What is it?"


    "Bring me a Baconator, please," Ryan¡¯s mouth watered inwardly.


    "Aha!" caught Gordon, loosened up. "Also almost forgot you can still taste. We¡¯ve got a Baconator coming in."


    Fuck blood! Just that thought of a Wendy¡¯s Baconator, was worth the effort of the last few days and Ryan was already licking his fingers for it.


    After a few minutes of waiting, a voice outside the car gasped painfully and a sound of scuffling mixed in, coming from one of the side alleys!


    Is someone being robbed?!, Ryan asked himself and got out. In the past he wouldn¡¯t have done that easily, but with his new powers, who was going to stop him?! Not even four gang members had been able to do that!


    Sure enough, someone was leaning against a house wall in the far corners of the winding alley, being kicked repeatedly by a man dressed like a punk rocker.


    "Hey, you there!", Ryan made himself known undaunted.


    There was one more kick, then the punk stopped and spun around. "Well, look at you! I bet you¡¯re here to help this idiot?!"


    On the ground lay a dark-skinned, poor-looking man, but Ryan could see there was nothing seriously wrong with him. "Correct motherfucker! Make a run for it or I¡¯ll put you down!"


    The punk didn¡¯t reply, but he had a sly grin on his face.


    Suddenly Ryan was grabbed from behind and dragged along so that he flew above the ground for a moment and then thundered himself back against the other wall of the house so hard that it cracked a little!


    The dull white eyes of a much smaller woman stared at him. "What were you two doing in that loft?!" she asked insistently, but she didn¡¯t scream and she held the vampire by the neck with no problem.


    "W-what?!" gasped Ryan. How could this be!!! Was she a vampire too!!! "What are you talking about?!"


    "Let¡¯s save the questions!" the punk said and joined in. Instantly, he and the woman started beating up the vampire.


    Meanwhile, the previously beaten man stood up and joined them. "Hey, there¡¯s an extra reward for me, isn¡¯t there?"


    "Shut the fuck up!" the woman growled in response to the question, fishing around in her victim¡¯s pockets.


    Ryan took a good beating, causing a murderous rage to build up inside him, and suddenly he kicked out, knocking the woman off her feet! He caught the punk¡¯s incoming blow more out of reflex than skill and recovered. No one had probably expected this reaction, which was why he was now able to give the punk a few good blows and hurl him into a couple of dustbins in a frenzy. "Was that a trap?!"


    This annoyed question was directed at the previous victim, who cowardly backed away. "Hey. Be cool!"


    Ryan was about to attack the man when his instincts warned him and he turned in a flash! The woman was back on her feet and he swung his fist, but a hardened blood shield formed against his attack and he hammered unsuccessfully against the barrier before it burst forward as a liquid wave!


    The lost balance was more than enough for the woman and she formed her right hand into claws with which she ploughed across the man¡¯s face, sending him to the ground!


    The pain was bearable, but Ryan felt his face must be pretty torn up and he barely stirred due to exhaustion.


    "I told you to be careful with children," the woman complained, standing over the prone man. "Those impulse attacks are dangerous when they haven¡¯t got a clue yet."


    Pissed off, the punk climbed out from between the barrels. "You were the first to get it, weren¡¯t you?"


    "Because I relied on your cover!" the woman countered, searching Ryan again but finding nothing. "Dammit! The blood knight must have something!"


    "Figures," the punk complained. Chains rustled in the alley, which made him look around, but there was nothing to be seen. "Then kill the child so we-!"


    All of a sudden an ear-numbing sound banged through the alley, as if thunder had rumbled!


    The punk took a bullet in the shoulder with such ferocious force that it knocked him back! What¡¯s more, it wasn¡¯t just a hole in his flesh, it was a crater!


    Gordon was on the spot and aimed a powerful pistol at the punker! The next shot shredded his eye socket and the third turned him into glowing ash! "Don¡¯t move!" the private eye warned the woman, taking one hand off the pistol grip.


    "Lapdog!" the woman grinned confidently and disappeared.


    Then Gordon straightened the arm of his free hand and a blade sprang out, with which he thrust absurdly fast.


    The woman appeared before him as if from nowhere, only to have the steel pierced through her neck. "Nrghr!" she gurgled bloodily.


    His aim was stuck and despite supernatural vampire strength, he couldn¡¯t tear himself away from the detective, so all he needed was a loose shot that incinerated her too.


    "Son of a bitch!" the last of the raiding party yelled, pulling a light submachine gun from his inside jacket pocket.


    One-handed, Gordon shot his entire gun hand off and marched over to his sidekick. "You all right, kid?" he inquired without taking the gun from the squirming man who had been shot.


    "Two minutes sooner would have been really cool," Ryan groaned groggily, rubbing his mauled face.


    "Yeah, I had to wait," Gordon admitted. Apparently this was what he had wanted. "They¡¯ve been following us for a while and it had to look convincing that you were just alone."


    "... Then an ambulance for once, please."


    "Oh shucks, it will be in a few minutes," Gordon assured his prot¨¦g¨¦, patting him on the back. Then he walked over to the wailing hanless man and braced his foot on his chest. "So you fuckers! What did you want from us!"


    The stricken man had tears in his eyes and held the bleeding stump of his hand. "It hurts so much!"


    "I can help with that!" said Gordon, pistol-whipping the man in the face. "Is the new pain distracting?!"


    "NO!"


    "Too bad!" the private eye shrugged his shoulder and pressed the barrel of his pistol against the wounded man¡¯s cheek. "I¡¯m not going to take my time! Who are you working for?!"


    Pain and terror made the obvious non-vampire sing like a bird. "The apostles man! The fucking apostles!"


    "DON¡¯T STOP!"


    "PLEASE! IT HURT''S SO MUCH! A DOCTOR, PLEASE!"


    "Last warning or i¡¯ll shoot your balls off!"


    The strength left the wounded man, which is why he spoke more softly. "I don¡¯t know after all! I was supposed to keep an eye on the child and after I, nrgh! Saw you go into the loft and sent word, the apostles literally freaked out! That¡¯s all I know, I swear!"


    "Yeah, sounds like apostles. Now all pain be forgotten," Gordon preached calmly and another blow was enough to kill the spy.


    Ryan¡¯s face burned and throbbed, but with his fingers he felt his skin receding. "So ... I was the bait?"


    "Not at first," Gordon replied, searching the dead man from whom he casually swiped all cash and wallet "Since we were out tonight, I had thought someone was following us. However, I didn¡¯t really spot these scumbags until after we left the loft."


    "Convincing all well and good, but a warning ... oh forget it, what are you doing there anyway?"


    "He doesn¡¯t need his money anymore and robberies happen in these alleys."


    "Where you get your hand shot off ..."


    "This is Great Kingston," Gordon elaborated old-fashionedly and put his pistol away, collecting the fired casings. "I mean, we¡¯re chasing a murderer who makes mincemeat out of people. What¡¯s a lost hand in that?"


    "No hand."


    "That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying, now let¡¯s get out of here before the finest are on the move."


    Ryan¡¯s face began to heal properly without him having to do anything about it. "What kind of super gun is that anyway? And how did you manage that vampire? You were so fast I didn¡¯t see you again."


    "I can tell you¡¯re about to feel better," Gordon smirked wryly. Three murders? Probably a cinch for an agent of the Tenebrae, who got back in the car with his aide. "Special order. Explosive rounds and I have good reflexes, thanks to vampire blood."


    "Vampire blood? How?" asked Ryan as a delightfully delicious smell hit his nose. "You really did?"


    "Fresh and thick topped," Gordon grinned, reaching into the bag sitting in the footwell in front of him. "A Baconator."


    For the first time in days, Ryan felt an immense hunger pang and, without manners or restraint, bit into that delicious sandwich again and again!


    "And yes, I drink a bag of vampire blood every few weeks. It makes people stronger, faster and keeps us young," the private eye explained as he drove off. "Immortal or eternal life doesn¡¯t exist for us, but I¡¯m already 80 years old and could reach about 250."


    That sounded interesting, but then Ryan didn¡¯t care, now that he could send his more sensitive taste buds on a fantastic journey and enjoy the reward of his exertions.


    Gordon looked very pleased as he watched his prot¨¦g¨¦ eat. "But one thing¡¯s for sure - if the Apostles are interested in this case, there¡¯s a whole lot more to it and we¡¯re now even deeper in the shit than before. Let me see if I can organise some reinforcements for us from the Tenebrae."

 Percival - 2

    Pomp, ostentation, grandeur. Vampires with power almost always flaunted it. At least Percival had never known it any other way and had only heard from his master that the very fewest, great vampires lived in humility or solitude. ¡°A whole day,¡± he sighed, escorting his teacher down the awe-inspiring corridor. It was not only with buildings and material things that vampires showed their power. His master was supposed to have auditioned yesterday, but they had been kept waiting. ¡°Disrespectful.¡±


    "Rude would be my choice of words, my dear Percival," Saxton opined. There was no deep disgruntlement evident in him. It was rather disappointment, which took nothing of the necromancer¡¯s British aristocracy. "Or a misunderstanding. I will clarify those details with Lady Gardner."


    "Of course, Master," Percival said. He was actually in a small glass skyscraper, but the interior of the building was designed to prevent any natural sunlight from entering. "But you can count on me. Your 12 o¡¯clock tea will be ready. Which one would you like today?"


    "After the strain of the interview, I feel like mild. Lady Gray, but with a slice of orange. No lemon."


    "Of course, Master," Percival acknowledged, looking at the mountain of woman coming towards him.


    It was Dalia, one of Lady Gardner¡¯s closest confidants and who was physically a true image of a warrior, a Valkyrie as one knew her from Norse mythology. All that was missing was the armour. "Mr Saxton," she greeted, without a bow or other gesture. "Lady Gardner is ready and I will take you to her."


    "Excellent, my dear," Saxton replied, tapping his top hat with his walking stick. "Percival, I will see you at teatime."


    Mutely, Percival nodded and watched as the six-foot-plus woman led his master on and he made his way to the cafeteria to fetch the necessary ingredients for Lady Gray tea.


    It was not the first time Percival had been to the main Tenebrae headquarters of Great Kingston. He knew his way around here to some extent and some knew him, though not as a magician. The majority of the 1000 or so employees of this insurance agency were human, but only a few dozen executives were familiar with the creatures of the night.


    The cafeteria was hardly busy at the moment, however, which was why Percival got everything he needed for tea quickly. "Thank you very much," he said to the waitress.


    "I hope it is to Mr Allister¡¯s liking," smiled the man behind the counter.


    With his tray full, Percival made his way back to his master¡¯s room. Halfway there, he met Dalia again. "Dalia, is the meeting already over?"


    "No," the warrior replied curtly.


    "I would have been surprised," Percival commented. Not that he was keen on small talk with her, for he knew rumours that the vampire Amazon was not too fond of mages, but respect and courtesy were now part of Saxton¡¯s teachings. "I¡¯m sure this sorry misunderstanding will be cleared up."


    "With an acquittal for your master or my sword through his neck," Dalia posed calmly and rationally. "Possibility number two would save us a great deal."


    "Quite plausible, but it doesn¡¯t help us clear up this incident."


    "Clarification is only secondary now, as we have seen. The church or hunters have discovered you, your master and probably your entire enclave."


    Percival could not disagree with that. He had encountered and killed a single hunter in Great Kingston a few months ago, but this massive, if amateurish, attack, yesterday, was not a good sign. "At least the Tenebrae was able to cover up that incident, and a direct attack on our home, the hunters will not dare to do so easily."


    "They certainly won¡¯t do me that favour, I¡¯m afraid," Dalia murmured in disappointment, but one thing filled her eyes with amusement. "But at least I can go hunting now. So many hunters and such a massive attack, that means there¡¯s a major base in Great Kingston or nearby."


    "Very likely," Percival agreed knowingly. Just like the Tenebrae or mages of any kind, part of the Church and an order called the Ultima Bellator were hiding in plain sight. "The suspicion had been there for a long time anyway."


    Seemingly tired of the conversation, Dalia responded accordingly, "Why are you boring me with this political chatter?"


    "We are on the same side and I assumed we were conducting a polite exchange."


    "Polite is not tearing your heart out," Dalia said plumply, clenching her mighty fist. "And if you think ours is the same side, you¡¯re an even more naive turd than I assumed."


    "The vampires accept us for what we are," Percival retorted impassively. Of course, he was not as na?ve as the woman probably thought of him, for the vampires profited from black magicians, as did those of the Tenebrae. "The Coven of Merlin does not. That is enough for me to be on the same side."


    Dalia¡¯s lips formed a deprecating smirk. "We will see how things stand when your Master¡¯s meeting is over, and now get out of my way."


    Percival said nothing in response and made way for the woman. No, he did not fear for the life of Saxton or his enclave. Especially not now that there seemed to be a larger group of hunters in town, for the Bellator, or Church, also had mages in their employ and mages, no matter what arts they practised, were respected opponents among the vampires and were best fought by other mages.


    After taking the tray of ingredients to Saxton¡¯s room, Percival entered his next door. Aimed at vampires, he had no windows here, unfortunately, and anyway he was sure he had at least left the lamps on the writing table and night table on. "Hello?" he murmured on a hunch, his finger on the overhead light switch.


    "Very good," a quiet, experienced male voice replied and the stranger drew attention to himself with footsteps. Turning on the large light, revealed the cloak-covered figure of Patriarch Stein. "Your instincts are as sharp as ever."


    "Patriarch Stein," Percival uttered in wonder and closed the door. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"


    "Excuse me for letting myself in, but I had to do a little rummaging first," Oskar revealed, revealing not only his hand under the cloak but also three listening devices, which he crushed. "Please, nevertheless, be so good as to shroud us in silence."


    "As you wish," Percival replied. If the patriarch wanted to speak to him under such circumstances, it had to be something important. Therefore, Percival formed an inconspicuous bubble in both hands, which he enlarged, enclosing himself and the vampire within it. It was another variation of the silent curse, except that only the two of them could understand their spoken words. "Seeing you here, I don¡¯t think this zombie business will have any serious consequences, either for you or Master Allister?"


    "I will discuss that with your Master, for it is his responsibility and I do not blame you for it," Oskar clarified. If there was one thing that could be said about him, it was that he always tried to be fair, but many mistook that for weakness. "But as a member of his enclave, which is in my territory, I naturally expect a certain obedience and with that comes duties as well."


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Your generosity in allowing us to live on your land we reciprocate, I reply, to that extent of course - what can I be of service with?"


    "The events of the last day - how do you feel about them?"


    Percival tried to gauge what exactly all fell under that question. "I¡¯m not up to speed on everything, in case more has happened. Are you talking about the zombies and the blood moon child?"


    The patriarch smirked. "Is the blood moon child really an event for you? Are you superstitious?"


    "The history of humans and vampires is full of mysteries and relevant events," Percival enumerated as a student of knowledge that didn¡¯t just involve magic. "At least I wouldn¡¯t call it nothing."


    "It is as important as how we measure it," Oskar said, and he put away his smirk as he swung his right arm up from under his cloak and folded it behind his back as he wandered. "I measure other events far more heavily, though. Do you know yet that the Apostles are in Great Kingston?"


    "What, how?" stumbled Percival. Not that the radical vampire group couldn¡¯t be here, but that it wasn¡¯t common knowledge worried him. "Are you sure?"


    "It¡¯s been set in stone since last night: Masterless Zombies, the Church or the Ultima Bellator, the Apostles, discord within the Tenebrae. If you are such an attentive student of history, you most certainly recognise the ingredients for a great conflict."


    "Conflict is even an understatement," Percival guessed. The Tenebrae had long been unchallenged in Great Kingston, but with all their mortal enemies on the doorstep, a brutal power struggle seemed inevitable. "So war is what you want to swear me to?"


    "First and foremost, I desire your temporary, permanent presence at my country estate, because I wish to have direct contact with your enclave, and I want you to serve as my intermediary."


    Considering Percival¡¯s incident with the zombies and what was on the horizon, this request was plausible and reasonable. "I will speak to my master, but I see no reason why he should refuse this request. In times of calamity, we must respond quickly, albeit cautiously."


    "Of course you must consult with your master," Oskar conceded to the mage, but his tone betrayed that there was a certain distance. "Nevertheless, once you are on my estate, you will consult with me as to what you will and will not say to your master."


    "That again seems illogical to me," Percival diplomatically challenged the statement. He was absolutely loyal to his teacher and he did not understand how he could serve as an intermediary if he was to keep secrets from his master. "Wouldn¡¯t that interfere with good coordination?"


    "It will, but I have good reasons for my defaults," Oskar asserted. That he had not been a friend of the Tenebrae since then, since the tragic death of his wife, was an open secret. However, he seemed to be absolutely suspicious, even if he expressed himself moderately. "Your master may be under my protection, but in the end it is the Tenebrae who rule Great Kingston. I simply do not want things I share with you to go through your master to Lady Gardner and others."


    "Lady Gardner," Percival murmured thoughtfully. It was not his business, but he wondered at the state of affairs. "You ask a great deal when you say I must not tell my master everything. Obedience may be one thing, but what about trust? Please show me your trust, Patriarch Stein. What about the zombies?"


    "Under normal circumstances there would have been an intense investigation, perhaps even charges against me," Oskar replied. He didn¡¯t seem to mind, however, if it had come to that. "However, since a war seems to be brewing, we cannot afford any squabbles, Lady Gardner said. This incident is classed as unfortunate but justifiable."


    Percival continued to remain thoughtful and sat down on a chair that was by the desk. "How good is your knowledge of necromancy, Patriarch?" he asked, still unsure if he should say so much.


    "As a vampire, necromancy is not possible for me," Oskar mentioned. That was no secret, of course, and even less did he seem to be a friend of the art. "Not much is known to me and I may realise the irony of my words because we vampires are considered undead, but undeath through this form of magic is unnatural. Life or death, that is what belongs in this world and as long as there is blood, we vampires live."


    "Well, I wasn¡¯t going for a philosophical exchange now, although I¡¯m sure it would be very interesting. So I am interested to know if you know what a necrotic bond is?"


    "The bond between the summoner and the summoned. I am aware of that. Why do you ask?"


    Percival clasped his hands together in front of his mouth thoughtfully. But he did so because he was reluctant to let the words leave his lips, as it might harm his master. Now, however, he had asked the question and he looked at Oskar as he waited and Percival could hardly avoid answering. "The runaway zombies ... we couldn¡¯t find you because the necrotic bond had dissolved."


    "Explain."


    "I should probably say dissolved," Percival revealed weightily. "That is - someone severed the bond with full intent. That¡¯s not something that can happen through carelessness or a fatal mistake, and for the zombies to break out ..."


    Oskar understood the gravity of this statement. "So you are saying that the zombies were deliberately released?"


    "Unfortunately, yes."


    "And who would be eligible for that?"


    "Anyone," Percival said, which of course included him. "The necrotic bond is the basis of all necromancy. Any student who has spent a few weeks with Master Allister should be able to do it."


    "And you can do that, just like that?" murmured Oskar indecisively, subtly throwing a guess into the room. "Can¡¯t the bond merely be dissolved by the one who summoned the undead?"


    "No," Percival shook his head and rubbed his temple. He was truly not comfortable with this situation. "Think of it as a little thread swirling around in your head. All those with magical affinity and knowledge of this field can pull it. Only time is of the essence. Depending on the strength of the binding and the target, it takes several minutes to cut the ribbon. In this case we are talking about plain zombies. There are two dozen freed in a few minutes."


    "This is most unpleasant and most distressing news you are entrusting me with," Oskar said, eyeing the black mage closely. He restrained himself as to whether he excluded him from the act. "But now you see what my secrecy is based on."


    "Are you suggesting that this was a work of the tenebrae?"


    "I am suggesting that too many things are happening in this city right now at once, and since this particular matter ultimately fell upon me, I am not merely suggesting - it is obvious that I am the target of an intention unknown to me."


    "It may be, though your daughter¡¯s work is her own-"


    "Not a word of it!" admonished Oskar, who had hitherto been tolerant, but on this subject it was clearly over.


    "Excuse me, Patriarch Stein," Percival bowed his head curtly. It all brought back his memories of Paris: the ignorance, the intrigue, the politics, something he had actually had enough of for years. "Yes, I can understand your desire for my discretion and ... in so far as you do not require me to betray my master, my discretion shall be yours."


    "I admire your loyalty to your master," Oskar acknowledged, impressed, and he clarified his point as he brought his right hand from his back and extended it "As long as Mr Allister has nothing to do with this zombie plight, or he does not otherwise act against me, I have no reason whatsoever to demand anything of the sort from you."


    Of course it was, even if Percival was reluctant to admit it to himself. His master was among the suspects, as was everyone in the enclave, and if that were true, the mage truly could not say how he would respond. "So be it, Patriarch Stein," Percival shook the outstretched hand. "And what exactly will await me on your estate?"


    "What do you mean?"


    Percival was already thinking two moves ahead and did not hide it. "You are a man of great experience. I have heard enough stories about you and much I am sure will be true," he said, and polite as he was, Percival was equally aware of his talents and reputation, which he did not downplay. "I am not likely to linger on your estate as a mere intermediary, for I would be too bad for that. What do you wish me to do?"


    Oskar felt caught and lifted one corner of his mouth. "Excellent, Mage Zivai," he addressed the student respectfully by his surname. Not even Saxton did that before and everyone always said Percival. "Yes, I have plans for you. I want you to teach my clan members. When we fight Hunters and Apostles, I¡¯m sure there will be enemy mages involved."


    "And you want me to give your children some tricks and tips on how to fight mages?"


    "That¡¯s what I had in mind and who knows," Oskar posited. "Perhaps I will teach you some secrets of blood magic in return. Is that of interest to you?"


    It was not one of Percival¡¯s fields, but vampires possessed another possibility that enticed him. "Not so far, but what is your knowledge of demonology?"


    "I myself stay as far away from hell as possible, but some of my children are quite knowledgeable in it. Is that of more interest to you?"


    "It would be, yes."


    With that, Oskar sealed the deal completely. "You see? This will be anything but a one-sided agreement."


    "I¡¯m already very excited, and now? What exactly are we going to tell my master?"


    "That I was in your room will be hard to conceal. You tell your master that we have discussed my request that you henceforth reside in my abode as mediator."


    "Do you think that is enough for my master? We have been talking for some time and Saxton is no fool."


    "I suspect he is being briefed on the Apostles by Lady Gardner as he talks," Oskar said, striding towards the door, but still turning to speak, he extended the courtesy of eye contact to the black mage. "Because I told her about it and the Tenebrae now knows about both: hunters and apostles. Tell him of my fears that war is likely to come to Great Kingston."


    "That should do it," Percival nodded. He was not entirely comfortable with it, but it was not his first unpleasant mission and he possessed the nerve for it. "But now I want to prepare the tea for my master. He hates it when tea is not ready or even insufficiently prepared."


    "British," Oskar merely smirked and left the room.

 Kayra - 3

    Kayra never imagined that a routine stakeout could turn into such a situation. Two nights ago, she had almost been forced to intervene and come to Ryan''s aid in an alley, but the child and his Blood Knight partner had handled the situation and taken out members of the Apostles. This was one of the reasons why their task had expanded: for one thing, Ryan had a passable protector at his side, and after the presence of the Apostles had become known in the city, the child and the private detective now had another vampire and a group of Blood Knights at their side. Because of this, and because Patriarch Stein felt it was more important, Kayra was now primarily to follow the trail of the Apostles.


    For this reason, as darkness fell, she stood opposite Fitzgerald''s Immortal Motor''s, one of the best and most sought-after garages in Great Kingston. Kayra had had her eye on Ryan''s attackers earlier that evening and had seen where they had parked their car. She thought the licence plate number would give her the best chance of following up the Apostles'' trail, since Gordon had killed all three attackers and Kayra had no other clues.


    The special thing about Fitzgerald''s workshop was that it opened late in the evening and closed towards morning. He always advertised this as a way for customers to get away from the stress of the day, because you could bring your car in the evening or pick it up in the morning, or vice versa, before the hustle and bustle of everyday life got going. In addition, a lot of work was still done here and although there were helping robots and similar apparatuses, master mechanics did a lot of the work themselves.


    It was quite a large site, on the edge of the city centre in an industrial estate, where you could get everything your heart desired. There were no less than ten garages, built row upon row as buildings and two of them were made for trucks, while a wide, fully-filled parking area offered space for parked vehicles.


    "Can you be helped?" one of the mechanics addressed the approaching woman.


    Unlike watching Ryan, Kayra couldn''t go unseen here and had less reason to. "Yes, I''d like to speak to Mr Fitzgerald, please."


    "You''re asking for something," the mechanic said, cleaning his oily hands with a cloth. "Do you have an appointment?"


    "I''m afraid not, as my trip here was short notice."


    "Phew, I can call through once, but the boss is often busy and has been tinkering with a new gimmick for weeks. Don''t expect anything," the mechanic said, putting his finger to the mouthpiece in his ear. "Marcus calling Rupert." Kayra, even with vampire hearing, could not understand what was being said by the counterpart of this conversation and merely heard the mechanic''s sentences. "I have a woman here, her name is ...?"


    "Kayra."


    "Kayra and she would like to speak to you ... why? Well it¡äs about ...?"


    Kayra underlined the following. "An urgent, private matter. He knows about it. We are in the same club."


    The statement about the club made Marcus'' eyebrows ripple like waves. "This is for your ears only, but it sounds pretty damn important and apparently you''re both in the same club. ''What? Yeah, I''ll send them over."


    "He''s free, I take it?"


    "I wonder, but yes," Marcus nodded and gestured across the car park, towards the obvious administration building on the site. "He''s in his own workshop. Once around the house and knock on the garage door at the back."


    "Thank you," Kayra smiled kindly and followed the directions. There was only one massive garage door at the back of the house, which could probably have withstood a rocket launcher, and Kayra knocked on the steel. The mass of metal started to move, but it went up just high enough for Kayra to slip under it, bending slightly.


    Inside, a lanky man, not even five foot seven, sat and flicked a switch that locked the gate again. "Same club, eh?" he asked. His shaggy grey hair and thick moustache gave him an Alber Einstein attitude, except the late theorist had not been bristling with oil and grease on his hands and face. Only when the man pulled up his goggles could clean, fair skin be seen.


    "Forgive me, it has been some years since we last met," Kayra said. Circumstances had been far more relaxed then, when she had retrieved an experimental machine from Rupert for her father that had been a combination of mechanics and blood magic. "I wasn''t sure if you remembered me."


    "Indeed! ... I forgot," Rupert teased, moving at a relatively leisurely pace and depositing a screwdriver on a well-stocked workbench. In general, he seemed in no hurry. "How have you been? How is old Stein?"


    "Patriarch Stein is enjoying good health," Kayra noted. She could see that the mechanic meant no harm. "Considering the circumstances of late."


    "Circumstances, what circumstances?"


    "You know. The death of his daughter Julia, executed by the Tenebrae for her crime."


    Rupert''s cluelessness did not seem feigned. "Oh really? What a loss!" he sighed regretfully, scratching his forehead during his long-winded recollections. "Stein loves his children, I always liked that about him. I remember the first time I met him in Frankfurt in 1867, when he had come to town for some of his children. Nasty times those were. Hunters were on the rise all over Europe and Frankfurt was one of their strongholds, ha! That''s right, that''s it!"


    "... Which is what?"


    "1867! It was old Stein who torched the Imperial Cathedral!" laughed Rupert heartily, patting his knee, but the laughter didn''t last long and the mechanic cleared his throat cautiously before recalling the patriarch''s power. "Two of his children unfortunately did not make it and were executed by the hunters. He became so enraged that he stormed St. Bartholomew''s Imperial Cathedral! He wiped out the entire mob and in the process set fire to what was then the city''s landmark."


    Yes, Kayra now remembered that incident again, and likewise the nature of the mechanic, for he could talk a lot: About trivial things, past things or about his work. He loved to rattle on, or as he called it, to pay attention to the details and to sound everything out in as much detail as possible, and as urgent as her request was, she knew it was best not to barge in on Rupert. "I was in Africa at the time and only heard about it later. Just hearing rumours of how Patriarch Stein unleashed his power in anger should admonish anyone to never challenge him without further ado."


    "Devastation, war, misery," Rupert sighed, walking carefully through the workshop, towards a large object covered by a tarpaulin. "Whenever someone tells me that technology makes it worse, I remember events like the cathedral fire. This world doesn''t need help to eradicate everything and everyone. It just needs raw, unbridled power born of everyone''s thoughts and hands and no machines warped to perversion of those intentions."


    Another such quality Kayra was aware of beforehand, however, and at which she allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction. Rupert was as close to humans in terms of humanity and concern as almost any vampire or the humans themselves. A true idealist who wanted to make the world a better place. "I too prefer peace and tranquillity. Nevertheless, violence is sometimes a means of necessity and we must not shy away from exercising it. Sometimes words are just not enough anymore."


    Rupert stroked the tarp, but there was no hint of what lay hidden beneath. "I have no orders from the old Stein and you and I haven''t seen each other for years," the inventor stated, looking over his shoulder. "That''s what brings you here, isn''t it? An act of violence?"


    "Probably," Kayra admitted. There was nothing to sugarcoat about that for her, but perhaps worse could be prevented. if she could track down the Apostles. "The Apostles have been spotted in Great Kingston. Even the church or Ultima Bellator or both and none of these factors, will be stopped by words - we must act!"


    "And what is my role in this?"


    "That of knowledge," Kayra pointed out, pulling her Black Pitch out from under the cloak she handed the man. "I have the number plates of a numbered car. If you tell me who owned the car, I might be able to find the Apostles before the destruction in Great Kingston can unfold in earnest."


    "Let me see," Rupert replied willingly. He looked at the number and sat down at the only terminal in the workshop. "Let''s see if I can find something in my contacts in town ... ... a 2020 Ford Eco. Yes, yes, the good stuff was sold by one of our partner used car dealers." As the mechanic continued to probe, he arched his lush eyebrows sceptically and the bright purple of his vampiric eyes, broke through the camouflaged facade of human brown. "You said this car belonged to the Apostles?"


    "At least Two used it for a pursuit," Kayra replied, moving closer. She was sure the man wouldn''t suspect her if she looked over his shoulder. "Why? What do you have?"


    "Something I don''t like," Rupert said significantly, tapping an address. "It''s registered to a small logistics company that works mainly at the big freight yard in the industrial part of the city. This company comes to us often with its trucks and is one of the businesses owned by Patriarch Forkner."


    "Forkner?", Kayra listened up and looked at the address suspiciously. Forkner and the Apostles? The man became a patriarch first, after all. Why would he do such a thing? "Are you telling me he''s working with the apostles?"


    "Not at all, my dear," Rupert denied methodically, folding his arms. "It''s a lead for you, but that doesn''t necessarily mean Forkner has anything to do with it. Maybe the car was stolen, although I can''t find any reports of that."


    "Of course it doesn''t have to mean anything, but it would be a very big coincidence if the Apostles were driving a car belonging to a company owned by Patriarch Forkner, of all people."


    "It does cast an uneasy light, no question," Rupert admitted, switching off the screen before pacing thoughtfully around the workshop, tidying up parts and tools. "But always remember that something doesn''t make sense until you have every part in the right place and to achieve that all theory is useless - you have to test it."


    The man spoke true words. Although Kayra''s mind was rattling right now, reasoning did her no good and she had to act. "I thank you for your help, Mr Fitzgerald," Kayra said hopefully. "If there is any chance of avoiding misery with your knowledge, I promise to do my utmost to do so."


    Rupert didn''t look back this time and seemed distracted with his work. Still, one could hear a slight hint of warmth in his words. "Oskar''s reason speaks from you. Please give my regards to the old Stein."


    "I will," Kayra squirmed, swinging her cloak around her. "I''m sure he''ll be glad to hear it. You have a good night, too."


    "To you, I hope, a good and peaceful night as well."


    Peace would certainly be hard to come by for Kayra tonight, though she welcomed it. Forkner, involved with the Apostles?, she pondered as they made their way to said freight yard. She felt it made more sense to visit the bustling workplace rather than the company itself. He is considered progressive, ambitious and a womaniser, but the apostles? No, Rupert is probably right. I need all the pieces.


    Not that Kayra knew much about such things, but the fact that all hell was breaking loose at the goods station at this time of night didn''t surprise her. Just now, when the traffic on the roads was manageable, the trucks and wagons rolled along like an assembly line, only with waiting time for unloading and loading. Light poles and spotlights shone at many points in the area, which could pass for its own district because of its size. Automation was the predominant working method, with self-contained cranes, robots and forklifts, but humans were still present. Not just supervisors and technicians, but the ordinary workers who, first and foremost, checked loads or controlled machines that did not operate autonomously.


    Metals, oil, cedar wood, chemicals, exhaust fumes, even sweat Kayra sorted out with her sensitive nose, but there was another scent she knew like no other and which alerted her - vampires and blood knights, and not in short supply. Yes, Rupert''s tip seemed spot on. Of course, it could have been Forkner''s people going about important business, but the crowd argued against it for Kayra.


    The smell was too present and led to a private area fenced in by wire mesh, with the glaring lights of the station making infiltration difficult and with vampires around, Kayra had to be all the more wary. The admittance cottage at the entrance then confirmed what her nose had spied. The human inside was a Blood Knight, but he was alone and not visibly armed, and the mounted cameras of the outside area did not cover every angle.


    To enter the compound, Kayra focused and let her purer instincts take over.


    It was part of the art of the Animus Helix, the ability to transform into a creature that required each user to be on a par with simple animals. Anyone who spent too long in this form or lost control of it, whether human or vampire, could lose themselves and be condemned to walk around forever as an animal.


    Kayra wasn''t afraid of that, though, as she shrank, her clothes fused with her skin, she grew shiny smooth black fur and took on the form of a graceful cat. She was familiar with this and had roamed around many a night as a cat for no particular reason. She found it gave a completely different perspective to look at the world through those yellow, appraising eyes.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Now, however, it was a means to an end for Kayra as she naturally leapt from rooftop to rooftop, down to the road and slipped through an otherwise far too small gap in the mesh at an unguarded part of the wire fence without any trouble. Heavy vibrations from a truck engine rumbled around the next corner as she froze with a cat hump and let the tractor go by before darting across the path and continuing to follow her nose. She hid between two bins and saw another group of blood knights, outfitted in orange high-visibility waistcoats, waiting at a loading dock, talking to each other or smoking cigarettes in the cool night air.


    From the door of the building, a vampire joined them. "The second truck has engine trouble," said the African-inspired man. "That means at least two hours of doing nothing is the order of the day."


    A smoker blew a thick cloud in the air in frustration. "Any word on Jack and Meryl yet?"


    "We sent someone to that private eye," the vampire grumbled, kicking away an empty can that flew into the sky. "He''s alive, the child''s alive, and a couple of Tenebrae agents are hanging out with them now. Jack and Meryl are probably ashes, and with the posse, the Tenebrae got alarmed."


    "And our spy?"


    "Expendable bunch," the vampire raised his shoulders impassively. "He probably got it the same way, but I''m not worried. He didn''t know where we were operating from, and if there was a trail to us, the Tenebrae would have moved in immediately with the cavalry to defend their pageantry jewel of a city."


    "But at least I guess they know we''re here now," the woman pointed out, flicking her cigarette butt off the ramp. "And there are too few of us here to start a fight."


    "We''re just the vanguard, too," the vampire noted, tapping significantly on the ramp''s garage door. "So don''t worry about that. Our job is just to send the canisters on their way."


    "For whatever ..."


    Convinced and stern, the vampire dismissed this statement. "You need not be interested in that either! You will see then how important our work was and you may enjoy the reward!"


    Reward was a more pleasant word to use as Kayra tried to make sense of the conversation. Important work? Sending canisters? I wonder if it''s about blood reserves? Yes, if the Apostles were going to invade Great Kingston and wage war, blood reserves were the most likely thing for Kayra. Not being tied to hunting fresh victims would be a major advantage in war.


    "They''ll probably wet their trousers," one of the blood knights laughed, walking towards the rubbish bins. "After thinning out the ninth circle a bit lately, the Tenebrae realises they¡äre not as powerful as they think they are."


    On silent paws, Kayra scurried away from the waste bins and climbed over a steel girder to the side of a hall where she could peer further down the loading dock while the Blood Knight blatantly pissed by the bins.


    The vampire in the cluster agreed. "So believe me when I tell you that the canisters are crucial to our plans in Great Kingston. Once they''re filled, we''re off."


    Relieved, the pisser pulled his fly back up. "And you say we will all be vampires?"


    "Do your work and reap eternity as your reward."


    Kayra heard nothing new, at least as far as wages were concerned. Many Blood Knights, whether Tenebrae, Apostle or otherwise, ultimately aspired to existence as a vampire. It was a tried and tested means of making loyal human followers compliant. Suddenly her ears rang and her fur stood up as she jumped backwards at the last moment!


    Spears of blood increasingly struck the roof and exploded, much like a grenade!


    This startled the troops at the loading bay. "What''s going on?!" shouted the dark-skinned vampire.


    Kayra dashed across the faintly raised sloping roof, towards the other side and got out of sight. "You''ve been watched! Get them!" she heard a new, high-pitched male voice shout. Steadfastly, she leapt from beam to beam and saw another Blood Knight coming down the street. Kayra leapt at her from above and transformed back into her original form in flight, grabbing the woman by the neck while she was still in the air and dragging her with her! Landing on her feet, the vampire dragged her victim across the ground so hard that the asphalt cracked open and a subsequent slingshot into the rock drove all life from the knightess!


    Quickly two more of the same sort were on the scene, firing machine guns at the intruder, but even with her enhanced senses and reflexes, she could not reef the agile vampire.


    When a third knight suddenly joined them from the side and ceased firing, he at least hit the vampire with his fists.


    The moment of surprise forced Kayra to be defensive, although she effortlessly blocked the blows with her arms.


    "And you''re a vampire?!" he asked, deceived by his offensive. "I''ll make ashes of you!"


    Abruptly, Kayra stopped in her tracks and let the next fist fly into her hand. Not moving an inch or a muscle before she broke the clutched fist along with her wrist, she purposefully shattered her opponent''s ribcage with a single blow of her flat hand, sending him flying across the street.


    Immediately the remaining blood knights opened fire again, but by then the intruder was throwing off his cloak cape and it wrapped tightly around one of the gunmen thanks to telekinesis to crush him!


    At the same time Kayra sprang forth with clawed hand formed and slit the throat of the free enemy. She then extended her left arm and called her cape back to her.


    "Peasants!" echoed from above. The high-pitched voice from before was in the form of a skinny man on the roof, cocking his hand to summon! "I''ve got more of those!"


    Cracking and bubbling told Kayra what was probably coming now as the dead blood knights welled up and two blood golems each sprouted from within them. They were not the strongest opponents for her, but as long as the summoner lived, these golems were indestructible and a distraction for Kayra.


    That on top of that the Apostle Vampire appeared with his ramp group in the back of the road made the situation extremely dangerous!


    Kayra tried to break out in front, past the blood golems and momentarily smashed the red dolls. However, a blood spear from above cut off her escape route and so she was confronted by the four apostles behind her. She easily dodged the knights'' punches and kicks and focused entirely on the vampire of the troupe, as he posed the greatest, immediate threat.


    Always the bloodsucker let his servants make a few attacks before he struck with sharp claws in a flash!


    The first few times Kayra was able to fend off these attempts, but it quickly became harder and she had to use the melee to her advantage. Before the vampire''s next swing, she let one of her chain loops slip from her sleeve in a backward step and caught the single knight''s hand with it. A slight tug from Kayra was enough and the woman flew past her, against the vampire!


    Cockily, the remaining knights attacked the target, but a second loop came out of the other sleeve and each received a chain to the face.


    Following this, Kayra continued to swing the chains and once again smashed some blood golems, but this was only a fleeting respite for her.


    The vampire on the roof now created spike traps under the lone fighter''s feet, a form of bomb that after a few seconds sent hard bone spikes shooting out of a pool of blood.


    On her arms and legs Kayra was grazed by the spikes and she was shot by the knight with a pistol, in the stomach and chest. They were injuries she was able to heal quickly, but she now found herself surrounded in a semicircle and with her back against a shadowy wall and all the enemies launching an attack attempt on her! Only a concentrated shockwave of Kayra''s telekinetic energy, could knock the ground group back once more.


    "Unruly," the skinny vampire on the roof admitted, seeing it more as a game. "That the Tenebrae should call such tough lapdogs their own surprises me! Still, this will not end in your favour!"


    "The empty promises of an apostle. Less surprising," Kayra opined, but she could hardly follow her preferred motto of restraint any longer to keep her true strength a secret. Besides, it was a sign that she had not carried out her mission well and that disappointed her. I must muster far more, she thought as her opponents scrambled for the next attempt. In the midst of this heated battle, however, she suddenly clearly felt a familiar warmth in the shadows and she braced herself!


    This time the golems charged forward first and the knights now used all their firearms so they could cover the vampire of their group.


    Kayra fell back as far as she could and fought off the golems, but several bullets hit her in the process. She also felt the vampire''s claws this time as his talons ran across her chest, tearing fabric and flesh. However, that had been her intention! She grabbed the vampire in the momentum of his attack and threw him against the shadowy wall behind her.


    The apostle bared his fangs and was bristling with raw muscle when he suddenly froze with a gasp!


    A shadowy arm had pierced him from behind, at the point of the heart that said hand now held still beating in its grip before crushing it and retreating again.


    The badly wounded vampire slumped to his knees and at his previous head level, a pair of poison green glowing eyes now came into view in the darkness. "Iron Maiden of Palestine," greeted the Juda''Aerith of a few nights ago, finally sweeping the heartless apostle away as a cloud of ash.


    Kayra nodded curtly. She did not know the scout''s name, nor was there time for conversation. Instead, she stretched her head towards the roof and jumped up!


    Unsure of the turn the situation had taken, and despite newly arrived reinforcements of more blood knights, the apostles fired their weapons in panic at the shadows around the pair of eyes.


    It was a completely fruitless endeavour, which the Juda''Aerith smiled at. "Ah, your first encounter with a Maledictus," the stranger gloated macabrely. "And your last."


    From this threat, the shadow from the house spread out into the street like spilled water, but it was far more than that!


    The blood knights'' feet seeped into the darkness as if it were deep mud and black tentacles swung out of the ground. They lashed their victims and snaked around their bodies, dragging them agonisingly slowly into the ground.


    It was far more hasty over everyone''s heads!


    Kayra didn''t quite make it to the roof as the blood mage blocked her blow with a blood shield and threw her back into the air!


    Power filled, the vampire now let himself go and extended his right palm, on which a stabbing flame formed! This was infernal magic, in the form of unholy fire.


    Quickly, Kayra transformed into a white owl and soared higher with hasty wing beats to avoid the deadly flamethrower that followed her. She quickly gained distance and made a wide turn, transforming back. Now she brought out her right chain loop enough to untie the knotted, pointed and barbed end piece on the loop and hurled it powerfully towards the apostle!


    The flamethrower still jerked his attack in that direction, but the metal of the chain penetrated unchallenged through the fire and pierced his hand! The impact broke his concentration and the flames and with a firm jerk the linnet was pulled into the air by his adversary. In this pose he was defenceless and about to crash against the claws at the end of the chain. "Nice try!" he shouted, and simply yanked out his own forearm of the impaled hand.


    Kayra was now met only by the severed limb, and by the opponent''s magic, it suddenly became a small bomb. The arm was far too close when it exploded and its force thundered Kayra into the street.


    Half rising from his shadow, the Juda''Aerith drew a considerable revolver and each shot was like the piston stroke of a steam engine.


    Still in the air, the blood mage was an easy target and was hit four times by the brutal calibre, but that only angered him. His blood knights had almost sunk into the shadows, but he could still reach out to them and stole every drop of blood from their bodies with his powers. As a lush orb, the red gathered in front of the apostle''s remaining hand before he absorbed that power and he not only healed himself completely, but gained physical mass. Thanks to a magical whip, he also heaved himself back up to the higher roof.


    "Oh, one of this kind," the Juda''Aerith noted, lowering his revolver. "Your help would be welcome."


    Kayra pushed herself up from the ground and wiped at her arms. "He''s definitely not a layman and he''s ruthless," she said approvingly, though she didn''t quite approve of such an approach and she was now lifting all the debris with her telekinesis that had been created in the fight so far. "That''s why we need to take him out."


    "Agreed," the Juda''Aerith agreed, diving back into his shadows to move over the wall to the next roof.


    Meanwhile, between Kayra and the Blood Mage, a hail arose as she sent up all the debris and the Apostle generated pure energy and sent it down in the form of red light with his hands as a barrage.


    Like an arrow, the Juda''Aerith shot up right under the Apostle''s feet and wrapped itself around him at his waist, halfway dragging him into the shadows with it. However, the magic expert mixed a pool of blood into the darkness that spread over the Juda''?rith''s body. Affected, as it were, by their opponents, the men parted again and while the shadowwalker sank into the roof, the apostle made another decision. "This is but a foretaste of things to come!" he announced with conviction, and amidst the air, he created a flowing portal of blood that swallowed him and then himself.


    The battle was over and there was no sign of any more apostles. "Him I had not scouted before," the Juda''Aerith confessed. He had a relaxed, stooped posture and let his arms hang a little as he went down on one knee. "That means this must be really important if someone this strong is in it."


    Before Kayra even thought to discuss it, she jumped up onto the roof and bowed with one arm over her stomach. "Your help was most appreciated."


    "Nah, nah," the cursed vampire formed a grin through crooked teeth. "You''re not going to tell me that was all you? I''m sure you could have done it without me."


    "Probably, and yet I''m very much obliged for your intervention," Kayra replied. She had, after all, confidently threatened the man a few nights ago and, as an experienced spy, he was surely clever enough to sense her hidden strength. Still, of course, she didn''t admit it. "Which makes me all the more curious: why did you leave your shadows?"


    "The opportunity was too convenient," the Juda''Aerith casually raised his arms. "And passive interaction may be my doing, but I need some exercise now and then. If I can weaken the apostles in the process, I call that double profit."


    "The only question that remains is what exactly were they doing here? They were talking about some canisters."


    "Oh yes," the stranger pointed out with a pointing finger. Unlike last time, he seemed far more open today. "I was here some time before you. Fortunately, I didn''t have to hold a tea party with the chatterbox."


    "Because all you had to do was follow me?"


    "Not at all, how would I have got here before you?" the vampire asked in amusement, his legs kicking up into the shadows as he walked, as if there were a staircase there. "I had already taken down the numbers from the car plate when you followed the kid into the alley. The next night I broke into Fitzgerald''s garage and went to this place today."


    The scout hadn''t exaggerated anything and had been careful the last few nights. He had Kayra ahead of him on that. "Are those canisters in the warehouse on the other side?" she asked, climbing to the highest point of the roof to look down.


    After that brutal fight, it had become surprisingly quiet. The lights of approaching security vehicles flashed in the distance, but the private compound now seemed to have been cleared.


    "One part," the Juda''Aerith said, while still merely standing with his upper body sticking out of the shadows. "The other left with the truck from earlier. Actually, I wanted to pursue him, but I had hoped for more from spying further on the compound and eavesdropping on the apostles. I guess that was a mistake."


    "Why?"


    "Well you were eavesdropping on the conversation at the camp," the vampire mentioned and sank back into the darkness altogether. "At most, the vampires knew what exactly was going on here. I couldn''t get a hold of any of them, nor did I find any other clues. All that''s left are the canisters."


    "Then I''d better hurry up and take a look at those canisters," Kayra said, as the security forces announced themselves more clearly with each passing moment. "But apparently we''re following the same trail - how do you feel about working together?"


    "That could lead to complications," the spy regretted, moving noticeably down the facade. "That''s not a no, but for now things must be as they are."


    Kayra had made this suggestion more out of tactics than trust, but there was one thing she would not miss. "Then please at least give me a name so I know who helped me. Besides, I don''t like not being able to address you properly."


    "With many others I would take that as a feint," the stranger laughed unconcernedly before thinking aloud. "Mhhh, mhh. I''m Billy."


    "No you''re not," Kayra surmised and she saw the streets once again become covered with more shadows and those knights she had killed earlier were swallowed by the flowing ground as if it were quicksand.


    Apparently Billy was removing the traces of the conflict, in keeping with the vampire laws, and he was having his fun. "But I always wanted to be a Billy. The little Billy next door, the little rapscallion with mischief on his mind."


    "If you want to be Billy, then you''re Billy to me."


    "Yes, but little Billy has to go now. Quiet nights, Daughter of Stein," Billy''s voice faded and the shadows rested again.


    Kayra was sure of it. "Until our next meeting."

 Samantha - 4

    She never thought she would, but here Samantha was, truly carving a wooden sculpture in the most beautiful sunshine, albeit with a very fresh wind. She transformed her hobby skills as a carpenter into the wooden likeness of a Roman-looking, scantily clad female figure standing as a statue in the middle of a frozen fountain in Stein¡¯s gigantic garden.... At this time of year much lay fallow, but hedges of slender conifers provided colour despite the winter and there were several conservatories, sheltered by glass and warm temperature, where plants, shrubs and flowers grew and bloomed in all their variety of colour.


    What perhaps did not quite fit into this peaceful yet symbiotic picture of snow and greenery was a certain ghoul. Motionless and somewhat impassive, Raug remained on a hill, unimpressed by the snow and cold. It was not that he kept a constant eye on the guest, but simply watched her carve.


    Samantha wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with him, but at least she had gotten used to him in the last few days, and if she put aside how scary he seemed and that he could crush a whole zombie horde with one finger, she had to admit that he was relatively docile and helpful. He had carried the necessary utensils and the thick log Samantha was whittling away at here for her. "Raug likes your artwork."


    "Eh, thank you ... Raug," Samantha smiled genially, but the ghoul certainly didn¡¯t recognise it. She herself looked at her far-advanced work self-critically, but she too was relatively pleased.


    "You have talent," a voice admired. Despite the noon hour and unbridled sun in the sky, an observer stood low in the twilight of the fully covered archway that belonged to an outbuilding of the estate. It was Patriarch Stein, whom no sunlight reached, but the brightness penetrated at least a few feet into the shadowy corridor, giving the cloaked vampire a mysterious aura in which his yellow eyes stood out especially. "Is art your passion, besides law?"


    "Sometimes I paint and make creative gifts, but I am carving for the very first time."


    "A hidden talent, I see."


    "Well, ask Raug how many trunks this is," Samantha admitted frankly, pressing the knife into the lower, unused part of the sculpture.


    The ghoul nodded. "Raug has already fetched five logs."


    "Yes, thank you for that Raug," Samantha said politely and walked to the corridor. She had on winter-proof clothes, but near the brickwork it was less draughty. "Who does the statue actually represent? Is it a Roman goddess or any ancient celebrity at all?"


    For some reason, this question brought an unusually warm smile to Oskar¡¯s lips. "A goddess, indeed," he revealed, closing his eyes reminiscently. "The only one for me, then, as now and forever. This is my late wife Artemisia."


    "Oh, my condolences," Samantha professed, looking to the side a little ashamed. "If my sculpture is inappropriate, I will remove it immediately."


    "There¡¯s no need for that," Oskar denied, looking at the art in all its glory and possibility. "You have combined life and death in your work. There are not many who consider the grave of the deceased as a source of inspiration.""


    "What do you mean, grave?" asked Samantha awkwardly, glancing at the fountain. "This is ... a grave?"


    "I didn¡¯t think you knew that," Oskar replied, drawing attention to a marbled plaque on the edge, embellished with gold plates. "It says everything you need to know. In every cardinal direction there is this inscription."


    Samantha had seen the plaque before but had not bothered to read it until now. "I really didn¡¯t mean to be irreverent."


    "You weren¡¯t and I¡¯m glad you breathed a little life into my Artemisia for a brief moment."


    "Thank you and if I may ask, was she also a ...?"


    "I met her in Rome in 1356," Oskar told me, taking a seat on a comfortable wooden bench in the corridor. "She didn¡¯t know what I was at first, but her passion for botany was infectious and pure romance, and clever to boot. She noticed that we always met at night and I trusted her so much that I revealed my nature to her and ... she accepted it, with heart and mind, without an ounce of fear. Rarely do people react like that when a vampire reveals themselves."


    Dryly, Samantha looked to Raug. "Or when a ghoul marauds roaring in the night forest."


    The ghoul didn¡¯t mind and Oskar laughed. "Well Raug didn¡¯t exist at the time, so fortunately that wasn¡¯t an option and because of your question, yes, but not right away. We spent almost eight years as husband and wife before she asked me."


    "You can do that with vampires?" inquired Samantha in amazement.


    "Love knows no bounds and there are no laws against it, although I must mention that it was extremely frowned upon back then in particular and it was a popular gossip topic for centuries, but what did I care? I had my dear Artemisia and after she became a vampire, eternity was open to us. I couldn¡¯t imagine or wish for anything more beautiful."


    Samantha wasn¡¯t sure if it was proper to ask that, but she tentatively ventured. "If you don¡¯t mind me asking ... how is she ...?"


    Even in this twilight, you could clearly see the vampire¡¯s facial muscles contort in bitter annoyance and at first it seemed he didn¡¯t want to answer that. "My loyalty to the Tenebrae cost her her live," Oskar sighed, though it remained questionable why he was going into detail to a stranger. "We vampires had stolen from the Church one of its most precious artefacts - the very first Bible that ever existed and that caused everything and everyone who opposed the vampire world to recover that artefact at all costs."


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The church was a place of faith and the Bible was sacred and the very first of its kind to boot, but Samantha couldn¡¯t see how a single book could mobilise such powers. "I mean, I guess it doesn¡¯t get much holier than that, but why go to all that trouble for an object of symbolism, no matter how important it is?"


    "Oh my dear, it¡¯s not just a book," Oskar said weightily. His words, and coming from a dyed-in-the-wool vampire, sounded like a myth. "The first Bible in this world came from heaven itself. Not only does it have a spiritual power beyond compare, but it is also the link between heaven and earth. Call it a connection, for all I care, through which heavenly powers can enter and leave this world or give their orders."


    Samantha certainly meant no disrespect where Artemisia¡¯s death was concerned, but Heaven? THE heavens? "So you¡¯re telling me that ... angels, Jesus ... God? This is all real? Really and truly?!"


    "Plainly put, yes," Oskar asserted without flinching. "As there is heaven, so there is hell. There is so much more in and around this world that you know or suspect nothing about."


    "And how exactly did you and your wife get involved there?"


    "My connections were requested in order to keep an object of the highest importance safe," Oskar recounted with self-loathing. "The Tenebrae said it was extremely important and was being hunted for, but I ... had I known what it was, my loyalty would have ended there and then. Instead, I trusted and prepared for a tough fight, but what was to come was beyond tough. For me, it was judgement day and just as I lost my wife, many of my clan found death."


    Thoughtful, Samantha held back. She didn¡¯t want to inquire further and had probably opened up an old wound.


    However, another voice also joined in the story. "Raug has failed," came dejectedly from the ghoul.


    "Yes Raug ... we both did," Oskar admitted, but for a moment he looked resentfully at the plain servant. Then Oskar rose from the bench and sent the ghoul away, moving his hand as if to blur the servant¡¯s thoughts. "Find a quiet place and rest. Let the past fade away."


    "Raug forgets. Raug rests," the ghoul nodded and stomped away.


    "Is he sleeping at all?" wondered Samantha, checking.


    "Not really," Oskar shook his head and turned away, so that for the first time he did not look at his guest as he spoke and felt indulgence. "But he is what he is because of what happened back then."


    "Did he die in that fight?" asked Samantha, not quite understanding where the ghoul had failed. "Is that how he became Raug?"


    "Before he became a ghoul, he was my most loyal blood knight," Oskar recalled wistfully, looking up at the ceiling. "Few people have I trusted so much, and he was human. He was supposed to keep Artemisia safe, but ..." The vampire, so eloquent and steadfast until now, came to a point of disappointment. "No, it was not his fault. He fought off many powerful enemies, but in the end it was too much. I don¡¯t blame him ... at least I try not to."


    "That¡¯s why you both failed," Samantha realised, combining razor-sharp connections. "That¡¯s the reason, isn¡¯t it! Raug¡¯s dying wish! You said he wanted that gruesome fate of a ghoul! He wanted it because he couldn¡¯t protect your wife?"


    "...Yes," Oskar breathed, but he slowly tried to get away from those memories. "But like Raug, let¡¯s let bygones be bygones again. Instead, let¡¯s talk about the future." It was clear that further elaboration on this tragic subject was not desired, but at least Oskar sought eye contact again.


    "I guess it¡¯s time for me to make my decision isn¡¯t it?" surmised Samantha. She hadn¡¯t seen the patriarch in the last few days and Emily had told her that he had important business to attend to and apparently there might be some great calamity soon. That he was now making time for Samantha had to mean something.


    "Well, certainly you could do more thinking," Oskar conceded to the woman, opening his cloak enough to fold his arms behind his back in a tight officer¡¯s stance. "But a feeling tells me that you have made your choice."


    That the patriarch hid his hands didn¡¯t worry Samantha. She trusted the vampire at least insofar as he wasn¡¯t preparing words that might displease him. "The last few days have been crazy, to put it kindly," she opined. She had definitely talked to some of Oskar¡¯s children and learned a few things about the society of the night. "I¡¯ve really been thinking hard and getting to know some of your family members and Emily has spoken highly of you. I really think I could do a lot of good with your help, more than I could before."


    Despite the patriarch¡¯s stony countenance, one could read Oskar¡¯s patience and interest. His guest¡¯s praise and outlook even made him smile briefly, but the Klan leader was not deceived by it. "I see it in your eyes," he said sympathetically. "You would only too gladly accept my offer, but you won¡¯t."


    Politely, Samantha shook her head. "No, I won¡¯t. I¡¯m really sorry."


    "There¡¯s nothing to apologise for," Oskar replied, approaching his guest. Friendly, he extended his right palm to her. "I regard you as a gifted and extremely intelligent woman, aware of the possible consequences, and yet you remain true to yourself, despite the overwhelming benefits of my offer. Such integrity is not found every day and I sincerely admire that. You are one of the better specimens of the human species."


    "I¡¯m about to blush and not many have managed that," Samantha admitted sheepishly, but she allowed no doubts about her drive. "I don¡¯t suppose I can get the next taxi back to town, though?"


    "That would be most odd," Oskar agreed, seeming to have prepared himself for a refusal. "We kept your tattered uniform and left it as it was. Put it on, get dirty and Raug will take you back to the forest. What explanation you have for your disappearance and what happened when you return, I will leave to you. To say it will be hard for you, however, would be a vast understatement on my part. Even if the Tenebrae leaves you in peace, I fear you will regret your choice."


    Indecisively, Samantha eyed the man who had earlier spoken of integrity. "This is not an attempt to convince me with fear, is it?"


    "No, it is simply my feeling and experience," Oskar said in all his wisdom and even without words, his eyes would have spoken clarity. This was not the first time he had experienced such a situation. "Ages may change, but many stories repeat themselves in some ways, with marginally different details and yours is not the first time I have taken part in it. Almost always, that path ends in doom."


    "Then that¡¯s just more incentive for me. I have no intention of repeating the lives of others."


    "I¡¯ll keep a close eye on it, as long as you don¡¯t mind."


    Samantha pretended to be calm. "It¡¯s your life, so you can do what you want with it," she smirked saucily. "Besides, I couldn¡¯t stop you, whether I¡¯m for it or against it."


    Like a true gentleman, Oskar at least left open the illusion of a possibility. "Hardly you could, but nothing is impossible. Personally, I hope your story will broaden my experience into a positive one, but I think we should now prepare everything for your departure."


    "Get me dirty you mean," Samantha laughed at herself. "I suppose that¡¯s the price I gladly pay for all the comfort and your hospitality. Thank you so much, Patriarch Stein."


    Oskar bowed politely. "The honour and pleasure was all mine, Police Officer Rockford."

 Ryan - 5

    Ryan sat at the laptop in his flat and went through a copy of Brad Sedrik¡¯s data again. He didn¡¯t have Gordon¡¯s talents as an investigator, but at least he was distracting himself, because the last few days had been rather monotonous and that despite the fact that there was a huge smell of trouble. Ryan and Gordon had long since been assisted by three vampires who were supposed to serve as additional protection. However, Gordon had been besieging his detective agency for several days, feverishly searching for clues and calling in favours, which was precisely why there was nothing for Ryan to do. "No use," he sighed, slumping back in his chair. "There¡¯s nothing notable in the chat histories or in his money transactions, apart from all the screwing with the prostitutes ... well, at least he died busy" No, Ryan was thinking about sex again! For reasons unknown to him, he had been unusually voluptuous the last few days and he had no idea why. He had never felt this extreme form as a human, but he hadn¡¯t been keen to ask a vampire about it either. "I¡¯d so like to do it again sometime ..."


    A shallow knock went against the flat door. "There¡¯s Mr. Invisible," greeted neighbour Melissa after the door opened. "Or should I say Mr. Unattainable?"


    "Hello Melissa," Ryan raised his hand and rubbed his cheek in embarrassment. "How do I get all these titles?"


    "Well, because you¡¯re just never found!" said the now open-heartedly dressed woman. At least her top didn¡¯t leave much to the imagination and she stepped in unbidden.


    "Um, yeah, ehm, work¡¯s stressful right now," Ryan bristled, glancing at the woman¡¯s bottom as she passed him. "Do you need any help then, or why the search for me?"


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Melissa replied, innocently folding her arms behind her back. So far she and Ryan had had a few chats but that was all it had been and yet today the woman seemed unusually brash. "Help, help. No, this is a casual visit."


    "Well then I can," Ryan stopped halfway through his sentence. He wanted to offer a coffee, but he didn¡¯t have anything in the fridge except for the blood supplies, which he still hadn¡¯t touched until now. "I mean, I forgot to go shopping and I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t offer anything."


    "That¡¯s all right," Melissa smiled strangely warmly, an offensive appeal entering her voice. "I have a different ... appetite today anyway."


    "Huh?", Ryan merely managed to get out as his neighbour also snuggled up to him and he took a few steps back only to be stopped by the wall and trapped between that and the woman. "Ehm, why so suddenly? We hardly know each other!"


    Melissa¡¯s body was delicate but not fragile and soft in all the right places. "Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s a reason to stop now."


    Ryan didn¡¯t understand anything anymore. "Not that, I mean, what¡¯s happening right now?" he wondered, but by God, he had his hands on her waist faster than he realised.


    "Just let yourself be carried away," Melissa breathed up. She was quite a bit smaller than the man, but it was enough to gently push him down with her arms wrapped around his head.


    Just let herself be carried away?! That¡¯s exactly what Ryan was doing now! He wanted her desperately and no longer asked why. Even as a human he had done this, but as a vampire the woman weighed nothing to him as he lifted her and carried her into his bedroom.


    The fact that her shirt was rudely ripped open pleased Melissa. "So you¡¯re that kind," she whooped in anticipation as her welcoming pair of breasts, encased in a black sheer bra, were freed. "I like it. Please, I need it."


    "Melissa," Ryan pressed out from between his lips hotly, ready as his unbridled lust erupted and his mouth sped to hers.


    "Hey, idiot!" a voice interfered in the act.


    Abruptly, Ryan topped and looked around hastily. "What?!" he huffed. Who the hell was here! It certainly wasn¡¯t Melissa anymore, as Ryan¡¯s bed was suddenly empty. "Where is she?!"


    "Wake up!" the voice demanded.


    A good smack on Ryan¡¯s cheek jerked him back to his laptop, where he was still sitting. "Melissa?!" he breathed frantically, with no sign of the woman.


    No, she was not in the flat, but there was a man standing near the desk instead. "I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m the one getting the newbie," Mato sighed and ran his hand over his half bald head. He had it of his own free will, though, as he had shaved his head and only braided the back, pitch-black hair into a plait, in keeping with the custom of his Indian roots. "We need to talk."


    "That sounds like my last girlfriend ... and after that she wasn¡¯t."


    "Chicks, huh?"


    "Any way you look at it. I broke up with her."


    "Yeah, that¡¯s not how it¡¯s going to be with us, I¡¯m afraid," Mato clarified, crossing his steel arms. He had explained to Ryan that his name meant something like bear and that was what he was! A bear of a man or rather a vampire! He stood a proud six feet tall and everything about him was muscle. "Still haven¡¯t had any blood?"


    Ryan rolled his eyes. "I told you, I dont need-"


    "Bullshit!" interrupted Mato. Despite his sternness, he wasn¡¯t being rude. "Even a blind man could tell by looking at you, not to mention the smell."


    "And what do I smell of?"


    "Stress, very penetrating stress," Mato said, reaching for Ryan¡¯s arm. The latter tried everything to resist, but Mato¡¯s physical strength made him look like a flyweight that the Indian vampire thundered against the kitchen table. "And sadly, I was looking at your pants."


    "My pants?"; Ryan asked, trying to break free, but not having the slightest chance before looking down and noticing his own arousal. "So what!!! What about it!!! Do you fancy me or what?!"


    It was curious that although Mato¡¯s strength was completely superior, the wooden desk beneath them neither shook nor broke, when Ryan had used his own strength to give Gordon¡¯s desk a good dent. "Shut up and listen to me," Mato demanded, staring into his counterpart¡¯s eyes. He jerked again before he stopped struggling and the big vampire let go. "I¡¯ve seen this often enough. Especially vampires who have been turned unintentionally loathe blood or think they don¡¯t need it because they don¡¯t feel hunger at first or the side effects of lack. An experienced vampire can get away with this for a while, but you? The longer you¡¯re abstinent, the more of a time bomb you become, and I¡¯m not playing into that."


    Incredulous, Ryan pursed his lips into a smirk as he guessed the side effect. "Are you telling me my lust is a bad thing?"


    "In that case, yes, although it seems positive, but quite the opposite," Mato grumbled, yanking open the fridge door. He retrieved one of the blood bags from the cooler there and tossed it on the table to add to this involuntary bee lesson. "It¡¯s just a useless substitute. Your body is looking for the next best thing to get into ecstasy." Still, the Indian vampire could not avoid a wickedly amused tone and still kept dust dry. "Sex is still a good thing for vampires too. A few times a year I refresh the memory of the feeling myself, but by night - tear open the bag and bon appetit."


    Ryan fixed the bag in front of him and glanced briefly at the imposing vampire. He would probably shove the blood down his throat if need be if he refused. On the one hand, Ryan was still disgusted by the thought of drinking blood. On the other hand, there had been a growing curiosity for a few days that he couldn¡¯t deny, or was it actually hunger? Was his head gradually overriding any moral and subjective objection? At least he bit his lower lip gingerly and reached for the cool plastic.


    "Warm blood fresh from a throat is worlds better, but trust me, you¡¯ll never forget your first time and it will never be as good again."


    Blood bags were actually solid, but Ryan was able to open it like a juice box and immediately the familiar scent of blood rushed towards him, but it was completely different to what he was used to from his human days. The typical note still showed itself present, but as Ryan drew the invisible streams of scent into his nose and red, misty threads filled his mind, he suddenly saw himself mentally completely elsewhere and knew immediately where he was.


    It was a spring break in Spain, near Valencia, and from the top of a hill Ryan looked down on a seemingly endless plantation of lush green orange trees. The warming sun shone down on everything from a cloudless, sea-blue sky and he felt the caressing wind on his skin, equally rustling the leaves of the orange trees as farmers brought in the harvest. Oh how Ryan had missed the feeling of the sun and the sweet smell of oranges in the most beautiful weather, relaxed and away from all responsibilities and worries. Happy did not even begin to describe the feeling that gripped him and even a word like ecstasy hardly did it justice. Instead, it burned itself into his mind: Valencia.


    Ryan swallowed once more and sucked on the open bag before he realised that all the blood had coagulated down his throat and was smeared all over his mouth and shirt collar. His lust dwindled, his muscles burned and he felt an eerie strength as he clenched his fist. "And this ... is always like this?"


    "As I said, you will never feel the first time again," Mato repeated, clearing the table. At the sink he picked up a cloth and tossed it to his prot¨¦g¨¦. "But still, for vampires, there is nothing in this world that comes close to that experience."


    "How long will it last?"


    "Depends on the quality, but from your expression, that was prime blood. I¡¯m thinking at least a week or a little more, as long as you don¡¯t have to wear yourself out on anything, which could well be tonight."


    The mouth Ryan was able to clean with the cloth, but the shirt he had to change in the bedroom, and he continued talking from there. "Why is that? Does Gordon have a lead?"


    "He¡¯s on to something, but that¡¯s not what I mean," Mato said, slight displeasure in his voice. "We got an assignment from the Tenebrae."


    "Don¡¯t we already have that? We¡¯re tracking a murderer."


    "Did you think vampires were so much different from humans?" joked Mato mordantly. "You know how it goes: If you work well you get rewarded how? That¡¯s right - with more work."


    Wearing a fresh, dark blue shirt, Ran came back into the kitchen. "I haven¡¯t been around long, but I think it¡¯s even a different calibre with vampires."


    "You¡¯re a quick learner. Maybe you¡¯re not such an idiot after all."


    "Possibly, but you don¡¯t seem happy with this assignment either?"


    Mato tucked the plate away neatly and washed his hands. "We¡¯re supposed to go negotiate with the Nox Neutrum." The burly vampire got no reply and saw the proverbial -yes doont know this- in Ryan¡¯s body language. "The Nox could be called the Switzerland of the night. They abide by the rules of the Tenebrae and recognise them as the rulers of society, but Nox are neutral. They usually don¡¯t take sides and want to be left alone. Nor is it a single group. Nox exist all over the world. There¡¯s a clan and a circle of them in Great Kingston and we¡¯re supposed to get them to help the Tenebrae in the event of a possible war."


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "So, if these Nox are the Switzerland of vampires," Ryan tried to follow up and, he thought, had a solid point. "You know that Switzerland NEVER takes sides?"


    "Switzerland is also safely situated, surrounded by the great Europe, guarding the wealth of all the major assholes in the world. Even of vampires," Mato raised a finger and pulled on his denim jacket. "Groups like the Apostles, though, don¡¯t give a shit about the neutrality of the Nox, and I told you, mostly they don¡¯t take sides. There have been exceptions though. Still, I don¡¯t think we can convince the Nox of the city and really, that¡¯s more of a task for the leaders of the Tenebrae."


    "So why are they sending us?" asked Ryan. If it was an important matter like war, why send forward a new vampire like him and an intimidating thug like Mato? Were these two stark opposites supposed to cancel each other out?


    "I think because I was once a Nox," Mato replied. He picked up the jacket hanging on the hook next to the front door and tossed it to Ryan. "And because you might not be perceived as a threat. Although I think the Nox might see it as an insult or a bad omen that you¡¯re sending a blood moon child. It¡¯s definitely going to be an interesting situation."


    "Interesting you say. Sure you see it that way when you scare everyone off with your mere stature."


    "Pure discipline, rookie," Mato retorted, angling his right arm in presentation. "If you lift trucks for a few years, you can swell like that too, and I mean that literally."


    "Trucks? No shit?"


    "Better start with Smarts," Mato laughed, tapping Ryan against the arm. "Come on, the night awaits."


    The meeting place with the Nox groups was actually at a stinkin¡ä normal supermarket that was open all the time, after all. The car park was virtually empty and only two lone cars parked far apart as the night wind sent rubbish sliding across the concrete. A lantern flickered now and then, but still there was enough light, just because of the big advertising sign above the entrance of the one-storey building.


    "As I said, let me talk," Mato said. He walked towards the supplier ramp with his hands in his jacket pocket. "Even though I know you must be bursting right now after your first drink."


    "Bursting is good," Ryan took a breath. His body burned hot and his veins pulsed noticeably where he had become relatively desensitised since his transformation. "I feel, mh, powerful? I want to do something!"


    "Better that than you be bloodless," Mato weighed the situation. "Think of it as an exercise in mastery. It will do you good and it wouldn¡¯t be as if you knew ANYTHING of interest."


    Slightly proud, Ryan gloated. "After all, it was Gordon and I who discovered the Apostles in Great Kingston."


    "They discovered you, rather, and then you finished them off."


    "You said it, survived to tell about it."


    Mato smirked flatly. "Little smart-ass, but that¡¯s true. Still, pay attention now."


    "I will," Ryan murmured tersely. On the drive over, Mato had filled him in on the two groups they were about to meet.


    One of them was what was called a circle. This was the term used for vampire groups that were small in number but had a leader. The group could be independent or part of a clan. This circle, however, was independent.


    The second was a clan, led by a Juda¡¯Aerith named Lithia. Since Ryan had never seen this kind of vampire, also called Maledictus, Mato had warned him about their mostly hideous appearance. Moreover, Lithia was a rarity because she came from the line of the Nosferatu. Whether it still existed was unknown and Ryan had wondered how one could then know that Nosferatu was an ancestor of Lithia - the eyes could at least give a clue about the origin of a vampire, whereby they could even be a symbol for power and among the Maledictus there were only two known colours: Poison Green and Burgundy Violet.


    Ryan wanted to know more specifically what that was all about. "But just to understand one thing again: What did you mean when you said the eyes could reflect power?"


    "You know that every vampire inherits the eyes of its maker?" inquired Mato. Even though he had stressed several times that this babysitting job didn¡¯t suit him, he wasn¡¯t a closed book and was affable in his own way.


    "I haven¡¯t forgotten that."


    Mato particularly emphasised the following. "Then remember likewise: when a vampire no longer has the eyes of his sire, you should usually be on your guard. Vampires who surpass the power of their parents virtually break down a barrier and recreate themselves. That¡¯s why the eyes change colour."


    "I just don¡¯t quite get it," Ryan admitted thoughtfully. So it meant that a vampire was stronger than its maker, but that didn¡¯t sound much to him. Children often surpassed their parents, even among humans. "So Lithia is descended from Nosferatu, or at least one of his children, right? And so Nosferatu has his own eyes: so he¡¯s strong and wider? Fill in the blank for me."


    Mato stopped abruptly and looked at his companion in disbelief, even horror, before he must have remembered who he was talking to and rubbed his face. "Judas of Iskaroth was an apostle and all apostles of Jesus Christ are considered extremely powerful. To say it was extraordinary that Nosferatu surpassed him would be a vast understatement."


    "Mhh, yes. Vivienne sent me some basic knowledge texts," Ryan mentioned. Honestly, he hadn¡¯t read very much, but he knew that. "Jesus is supposed to have been a blood mage who turned himself and his followers. Vampires existed before that, though, only there was a huge boom because of him and his disciples."


    "At least you know something, but that¡¯s what history says, yes," Mato nodded with satisfaction. Now, however, it was over for him with the tutoring. "They¡¯re waiting up ahead."


    The wind was not whistling so hard at the ramp, as it was at the well-protected back of the market. The roller shutter was tight and a generous light shone from above almost all over the area where four vampires, two men and two women, waited. Disfigured or ghastly none of them looked.


    "The great Mato himself," greeted one of the men as he leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. "I suppose the Tenebrae are banking on a home advantage?"


    "Probably," Mato said. It made no secret that his Nox past had certainly played a part in his choice. "But even if I were indeed still a Nox, I would come here in the spirit of the Tenebrae Hackett."


    "Is that so?" doubted Hackett monotonously, taking another deep drag from his cigarette. The rest around him were silent, but always fixed on him or the messengers. "I mean, it¡¯s already making the rounds. There¡¯s a war brewing. Tenebrae against Apostles, Apostles against the Church, the Church against the Tenebrae - the old song. Who cares?"


    "Would you rather want Great Kington be ruled by the apostles? Or the Church hunting down all the vampires? That is, if it is the Church that has occurred."


    "There are still many cities and hiding places in this wide, wide world," Hackett said dismissively, stomping out his cigarette as he strolled outside the ramp. "And I¡¯m sure your next argument will be as follows: At some point there won¡¯t be any places left for you to hide."


    "It¡¯s not an argument, it¡¯s the truth."


    "As if there will ever be an undisputed ruler in this world," Hackett dismissed the thought carelessly. "Not even the mighty Tenebrae has full control and the Church will never succeed in destroying all vampires."


    Mato was supposed to be negotiating, but he did not stoop to it. "So you¡¯re saying that as long as you and you people arent affected, you don¡¯t care?"


    "You¡¯ve got it covered," Hackett admitted, but he didn¡¯t do it out of ignorance. He must have cared about his circle. "For centuries we¡¯ve stayed out of everything, really everything, and we¡¯re fine. I have no intention of risking the lives of my people for one of the countless wars that will always come."


    "That means it¡¯s all the same what I say?"


    "That¡¯s what I was trying to say."


    "Then why did you agree to this meeting in the first place?", Mato raised his shoulders questioningly, and this basic refusal seemed to go against his grain. "I could have invested this time better against the apostles!"


    "Refuse this meeting?" retorted Hackett suspiciously, approaching Mato unflinchingly. "And give the Tenebrae a reason to get rid of pesky Nox? No, I¡¯m not that stupid. We continue to recognise the Tenebrae as the undisputed rulers of the night, but they should not expect us to fight their wars. Tell that to Lady Gardner."


    "Whether she will like that, I doubt," Mato sighed resignedly, but on the other hand he sounded relieved. "But I think it will at least satisfy her."


    Ryan fell silent, shaking his head inwardly. This was more than a mere waste of time, he thought, though something struck him. Where is the second group, anyway? Or is this Lithia among the other four?


    Deterringly, none of the rest of the vampires looked to be there. So was Lithia there at all? Was her absence already the answer of her group?


    Even that little bit of diplomacy bothered Ryan and he was only ornamental. It was hard for him to imagine how frustrated Mato must be.


    "Leaching, isn¡¯t it?" whispered a beguiling voice so low it was hard to tell if it was even there. "That political talk."


    Normally Ryan would have cringed, but his body didn¡¯t react, even though his mind did! Perched next to his head was a completely shadowy face with no contours, like a nose, mouth or anything, but with clear, burgundy violet eyes


    Mato became aware of the situation. "Lithia," he sighed calmly. "Don¡¯t scare the newbie away from me like that. He had his first drink tonight and you know how extremely impulsive a child can be then."


    "His first time," Lithia gloated ecstatically. As shadowy as her face, were her elongated, distinctly clawed fingers as those brushed over the man¡¯s face. "You¡¯re not afraid of me, are you?"


    The initial fright was gone and Ryan was far from afraid, but he still couldn¡¯t budge a bit. At first he thought it had been like Lady Gardner¡¯s blood magic, but he was wrong. Only now did he notice that his feet had sunk like quicksand into the dark ground and Lithia¡¯s sinister lower body was that of a snake. She had wrapped herself around him and Ryan was as if he felt nothing but bare skin pressed against his body.... "I feel rather smothered, though flattered, by so much interest."


    "Lovely," Lithia replied, loosening her grip. Her whole body dived back into the only corner not illuminated by the light. She then came out on two legs, but her whole form was still a single shadow, possessing nothing loathsome and not penetrated even by the light. "So Mato, I understand Hackett has already given you his answer."


    "He has," Mato replied blankly, turning his full attention to the Maledictus, who, despite her cloaked form, called a conspicuous feature her own. Three pointed horns of varying lengths protruded from her head, on the centre of which sprouted half a disc, as was known from dinosaurs. "And you? Are you likewise merely extending us the courtesy of conversation so as not to anger the tenebrae?"


    "Unlike Hackett, I do not fear the Tenebrae," Lithia replied dryly, striding confidently through the flood of light. The distinct beginnings of her femininity could be seen, but without any detail. "But courtesy is still one of the reasons I agreed to this meeting."


    "And what other reasons are there?"


    "Consideration," Lithia mentioned casually, as if the following were nothing. "The Apostles may be barbarians, but they almost never hesitate and have already sought me out, and you wouldn¡¯t believe the promises I¡¯ve been offered for the services of my clan."


    Mato¡¯s eyes grew wary and he glanced fleetingly at Ryan. It was probably meant as a warning, but that was all the muscleman let on. "Everyone knows Lithia is a woman of reason and intellect. Any answer other than no, would be surprising."


    "Of course I said no, you old flatterer," Lithia reassured her guest. She was nevertheless quite aware of her position. "My clan is much sought after. The Juda¡¯Aerith see much in this city."


    Ryan¡¯s ears perked up and, as he had done with Mato earlier, he questioned this statement matter-of-factly. "That means your clan has known for some time that the Apostles are in Great Kingston?"


    When the child spoke up, and with the exception of Lithia who stood abruptly still, it immediately earned him all the stares. Mato in particular was astonished as well as tense - Did it have to be now?! - his attitude spoke formally.


    Lithia took her time to look back at Ryan, but her eyes narrowed and looked curious. "No - the discovery of the Apostles, was your doing. It was only after that that I was sought out."


    "So your people don¡¯t see that much after all?" asked Ryan. Now it didn¡¯t matter anyway if he followed Mato¡¯s directive, and besides, he was frustrated: Errands, chores, fights and barely a night¡¯s rest since he was turned. On top of that, there was this irrepressible urge for action that his blood demanded.


    "I¡¯m sorry Lithia," Mato interjected mediatively. "Like I said, the fresher drank for the first time today un-"


    With her hand, Lithia gestured for the vampire to be silent! She walked purposefully towards Ryan with an ever-elegant sway of her hips. "I personally am quite a believer in ancient wisdom, my dear."


    Ryan did not back away. "What are you talking about?"


    "You know what you are?"


    "A vampire, a ... blood moon child. I¡¯ve read about it."


    "And it was you who unmasked the apostles of this city," Lithia admitted, as if acknowledging Ryan as the winner in the game of seeing and knowing. "I believe in blood moon children appearing whenever great things happen, whether joy or doom."


    "Well I wasn¡¯t alone in that," Ryan replied honestly. He was not an egotist. "Gordon Mitchell did most of the work and saved my ass."


    "Petty. Your presence alone counts," Lithia dismissed the statement and remained as close to the man as if he were her lover. So she paused in silence for a moment and there was no denying the tension that crackled in the air. "Mato."


    "Yes?" the burly vampire echoed.


    As if it were nothing and yet everything, Lithia murmured wanly. "I want him."


    "You ... want him?" repeated Mato, and from Ryan it followed simultaneously. "You want me?"


    "That¡¯s my price," Lithia clarified, turning away from the object of her desire without further ado. "For a long time I have wanted something done and I believe the child is perfectly suited. Lay him to me and I will consider temporarily allying myself with the Tenebrae against any threat in Great Kingston."


    "Wait a minute, i-," Ryan began.


    "That¡¯s not good enough for me," Mato denied at first, but not on moral grounds. The tall vampire faced the Maledictus and haggled shrewdly. "If I give you the freshet, I want your word that you will temporarily join forces with the Tenebrae in the coming battles."


    Lithia was no less shrewd and chose her words well. "Give alone? No. Only if he completes my task to my complete satisfaction, then so be it."


    "Well, I don¡¯t know what it is about him that you¡¯re so desperate for," Mato pressed his lips together appraisingly. He let a few seconds pass, an unnecessarily delaying gesture, before extending his hand. "Deal. You get Ryan. If he handles your problem, you help us defend Great Kingston."


    This was getting to be too much for Ryan and he was about to open his mouth when Lithia¡¯s finger sealed his lips as well. "I know," she said, highly satisfied and mocking? "You can hardly contain your excitement and want to shout it out, but calm down. For now, you¡¯re mine."

 Samantha - 5

    As agreed, Raug had brought Samantha back into the now safe forest and led her to the next country road. The fact that it was still daytime made everything immensely easier, but everything that followed was far from it.


    Of course, the media delight and interest was equal to a broken dam when Samantha was spotted by a patrol and collected to be taken to one of Great Kingston¡¯s biggest and best hospitals.


    As she had done at Patriarch Stein¡¯s estate, Samantha soon found herself in a bed and her tattered uniform had been exchanged for comfortable patient clothes. She had already completed one day and was still alone in her sickroom, because apart from the doctor and the nurse from before, no one was allowed to see her and her peace and safety was ensured by two of her colleagues outside the door. The big spectacle and rush was not here anyway, but in the reception area of the hospital, which Samantha followed on the television.


    Deputy Chief Frank Uphill, the boss of Samantha¡¯s precinct, stood finely sanded at a lectern peppered with microphones and routinely answered questions from the press. ¡°As I have said before, we are all incredibly relieved and happy to see Officer Rockford return unharmed, but we will not say anything about her condition for the time being, and will not release any information in this regard for now, even after further investigation. Everyone please bear with us as she seems to have been through a lot and everything takes time."


    The subject was just too hot and reporters spoke in confusion before a woman was chosen from among them. "Deputy Chief Uphill, do you think Officer Rockford will provide crucial clues as to what happened to the rest of the unit that night?! After all, so far there hasn¡¯t been a single lead, unfortunately, and the public has a right to answers!"


    "We certainly hope to get clues about the fate of the remaining officers through our colleague, as we are as eager for answers as the public is."


    "Fate you say? Does that mean you have given up on the rest?"


    Uphill was experienced and did not fall for this slightly provocative question. "Officer Rockford has shown that anything is possible. Nevertheless, we are considering all possibilities and, regrettably, the circumstances so far argue for a harsher reality. The next question."


    An extremely lanky man, probably six feet tall, stood up in the crowd of reporters. "Deputy, what do you say to the rumours of a few days ago, about a wild shootout near the night¡¯s incidents?"


    "As you can imagine, with our current increased presence in the area, we immediately moved out because we suspected a connection with said night," Uphill explained, raising his shoulders in perplexity. "But there was nothing. We didn¡¯t find the slightest clue of any wild shooting or any other incident."


    "You think the rumours are false?"


    "I think we¡¯re more dealing with Fake News," the Deputy Chief sighed. "After all, there are all sorts of allegations and conspiracy theories at the moment about what happened there in the forest, and so new stories are springing up directly, presumably from the same sources.


    That set the reporters off, but there was an audible knock on Samantha¡¯s bedroom door and she switched off the television. "Come in."


    A man and a woman in doctors¡ä uniforms entered the room. "Mrs Rockford," greeted Doctor Hendrick Cornfield. He had performed the initial examination on the policewoman. "How are the abrasions? Are you tolerating the medication?"


    "I feel dazzling, considering the circumstances," Samantha replied, looking at the fresh wounds on her arms. Using blood magic, Patriarch Stein had inflicted this damage on her, but it hadn¡¯t hurt her, even though the injuries were real.


    "Any doctor would love to hear that," Hendrick smiled a little exaggeratedly and stopped beside the bed. "How¡¯s the head?"


    "Keeps refusing me," Samantha lied convincingly. After they found her and took her to the hospital, she claimed that she could barely remember the night in question and what happened shortly after. Only that she had been wandering and struggling in the woods for days. "I¡¯m sorry, Doctor."


    "Don¡¯t be," Hendrick said empathetically, and he made notes on his Black Pitch. "We¡¯ll take a step-by-step approach to her recovery and any events that may occur." The doctor was not unaware of his patient¡¯s questioning look, which was directed at the woman next to Hendrick. "May I introduce: Doctor Raffaela Santoro, specialising in neurology and psychiatry."


    "Hello Mrs Rockford," greeted Raffaela. She had black, very long hair and an olive complexion familiar from countries like Italy or Greece, but her pronunciation was without any accent. "You¡¯ve probably heard this question enough times now, but how are you feeling?"


    "Worn out," Samantha said wearily, and that was true. She knew her return would be exhausting and yet the acting tugged at her. "And the sooner I¡¯m out of this hospital, the better everything will be."


    "You don¡¯t like hospitals?"


    "I haven¡¯t been in many," Samantha replied. Indeed, Oskar¡¯s warning gnawed at her, even if she tried to suppress it. But the fact that a doctor was here who specialised in mental as well as physical ailments of the nerves set her alarm bells ringing. On the other hand, it made perfect sense to Samantha that such a specialist would be involved in her case and she continued to try to brush her fears aside. "And all this fuss over me is quite stressful, even when I¡¯m so well shielded here."


    "Understandable. There¡¯s nothing unusual about that," Raffaela said, making notes to herself on her Black Pitch. "If it would be all right with you, I would still like to have a little talk with you and possibly order some investigations."


    More investigations made Samantha sigh, but she had nothing else to do and had to go through this procedure. "I guess talking is better than continuing to be alone in this bed."


    "Talking is always good," Santoro agreed, casting a pleading glance at her colleague. "Doctor Cornfield, if it¡¯s all right with you, I¡¯d like to have this patient conversation in private."


    "I think that would be Mrs Rockfords¡ä wish anyway," Hendrick surmised, receiving a curt nod from the officer. "I¡¯ll check back later then. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have more results from the MRI by then too."


    After the doctor had said goodbye, Raffaela looked for one of two chairs at the small table in the room, which had fresh water ready in a glass carafe and was merely bolted to the wall and folded in and out. "Do you want to sit down with it? Many patients quickly get tired of this constant lying down."


    "I¡¯d rather stand, if that¡¯s all right with you," Samantha replied, getting out of bed and leaning against the edge of the wide window that gave a pretty good view of the sprawling hospital complex. Her attention, however, was now on the psychiatrist. "Although I have been walking a lot in the last few days," she said.


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    "Alone in the cold woods, I can imagine," Raffaela finished. She was informed. "Your colleague Brown had mentioned that you had a lot of hunting experience. I¡¯m sure that was a huge factor in your survival."


    "You have spoken to Peter? How is he doing? I¡¯m sure it¡¯s been a tough time for him too lately."


    "He suspected you would say something like that," Raffaela smirked and poured herself some water. "He¡¯s doing well and eager to visit you. You¡¯ve been working together as partners for over a year, right?"


    "Just over a year, yes," Samantha smiled at the thought of Peter being well. "We often complement each other well. That¡¯s important between policemen."


    "One covers for the other, I¡¯ve been told that by many in your profession," Raffaela mentioned, though she was becoming more objective now. "Stress is a constant companion among policemen. It keeps our bodies on their toes, but it also protects us."


    "Stress protects us?"


    "Oh yes," Raffaela said, taking a sip of water to speak in a clear voice. "Whether it¡¯s physical or psychological, when humans are exposed to extreme levels of stress, they begin to shut down because they can no longer cope with the overstimulation and thus try to avoid serious damage. That¡¯s probably why you currently, or perhaps forever, have little recollection of what happened in that forest."


    Samantha could remember only too well and would not have minded if the stress had actually had this effect on her. However, she was not so fortunate. "I keep trying, I really do," she insisted, continuing to play the role of the clueless. "I know it was cold and I made a fire and I made a hiding place out of branches of conifers in a hollow of earth. After that, a lot of things become fuzzy and blurred."


    "Yes, typical characteristics of displacement," Raffaela noted in passing, and although the next question matched Oskar¡¯s warnings, the doctor spoke routinely. "In the same way, stress can make us see things that cannot exist. Was that the case with you?"


    "... What do you mean?" murmured Samantha coveredly, crossing her arms. "What am I supposed to have seen that doesn¡¯t exist? Are you talking about something like ghosts?"


    "All sorts of things," Raffaela posited, and now seemed to be watching her patient very closely. Perhaps it was paranoia, but the woman¡¯s tone of voice seemed disturbingly gentle. "Our imagination is a powerful tool, but it can also be a danger to us. To process things, our minds manifest our fears and worries in various forms, like when you were a child and possibly heard or even saw monsters in your closet."


    Now monsters was not something Samantha had expected as a choice of words so soon after the start of this conversation, or even considered normal. It made her suspicious, but she tried to restrain herself. "Maybe it was like that as a child, though I don¡¯t remember anything about it now. In the forest though, no, there were no monsters there."


    "Monster was just an example now," Raffaela said, curling a hand. "Perhaps the animals have spoken to you, or the trees have wandered."


    "No, no, none of that," Samantha shook her head sternly.


    This reaction was apparently a little too certain for the doctor. "You seem extremely convinced of that."


    Samantha remained composed. "I can¡¯t confirm what I haven¡¯t seen, can I?"


    "That is correct," Raffaela returned, diligently taking notes. She did not proceed brashly, but did the woman distrust her patient? "However, that part of your memory seems to have been functioning properly if you are so certain that you had no hallucinations. That suggests that the damage to you is limited."


    "I don¡¯t have any damage!" now Samantha did sneer.


    Immediately Raffaela tried to contain her frustration. "Please forgive me, I didn¡¯t mean it that way. We psychiatrists tend to get too absorbed in analysis. However, something happened to you and affected you, otherwise there wouldn¡¯t be these memory lapses, right?"


    "That¡¯s true, but I¡¯m pretty lucid," Samantha said in her normal tone again and she wanted to explain herself. "Sorry if that was rude before. I¡¯m just kind of afraid you¡¯ll think I¡¯m crazy."


    "How come?" wondered Raffaela, leaning forward with interest. "You don¡¯t have to be afraid, but it seems your mind sees me as a danger. That could be an indication that there is something in your mind that your mind does not want me to discover."


    "If that is so, my mind must also see me as an enemy."


    "You have grasped it," Raffaela said, her disconcertingly soft tone disappearing. "Whatever slumbers there shall remain there, but I am very confident that together we can find it and overcome it."


    "That sounds very different," Samantha admitted. Perhaps she had simply been frightened by Oskar¡¯s ominous example and the psychiatrist was simply doing her job. Still, Samantha needed a break. "However, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to rest now. I feel quite exhausted."


    Raffaela put away her Black Pitch and rose. "Yes, I can see that you are, and after all the examinations, I have put quite a strain on you in addition with this short conversation. In fact, I¡¯d like to prescribe you a sleeping pill so you can get some proper rest."


    "Will that knock me out?"


    "No, your case is not that bad," Raffaela noted, pouring her patient a glass of water which she handed to her. "It¡¯s more comparable to Valium. Even if you wake up, you¡¯ll continue to be half asleep and the next day you¡¯ll be bursting with energy."


    Samantha accepted the glass of water gratefully and took a refreshing sip. "A good night¡¯s sleep would be a dream and most welcome when you do your investigations. What can I expect there?"


    "A mixture of various therapeutic approaches and recording of your vital brain waves, the latter being quite monotonous. Plus various reaction tests and checking your general motor and intellectual abilities."


    "So you want to see what else is going round?" grinned Samantha with relief.


    "An apt summary," Raffaela nodded before heading for the door. "I¡¯ll leave you alone for now though and later a nurse will bring the sleeping pill: A tablet that you will take with a sip of water."


    "I will do that, Doctor Santoro. See you tomorrow," Samantha said goodbye and after the doctor had left, she fell detached on her bed. She had probably really just let her paranoia drive her and all the stress of this spectacle didn¡¯t make it any better. Still, a thought briefly flitted through her mind. I¡¯d better ask the doctor what this sleeping pill is all about. Na?ve Samantha was not, and as a police officer she tried to pay attention to the details, because the situation was far from over and they might try to poison her. I prefer to have the drug -explained- to me directly by Doctor Cornfield.


    Later, Doctor Cornfield did not find the question suspicious and he confirmed Doctor Santoro¡¯s words. Moreover, the tablet had been in the correct package, so Samantha took it without hesitation and quickly fell asleep.


    Every now and then Samantha woke up for a few seconds, but she hardly noticed anything except sounds. The rotors of distant or nearby helicopters, the quiet footsteps in the hospital corridor at night or wheels rolling through the corridor. In addition, there were unintelligible scraps of words from people passing the room until one of these conversations seemed to take place outside her room.


    Despite the sleeping pill, Samantha had become aware of the conversation, but everything around her was quite blurred and she couldn¡¯t understand a single sound.


    Then, as the door of the room opened, the light from outside blinded her briefly and five figures entered the room one after the other.


    So far away from her, Samantha didn¡¯t recognise who they were and frankly she wasn¡¯t sure she wasn¡¯t dreaming.


    The light from outside made two police badges glimmer, probably from her guard outside the door.


    "She looks healthy to me," one of the people said, but it was not clear who was speaking. All the voices sounded so similar, washed out and muffled.


    "Don¡¯t go by appearances, but we¡¯ll take good care of her."


    "I don¡¯t doubt it, doctor."


    "Nurse, please get her ready for transport."


    One of the figures stepped to the foot of the bed while a second approached the headboard and half-crystallised. "Hey Sam," said her patrol partner Peter. He was in civilian clothes. "Don¡¯t be scared, okay? I know everything and we¡¯ll get you to a better place."


    Samantha¡¯s eyes fluttered so that everything went white once before she regained spongy focus. She tried to raise her hand, but her body was completely limp and words she failed to form in the slightest, as well as babbling sounds.


    "Here are copies of the necessary files," said one of the other voices, transmitting something to one of the policemen with a black pitch. "If there are no further questions on your part, we will hurry. We have a schedule to keep."


    "You¡¯re in a hell of a hurry. Is it that bad? Officer Rockford actually seemed very clear to me," doubted the policeman who was being transferred the data. "I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d mind if I checked with the deputy chief?"


    "You can, but it¡äs unnecessary. Officer Brown, show the Deputy Chief¡¯s agreement."


    "Oh, of course. Here," Peter said, turning to his colleagues. "I have also spoken to him personally. He¡¯s fully aware of the situation and just wants Samantha to get better quickly."


    Samantha made one last attempt to speak, but she could not produce a gasp and, completely befuddled and tired, her eyes fell shut again.

 Kayra - 4

    It wasn¡¯t the best weather for flying, but Kayra¡¯s owl wings flapped bravely in the strong midnight wind and snowfall as she soared high above the evening-lit Great Kingston.


    Kayra had originally intended to follow the Apostles¡¯ trail directly through Mr Forkner, but after she had told Patriarch Stein about the incident at the warehouse and he had relayed part of it to the Tenebrae, Forkner was no longer an option for Kayra for the time being. She knew that he was now under surveillance and on the Tenebrae hit list, guilty or innocent, and he had claimed that one of his most loyal clan members had deceived him about what had happened at the warehouse and eliminated the traitor immediately. This made him more suspicious to Kayra, as a living enemy would have been far more useful for questioning.


    So Kayra stuck to Billy¡¯s words: "All that¡¯s left are the canisters. Apart from Forkner, that was the only useful clue she had, and she wanted to use it as long as Oskar kept this information from the Tenebrae. He didn¡¯t want to jeopardise the trail and it was logical for Kayra to seek out the manufacturer of these containers,


    In this case it was the Steeling Good company, in the form of their city office, which was part of a 30 metre high, broad building in which several companies had their administrative offices. An enormous, vaulted glass roof with a steel frame spanned the undeveloped centre of the square complex and its green space. It was a lunchtime recreation spot, unspoilt by the frosty winter and even at this time of day the place could be seen in all its glory as ornate, and no doubt expensive, lights illuminated everything.


    At the same time, the glass roof was Kayra¡¯s ticket in, far from any regular entrances, as she swooped down and became herself again just before landing. Kayra had obtained some information beforehand and such constructions always had maintenance walkways that were difficult to access and the hatch into the interior always had to be open in case of an emergency. However, a human would not have been able to get any further here, as the maintenance walkways only ran under the roof and did not connect to the open floors around the green area. For Kayra, however, this was no obstacle and she jumped down at lightning speed, which no human eye could have seen. According to her information, there wasn¡¯t much security in this building, but she was still completely concealed in case she caught a camera or spotted a guard.


    It seemed unlikely that she would meet Billy here. He was probably trying to find the lorries, but Kayra figured that would be a rather difficult task after the Apostles had blown up at the warehouse. Stealing through the corridors here, on the other hand, she thought was less difficult and safer, as she didn¡¯t think she¡¯d encounter any apostles here, but there was still a faint note in the air. It smelled of blood knights, though that didn¡¯t necessarily mean anything. Members of the night were everywhere and perhaps one of them worked here or had visited this place? These were possibilities that Kayra ruled out more and more with every step, as the trail grew fresher and stronger. Do the apostles think that far? This thought almost caught her off guard as an unarmed guard robot clattered down a long corridor and paused in alarm before Kayra hid.


    Machines, especially artificial intelligences, were becoming more and more commonplace in public and were not to be underestimated by vampires. They could sometimes detect superhuman movements if someone got careless, but even with their sensors, the robots were powerless against the speed of a vampire. This model had the basic anatomy of its creator, albeit extremely chunky and angular. A spotlight served as an eye and on its head was a warning light that now glowed orange. However, after the guard recognised no danger, the warning light went out and he went back on patrol.


    Without a map, it would have taken Kayra a little longer to find her way around this building full of corridors and intersections, but the information she had gathered included the location of the Steeling Good offices, where the Blood Knight odour was picking up. This is too fresh, she thought in the small foyer in front of the wide, curtained glass wall of the requested offices. Only the double entrance door was not covered and beyond the glass, the safety switch behind the otherwise dark reception desk had already been unlocked. Without an access card, there was the added possibility that a vampire was among the knights and had deactivated the security using telekinesis, although he seemed to be hiding his scent well. However, Kayra activated the switch again after entering the office to at least have a chance of being warned of possible stragglers.


    It wasn¡¯t the clues that were Kayra¡¯s goal now, but to track down the intruders, and there weren¡¯t many options in this typical corporate office. Her nose led her into a room full of abandoned desks, separated from each other by opaque glass walls that were open at the top. Over time, she recognised something familiar in the blood knight¡¯s trail, but she couldn¡¯t immediately place it.


    The two dozen or so office cubicles seemed untouched, however, or the intruders were working very thoroughly. Her telltale odour also went beyond the open office to a long corridor full of locked individual offices, with a steadily increasing hierarchy, and a brief ray of light flitted through one of the last doors that had been left ajar. Karya just listened and didn¡¯t look in.


    "How much longer?" a voice murmured overcast.


    "Always a little longer, if you ask me," grumbled another voice quietly and annoyed. "If our friend hadn¡¯t given my trainee away, we¡¯d have been out ten minutes ago!"


    "You can cry to the Tenebrae," mocked the previous male voice. "And I¡¯m the one who¡¯s really screwed and missing my game."


    The second, firmer-sounding male voice had a suggestion. "You can watch the replay."


    "Not the same," grumbled the first voice. "I¡¯ve got such great seats for the next hockey games and I¡¯ve had to give the tickets away now. All because of little things!"


    "There¡¯s something to it: apostles, hunters, a possible war," the strapping voice enumerated sarcastically. "And we¡¯re on the trail of a serial killer, but I¡¯m absolutely with you - trifles, even if the Great Kingston Silvershines haven¡¯t managed a decent season in the last three years."


    "Oh oh, careful now Mitchell, very thin ice."


    Mitchell?! At last Kayra could recognise the Blood Knight¡¯s scent and voice. Apparently she wasn¡¯t eavesdropping on enemies, but allies, and yet she hesitated to reveal herself. Her clan was still at loggerheads with the Tenebrae, war or no war, and she had her orders to keep a low profile.


    "I got it out!" Gordon announced calmly. "Take the hard drive and wrap it well."


    "All that effort for that?" questioned the first voice. "Why take it with you? Why not download the data?"


    "Do I look like my trainee? He¡¯s the hacker! Is there actually more in your head than beer and ice hockey?"


    "The perfect combination. Why would I swap that?"


    "Now I¡¯m cursing Mato a bit too," Gordon grated and stood up audibly. "Let¡¯s get out of here!"


    Kayra had listened a little too long and retreated quickly and quietly. She had to unlock the security switch at reception again to conceal her presence. She hid behind a pillar outside the company office and waited until the masked men had left the centre. There was no vampire and it turned out that the strange blood knight had an access card with which he could lock the main entrance again without having to activate the security switch. Kayra¡¯s presence was not noticed and she was faced with a decision: Go back in and look for clues or follow the two of them? It wasn¡¯t easy for her, but the burning question of what and why remained. What were the men looking for? Why were they here of all places? Should the Tenebrae be taking the same approach as Kayra? It was a difficult question, but the men seemed to have carried out a targeted search, as if they already knew what to look for, and they couldn¡¯t have been that far ahead of Kayra. Only Billy was at her level of investigation and he was unlikely to have anything to do with Gordon. So she became curious and decided to follow the men.


    Kayra easily kept pace with Gordon¡¯s classic car over the rooftops of the city, which was obviously not destined for his detective agency. Instead, the car drove into an underground car park. It wasn¡¯t exactly the best environment for Kayra, compared to the freedom of Great Kingston¡¯s rooftops, but she stayed on the scent and entered the car park.


    It went down three levels and was very busy, full of different vehicles: plain, some junk, standard, to a few overpriced models. But this wasn¡¯t about parking Gordon¡¯s classic car, it was about meeting someone on the bottom floor.


    A woman of around 50 years of age in a fine manager¡¯s suit and of oriental-looking descent was waiting for the Blood Knights at a stairwell entrance. "You¡¯re later than agreed."


    "Sorry, the traffic was hell," Gordon replied jokingly. "And getting in was a bit more difficult than I thought."


    "And your description of the offices was completely wrong," added the unknown blood knight. "We searched the wrong room first."


    "My description was correct," the woman asserted resolutely. She seemed convinced of herself and calculating. "Did you get what you wanted? Did you get what I wanted?"


    In the old-fashioned way, Gordon handed over a brown paper bag. "Twenty thousand, as agreed," nodded the detective. However, he didn¡¯t seem to like what followed when he also handed over the security card he had used earlier. "And your ambitious colleague will get the blame."


    "That¡¯ll teach the cheeky bitch a lesson," the businesswoman scoffed. "She really thought she was going to replace me and now it¡¯s off to the job centre."


    "It¡¯s hard to imagine that anyone would want to replace you," Gordon replied sarcastically, turning his back on her. No, this approach was not acceptable to the detective. "Choke on the money."


    "You curse me and yet you cost my colleague her job with this action," the woman smirked and stowed everything away in her handbag. "Moral hypocrite, just like my colleague, and I chewed you up and spat you out. We¡¯ve never met - I don¡¯t know either of you."


    Gordon walked to his car in frustration as the woman disappeared down the stairwell. "When it¡¯s quieter in the city again, I¡¯ll work overtime and give that bitch what she deserves!"


    "What do you care?" the unknown blood knight raised his shoulders. He obviously didn¡¯t mind that an innocent woman had to pay the price for this theft. "Don¡¯t you really have anything better to do?"


    "You¡¯d better stick to your hockey, Nick," Gordon seethed, kicking the tyre of his car. "Because if you make another deal like this, you¡¯ll do it alone!"


    "Sure Robin Hood," Nick raised his hands unimpressed. "At least I¡¯d have finished quicker, but whether you¡¯d have helped or not - that was the price of our information, like pulling your stick out of your arse."


    Gordon had already demonstrated his skills for Kayra in the alley. Now she recognised other commendable qualities in him and initially only drew attention to herself with her voice. "What was this about?"


    Of course that startled the blood knights! They both hastily pulled themselves round and drew their weapons. "Who¡¯s there?" Gordon asked, wielding his weapon much more calmly than his partner. "Come out very slowly!"


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "I¡¯d rather wait a moment," Kayra politely denied. "Understandably, my unexpected presence seems like a danger to you, but I assure you that¡¯s not the case." She peered and saw from the slightest movement that Nick wanted to hurry to her hiding place with his blood knights! He was all the more astonished when Kayra wasn¡¯t there. She was now hidden on the other side of the car park. "Mr Mitchell is much faster than you."


    "We know each other?" Gordon followed the voice with the barrel of his enormous handgun. "Or is that one-sided? I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re a Maledictus?"


    This guess came as little surprise to Kayra, and the otherwise disciplined woman couldn¡¯t swallow a fleeting note of amusement. "Plausible guess, but even though I use the shadows, I¡¯m nowhere near as proficient in them as a Maledictus."


    Gordon had probably been around long enough to draw the right conclusion nonetheless. "Still, you¡¯ve been watching my trainee, right?"


    "I did," Kayra admitted. She wouldn¡¯t reveal her identity, so at least she could say that she had been watching the blood moon child. It also served to build her trust with the men. "One of many."


    "Yes, the old game," Gordon replied with experience, and he continued to hold his gun at the ready. "That just leaves the million dollar question: for WHOM were you watching?"


    "The Tenebrae," Kayra murmured rationally. She wasn¡¯t lying, from a certain point of view. "Otherwise I would have used my element of surprise much more effectively here, don¡¯t you think?"


    "I think you¡¯re one of the windy sort," Gordon accused the woman. It sounded as if he regarded her as a threat. "Because you know, there are the stupid vampires, the clever ones and then the windy ones. I can deal with number one and two, but the three? They adapt so damn quickly and try to turn everything in their favour."


    "Well, I¡¯ll take that as a compliment," Kayra returned, taking cautious steps out of her cover. "But how do I turn things in my favour?"


    "Moment of surprise not used," Gordon snorted doubtfully. "Translated: I¡¯m gaining trust, far more useful than killing everyone."


    "I see you¡¯ve had plenty of confrontations with windy vampires."


    "And i¡äve always won," Gordon said. Since he was still alive, that was no exaggeration and he waved his gun discreetly. "Put the rag down."


    "No."


    "That¡¯s very rude," Gordon shook his head in mock disappointment. "Go ahead then - wind the situation up, but beware, your first and last chance before it gets ugly."


    Kayra didn¡¯t take the detective¡¯s mistrust and aggressive behaviour amiss, but respected him all the more for it. He did what he had to do and so did she. "The alley," Kayra mentioned and closed her eyes briefly, but not for the sake of drama. She took her eyes off the men to make herself vulnerable. "Two bullets to the skull, a blade through the neck and a mighty blow to the cripple. If I wasn¡¯t on your side, do you think I would have allowed this victory?"


    "Huh," Gordon murmured thoughtfully, and at least he lowered the barrel of his pistol minimally. "And you didn¡¯t even entertain the obvious thought of helping your allies?"


    "I¡¯ve seen you in action. My help wasn¡¯t necessary. If you hadn¡¯t appeared in time, I would have intervened."


    "Makes sense," Gordon admitted. He didn¡¯t seem entirely convinced, but he put the pistol on his hip. "If you were part of the enemy, you would never have allowed the Apostles to be exposed. By all accounts, the radicals were keen to avoid detection."


    "Your powers of deduction serve you well," Kayra praised and looked at Nick. He was less willing to put the weapon down, but she wasn¡¯t impressed and got to the point. "I saw you both at the Steeling Good centre and I¡¯d be interested to know what exactly you were looking for there, or rather what you found. Why this hard drive?"


    "One thing at a time," Gordon stopped the eager advance and holstered his weapon under his coat. "I have a feeling Nick and I are in the better position here. Show me your face, because I hate not talking to people face to face."


    "That¡¯s not up for discussion," Kayra clarified matter-of-factly but strictly. No, she would not reveal her identity or jeopardise her clan.


    "It¡¯s not a debate, my dear. That¡¯s my rule."


    "And I have mine ... who do you think needs to break theirs?"


    Stricken with the stress of the night and a tinge of guilt, Gordon raised his hands. "I¡¯ve already had mine today, sweetheart. With our break-in, we¡¯ve done some serious damage to an up-and-coming, honest soul, and I don¡¯t normally do that! So tonight, like me, you¡¯re going to have to eat some shit! - off with the mask"


    A thought occurred to Kayra that certainly went against her principles. However, it would have been far worse to show herself without further ado and so she chose this first thought. She bowed her eyes humbly to the ground and spoke softly. "Two conditions: Nick leaves and you tell me what you wanted and found at Steeling Good, guaranteed."


    "Is that what I look like?" Nick grumbled in offence. "You¡¯ve got nothing to me-!"


    "All right," Gordon suddenly agreed sympathetically and glanced sharply at his partner. "Off you go!"


    "Seriously?! You listen to Lady Zorro?! I¡¯m not a servant to be pushed around at will!"


    Gordon showed no sympathy for the blood knight and questioned his sanity again. "You do realise that the next option is for Lady Zorro to try and rip your guts out first and then mine?"


    "What?" Nick raised a brow and nervously aimed at Vermummte. He saw her gaze lift, the yellow eyes of a slayer ready to strike mercilessly and that was enough for the blood knight to storm off. "Fine, fuck you both!"


    "Ah, hey, hey," Gordon stopped the rapid departure. "Give me the hard drive." The detective didn¡¯t get an answer, just the delicate piece of technology wrapped in a clean cloth. "Asshole."


    Kayra waited extremely patiently and silently until Nick¡¯s footsteps became so faint to her ears that she was sure he was far enough away and would not return. "I really would have hated to kill you," she confirmed to the detective, showing her face as promised.


    Gordon couldn¡¯t do anything with it. "It doesn¡¯t ring a bell when I see you like that," the man scratched his temple and pretended to be clumsily charming. "But honestly? Don¡¯t hide from everyone like that. This face should be seen."


    "As long as you¡¯re satisfied with that without demanding a name, I¡¯ll accept your compliment," Kayra replied, but she had noticed the sympathy in the man¡¯s voice. "But was that it? Did you feel sorry for the poor woman?"


    "I¡¯m not that simple-minded," Gordon claimed, putting his arms on his hips. "But I saw how much you had to swallow your pride. That was hard for you."


    Oh how Kayra had to control herself, pulling in her lower lip and clenching her hands into fists. The detective had seen through her crystal clear and being so vulnerable and an open book hurt her ego and self-determination tremendously. "Then don¡¯t let my suffering be in vain," Kayra breathed calmly, letting the tension slowly slip away. "Why were you at Steeling Good?"


    "Well, you may or may not know," the investigator began thoughtfully, as if he was conducting a report to a colleague and was being meticulous. "My trainee and I are supposed to find the red artist and put him out of circulation. That¡¯s why Ryan was lured into this alley, because the Apostles wanted to know what we¡¯d found out. I¡¯ve spent the last few days trying to make sense of the whole story and it hasn¡¯t exactly been easy. What exactly do the apostles have to do with the red artist?"


    Kayra had a limited understanding of the Red Artist¡äs murders. "Assuming that the red artist is a vampire, he¡¯s probably an apostle," she surmised, leaning against the side of a small saloon. "But that doesn¡¯t explain how your trail led to Steeling Good."


    "Well, we found some data on the last victim, Brad Sedrik, and yesterday I noticed something amazing," Gordon announced tensely. "He was a bigwig in his company, a manufacturer and supplier of chemicals, and a few of his emails kept talking about a project that was soon to yield obscene profits."


    Chemical substances and special canisters for hazardous goods. Yes, Kayra saw a connection, although she still didn¡¯t quite understand how the detective came up with Steeling Good, as he didn¡¯t seem to know anything about the canisters. "That alone was reason enough to break into the company today? Sounds like a very vague but rather lucky shot."


    "No, no, it wasn¡¯t like that either," Gordon refuted the statement and stowed the hard drive safely in the inside pocket of his coat. "It was one of many approaches when going through Sedrik¡¯s data, but I enquired about this project and over time a pattern began to emerge. All of the red painter¡¯s victims so far, had a high position in one of the companies involved in this project in some way, and damn it, there are no such fucking coincidences."


    Kayra listened patiently and was amazed at the detective¡¯s work, the only thing missing was the icing on the cake. "There was also a victim at Steeling Good?"


    "The former head of administration, yes, and we¡¯ve now stolen the current head¡¯s hard drive," Gordon explained, counting off on his fingers one by one with his right hand. "There are five groups involved. Sedriks chemical manufacturers, an exporter, a bio-lab, a state control board, so is Steeling Good and Steeling Good was the only company in contact with all of them. I mean, they build containers and whatever organic soup is cooked has to be stored safely. They need information from all parties and have to report to the state."


    Kayra paused to let the information pass through her mind and realised one conspicuous feature. "You spoke of five groups involved and there was a victim in each of them, correct?"


    "That¡¯s right."


    "Mhh, but if I remember correctly, there have been six murder victims so far. Was there a double murder?"


    "Oh, you¡¯ve cherry-picked the super delicious strawberry on top of the ice cream," Gordon marvelled, but that shouldn¡¯t hide his cunning. "I think I¡¯ve already told you a lot. Now tell me what exactly you wanted at Steeling Good and I¡¯ll give you the cherry on top."


    "I¡¯m following the trail of the apostles," Kayra spoke freely. There was no reason for her to hold anything back now, because it wouldn¡¯t do Gordon any good anyway. "Even before your encounter in the alley, I had a clue about the presence of our enemies, but it was nothing concrete. Unlike you, however, I had a longer view of your pursuers and knew which car the attackers were travelling in." Kayra then looked confidently at the detective. "Thanks to his number plate, I found my way to a warehouse at the goods station. With a little help, I was the one who put an end to the machinations there."


    "Bloody hell," Gordon admired this realisation in his own way. "Then it¡¯s as I suspected and you really are a higher calibre of vampire."


    "I am," Kayra agreed calmly. "And special canisters were sent via the warehouse, which in turn were built by-"


    "Built by Steeling Good, I see."


    "And now," Kayra tightened her posture and opened her coat cape so that the detective could see her pose and especially her hands as she walked towards him. "Who was the sixth murder victim?"


    Gordon was tense, but he wasn¡¯t afraid and stood still. "A reporter from the Kings Eye."


    "Why? What¡¯s he got to do with the project?"


    "I¡¯m good, but I¡¯m not God," Gordon waved her off and at the same time clearly told the woman to keep still. "If Steeling Good is a dead end, he¡¯s my next lead. Maybe he knew something about the project or maybe he was on the trail of the killer? We¡¯ll see."


    "We will," Kayra paused and she looked at the man in silence for a longer, and no doubt uncomfortable, moment. In fact, she braced herself for the pain.


    "That concludes our deal," Gordon remarked. He didn¡¯t reach for his gun, but his arm was ready, just as it had been in the alley. Nevertheless, he continued to speak normally. "We¡¯re on the same side, right?"


    "In a way."


    "Then let us both go our separate ways without trouble."


    "There won¡¯t be any trouble," Kayra promised uprightly, bowing her head gratefully. Her eyes flicked to Gordon, who seemed surprised by the gesture. He held his arm out anyway, and rightly so! Kayra¡¯s yellow eyes widened as she rushed past the man.


    Gordon let his blade spring out of his sleeve, but his swing was intercepted in a flash and the blood knight found himself pressed to his knees. "Windy!"


    From behind, Kayra held the man¡¯s bladed arm and neck, and though he was fortified with vampire blood, he was only a moderate, barely appreciable effort for her strength. She was truly sorry that she had to break her word and tarnish the good name of House Stein, but her clan, her impeccable service to her father, was more important to her than anything. Wordlessly, she bared her fangs and drove them into the detective¡¯s outstretched neck, but not for the sake of thirst. She wanted him to forget! Her face, her words, everything! Immediately, however, Kayra felt the price of her actions and sickly, dark veins formed around her eyes and on her arms, just everywhere on her body.


    Blood from other vampires, even faintly present in blood knights, was like poison to any vampire, with one very special exception. But that didn¡¯t apply here and was absolutely taboo and forbidden. As long as you didn¡¯t drink too much, this action wasn¡¯t fatal, but it was extremely painful.


    Karya accepted that, but another danger quickly took over! Despite everything, drinking was still an intoxication in which all emotions turned to extremes and she was in conflict with herself! Kayra could not contain the shame from before. Her claws dug into Gordon¡¯s flesh and her sucking bite intensified, pain or no pain. You think you¡¯re in control?!" flashed through her mind. I had to jeopardise my clan because of you! I will not disappoint my father! Pathetic human! Tenebrae lackey! On the other hand, this feeling was not enough! Kayra had never forced herself on anyone before and deeply despised anyone who did such a thing and yet she did it herself! It brought up her worst memories, which passed before her eyes in fragments.


    As a young woman, Kayra lay in the dust of the desert, wrapped in simple robes and barely protected from the chill night wind. Even the torches around her did not warm her, but taught her to fear!


    There are three of them! No, four! Five! A crusader and his soldiers! They grabbed the woman¡¯s arms and legs and pulled them apart. The robe was torn between the thighs and the men prepared to defile the Palestinian woman.


    You¡¯ll never get me!" Kayra projected her past mercilessly onto Gordon, further tormented by the pain of the poison. I¡¯ll kill you all! She dragged her claws through the man¡¯s flesh. He couldn¡¯t feel anything because of the paralysis, but it wounded him badly and finally Kayra lost all restraint and tore the detective¡¯s neck apart.


    Gordon fell to the ground unconscious and a considerable amount of blood quickly flowed from the hole in his neck.


    Caught between ecstasy and pain, plagued by duty and honour, Kayra breathed deeply, her chest heaving rapidly: Mouth, claws, torso - everything was coated in the red lifeblood of the man she looked down on with the deepest contempt and she realised, without help, he would not survive this.

 Percival - 3

    The flames of hell itself flickered wildly. One small burst of fire chased the next, erupting from fissures in the boiling hot stone floor, which was criss-crossed by a thin river of magma. Dark demonic growls sounded through the rocky tunnels, whose ceilings and floors were peppered with sharp stone spikes, and screams of tortured souls told of terrible pain.


    However, this did not affect Percival¡¯s concentration for a second, even though he was standing in the middle of this unholy place, rummaging through a book bound in human skin that he had taken from Patriarch Stein¡¯s considerable library.


    Meanwhile, something lurked nearby, peering out of the blackness of a tunnel at the mage. It had an absurdly large mouth, full of long, numerous teeth, and extended a sizable pair of hands out of the tunnel, playfully reaching for the student from a distance. "Your time is running out," a vile voice threatened. "And then you will pay for everything, RAWR!" Suddenly, a creature with leathery skin and wings leapt up from the tunnel and opened its mouth, which was wide enough to swallow an entire head.


    Unimpressed, no rather annoyed, Percival slammed the book shut as the drooling mouth stopped inches above his head. "You¡¯re not even making the slightest effort," he said and after a swipe into the air, the creature was thrown back by an invisible force. "Enough of this sad spectacle."


    At the mage¡¯s word, the gruesome backdrop of hell, an illusion, disintegrated and the tall demon stood in one of the retro-inspired laboratories of Patriarch Stein¡¯s estate. "You know how to end this," said Hughyx¡¯Zalzasso. He had half a dozen tiny eyes where a mouth usually was, and next to each eye, a jagged, twisted horn protruded in front of his head.


    "I¡¯m telling you, you¡¯re not even making the slightest effort anymore, Zal," Percival repeated teasingly. He was the master of this higher demon and had no intention of fulfilling his wish. "And do you expect me to release you from our pact? Is that depression or laziness? Has a human broken your fighting spirit?"


    "At least your arrogance is still a delicacy," Zal said, his lips curling as if they were a wave, accompanied by a drooling tone and a subliminal threat. "Just never forget: hell always wins, and one way or another, I will eventually teach you endless torment for your audacity."


    "Only death always wins. The rest is just a matter of details and I, for one, will decide those for myself, but keep hoping. As long as it keeps you busy and spares me this theatre, please."


    Although Zal was bound to the mage and subordinate to him, he seemed anything but broken and laughed insidiously. "Don¡¯t mistake me for your faithful mutt," the demon said, and as if on cue, Brutus stalked around him in a ready-to-attack stance. "Although, more of a tool than loyal. Created to serve. That¡¯s not real loyalty."


    "How old are you now?"


    "Old enough to have forgotten."


    "And yet you insult a man¡¯s dog?" asked Percival in a huff, whistling at Brutus to pet him like a normal animal. It was true that the hellhound had been created by the mage and was therefore not even a lesser demon, but a so-called Myrmidon, a hell creature without thoughts of its own and absolutely obedient and bound to its creator. "Bad mistake."


    "We¡¯ll see," Zal growled one last time, causing his lips to curl outwards and his head to look like a harlequin mask before he was swallowed by a flame and disappeared.


    Because of his pact with Percival, the demon could not harm him and had to obey him at his word. This had enabled Percival to bind Zal not to take any indirect measures against him, in his own words: "You must never harm me or take measures that could harm me or my allies in any way. However, Percival had only added the ally thing after the demon had set a mortal predator on one of his fellow students to trap him.


    "Hell has its pros and cons," a voice murmured in fascination. "And the way you deal with it, as if it were just another day."


    "Isn¡¯t it?" Percival replied complacently, looking towards the door of the lab. "Hell may be full of cheats, but I think it¡¯s an honest place, just like Earth, and you can have a good time there, but you can also have a bad one."


    It was not without reason that the mage¡¯s mood changed from annoyed to delighted, as Tiara leaned between the door and the hinge. "You know what a woman likes to hear," she grinned meaningfully. Even compared to vampires and their usually flawless beauty, she was a forbiddingly tantalising, captivating sight. Everything about her fit, in fullness and shape, and her choice of revealing, violet-coloured clothing was like the fine cut of a rare diamond. Tiara showed skin, but it was more of a tantalisation and a promise of more, although at least her flat, uncovered stomach was visible. The rest of the fabric was a play of laces, skin slits and hardened collars and sleeves, with half a skirt as a cape around her hips. "But I guess after Zal you¡¯d prefer any kind of conversation?"


    "You were spiking."


    "Guilty. I couldn¡¯t resist," Tiara played caught, not holding back on the flirting for a second. "I should make it up to you, I think."


    "Oh I know how much you¡¯d like to," Percival smirked, but even though he was outwardly friendly and no less in the mood, he knew better than to be flippant. "But I hope you came here in the first place for my other request?"


    "Straight to business," Tiara sighed and strolled through the lab, where she let her fingers roam carefree over vials and equipment. "Now I¡¯m a little miffed."


    "Sorry, my eagerness often gets the better of me."


    "Of course," Tiara furtively lifted a corner of her mouth and giggled. "Who else would make a pact with a demon of arrogance?"


    "Someone who can," Percival said with conviction, realising the irony of his words. At least at that moment.


    Demons, whether lower or higher, embodied one of the seven deadly sins in their entirety and in Zal¡¯s case it was the so-called Superbia: pride, vanity, arrogance, haughtiness - all of which applied to someone who saw or gave themselves as the best in some way.


    "I mean, I outwitted him," Percival added without conceit. That was the truth. "If I hadn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t be here now."


    "Outwitted indeed, for the moment," Tiara emphasised, leaning forward with interest to rest her elbows on the table and her face on her hands. "And so many in hell would love to know how you did it."


    "I¡¯ll bet my essence on it," Percival laughed, controlling his urges. Oh yes, he could feel Tiara working her charm, but he was prepared for it. ".It must be very humiliating for a demon to be kept on a leash like a dog. Of course other demons want to have fun with it."


    "That and they don¡¯t want to suffer the same fate," Tiara smiled treacherously, for what was said most definitely concerned her as well. She wanted to know what deal the mage had made with Zal.


    "Believe me, it¡¯s far less exciting and complex than you and your kind probably realise," Percival replied. He had been dealing with hell for years, even before he had made a pact with Zal, and the most important rule of hell was to choose your words and actions with the utmost care. Percival also smirked inwardly. And never intend to honour your pact. "I could bet that some people¡¯s fingers itch, though. A human who tricks a demon must be a great temptation for other demons to have him for themselves."


    "It does give you an attraction, but I can only speak for myself. No sensible demon lets you look at their cards."


    "And yet you¡¯re showing me your cards."


    "Well, what¡¯s true is true," Tiara now lolled her back over the table and looked at the man upside down. Her wicked movements didn¡¯t seem forced or intrusive for a moment, but were like flowing water. "It has an appeal, but that doesn¡¯t mean I want to try and get someone like that, does it?"


    "You¡¯d have to break your current pact," Percival stated, his eyes following the woman¡¯s every lascivious movement.


    Tiara was a succubus, also known as a succubi, and a lesser demoness of Luxuria: lust, desires, fornication and whatever else could be categorised as desire. Her whole behaviour and everything about her would lead a normal human to use the word slut, but that was the normality of a succubus. "Mhhh, cancelling my pact? I don¡¯t know. It gives me so many benefits for so little work."


    "Then that¡¯s settled," Percival pulled in his lower lip briefly. He sensed the woman¡¯s charm, a seductive spell, and he was able to shield himself against it thanks to his magical talent. Biologically speaking, however, a succubus also possessed a natural, attractive pheromone, which she used unconsciously and which was odourless, but Percival knew that it was in the air "So let¡¯s get to my request."


    "Well well well," Tiara sighed playfully and had the decency to straighten up from her supine position and stand up. She then became a little more serious. "What you asked about, I¡¯ve probably tracked one down."


    Percival listened attentively, but with a moderate tone of voice. "I didn¡¯t really expect that so soon. Are you sure?"


    "Well, I said probably. I¡¯m not quite sure yet."


    "If the case is true, do you still think it will be difficult to get the manifest?"


    "My view hasn¡¯t changed since our first meeting," Tiara stated clearly, stepping smoothly but at a distance around the mage. "A manifest of hell is an expression of power and there aren¡¯t many copies, not even a hundred, so they say. I¡¯m still thinking, if I really get my hands on it - why would I give it away?"


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    Percival wanted a Manifesto of Hell at all costs, even though he continued to act in control. "We weren¡¯t talking about giving it away. Tell me your price and I¡¯ll see what I can do."


    Tiara was aware of the value, which was actually worth nothing. "My mistake, wrongly put: why should I trade it? To be honest, I don¡¯t see anything of even approximate value in you. All the rules and ancient rituals of hell, who can claim to own this script written in the devil¡¯s blood?"


    Perhaps Percival should have paid a little more attention to the succubus¡ä advances beforehand. After all, she was a more than pretty sight and Percival loved women very much. Stop!, he thought, unsure whether this wasn¡¯t all part of a tactic to manipulate the mage. "I see you¡¯re much smarter than Zal," he smirked slyly. "Because it¡¯s true, if you believe the legends. A Manifester of Hell is worth nothing. At most the throne of hell itself, I think."


    "Oho, perhaps my favourite mage," Tiara listened, but it became clear that she didn¡¯t mean what she said. "Are you trying to help me become the Queen of Hell? If Lucifer knew that..."


    "At least I know that the manifesto has an affordable price after all," Percival laughed, but actually for a different reason. He knew Tiara¡¯s weak point in this deal. "However, I also know that the manifesto is worthless to you."


    Tiara¡¯s expression suddenly turned decidedly angry. "Why should it be?"


    "Your power and your mind," Percival elaborated as a keen student of demonology and hell and was not squeamish in his directness. "Having the manifest is one thing. The power to use it or the talent to read it at all ... you have neither."


    "Even if I don¡ät have!" the succubus snapped. "It¡¯s still a valuable trading object!"


    "Which you yourself say is basically worth nothing," Percival pinned the conversation with a knockout blow. "So you¡¯d have to settle for far less, but you¡¯d more likely become a target for any demon even remotely stronger and you¡¯d get nothing. So your life in hell would truly be hell."


    The lascivious aura and previous calm of the succubus disappeared for a moment and parts of her demonic body, including her wildly swinging tail, blinked fleetingly, like a disturbing transmission in her mirage. "You!" snarled Tiara, more animal than human, and she strode sternly towards the mage. As she did so, she regained her human form and pushed herself slightly offensively against the man, who was a good two heads taller. "Oh, you really are one to me! ... Now I want to know all the more how you fooled Zal." There it was again, the succubus¡ä grin and her natural playfulness as she gently slid her fingers over the mage¡¯s cheek. "But that I¡¯ve just lost ... don¡¯t tell anyone. It would make me very sad and then I wouldn¡¯t even give you the manifesto for the throne of hell."


    Satisfied and feeling victorious, Percival grabbed the woman by the tight bum. "You want me to keep quiet? For nothing?" he grinned narrowly. "Everything has a price in hell."


    "Well, luckily we¡¯re not in hell right now," Tiara smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But I¡¯ll think of something to show my gratitude."


    Percival looked intently into the succubus¡ä eyes, which were now the same colour as her violet-coloured clothes. "Is this still business or pleasure then?"


    "You¡¯ll have to find out," Tiara whispered piquantly, pulling herself up against him to press her lips to the man¡¯s.


    "I beg your pardon," a voice said, but the tone was not forgiving, it was monotone. "But I would like to have a word with our guest."


    This interruption could not have been more unfavourable and caused Percival to exhale in frustration. When he saw who had entered the laboratory, however, he tried to restrain himself. "Patriarch Stein!" he greeted, gently pushing Tiara aside to indicate a slight bow. "Forgive me, I hadn¡¯t noticed you."


    "Well, I did just come in," mentioned Oskar, who wasn¡¯t wearing a cloak today and he cast a clear glance at the succubus. "But I wanted to intervene before it turned into hours, because we have something important to discuss - leave us, demon."


    Humbly, Tiara made a bowing curtsey. "As you wish, Patriarch," murmured the succubus, her voice still tinged with excitement. Before leaving, however, she took the opportunity to whisper something in Percival¡¯s ear. "I will haunt you tonight. So don¡¯t you dare lock your door."


    Oskar¡¯s sensitive ears had certainly heard this, but he didn¡¯t react and waited until the demoness had left. "It¡¯s not my business, but I hope you know what you¡¯re getting yourself into."


    "Nothing I can¡¯t handle," Percival dismissed the matter. "I know that I¡¯m just a buffet for Tiara, the next essence."


    "Oh, I can put your mind at rest. I don¡¯t know the details of my child Robert¡¯s pact, but I have given him strict instructions for the succubus that she isnt allowed to kill in any way."


    "I guess she just wants my mana then," Percival laughed cheerfully, thinking of the parallel between succubi and vampires. Both creatures needed the mana that was part of the blood of many beings and could only be produced by exposure to the sun. The only difference was, succubus got it through sex and vampires through biting, Percival allowing himself a dirty hint. "I can give her a lot of that, and often." He quickly realised, however, that this fell on deaf ears with the patriarch. "That was probably of less interest, sorry"


    "You¡¯re young and full of energy," Oskar understood, but he also choked off the topic. "But let¡¯s talk about my request anyway."


    "Of course. Is it about the training of your clan members?"


    "No, I¡¯m satisfied with that so far," Oskar replied and walked leisurely through the laboratory to inspect the equipment. "You¡¯ve already done an excellent job in just a few days, and I can see you¡¯re making the best use of my house for your own studies."


    "Well, who could resist?" asked Percival. He was truly impressed by what the patriarch possessed. "Master Allister also has a considerable collection of writings and artefacts, some of which he certainly keeps secret, but it¡¯s hard to compare with you. Your collection is the work of centuries and I would certainly need at least a few decades to work my way through everything properly."


    "Was there anything that particularly caught your eye?"


    "Quite a few things," Percival paused and thought of one of the objects he had seen in one of the display cases in the large library. Curious and incredulous, he had to ask about it. "In the library ... the sword ... is it really the sword of Damocles?"


    Oskar recited the sword¡¯s inscription. "And one day I will fall, beyond status and justice. Let my judgement be final and let them curse me, but I will give nothing in return. Now take your seat, oh great king."


    That was answer enough for Percival. "Wow," he looked dumbfounded, in the truest sense of the word, because this was truly a relic that was surrounded by many myths. "How long have you, I mean where from, um, that must be hard ... okay, okay, to begin with. You don¡¯t get to see something like this every day."


    "Yes, the historical value alone is unmistakable," Oskar agreed and he seemed to have a particular interest in this artefact. "And that I know it¡¯s not in the wrong hands. So many legends and tales that are perhaps better left as they are, because one way or another, it will fall at some point."


    "Well then, I hope I¡¯m not sitting on the throne when the horsehair breaks," Percival joked darkly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "But I think we¡¯re a little off topic. How can I be of service to you, patriarch?"


    "Oh, the subject could hardly have come up better," Oskars grinned pithily and his marble face took on stronger features. "In fact, I wanted to talk to you about another artefact, if you can call it that. It¡¯s actually just a fragment of it, a relic."


    Just a fragment? Percival only became more curious as to what could be of such value to the patriarch. "A fragment? Of what?"


    "A holy splinter, from the cross of Jesus of Nazareth," Oskar revealed with significance and concern. "Another thing that mustn¡¯t fall into the wrong hands. Especially not now."


    "There¡¯s a holy shard in Great Kingston?" asked Percival. Apart from a recent exhibition in the town, where papal relics of Innocent III were on display, he wasn¡¯t aware of any other artefacts or the like. Of course, he didn¡¯t include hidden treasures like the Sword of Damocles. "Where?"


    "Not here yet," Oskar explained, reaching into the pocket of his balloon trousers. From inside, he pulled out a Black Pitch, with a website already open, and handed the device to the mage. "A week ago, there was an auction in New York City. Richard Pink bought the shard for 1.9 billion dollars and in two days the shard will be brought to Great Kingston."


    "Richard Pink, eh?" Percival puffed disdainfully and skimmed the article. He saw a typical tabloid picture of a burly, dark-skinned man with a fake clean-cut smile. "I wonder how many pensioners and children he¡¯s sucked dry for this?"


    "I see you know the score."


    "Actually, high society and everything about it isn¡¯t mine," Percival sighed, handing back the Black Pitch. "But I do follow the media from time to time and even without it, it¡¯s hard not to have heard something about that dirty son of a bitch."


    "Such a choice of words from you," Oskar murmured with amusement. "Unusual, but sometimes things have to be said."


    "Or be done - so you want me to get the shard for you?"


    "Absolutely," nodded Oskar. It seemed that he also had a certain dislike of Pink, but his main motive was of a practical nature. "A man like Pink, in possession of such a relic. To even auction it off and not present it to the world, Jesus lie or not, is a disgrace. However, since Pink is bringing the shard to our town, we are in danger if hunters get the idea of taking possession of the relic. One shard of the cross alone can give you immense power."


    "If the stories are true, then you are absolutely right and we must get the shard," Percival murmured thoughtfully. He had only read about the holy cross and its shard in passing, but had never even seen one of the shards from a distance and the cross itself was thought to have been lost since the death and resurrection of Jesus or was probably even destroyed by the church, considering the biggest lie in the world behind it. Not to mention the threat posed by the alleged power of the cross.


    "I¡¯ve seen some splinters in the muses of this world with my own eyes," Oskar replied knowingly, demonstratively letting little flashes of blood magic flow through his clenched hand. "And sensed it. Yes, my dear mage Zivai, the stories behind it are true."


    "Then so be it! Do you already have a plan?"


    "Not quite," Oskar shook his head leisurely. He was always careful not to rush straight to the point and to show his counterpart a certain amount of appreciation. "We still need some information about where and how exactly the shard is being transported. Once we have this, I¡¯ll leave the field to you. I have no doubt that you can devise and execute a capable plan to obtain the relic."


    Percival didn¡¯t think otherwise, but he wanted to make sure, as with his studies and research. "Mhh and I can draw on all your resources?"


    "Whatever you deem necessary shall be yours," Oskar nodded, but that wasn¡¯t a free pass for him. "But be careful. I will not condone waste or unnecessary damage to my clan."


    "I¡¯ll probably go it alone anyway," Percival remarked. He was powerful and clever enough to do it himself. "And ... once I¡¯ve brought the shard to you, would there be a chance I could work with it? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."


    "I was expecting that question," Oskar nodded knowingly, but he wasn¡¯t generous. "Once the shard is in my possession, however, you¡¯ll have to do without it for now. I must ensure that the relic is safe and hidden. Not a word to anyone about what exactly you obtain and bring to me."


    "Is it not safe here? Or am I missing some detail about the danger of the shard?"


    "Well, as I¡¯ve never been able to carry out more intensive studies or experiments with any of these relics myself, my knowledge of them is limited," Oskar explained thoughtfully. There were still things that even a centuries-old, educated vampire couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on. "I only have a few short transcripts of the shards, which you are welcome to read after your mission. One of them, however, states that the shard is like a beacon for true believers and users of holy power when used. So I¡¯m sure you understand that I can¡¯t let you use it right away, as I don¡¯t want to give our enemies a reason to attack my estate."


    "I have a lot of patience and of course I fully understand your intention," Percival said, but he did not speak his true thoughts. A war was imminent and Oskar was a public figure. All enemies of the Tenebrae knew where the Patriarch lived and had reason enough to attack such a strong pillar of the Tenebrae even without the relic. So was it really the patriarch¡¯s concern not to provide yet another reason or did he have selfish motives, for Percival was still aware of the other situation: whether he would somehow want to use the shard against the Tenebrae in case of doubt? "Then I await the necessary information and will now call it a night, if there is nothing else, Patriarch."


    "No, that will be all for now," smirked Oskar. Was he amused or disappointed by the mage¡¯s urge? It was difficult to tell. "I wish you a good night."


    "You too, patriarch," Percival bowed curtly.

 Samantha - 6

    There it was again. The same sounds, the same warmth, a beautiful midday that once again unfolded in all its splendour in one of Patriarch Stein¡¯s rooms. Birds were chirping and warm rays of sunlight fell through the glass of the tilted window between the drawn white curtains. But this time there was no ambience of freshly cut, wonderfully fragrant flowers on the bedside table and no comfortable, ornately decorated wooden double bed. No, this bed was even simpler than a hospital bed and rustic and although the feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu was very strong, the image faded - this was not like the room of Patriarch Stein¡¯s estate. It was more like the room of a celibate monk, colourless and mundane, furnished only with a pretty, light brown ceramic jug and an empty glass on the windowsill.


    With this sight in mind, Samantha slowly pushed herself up in her bed. "Nurse?!" she immediately exclaimed in confusion, not sure exactly what was going on. "Have you misplaced me?" There was no answer or response as she parked her bare feet on the cold stone floor and looked down at herself. She was still wearing her patient clothes and felt a little wobbly on her feet. "Not so strong pills my arse, I¡¯m going to puke."


    "Ahahahaha, the birds!" came the sound of laughter through the window from outside. "I want colourful feathers!"


    "Way too loud," groaned Samantha, her head pounding and rubbing her temple. "Who¡¯s that?" Nevertheless, she managed to leave and propped herself against the edge of the window, only to see first the bars in front of the glass and only then a snow-white garden with bare trees. "Hey, you there! Hello?!"


    Suddenly, several men and women in lined winter clothes looked up at the calling voice from the fourth floor and waved cheerfully. "Look, I bet I can throw all the way up there!" said one of the women, making a fastball and throwing it against the bottom edge of the window.


    "What are you doing?" complained Samantha, banging on the glass and earning more laughter, childish noises and rather grotesque behaviour from the adults.


    "Not so loud, all of you," an older woman with a dark complexion, clearly dressed as a nun, tried to quell the mob. "Always remember: we are as quiet and peaceful as winter itself."


    "And the birds?" cackled a woman of about 30 with dishevelled hair. "They have such beautiful colourful feathers."


    "Most of the birds are in the south," explained the nun with a smile, gathering up the flock of childish-looking adults without making physical contact. "But now up, shoo, shoo, dinner¡¯s waiting."


    Samantha called down again. "Hey, you there! Where am I?!"


    The nun merely looked up mutely for a moment, but otherwise ignored the call and disappeared with her group into the walls, whose fa?ade clearly spoke more monastery, with a hint of modernity.


    "HEY!" Samantha snapped, banging several times against the glass, which was extremely sturdy. This was no ordinary glass. "HELLO?!" At her words, the courtyard became really lively as voices from other windows returned her greeting and she stomped determinedly to her front door. It was a heavy metal door with a locked viewing flap at head level and one at stomach level, like in a prison. "HEY! OPEN UP!" she demanded as the door was locked and she began pounding with her fist.


    It took a while for the face slit to be unlocked and the taut but also somewhat round face of a tall man to appear. "Please be a little quieter," the stranger asked gently. "It¡¯ll only upset the other patients at the sanatorium."


    "Patients?! Sanatorium?!" Samantha clenched her fist. Had what Oskar had predicted really happened? She didn¡¯t care right now, even if she seemed like a crazy person. "Let me out, but now!"


    The patience and composure of the man, who was at least 1.95 metres tall, was like something out of a picture book. "I¡¯m asking you again, please restrain yourself ... it¡¯s not what you might be afraid of. I promise you that."


    Samantha had had enough of it all! She angrily pushed her slender hand through the slit in her eye and waved it around wildly, but the man simply backed away. "That Doctor Santoro is behind this, that¡¯s for sure! I want to get out of here!"


    "Calm down," the stranger repeated and stepped up to the door. He was not deterred by the fierce hand and opened the heavy metal to enter.


    Instantly, Samantha not only withdrew her hand, but also took a defensive, crouching stance. "Just one step closer!" she warned quietly, but what was she supposed to do?


    The guy was definitely not just huge, with wide hips and powerful shoulders, but looked extremely powerful. He was wearing a simple, short-sleeved shirt and braces were stretched over his shoulders. The red-bearded stranger, with short dark blonde hair, let the situation sink in for a moment, probably giving her time, and without another word, he peacefully extended his arm for a handshake.


    "Are the psycho games starting now?"


    Unconcerned, the man held out his hand and there was something about him. The calmness he radiated was a little strange. Was he a monk? Was this really some kind of monastery and that¡¯s why he seemed so relaxed?


    Nevertheless, Samantha didn¡¯t think for a second about grabbing his hand and instead dived past the man in a flash without him trying to stop her. The corridor outside was long, in both directions, with the same doors everywhere, and it reflected a clinically clean wing.


    However, there were no barred doors or other barriers in sight, so Samantha ran as if driven by the devil and glanced back.


    The stranger glanced after her and then set off at a steady walking pace in pursuit.


    It wasn¡¯t difficult to catch him after the first corner, but new faces came into play from the front. An older man of Spanish origin, shorter than she was, was walking along the corridor in a modest monk¡¯s habit and he was not alone - Peter Brown was with him!


    "PETER?!" Samantha stopped abruptly and blinked in disbelief.


    Peter threw his arms open exuberantly. "SAM!"


    "Woah, woah! What¡¯s going on here Peter?" Samantha immediately raised her hands and took a step back. Her emotional world was a mess, on the one hand overjoyed at the familiar face and at the same time extremely suspicious as to why he was here.


    At least Peter seemed to realise this and merely made a slow advance. "Everything¡¯s fine Sam, really. I know about everything, vampires and whatnot. There¡¯s no danger to you here," he promised as the monk came to a halt at his side and fell silent.


    Samantha swallowed and looked back as the giant rounded the corner, keeping a little distance from her. "I¡¯m tired Peter, so bloody tired," she implored, after all this back and forth over the last few weeks. "... You know about this?"


    "I¡¯ve been told a lot," Peter nodded, but he still kept his distance and gasped in amazement. "Far too much. It needs to sink into my head first, but if you¡¯re worried - these are the good guys: No vampires, no monsters, no black magicians, but all good people."


    In the end, it was just part of the game, this world that Samantha had slipped into and even though she was facing the good guys here, she was in tears because of this constant back and forth of emotions. "I can¡¯t take it anymore Peter."


    "Hey, hey Sam, no need for tears," Peter said and came over to the woman. He put his arms around her, reassuring and protective at the same time. "I know it¡¯s been hard for you lately, but you¡¯re really safe for now."


    Not that Samantha melted into tears and cries now, but the embrace of her patrol partner did her good and with a little more patience for the right moment, the older monk now spoke in a mild and raspy tone. "This really is a sanatorium, my dearest, but you are not here because we think you are ill. This is a hidden base of the Knights of the Vatican."


    "Knights of the Vatican?" Samantha mumbled into Peter¡¯s jacket before pushing away from him gratefully. "Some kind of order of the church?"


    "That¡¯s right, my child. We are fighters in the battle against the darkness that haunts this world," the monk revealed cryptically, but otherwise spoke relatively normally. "We always keep an eye on the society of the night, demonic presence and whatever other evil there is that is a part of God¡¯s green earth and beyond. Think of us as the police force against supernatural evil."


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    "Police, hu?" Samantha murmured slightly snappishly, but the words resonated with her. "And the police kidnap innocent people in a night and fog operation to an asylum?"


    "Rescued is much more like it," said the monk sympathetically. Despite the cool temperatures in the corridor, he was even wearing worn leather sandals. "Doctor Santoro is one of our contacts and if she hadn¡¯t intervened, you would have been killed by a vampire four hours later in the middle of the night. But this way we were not only able to save you, we were able to send this unclean creature to hell."


    Only four hours had passed between Samantha and her death? "Thank you," she said gloomily, in the face of such a close call. "It¡¯s just this rollercoaster ride I¡¯m on. It¡¯s really wearing on me and if I seem ungrateful for it, I¡¯m sorry."


    "If anyone understands your trials and tribulations in dealing with the night, it¡¯s definitely us," the monk crossed himself simply. "And let he who is without sin cast the first stone."


    "Brother Caballero," the giant stepped forward in the background. "My task is done. Shall I check on the children?"


    "A good idea Hagen," the monk nodded and commanded the big man to bow in a gesture. "And your achievements will be mentioned by me to the guard and the archbishop." At Caballero¡¯s statement, Hagen rubbed the back of his head and went his way.


    "Is he ... harmless?" asked Samantha cautiously.


    "Hagen is one of the few monks here and reports directly to me. If anyone is harmless, it¡¯s him."


    "But he didn¡¯t look like a monk."


    "Appearances are often deceptive."


    "It¡¯s good to have that cleared up," agreed Samantha, but there were more important things to do now. "Now the only question is - what¡¯s going to happen to me? They tried to kill me, so I won¡¯t be able to return home?"


    "Unfortunately not, and for your own good, we wouldn¡¯t allow that either," said Caballero, looking at Peter. "But I think we have an acceptable solution for you."


    Waking up again in a strange bed, again involved with this new world that Samantha had unwittingly discovered, she instinctively knew what that solution might be. "You want me to join you."


    "Your partner was not understating things," Caballero nodded, impressed. "You are extremely clever and very resilient. Surviving this zombie attack on your own is not something many people who are not familiar with this matter can do."


    "How did you know about the zombies? Only that patriarch Stein knew that."


    "Because we had heard rumours that zombies were on the loose in these woods," explained Caballero. When he heard the name Stein, his attention seemed particularly piqued before he walked with a stooped step to one of the corridor windows. "Our knights didn¡¯t find the undead, unfortunately, but after what happened in that farmhouse and then the missing police unit... we have experience with situations like this, my dear."


    "If you know so much, I¡¯m sure you also suspect that the patriarch has made me an offer," Samantha mentioned openly. She had no reason to hide this and wanted to show that she was unwilling to accept an offer from the church.


    "Oskar Stein is very persuasive and an extremely powerful vampire for a reason," Caballero admitted thoughtfully as he watched the snowflakes begin to fall outside. "But since you were in hospital and they wanted to kill you, you turned down his certainly tempting offer. All the more reason why we want you to join the Knights of the Vatican. You are pure."


    Before Samantha replied, she looked at her partner. "Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re in? Did they recruit you too?"


    "Brother Caballero had to tell me so that I could reassure and convince you," Peter admitted honestly. He then took a chain from under his shirt, at the end of which hung a golden cross with a red heart and two crossed swords. "But the knights also tested me last week and were so pleased that they offered me the chance to join them, and I did."


    "Why?"


    "What why! Sam! Haven¡¯t you realised yet?" Peter stumbled in disbelief and waved his arms around. "Our world is full of evil! Jailing criminals is a good service to society, but this is about the defence of humanity!"


    "You¡¯re acting like we¡¯re on the verge of extinction," Samantha shook her head. "I can¡¯t say that this new world excites me or doesn¡¯t scare me, but Patriarch Stein treated me well and didn¡¯t give me the impression of an evil vampire."


    "Sly and cunning, he certainly is," Caballero said, turning to the woman. He never raised his voice or became snide. He even had respect for such an adversary, but he kept his cool and possessed a kind of grandfatherly demeanour. "And I have to admit, usually one of the less nasty boils of the vampires. But a boil is still a boil and he and his children have already caused great suffering to mankind and the Church."


    Samantha didn¡¯t take sides, but she did mention the story she had been told about Oskar. "I¡¯m still young, but if someone were to kill my husband, I don¡¯t know what I would do. Of course the patriarch and his clan would take revenge."


    Caballero knew immediately. "Nobody forced the Tenebrae to commit this theft. Stein reaped what he sowed."


    "He didn¡¯t know and deeply regrets it."


    "Insight is a good thing, even if it only arose because of his heavy loss, but ignorance is no defence against punishment," Caballero clarified, comparing it to civil society. "That¡¯s what they say even in the police force, right?"


    "Maybe so, but listen," Samantha sighed and hung her head before putting her arms on her hips. "What do you expect? That I¡¯ll arrest vampires in future because they¡¯ve sucked too much blood? Or come straight in with a stake and a cross?"


    "I wouldn¡¯t have put it that simply," Caballero smiled wanly, but there was probably something to this statement. "But that¡¯s exactly what we want. You would still be a guardian, a keeper of law and order, except that our judgement is usually final: vampires, demons, black magic and many more horrors have no place in this world."


    Respectful but perceptive, Samantha tried to hold Faith accountable. "I¡¯ve already learnt that there is much more than most people realise. The only question is, if it all has no place in this world, why did God create it in the first place?"


    "None of this is the work of God," Caballero replied with an open mind. There was always wisdom in his voice. "God gave the world many tools, but some people lost their way and degenerated these tools, just as the fallen angel Lucifer fell from heaven and with his impact created the damned flames of hell, from which new atrocities arise every second, fuelling the sins of mankind and poisoning the earth so that many more abominations arise. Without us, who knows what would have become of humanity."


    She couldn¡¯t lie, but that was a pretty convincing lecture. "So you¡¯re telling me that you and the knights are saving the world from the end?" Samantha doubted anyway. "And if they¡¯re standing up for good - why haven¡¯t they won yet?"


    "Because evil is not so easy to defeat."


    "At least you¡¯re not trying to tell me fairy tales," Samantha admitted. Still, she was hardly convinced, and what¡¯s more, to her the offer sounded like coercion compared to Patriarch Stein¡¯s. "But you wouldn¡¯t let me go home if I said no?"


    "It¡¯s for your protection."


    "And what does that look like? I stay in the loony bin?"


    "Within these walls you would be free to do what you want," said Caballero, but he didn¡¯t understand this refusal. "But somehow you don¡¯t seem to like the fact that we want to save you from death?"


    "I¡¯m not saying that, but you want to deprive me of my freedom. Stein, on the other hand, gave me the choice, even with the prospect of my death."


    "Let me tell you a little story about Patriarch Stein," Caballero began, inviting Peter and Samantha to walk with him for a while. "In 1867, Oskar Stein reduced St Bartholomew¡¯s Cathedral in Frankfurt to rubble. For the people, it was an unfortunate fire, but in truth it was more than that. Two of Stein¡¯s children had been up to mischief in the city for months, kidnapping, killing and torturing for fun alone and in the name of the apostles. The church finally seized the two and made an example of them. In his anger, the patriarch attacked the cathedral, killed hundreds of innocent people and slaughtered many knights and members of the church - do you think that¡¯s fair?"


    This short, but heartfelt story really opened up a completely different side of the vampire leader to her. "That¡¯s... terrible," Samantha admitted. "But from what I¡¯ve heard, his children are very important to him."


    "Does that justify such an act? A good father would have brought these children to justice himself!" Caballero shook his head. This love from Stein clearly didn¡¯t wash with him. "And there are so many more stories, with so many other vampires and creatures of evil. Do you know why the Titanic really sank?"


    " ... because of an iceberg?"


    "It was an attempted ritual," Caballero said, clasping his hands together in prayer. "May the souls of this disaster rest in peace."


    "What kind of ritual?"


    "Harry Houdini wanted to open a gateway into the void and allow beings of chaos to invade the earth. Only by joining forces could the Knights and Ultima Bellator stop this black magician."


    Names and names didn¡¯t exactly make things any easier for Samantha. "Houdini ... like when someone talks about a mysterious disappearance?"


    "One and the same. To the public, Houdini was an escape artist and skilful pocket magician - in reality, a cruel, black magician and a powerful one at that."


    "Somehow everyone you mention is powerful," Samantha realised and stopped. The new information had to sink in, even if it had all been a long time ago.


    Caballero made no secret of this fact and leant forward appraisingly. "Of course, these are the most extreme stories and now you think about the fact that there are many more of them and infinitely more that may not have had such serious consequences, but were and still are a threat to the salvation of us all and the peace of the world."


    "So you know how to land a knockout blow," Samantha replied, leaning against the wall next to a window and supporting herself on her knees. She had to admit - what was the work of a policeman compared to the protectors of the world? And this wasn¡¯t like Oskar, where she would have been working for a man and his own ends, with the prospect of a little personal vigilante justice. This was about the bigger picture and she started to think about it.


    "Sam, I¡¯m not deeply rooted in faith now," Peter said, overwhelmed, but trying not to overdo it. "But the fact that you survived, that I¡¯m your colleague, that we¡¯re here now - somehow I think someone was keeping an eye on us."


    Samantha didn¡¯t want to say it out loud, but in her case it was a ghoul named Raug who saved her, and he had hardly been an emissary from heaven. "We are who we are, Peter. If everything was some kind of providence, life would be pointless. I don¡¯t quite believe that."


    "True, Mrs Rockford," Caballero agreed. He may have said a prayer and dressed like a humble clergyman, but he didn¡¯t seem like a fanatic. "I think what Initiant Brown meant was that you¡¯ve both been given a path that you¡¯ve travelled on your own and now face a new task as a reward."


    "I could cope with that," Samantha nodded. The fact that she really had no choice this time played on her mind. Even if the knights let her go, she would be dead or in the asylum within hours or days at most. "First, I want to hear more history, over a proper meal. Tell me about the knights, the church, vampires, anything you think is important. Then I¡¯ll decide."


    "Food sounds marvellous," laughed Caballero, rubbing his flat stomach. "I love to cook and today is stew day."


    Samantha smiled politely. "And while you¡¯re cooking, could I get some decent clothes?"


    "Sure you could, what are your clothing sizes? I¡¯ll let the nuns know."

 Ryan - 6

    Ryan hadn¡¯t even looked this dashing in his lifetime! Ties were usually out of fashion when it came to suits, but he nevertheless adjusted an imaginary tie on his dark blue blazer and the dashing, egg-white shirt collar as he looked down from Lithia¡¯s upstairs office into her supermarket. It was around 10pm and the night had only just begun, but already all the customers and staff could be counted on one hand, but Ryan¡¯s eyes were not on them any time soon.


    Maxine Price entered the large shop through the main entrance, swinging her sleek brunette hair and dressed no less smartly, but her neat outfit was for a job interview, not dinner.


    Job interview, Ryan thought tensely, wiping his face. Lithia was here, in this half-lit room, watching him, he knew that. Ryan had been given all the information he needed and the task of persuading Helen Price to allow Lithia to turn her - into a Juda¡¯Aerith! If he failed, not only would there be no alliance, but he would also have to get rid of Helen to keep the vampire secret. All the ingredients for an enormous amount of pressure that was getting to Ryan. If he messed this up, the Tenebrae would probably incinerate him, as Mato had so nicely put it. A knock on the door pulled him away from these thoughts. "Ehm, come in."


    "Good evening, Mr Tavish," Helen smiled as she entered and shook his hand. "I¡¯m Helen Price, it¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance."


    "Likewise, Miss Price. Please, do take a seat."


    "Very kind of you," replied Helen, who didn¡¯t just sit down. She was given the chair in front of the desk by the man. "Thank you and I have to tell you, I¡¯m a little nervous and that¡¯s saying something!"


    "You may not believe it, but I share the feeling," Ryan admitted honestly and took a seat, which at least made him relax a little. "I mean, you don¡¯t get an offer like this every day."


    "Not at all! And I¡¯m still curious about the details!" said Helen curiously. Lithia had offered the woman a managerial position in her group of companies, which could only be filled and managed by the very fewest of people and was subject to special conditions, but in return offered a job that Helen would not find anywhere else. "We don¡¯t need to talk about money either. Lithia¡¯s offer was, to put it mildly, too good to be true and yet I have it in black and white. But what are the conditions? Long working hours? Willingness to work shifts? Not ... dodgy business, is it?"


    Ryan grinned when the applicant didn¡¯t mince her words and yet he found it difficult to get involved in the conversation. "I¡¯d call it business that would change your life."


    "Sounds dubious, too."


    "Yeah, it kind of is, I guess," Ryan struggled. His uncertainty was clearly picked up by the woman and he rocked his leg back and forth. "So it¡¯s not a bad thing!"


    "Is there a reason for your nervousness?"


    Ryan felt good to chat a little about his stress. "Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m pretty new at this job myself and I¡¯ve got one tough assignment after another."


    "Is it that hard?"


    "Less hard, more unpredictable."


    "You¡¯re acting like it¡¯s magic," Helen joked, visibly relaxed. Despite her counterpart¡¯s tension, she maintained her friendliness. "Or are we already saving the world?"


    "You¡¯re ... not doing too badly."


    "Ah, I see," Helen surmised and pointed her finger, caught off guard. "You¡¯re testing me here. Sociability and flexibility, eh?"


    "Flexible is a good lead," Ryan nodded, but he just couldn¡¯t do all this and stood up. "How about it? Let¡¯s take a stroll through the city."


    "Oh, okay?" Helen blinked in surprise and stood up. "But as much as I¡¯ve enjoyed this small talk: Can we get down to business for this, please?"


    "Absolutely or I¡¯m fired," Ryan smiled wryly and got a suitably doubtful look, but it worked and Lithia had given him a free hand. How he was going to convince Helen was entirely up to him and since words were lacking, it was going to be actions.


    There was a lively neighbourhood nearby, full of boutiques, studios, restaurants and bars, but although everything looked so classy and refined, surrounded by warm bright red lights and sweetened by the smell of delicious food, the prices were reasonably reasonable.


    "You know," Helen said more cautiously as she walked along the pedestrianised area. "I¡¯m actually really happy in my current job. The money¡¯s right, the hours, the location, you couldn¡¯t have it any better."


    Ryan nodded understandingly and had his hands buried in his trouser pockets, unimpressed by the shallow quick fall. "And yet you accepted the invitation."


    "Yes, because Lithia approached me, for one thing. That piqued my interest, but not for long. Her manner, though, all that mystery and those promises of new worlds ... I have to say, it sounded a bit crazy, but still honest and intriguing, even though I don¡¯t even know what exactly awaits me as CEO. I mean, I already know, only you understand?"


    "Our positions aren¡¯t that different," Ryan realised and led the way. He avoided too many listeners. "Well, at least I was in yours some time ago. But I had no say whatsoever in my offer. It was binding."


    "Huh? Binding in what way? You promised to get to the point."


    "And I¡¯m keeping that promise," Ryan announced gently and got ready. By now he had gained a little experience and practised. "What do you think of that?"


    "What do I think of what?" Helen replied, not even realising what had just happened. She was now standing at the end of the pedestrian zone, at the top of a double-sided, decorated staircase that led to a brightly lit public square where a small town fair had just been set up, with rides and all the trimmings. "I ... how?"


    This reaction wasn¡¯t a shock, at least, and Ryan still gave the woman time to realise the lightning-fast change of location. "I still need to practise a bit, but that¡¯s the best I can do right now."


    "What, you?" Helen stumbled and looked down into the pedestrian zone in disbelief, convinced that the man had tricked her. "Woah, you¡¯ve distracted me so much with your talking that I didn¡¯t realise how far we¡¯ve come."


    "Okay, that wasn¡¯t quite what I was hoping for," Ryan admitted and looked around in search of a new target. He would manage it once more. "This time with an announcement."


    Helen laughed heartily. "No, it won¡¯t work a second time."


    "Hardly a third time. At least not in such quick succession," Ryan puffed out of breath and spread his left arm out to the side. "Until then, enjoy the view."


    Helen¡¯s eyes widened and she swallowed a sound of utter astonishment, but her mouth was wide open. She could now look down on the beautiful, festive carnival from a fire escape to cheerful music and she even swayed.


    Ryan helped her so that she didn¡¯t fall over. "Easy, easy," he said, and he had probably overdone it. Human senses were clearly not made for such speeds. "Does that apply more to mysterious?"


    "Only if you¡¯re a real magician," Helen said curiously, clutching her own arms tightly. Along with the curiosity on her face, a new scent rose into the air and it was now a familiar one: it was stress. "How did you do that?"


    Away from the hustle and bustle, Ryan was able to speak more openly. "It¡¯s part of my new life and I¡¯m not even really good at it. It¡¯s almost as new to me as it is to you and Lithia wants you to share this life."


    "So ... there¡¯s no job?"


    "It¡¯s actually real," Ryan assured him, and that was the case. "Lithia is more than confident in your abilities and then some. She¡¯s followed your life path closely and thinks you absolutely deserve this new life."


    "What new life? What do I deserve?"


    "To be free from fear. At least that¡¯s what she told me."


    Helen¡¯s smile was a caught defence mechanism. "What should I be afraid of? To be honest, this interview is starting to scare me," she said. The fact that she hadn¡¯t run away yet was probably due to her strict curiosity.


    "There¡¯s no reason to be," Ryan said, but he had to get his act together. If he failed, not only would his life be over, but the woman would have every reason to be afraid. "I¡¯m being honest, Helen. I¡¯m a go-between here, doing a job for Lithia, and everything I know about you, I only know because of Lithia."


    "And what do you know about me?"


    "That you unfortunately lost your parents at a very young age and had a few hard years in an orphanage," Ryan mentioned sympathetically. He was impressed that this woman had nevertheless made it this far. "A little crash into drugs, trouble with the police and yet you didn¡¯t give up and look where you are today."


    This statement, with this view, could not be a more perfect allegory. "So Lithia checked me out more than thoroughly?"


    "She has."


    "And that¡¯s why she thinks she knows me?" Helen asked, slightly annoyed. "Or knows what I deserve?"


    "You have to look at it this way, Lithia has been looking for someone she considers worthy for a long time," Ryan replied thoughtfully. The conversation was not going well and the following was probably not a good idea, but unfortunately he hadn¡¯t mastered too many tricks yet. "Do you think that¡¯s all there is to it?" At this question, he bent a piece of the metal railing. "Lithia wants to give you a gift that hardly anyone in this world gets."


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    As a result of the show of strength, Helen pulled back and asked the one question. "What are you?"


    Ryan actually felt stupid. Even with his current knowledge and being a part of this world himself, he murmured hesitantly. "I¡¯m a vampire."


    At first, Helen cringed, but she quickly burst into amused laughter. "Okay, okay, stop, stop," she waved her hand cheerfully. "I get what¡¯s going on here: hidden camera, hahaha and I have to say, those were some damn convincing tricks."


    Now telekinesis would have been really handy, but Ryan didn¡¯t know how to do that. "Well at least you¡¯re not shouting, because I¡¯m very serious," he said firmly, but he had learnt one thing by now - his hands had become sharp claws.


    Suddenly Helen¡¯s joy turned to pure fear and a shrill scream rose in her throat before her mouth was covered by a claw.


    "Shhhttt!" came from Ryan before he saw the pain in the woman¡¯s expression. He had gripped too hard and reined himself in. "Please, don¡¯t be afraid!" Without any problems, Ryan was able to suppress her every movement and sound until she slowly calmed down.


    Helen swallowed in the man¡¯s grip. "This prank ... has gone far enough."


    Ryan understood that reaction all too well. It was the same as his then, but he couldn¡¯t stop now. "One last time," he announced, bringing himself and her to the flat roof of the flat, now really unable to do any more lightning journeys and letting go of her. "Sorry about the jet lag."


    That was probably the most apt word, as Helen swayed more than before and sank wearily to the floor, surrounded by fume bonnets and a couple of vent pipes. "Why are you doing this?"


    "I¡¯ve thought long and hard about how I do this," Ryan said, walking along the edge of the rooftop, surrounded by many an illuminated taller tower block and lit by occasional moonlight. "How do I approach someone I want to tell that they¡¯ve been offered the chance to become a vampire, and lo and behold, I couldn¡¯t do any better."


    "Become a vampire?" Helen realised cleverly, albeit with a headache from the fast journey. "Are these the special conditions? That I should become a vampire?"


    Ryan tried to sell the offer, but he didn¡¯t do a particularly good job of it. His own transformation was too fresh and the self-doubt about this existence was too great. "Yes, and again, the job really does exist, within Lithia¡¯s organisation. Being a vampire is a bonus."


    "You sound very convinced of that," Helen remarked pointedly, gathering herself to stand up. "And you thought you could use your tricks to make it palatable to me? That I¡¯d swap the sun for the moon?"


    "That¡¯s all I can do yet, as I¡¯m ... still a pretty fresh vampire myself," Ryan confessed. The cat was out of the bag and all the talk around it that he had considered hours before had already failed. At least the truth now made him feel easier about this conversation. "But if I¡¯m honest, I can understand why Lithia chose you. I think you really do fit perfectly into this life."


    "Which brings us back to the you knowing me thing."


    "Well, you like travelling, right? And you really like visiting ancient buildings or abandoned ruins?" Ryan enquired persistently. It was a perfect approach for him. "Your curiosity was what brought you to this conversation in the first place."


    "Foreign countries and cultures have always fascinated me, yes. There are so many things on our planet that I would like to see."


    "And that¡¯s just from a human perspective!"


    "Just from the point of view of ... people?" Helen was moderately surprised: Travelling, new things and the unknown were her greatest interests.


    "So what!" Ryan affirmed and was much more convinced. "Did you know that vampires fought against the Nazis in the Second World War? I mean, of course you didn¡¯t, but who knows what aspects of history are still hidden to you, not to mention all the skills! You like to explore, don¡¯t you? Think about it, you could look at the, er the pyramids in Egypt from above, free in the air as a bird! Vampires have their own kind of magic, called Animus Hellix. You can use it to transform yourself into animals. Or time, just think about it! As a vampire, you would have eternity and all the time in the world to really see and learn everything, because I don¡¯t think you can do that as a human!"


    This lengthy digression certainly left an impression on Helen and a more than thoughtful but dreamy face. "Is all of that really true?"


    "That¡¯s the little I¡¯ve learnt so far and probably doesn¡¯t even scratch the surface," Ryan raised his arms to the sky to emphasise his point. "You think with vampires it ends? Werewolves are just as real and as has been pointed out to me several times, a whole lot more that we humans have merely considered fantasy and shall I tell you the best part of this offer?"


    "With all this flood of revelation, is there something best?" wondered Helen, curious. "What¡¯s that?"


    Now Ryan became extremely quiet and concerned, remembering the fact. "You have a choice," he said knowing that the wrong choice would mean Helen¡¯s death and he patted his chest, "I didn¡¯t have it and if I¡¯m honest, if I was offered this as a choice, even without what I already know, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d react."


    This candour really seemed to make an impression on Helen and she picked up on the man¡¯s remorse as she approached him. "Sounds like a tough time for you," she realised sympathetically, grasping his hand on her chest, "but believe me, even though this firework of revelations is exploding in my head right now, I¡¯m not so fascinated by novelty that I¡¯m blindly saying yes."


    "Well, we¡¯ve got all night," Ryan replied, hoping to narrow down her choices, because if she said no, there was no night after that. "Maybe somewhere warmer? Where I can tell you more?" More was a risky gamble for Ryan, because what did he know about vampires and other things?


    "That¡¯s a forever decision," Helen remarked smartly, dropping her hand to interlace their fingers and blow warm air into it. "I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to say yes or no tonight, but a warm place is a good start."


    "A start is always good," Ryan agreed. Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but one that gave him a wide berth and caused a sudden feeling of unease...! Something was wrong! Ryan couldn¡¯t put his finger on it, but a sort of metallic clang alerted him. "Watch out!" With a saving move, he took Helen¡¯s guard and pulled her with him before whispering bullets struck the spot where they had been standing.


    More shots hit the metal of an extractor bonnet, behind which Helen screamed in panic. "What¡¯s going on here?"


    "I don¡¯t know!" Ryan tried to reassure her as the hail of gunfire was briefly interrupted by the clicking of empty magazines, causing him to glance over the edge. "Keep your head down!"


    Already in the act of jumping, from another roof, two hooded figures armed with light machine guns came up and took up position behind one of the manhole tubes. "Time to die, mischief maker!"


    Ryan¡¯s senses were sharp enough and he realised that the movements of the female attackers were superhuman, but he had long known their scent from Gordon. "Blood knights!" he bared his teeth unconsciously and dived in front of the next hail of bullets.


    "Blood knights?!" Helen murmured, hunched over with both arms wrapped around her knees.


    "People who have drunk vampire blood! It makes them very strong and fast!" Ryan explained and a kind of puck landed right next to him. He grabbed the round and threw it back before it exploded halfway as a stun grenade.


    A female attacker provided cover for her mate as she charged forward and jumped over the bonnet. With her foot first, she kicked the vampire and shot him mercilessly.


    While Helen rolled to the side, Ryan was able to shield his head from the bullets, but he was kicked downwards and his arm and upper body took a good load of bullets. The pain was manageable, however, and the anger sparked made Ryan step back!


    The attacker was knocked off her feet and dropped her weapon, resulting in a scuffle on the ground in which she was quickly at a disadvantage and took a nasty beating. Only the arrival of her sidekick prevented her death.


    Ryan was pulled out of the scuffle and thrown to the side, but he quickly got back on all fours and looked into the silenced barrels of both MPs. Keeping his distance, he ran in a semi-circle in front of the firing line until he dived behind a fume bonnet and buried his fingers in the metal panelling. A jolt later, he used the ripped-out metal as a shield against the gunfire, only to hurl it at the women with a sharp edge!


    The one who hadn¡¯t taken a beating before was bloodily slashed by the thrown object and her accomplice was suddenly confronted with her target again. The MP was knocked out of her hand and two deep clawing blows later, she also flew to the ground in mortal astonishment - it was over.


    "Apostle," Ryan gulped exhaustedly, yet sank to his knees victoriously. "I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not all pure romance Helen ... Helen, you`re all right?"


    Nothing was clear with Helen! She was lying on her back behind her hiding place and was barely moving. There was a strong odour of blood emanating from her and a spreading pool could be seen beneath her. Helen¡¯s neck had apparently been hit by a bullet and bubbling bubble sounds accompanied her every attempted breath.


    "Shit!" cursed Ryan. He rushed to her side and lifted her head, completely unsure of what to do. "Take it easy, take it easy! I¡¯ll call a doctor!" It was a sentence that immediately brought him face to face with a gruesome reality: he couldn¡¯t just call a doctor, could he? The convulsing body under his hand, the agonised sounds of the woman, all this made it difficult for him and he swallowed quietly. "I-I can¡¯t... I¡¯m so sorry!"


    Meanwhile, unscathed by this sudden horror, the cheerful music of the carnival continued to play between the glassy concrete canyons of the city and not a voice of astonishment could be heard. What had just happened here had not happened for the people down there.


    Ryan felt the heat drain from Helen¡¯s body, as well as his own burning muscles. Every fibre in his body was quite irritated by the massive smell of blood and there was quite a bit of the red on his fingers, which he just had to look at and unconsciously lick over his lips with his tongue.


    "Don¡¯t!" he mouthed cautiously. The warm light shining over the edges of the roof finally had company when a shadowy silhouette appeared and walked wordlessly towards the scene.


    "Lithia!" said Ryan. He thought back and realised. Yes, she had been here the whole time! Why didn¡¯t she intervene! No, it doesn¡¯t matter now! "We have to do something!"


    "It¡¯s out of our hands," Lithia replied as she dropped to her knees on Helen¡¯s free side and stroked the wounded woman¡¯s face with her claws.


    Helen was still conscious and stared in disbelief into the figure¡¯s glowing burgundy-purple eyes. Even now, there was a certain fascination in her gaze, and though no words sounded from her dying lungs, she lifted a hand and slid it across the Juda¡¯Aerith¡¯s dark surface.


    "I¡¯m so sorry about that my love," Lithia apologised in a near whisper, letting Helen have her way freely no matter where she touched her. She, in turn, moved her hand from her face to the woman¡¯s chest and proclaimed certainty. "A few more moments and you will have your peace ... or, you will choose another path."


    Without any use in the situation, Ryan folded his arms behind his head and could have torn his arms out with his own guilt, but it wasn¡¯t just Helen¡¯s powerless sinking arm that distracted his thoughts.


    Like a dandelion, shadowy threads began to detach themselves from Lithia¡¯s body and be carried away by the cool night wind. The Juda¡¯Aerith revealed her true colours and she wore not a shred of clothing, but was she a monster? No, you couldn¡¯t say that. In a macabre and disreputable way, Lithia could be compared to a Picasso painting. The countless thorns on her back and the open-looking scars would certainly put many people off, but the play of colours on her fish-like scaly skin alone was the exact opposite: royal blue, into which blobs and waves of ivory swirled and snaked in white. This gave her face, which was reasonably beautiful, the contours of a harlequin. "If you wish, I can save you from death ... by giving you the gift of eternal night and turning you into a vampire. All you have to do is nod."


    Apart from the importance of this decision, nodding in Helen¡¯s condition was certainly not a mere nod, but rather a Herculean task. Shock and fear dominated the woman¡¯s expression, even on the brink of death, and tears made her eyes extremely glassy as she weakly but clearly moved her head up and down.


    Lithia smiled blissfully and placed her fingers on the fatal wound, on which a shadow lay like a patch on a hole. "I will take away all your fears ... something like this will never happen to you again."


    This turn of events was anything but easy for Ryan to digest, but he was only a spectator here and no longer an actor. He hesitated and wanted to see exactly how this transformation into a vampire took place. However, he saw it more as a punishment without any real choice, because who wanted to surrender to death just like that? And that had been his fault! For that reason alone, he did not want to and could not witness this act and turned away. "... You got what you wanted," he realised bitterly, clinging to the only thing he had left. "I¡¯ll let Mato know that the deal is done."


    No matter how Lithia looked at it now, she had indeed got what she wanted and, as she had said before, she didn¡¯t care how. In fact, this turn of events even brought a slight anger to her voice. "The Apostles dared to hurt someone I care about deeply. I no longer need a deal to side with the Tenebrae in this war ... for now."


    "And ... the bodies here?"


    "I¡¯ll take care of them," Lithia said, and it was hard to tell if this turn of events had changed her opinion of Ryan for the worse. In that moment, there was at least a disappointment, or at least regret, present. "And you ... go, now."


    Without another response or nod, Ryan complied with the request and sprinted to the roof from which the attackers had come. No, he would not return to Mato immediately. Perhaps there was a trail here that he could follow, for his stomach was filling with rage, and he was now directing that rage at the apostles.

 Percival - 4

    The plan had gone so well! Percival had got to New York with the help of a blood portal and had used illusion magic to sneak among the guards of Richard Pink¡¯s transport plane, which was supposed to bring the shard of the holy cross to Great Kingston. The red box with the coveted contents, barely larger than a ring box, was already safely stowed in Percival¡¯s 70s leather jacket and the guards were no longer a danger, but nothing was safe!


    Rain pelted against the torn front hull of the oversized transport plane, which carried even more of Pink¡¯s luxuries, at an altitude of over ten kilometres. Winter snow and ice streaked through the interior and alarm rang out through the long pilotless aircraft. Between the clouds of the stormy midday sky, the lights of lightning flashed steadily before thundering violently and only the autopilot kept the plane on course for a little while longer, but it was already descending.


    Percival let new flames flare up around him and created a ball of fire as a protective shield around him, shielding him from an icy, freezing blizzard.


    The mist created by the molten ice storm made no impression on the source of the spell. "Your magic is weakening," a female voice remarked snappishly, and hidden in the mist, the words were followed by slow footsteps creaking in the snow. "But that¡¯s all right. A ghoul¡¯s apprentice. Her strength is fading, like the rotting flesh of the undead."


    "Not as fast as your Christmas ambience!" Percival countered superiorly. He had never met her before, but he knew exactly who he was dealing with and that she was right. That¡¯s why he tried to make his way to the rear of the machine piece by piece. "But maybe it¡¯s time for the real fire."


    "Or you could just give me the shard," Ivy sighed. She was a notorious magical mercenary and particularly skilled in anything to do with ice and water. That, and the unapologetic way she went about her tasks, had earned her the nickname Arctic Wind.


    "Not a chance!"


    "Seriously? Do I really have to put up with this now?" Ivy replied as she left the fog behind her like a curtain and stepped onto the stage. Arctic Wind was not just a name for the small, curvy woman, but a motto that was reflected in her sapphire eyes and her outfit. The finest tattoos of wafer-thin, crystalline ice adorned her pale, flawless skin and despite the frosty temperatures that she permanently spread before her and from which she seemed unaffected, she wore a combination of underwear, multi-part tunics, some of which were very revealing, with boots that went up to her knees. "Well, at least I¡¯ll also collect the bounty on your bowling ball of a head."


    "Oh, confident women are so damn sexy," Percival admitted, but he had wasted enough time now. On his retreat, he had left behind various tiny symbols covered in frost, which he now filled with demonic energy.


    Several pentagrams glowed ominously under the frost and four armoured Black Orcs emerged from the symbols with drawn blades and axes.


    Ivy surprised them with her remarkable agility, however, and sent the first attacker stumbling past her left foot. As she did so, she conjured up a combat sword made of pure ice in her right hand, which increased her agility and offence. She refused to engage in a trial of strength with the physically stronger Black Orcs and parried the attacks before she cut the first throat and slit the belly of number two.


    For Percival, however, these lesser demons were merely a distraction that allowed him to further enrich the pentagrams, turning them from portals into spouts from which hellish flames shot out like fire from a dragon¡¯s mouth.


    The Black Orcs and Ivy were engulfed by the glowing sea that turned the ice to water and the interior coal burned black and deformed metal.


    Percival gazed arrogantly at his handiwork as the flames fizzled out. "I really expected more from you."


    Those words were as much smoke and mirrors as the new vapour of molten ice, with one exception! Ivy had truly encased herself in a thick block of ice that not even the previously raging hellfire had been able to melt.


    "Oh shit..." Percival murmured meekly and ran off.


    Ivy blew up the block around her and hurled the chunks after the fleeing man. She missed the man by a hair¡¯s breadth as he dived down a staircase at the last moment and Ivy picked up speed, sliding steadily across the newly cast ice in front of her.


    Percival was now in the plane¡¯s vast cargo hold, which was mostly filled with huge crates of cargo and a few extremely rare vintage and expensive new cars. His destination was the locked tailgate, which he teleported to and unlocked in the blink of an eye. A menacing whistle in the air caused him to make a hasty turn, creating an arcane shield in front of him, on which half a dozen icicles shattered.


    After a loop on her frosty trajectory, Ivy landed gracefully between the cars, already guiding the next set of cone projectiles in a hover beside her. "Just FYI," she said matter-of-factly. "If you think you can get rid of me by jumping out into the open - no, I¡¯m better."


    "Nobody¡¯s better than me!" said Percival irritably, but he stuck to his plan. It hadn¡¯t actually been intended for Ivy, but his preparations now worked in his favour and made his chest swell. "I¡¯ll show you!"


    This statement seemed to amuse Ivy more than frighten her as she readied her cool tips. What she didn¡¯t know was that Percival had prepared his escape from the theft by destroying the vulnerable fuel line in this hangar, faking a tragic plane crash.


    There was also a surprise lurking in one of the cargo crates, a wildcard for emergencies, and as the icicles flew and the next ones were chased straight after, reinforcements were unleashed! The crate shattered and the demon Zal emerged with a deep rumble and outstretched wings.


    "So there you are!" Ivy reacted with foreboding and protected herself thanks to a semi-circular wall of ice that was torn up from the ground and slowed down the powerful demon¡¯s blow. It didn¡¯t stop Zal, however, and he lunged forwards, forcing her to retreat quickly to avoid further blows and his firebreathing. However, she was only able to dodge a massive fireball from Percival by teleporting back to the stairs. "Mages messing with demons... even sadder than preying on the dead. Weakling."


    "A weakling, that¡¯s what he is," Zal bared his head, bristling with teeth as he widened all the folds of flesh and bit into the metal of the stairs to tear into the treads. "But I can¡¯t eat him!"


    Percival puffed contemptuously at his disdain as he climbed into the perfectly maintained 1971 Chevrolet Camaro in front of him. "You¡¯re not here to eat, you¡¯re here to distract!" he said, starting the car with a pat of the steering wheel. "I¡¯m really sorry about you, my beauty."


    "What?!" Zal replied and looked at the car as it drove off, from which a small fireball flew to the side. "Don¡¯t you dare let me die here!"


    "You¡¯ll be back in hell in a few days anyway."


    Ivy took advantage of this talk to impale the demon with ice spikes from the ground and freeze it completely so that she could burst it with a casual snap of her fingers.


    Unperturbed, Percival hurtled out of the plane into freefall before his little fireball hit the prepared fuel line and turned the transport plane into an inferno in the sky. He glanced back, sure that Ivy had taken care of that while he could concentrate fully on the fall. However, the van only served as a safe buffer for him, coming closer and closer to the ground. Hundreds of metres were covered in seconds and it was only when the mage was able to focus on a clear spot in a very wooded area thanks to the carriage¡¯s high beams that he teleported out of the carriage seconds before impact. He landed very roughly and rolled down a muddy slope in the continuing rainstorm, at the end of which he lost consciousness.


    The rain didn¡¯t stop, but at least it soon pattered down more gently and it was much warmer and drier than before when Percival dragged himself awake from his involuntary sleep. His feet dangled in the air and he hung like a piece of meat from a log with his upper body naked and both wrists tied together.


    A frame without glass allowed a view into the rainy night forest, out of this self-built hut of mud, branches and sticks, covered with reeds. A few stones served mainly as a foundation, furniture and surrounded the crackling fire in the hearth.


    Percival tried to break free of the restraints, with no chance and although he could move his fingers and his mouth was free, an attempt at magic failed as blue glowing grains crumbled from his fingers, like a bag from which the last biscuit crumbs crumbled. "Please no witch, please no witch," he muttered to himself uncertainly, always trying to get free.


    "You¡¯ve woken up?" a voice from the side said happily. "Then I can finally start cooking."


    "As long as I don¡¯t end up in the pot," Percival replied, casting a thoughtful glance to his right. An athletic female body clad in skimpy tribal costumes delighted him for a fleeting moment, but the realisation of what and who made the otherwise so composed mage tremble. "I would have preferred the witch."


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The dark ashen grey of her skin and cursed symbols immediately revealed the white-haired stranger to be a wild elf. "But you¡¯ll live much longer with us," the stranger smiled and closed her blood-red eyes. "At least for a while." Wild elf, however, was just another word for outcast, no matter which of the three rare species they were descended from, elves being a term of human stories. Elvar was the name given to this species, and over time the Vis Elvar, commonly called High Elves and said to have been the dominant civilisation on Earth tens of thousands of years ago, had split. From them emerged the Viridis Elvar, forest elves, and the Dotor Elvar, dark elves.


    "Yes, I was afraid of that," Percival nodded and made another fruitless attempt to free himself. "Where exactly am I?"


    "Humans call this the Cherokee National Forest," the elf explained. It was impossible to tell the age of elves, so she looked like a woman in her late twenties, without blemish or wrinkle. Only her voice made her seem a little na?ve, but that didn¡¯t have to mean anything. "We saw your plane and followed it for a while before it was destroyed."


    "Too kind of you to pick me up afterwards. Now you can set me free."


    "Even freed, you wouldn¡¯t stand a chance," the elf raised her shoulders and sharpened a finely crafted knife, next to a stone table full of vegetables, herbs and meat, before pointing the blade at the man¡¯s arm. "Do you see?"


    "Yes, I see. Not very hospitable," Percival gritted as he spied the silver hoop full of glowing runes on his upper right arm. It suppressed all of the man¡¯s magic, no matter how powerful he was or would be. He also became aware of his task again and searched for his jacket. "Where are my clothes?"


    "The clothes are no longer necessary," a new voice announced as he entered. Another wild elf, accompanied by a second, stepped up to the fireplace and immediately exuded a motherly aura, not to mention that her bare breasts were only covered by rose-red markings and she spoke more about than to the man. "In fact, I wonder why he¡¯s wearing trousers again."


    "Could we have dinner first before we take that step?" Percival raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself. "And what do you mean again?"


    "I thought it would be better for him this way, mother," explained the elf at the cooking table, cutting salad. "The weather isn¡¯t exactly agreeable for humans, even in our warm home."


    "Mhh, you¡¯re right Orelia," nodded the motherly elf, casting a scrutinising glance at the mage as if she were inspecting an animal. "It¡¯s the best specimen we¡¯ve ever caught. We must nurture it until it has served its purpose before we gut, utilise and consume it."


    Oh yes, Percival had hit the jackpot and sighed inwardly. This was definitely the worst kind of textbook wild elf. "I¡¯ve rarely been praised like this and I¡¯m really embarrassed," he joked latently, but his tone was appropriate to the danger. "But you can talk about a lot of things - especially the last three points. I am truly disinclined to take part in it."


    "Mother, it¡¯s so lively," said the elf standing next to said mother. She seemed reserved but curious and was about to approach the prisoner. "Matching his seed, which I have received."


    The mother stopped the approach with a gentle grip on the curious woman¡¯s hand. "It will talk a lot, be on your guard, but you¡¯re just as right. It¡¯s very lively."


    Seed?" Percival thought to himself. He must have missed a good chunk of his sleep. "Could you please be so polite as to stop talking about me as if I wasn¡¯t there?" he demanded, composed but disgruntled. "I¡¯m Percival and what was that about my seed?"


    All the wild elves glanced briefly at him. "The value that keeps you alive," the mother said dismissively, stroking her daughter¡¯s bare belly in circles. "Your seed, which my beautiful Irelia wrested from you in your sleep and I am hopeful that it will grow in her, as it will in all of us. We have made a good trade."


    "Trade? What was I traded for?"


    "We sensed powerful magic, the little shard in this box," the mother mentioned, stepping unabashedly close to the hanging man. "We found you in the dirt when a mage searched you."


    "Ivy survived?" asked Percival incredulously. All his trouble had been for nothing.


    "I don¡¯t care about her name," the mother rebuffed, pushing the mage¡¯s face away harshly. "We could have caught them too. Two magical creatures in one go, but I was aware of how strong she was and she didn¡¯t want a fight either and said she just wanted that shard and we could have you."


    Percival tried to fix the issue on the point that was keeping him alive. "Because you ... want babies? All of you?"


    "More than anything," the mother confirmed, turning away. Her familiarity with the two daughters was questionable, but perhaps that was simply Elvar culture. "It took me seven hundred years to receive my treasures." As she said this, a difference between her and the two others became clear. They all had pointed ears, but hers were long and curved backwards in a half-moon, whereas her daughters had shorter, upturned ears.


    "With humans."


    "In the absence of choice. No matter what people of Elvar, none would even look at us," the mother seethed, but she was controlled, presenting her ash-skin and cursed Elvar symbols. "Death is a mercy with Elvar. This, here, is a true punishment. Deprived of magic, of connections to spirits, even our bodies are branded internally so that we are alone forever if possible. I always found and caught only moderate specimens of human men, but not only that they were rarely virile sources. Ordinary seed ... it is literally burnt by the curse and has almost no chance, but my patience was rewarded and now my daughters will also experience this luck, because you are not only healthy and strong in blood, but a being of bundled magic. Your seed, can resist the curse much better."


    "Listen," Percival began thoughtfully. The situation was extremely bizarre for him, without question. His worth flattered him, but the fact that he was being treated like an object, without anything approaching due respect, and even stolen from, infuriated him, though it wasn¡¯t about potential children themselves. It was simply the fact that they were taking from him and he was powerless. . "You like to make a trade? Fine. I fu ... I¡¯ll give you all what you want. One baby each, so you can use up the remaining vowels for their names. Arelia, Erlia and Urelia sound good, don¡¯t they? And then you let me go. Agreed?"


    Orelia was skinning a rabbit. "Perhaps we should start the utilisation right away, mother," she said coldly and looked at the mage, pressing the bloody knife against her cheek. "Without a tongue, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be much more docile and we could finally taste some of that magic you¡¯ve been raving about all these years."


    "It would be worth considering," the mother admitted, clearly toying with the idea, but her facial expressions and intentions spoke against it. "But no, be patient, you two. It will be worth the wait." This woman truly saw nothing more in her captive than a possession she would fully savour, in every way, and it made her seem spoiled. "The mage can certainly tell us a lot of secrets and for that he needs his tongue and ... if he does well, it¡¯s good for something else too."


    "Something else?" Irelia asked naively. Judging by her demeanour, she was probably the youngest and least experienced. "What can tongues be other than talking and food or ingredients?"


    The mother patted her daughter¡¯s cheek gently. "Pure joy, but enough of that now. Rest and let nature take its course." At her words, she received a silent nod and Irelia left the room.


    Percival stopped his attempts to break free of the bindings and realised that this was not a situation he could easily talk his way out of and without his magic, he could not fight his way free or even summon a demon pr be found by one, which was also true for Zal, who was bound to him. "So ... you want to use me to father children and then slaughter me like an animal to eat me and make ingredients for something else?"


    "That¡¯s what will happen," the mother replied smugly, and although she treated him from above, he was like her, like the most valuable treasure she ever seemed to have possessed. "I promise myself children from you as soon as possible. Maybe we¡¯ll cut off one of your arms first, because my daughters don¡¯t know what magic is, what it feels like and unfortunately they never will, but with you ... they¡¯ll be able to taste it."


    "Apparently you have a real longing for family," Percival remarked. He would have to give in and try everything he could to buy as much time as possible and find a way out, even if he didn¡¯t want to spend months or years here. Death was not an option for him. "Why take me out after one child? There¡¯s clearly room for more here. You¡¯ll never get your hands on anything like me again."


    The mother¡¯s eyes spoke volumes. She must have had half similar thoughts. "Speaking of which," she said, waving her daughter over. "Orelia, lighten his load a little. As long as he¡¯s vital and fresh, we can fill our stores with his blood and semen."


    "Of course, Mother," Orelia said obediently and swapped places with her mother. "Pain or pleasure first?"


    Percival didn¡¯t quite follow. "What?"


    "I¡¯ll let you bleed first or...," Orelia indicated with her knife hand and then reached between his legs with her free hand. "Aren¡¯t we being generous?"


    "If I told you what you are, you¡¯d change your mind about the tongue."


    "You will learn to submit," said Orelia bossily, who had more of her mother than her sister. "So first the pleasure, which I will spoil for you with the pain."


    "Well done, my darling," praised her mother as her daughter went to her knees in front of the man. She didn¡¯t watch the act begin, nor did the mage, but the sounds and movements left little to the imagination as the mother took out the man¡¯s jacket. "Who do you serve, human?"


    Of course, it was hard for Percival to concentrate fully in this situation. "I have no master or lord. I¡¯m a powerful mage and I don¡¯t need anyone."


    "Liar," the mother smirked shrewdly, lifting out the blood eye that had been tucked into the jacket of the mage . It was a clear, shattered crystal ball that fit in her hand. "When I found this, I destroyed it immediately and the blood that came out of the eye wasn¡¯t just yours. My tongue is so fine, I was able to pick out the vampire before my next breath."


    The wild elf was apparently extremely well educated, Percival had to admit. "A good friend, that¡¯s all."


    Blood eyes were enchanted communication items, made by appropriate magic and always as a pair. They were bound to their creator by their essence and the person who received one of the eyes added their essence to it. As long as both parties held their blood eye in their hand, they could communicate with each other visually and mentally without an observer noticing, even if they were standing right next to it. For strangers, it was merely a transparent crystal ball and at the same time a means for the creator to track down the counter pair.


    That was probably why the mother had rendered the blood eye harmless. "Whoever has the counterpart won¡¯t find you. No one will come," she announced darkly and simply threw the eye into a corner. "So get over it and try to enjoy your time, because aren¡¯t all three of us beautiful and desirable? Wouldn¡¯t every human dream of sleeping with an Elvar?"


    "If humans knew you existed, sure," Percival admitted distractedly, trying to suppress his irritation for as long as he could. It was easier said than done, but he didn¡¯t want to just give the wild elves what they wanted. "Without dying afterwards. I don¡¯t think anyone would want to pay that price."


    "Oh I think there would be more than enough willing to lay down their lives for it."


    "It¡¯s being forced on me and I don¡¯t want it."


    "Well, what did that magician say?" the mother amused herself. "There could be worse endings for men. He¡¯ll smile more than he¡¯ll suffer."


    It was becoming increasingly difficult for Percival to restrain himself. His tensing body didn¡¯t want what his head was telling him to do and his tight lips were struggling to contain his panting. "Seriously now!" he lost his patience. "LEAVE IT ALONE YOU BEASTS! OUTCASTS! WILD PACK OF ELVES! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM? I AM PERCIVAL ZIVAI."


    This outburst of rage only seemed to excite the mother all the more. "What a splendid specimen. You will do us excellent service, in life and in death," she laughed darkly and left the mage and her daughter to the approaching end of the act.

 Kayra - 5

    A dead end, that had been Kayra¡¯s break into the King¡¯s Eye newsroom, from which she was returning at the moment, walking down one of the countless dark side streets of Great Kingston. Her dark, long hair was soaked from the heavy falling snow, but she didn¡¯t care. ¡°Not a clue,¡± reported Temperately, frustrated with her Mouth Button. ¡°The reporter¡¯s former flat also turned up nothing, and I suspect that any traces were simply removed.¡±


    "Probably before the Apostles were exposed," Patriarch Stein said anxiously. It was he who had contacted his daughter. "It doesn¡¯t matter for now, my decision stands. The Tenebrae have the data and will follow the trail themselves and after your confrontation with the two agents, the Tenebrae know that someone else is involved. It¡¯s too risky to continue now."


    "I¡¯m sorry," Kayra sighed self-critically. "But I couldn¡¯t let him die ... because I think he¡¯s one of the better knights and I would have broken my word if I hadn¡¯t left the data in his care."


    "A difficult situation for you, no doubt," Oskar admitted to his daughter. "I know that you want to honour our house, but these are difficult nights and sometimes you can¡¯t uphold your ideal."


    "You would have done it differently?"


    "I¡¯m not sure, but probably yes," Oskar said, but at least he had one less thing to worry about. "At least your plan worked, as my source from the Tenebrae tells me. The detective has almost no recollection of the situation in the car park. Not even the handover of the money."


    Thoughtfully, Kayra again revealed her concern. "And I was beginning to think I was in the grip of the Blood Moon child¡¯s evil."


    "You¡¯re one of my cleverest children," Oskar marvelled slightly. He hadn¡¯t expected this reaction. "Do you really believe in that old superstition?"


    "Not really and I¡¯ve failed in the past or didn¡¯t quite fulfil tasks to your or my expectations," Kayra reflected on the past few weeks. No, she didn¡¯t really blame it all on the birth of Ryan and yet she had always been an alert spirit who knew that this world was full of mysteries and that there was usually something to everything. "To have such unsatisfactory results again and again in such a short space of time is something that hasn¡¯t happened to me in centuries and, to be honest, makes me a little uneasy."


    "Well, events are coming thick and fast at the moment and as you know, no plan survives the first contact with the enemy."


    "An inappropriate quote," Kayra felt. If it was an attempt to cheer her up, it had the exact opposite effect on her. "I¡¯m supposed to be observing and investigating, not waging war. Being discovered in the process makes me a bad observer."


    Oskar raised an indisputable fact, but it sounded like he was going for more. "Only if your identity had been revealed to the Tenebrae, and that is not yet the case."


    "That¡¯s probably true," Kayra agreed forebodingly. She had not missed the patriarch¡¯s tone and choice of words. "Should I withdraw?"


    "From persecuting the apostles, yes," Oskar replied thoughtfully, but he seemed equally uneasy. "And erase the data so that any evidence against us is erased. The Tenebrae have it anyway and will continue to work on this trail themselves. Who knows, we might even be called in officially."


    Kayra didn¡¯t quite agree. "Mhh, I see. So you want me to come home?"


    "Quite the opposite - you still have your job."


    "The blood moon child," Kayra pulled in her lower lip. Somehow, a lot of things were connected to Ryan, she felt a little unwillingly. "He¡¯s been without my watchful eye for a long time now... does he really need my protection?"


    "Now more than ever," Oskar remarked apprehensively, and after all those weeks in which his daughter was supposed to follow the trail of the Apostles, this interest was suddenly there again, which he could certainly have covered up well in front of strangers, but not in front of her. "My contact within the Tenebrae told me that Julia¡¯s child had broken out in a rage and wanted to hunt Apostles."


    "Hunting apostles?" Kayra listened in surprise, stopping in the middle of the dark alley to retreat to the darkest corner. "What does this child know about the apostles? Isn¡¯t he in danger of being killed by the Tenebrae if he neglects his duty?"


    "My source has assured me that Lady Gardner is in agreement with this course of action," Oskar explained. Who his source was remained unclear. "The child has caused Lithia and her clan to ally themselves with the Tenebrae for the time being. However, an innocent woman died in the process, at the hands of two apostle blood knights and young children... well, you know that their emotions can quickly go to extremes."


    "I know it too well," Kayra recalled, but now was no time for the past. The actions of the Blood Moon child, on the other hand, mattered more to her. "And this Ryan made a Nox, Lithia of all people, get involved with the Tenebrae? Amazing, for someone so young."


    "Quite, but that doesn¡¯t exempt him from his test," Oskar said with a weary sigh. The political games were taking their toll on everyone. "He needs to take out the red artist, as my source pointed out. Lady Gardner is probably just banking on Ryan being killed by the Apostles, breaking laws through his emotions, or otherwise neglecting his duties. That¡¯s why it¡¯s imperative that you go in search of him immediately and resume your original task - even if you have to reveal yourself."


    "As you wish," Kayra replied, but with the steady worry and weariness in her father¡¯s voice, it was now her turn to enquire after his condition. "Apart from that ... it must be difficult nights for you, father."


    "As I said before, difficult nights indeed," Oskar replied and took a big sip. "Yesterday I lost contact with Mage Zivai. His blood eye is destroyed."


    "Wasn¡¯t he supposed to train our house against enemy mages?"


    "Well, I had a tricky job for him in New York," Oskar told frankly. Sharing the leader¡¯s burden lifted the heaviness in his voice. "He boarded an plane there, which was also destroyed according to plan. But there has been no trace of him since."


    "Maybe he was killed."


    "Possibly, but then I should at least be able to track down his blood eye. As you know, this object is difficult to destroy, or if you know how."


    Kayra nodded to herself. A blood eye wasn¡¯t indestructible, but it could withstand something as mundane as a plane crash and she knew that a conventional needle would have to be stuck into a specific point on the sphere to specifically render it useless. "Will you have a search done for him?"


    "The plane went down in the middle of nowhere. He could be anywhere if he¡¯s still alive," Oskar added pragmatically. "If he is, he¡¯ll get in touch. If not, it¡¯s an unfortunate loss and setback, but an acceptable one."


    "But then that would be another failure for our house..."


    "The dead are only counted at the end of a war," Oskar firmly rejected this implied superstition. "Ryan is still alive, so you haven¡¯t missed your real mission yet."


    Oh, what sweet irony that made Kayra smile. So while Ryan was still alive, this superstition was supposed to be nonsense and yet the blood moon children were supposedly sources of great misfortune, or at least special events. "I suppose that¡¯s true," she replied. "Then I¡¯d best be on my way to keep it that way. See you soon ... father."


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Take care of yourself ... daughter."


    She had to hurry, but there was one more thing Kayra wanted to take care of first so that her efforts would not be wasted. So she returned to her hotel, where she remained motionless on the flat roof of the twenty-storey building in the icy night air and snow drifts. Over two hours passed, so that her coat was covered in white frost like her face, and of course she realised that this was a gamble, but her hunch and the bet she had made would pay off. "I thought you weren¡¯t coming."


    "I¡¯ve been watching you for half an hour and I was curious," Billy¡¯s familiar voice echoed from all around. "But I gradually got the feeling that you were waiting for me."


    "I was counting on it, yes," Kayra admitted, searching with her eyes and senses. This time she had only felt a hint of the warmth and there weren¡¯t many shadows on the roof and her guest might as well have been on the fa?ade of a tower block opposite. "And you know by now that you don¡¯t have to be shy with me."


    "But I can and that open`s up so many options," Billy laughed, but he didn¡¯t feel like playing around and from the darkness of a tower block, an eyeless shadow crow flew in and transformed into his true form as he landed. "Because it¡¯s you, I can be polite, though."


    "Much obliged," Kayra thanked him with a nod, but she didn¡¯t flare for long and some of the frost on her coat rolled off her. "And I take it from your presence that your trail has been lost?"


    "Less lost," Billy lifted his shoulders and sat down at the edge of the roof, his back to the street. "More like hard to reach. The lorries drove into a facility that¡¯s extremely heavily guarded and secured."


    The corners of Kayra¡¯s mouth lifted. "Hendrix Bio Lab¡¯s."


    "It looks like we¡¯re back to square one," Billy said in amazement, more than interested in how the woman had gotten to this point. "Although it seems there was more than one way to get there. Which one was yours?"


    "The one with far more directions," Kayra said, as if that was nothing. She walked from her spot along the far edge of the roof, looking down at the lit streets of night traffic. "And two interesting insights."


    The only question that remained was who Billy was working for and whether too many revelations could expose Kayra¡¯s recent entanglements. "How things have turned around," the Juda¡¯Aerith laughed in amazement and indicated an appreciative bow. "A while ago, I saw you before you saw me and knew what you didn¡¯t yet know. I may still be the first to see you, but even so, I am now behind you. Chapeau!"


    "Right, the situation was vice versa," Kayra replied with a grateful nod. However, her knowledge was now more and a little more valuable, but she wanted to play it all off skilfully and repay Billy¡¯s previous help. "And you¡¯ve played your part in getting me this far, so I¡¯ll tell you this: You know Gordon Mitchell and Ryan are on the trail of the Red Artist?"


    "I¡¯ve known that since I tracked them to the lofts. What¡¯s that got to do with new directions?"


    "That¡¯s an extremely interesting question to solve, by the way," Kayra interjected. Her main focus was still on finding out what the apostles had to do with this mysterious project, in which the murders of the red painter also seemed to play a role. "Steeling Good, Hendrix Biolab¡¯s and a few more connected to these canisters - the Red Artist has committed murder in all of them."


    Even a scout like Billy couldn¡¯t hold back his interest at this revelation, though he remained quiet. "The Apostles are shipping special hazmat canisters and a suspected vampire is massacring those involved? Extremely intriguing and disturbing, but what good is this knowledge without the rest of those involved?" he asked, demonstrating his acumen. "No, you¡¯re not going to give me this information easily."


    "The value of it is too high for that," Kayra replied straightforwardly and turned her back to the abyss. She demonstratively took out her Black Pitch and held it out to the side of her, while her silhouette in the night shadows was clearly outlined by the light of the street canyon. "I have the names of all parties involved at my fingertips."


    Billy¡¯s slimy throat vibrated in amused realisation. "That¡¯s why you¡¯ve been waiting for me," he stated, revealing himself. "You want to make a deal with me. You¡¯re banking on the fact that I want this data so badly."


    "Am I wrong?"


    "Hardly, only the price is the question: what do you want for it?" Billy wondered and had a hunch. "Know who I work for?"


    "A very tempting price," Kayra admitted and she had toyed with the idea before. "However, I¡¯m not sure if you would answer honestly or at all."


    "Not to mention the fact that I now know that the Red Artist is involved in all this," Billy said thoughtfully. He didn¡¯t seem ungrateful, but it was still all a game - a political game, a power game, a dangerous game and every move should be well thought out. "What you know now, I¡¯m sure I can get too."


    "Only with a lot more time," Kayra cut the thought off mercilessly. She moulded her hand into a claw and clasped the Black Pitch as if she wanted to crush it at any moment. "I stole all of this information from the Steeling Good offices. You won¡¯t get it there again and no one else has information on everyone involved."


    For a moment, again, it seemed as if Billy was weighing up his options. Faint movements of his muscles signalled an attack, but it was hastily dismissed. The Juda¡¯Aerith was not entirely convinced, but eventually he swallowed what he had said and exaggerated a little. "A true Juda¡¯Aerith has been lost on you. With the power of Shadowwalking, you might even be able to surpass Nosferatu one day."


    It was rare that anyone managed that, but Kayra laughed sheepishly. "You can be quite charming, even if we both know that¡¯s not true," Kayra doubted in respect for Nosferatu and the vampires of his calibre as she pulled the hand with the Black Pitch to her chest. "Neither do I feel the need, nor do I believe that anyone is capable of surpassing the Ancients."


    "Maybe one, every thousand years," Billy agreed, moving into a half-kneeling pose. He seemed ready for a deal. "Name your price."


    Kayra opened her hand with the Black Pitch. "I want you to report back to me," she said slyly. For her, her hard work, and what she had discovered, was simply too valuable to destroy and leave the playing field entirely to the Tenebrae. She would delete the data as ordered, but what was wrong with remaining indirectly involved? "What you find out, every last detail, I want to know just as much as your master or whoever you serve. No secrets! No lies!"


    "Pretty bold of you," Billy honoured the offer. Even if he had to pay the price, he didn¡¯t have to. He could lie, take what he wanted and break his word. Kayra wouldn¡¯t have lost anything at first glance, because she had the information in her head, but a defeat against the Juda¡¯?rith would be a defeat. "Are you sure you don¡¯t want something else? Something more tangible? An ... important clue?"


    "An important clue?" Kayra asked brightly. Had Billy picked up a trump card? That made sense to her, because he was a scout for knowledge. "On what?"


    "Well first the question - should I report to you or do you want the clue?"


    "I have to admit, I underestimated you a little at this meeting," Kayra said thoughtfully. The important tip could just be a feint, but he was just as unsure about trusting him to pass on information to the apostles. "No, I¡¯m sticking to my price. Tell me whatever you find about the data."


    "And I thought I could dissuade you from your wish after all," Billy laughed grimly. He had probably also misjudged, but he took it very sportingly. "So I¡¯ll be working for you temporarily, too."


    "And not a word of this to your masters."


    That was out of the question for Billy. "Too late, that wasn¡¯t part of your price and even then I wouldn¡¯t honour that request."


    "Mhh, fine, just the information then."


    "It really is a shame that the two of us are on opposite sides," Billy pined as the woman telekinetically flashed the Black Pitch at him and he made a copy of the data with a Black Pitch that he let rise from the shadows of his palm. "Rarely do my missions go so ... co-operatively."


    Kayra didn¡¯t make a big deal out of that fact. "Well, you did the right thing, too. After all, I was about to spread you across a wall."


    "Ha ha, I haven¡¯t forgotten, and because this co-operation has been so fruitful so far, here¡¯s a gesture of goodwill," Billy said, rising again to speak to the woman eye to eye. "I deliberately said hint because I don¡¯t know any details, but it¡¯s highly likely that the Ultima Bellator will attack the Turquoise Crystal tomorrow night."


    "Why this overpriced residential tower?" Kayra replied. She knew that the ultra-modern, sustainable and yet extraordinarily furnished tower block was a place of residence for extremely wealthy people, but what could these hunters want there?


    "Matriarch Austin resides there, a very, very devoted servant of Lady Gardner," Billy emphasised, perhaps even teasingly. "Just think, if it is Patriarch Stein who warns the Tenebrae of this attack."


    On the one hand, Kayra was extremely surprised that the Juda¡¯Aerith had given her this warning for nothing, but somehow she also distrusted this move, but she hid her reaction well. "That would indeed be quite helpful, for the Tenebrae and of course my house. If that¡¯s true, I owe you one."


    "Not for that," Billy dismissed the whole thing offhandedly and held out the woman¡¯s Black Pitch for her to repeat to herself with telekinesis. "I¡¯d still need your number or something so I can contact you immediately if I have any new information."


    "Sure," Kayra nodded and immediately followed up with Billy¡¯s BP. After entering her number into it, she sent it back. "Well, have a safe night. We¡¯re both going to need them."


    "Oh, these times are the best for me. Winter, long darkness, a dream," Billy grinned with his mouth full of sharp teeth and just as he had appeared, he disappeared again as a dark, eyeless crow and dived into the shadows of the night.


    For Kayra, on the other hand, after all the work, it was now time for a shower and rest, because everything that followed was sure to be a bloody, messy and energy-sapping affair.

 Samantha - 7

    Two steaming hot mugs of coffee in the middle, a snowy night at one o¡¯clock, Peter in the driver¡¯s seat and the civilian vehicle in a watching position across the road from a small, run-down clinic, in one of the worse neighbourhoods of Great Kingston.


    Samantha was almost tempted to say that nothing had changed, but that wouldn¡¯t have been true, or at least she didn¡¯t feel that way, although she was doing some old-fashioned shadowing. ¡°We¡¯ve been here for three hours now,¡± she noted, shuffling off her coffee. "Maybe we missed the blood transport?"


    "No," murmured a strong but strangely calm male voice from behind. Hagen accompanied the shadowing and leaned out from between the seats so that his broad shoulders were positioned at each corner. "Our information clearly states between zero and two o¡¯clock in the morning."


    Samantha and Peter had not been given exact details. "And who obtained the information?" she asked instinctively. Once a cop, always a cop. "So why were we here so early?"


    "Better before than after and we¡¯ll become a natural part of the neighbourhood," Hagen raised his shoulders. "And according to our information, there are still a few conspicuous figures who sometimes go through the side entrance. So we have a chance of more than just our mission."


    Peter echoed his partner¡¯s scepticism. "I thought Brother Caballero said the knights¡ä resources were limited at the moment. Who can keep a constant eye on this clinic to say that?"


    Hagen spoke with a certain innocence that didn¡¯t quite match the man¡¯s stature. "Those forgotten by society: Displaced, shunned and deemed worthless - homeless people."


    "I¡¯ve rarely found homeless people to be particularly co-operative," Samantha recalled. She didn¡¯t condemn those living on the streets. Many were usually down on their luck or had simply given up. "Or do the knights have special tricks?"


    "These people have leaders too, or at least people of importance to turn to," Hagen explained, sinking back into the back seat. "You just have to know who they are, although I have to admit that it¡¯s a lot easier to talk to people on the street when you¡¯re not a police officer or a member of the church."


    "And they know that much, eh?" Peter asked, taking a sip of his coffee.


    "Like I said: forgotten and shunned. Hardly anyone cares about such existences. They prefer to stare straight ahead or at their mobile phones. The eyes of the homeless, however, rarely shy away from one direction and because they are ignored, nobody usually cares what they see."


    "And they help? Just like that?"


    "No, we pay for it, of course. Clothes, food, medicine and more. Things that are actually taken for granted, but which are pure gold for the homeless."


    "Money as well?"


    "No, money is extremely rare," said Hagen, his gaze falling on an obvious drug dealer who was serving a few late-night partygoers. "There¡¯s too much danger of addicts snatching money and the community getting nothing out of it. Money also attracts thieves and other unsavoury characters. Money is also more likely to be traced if someone has more than they should have."


    Samantha grinned broadly. "So the knights are scared that the IRS will find out about them?"


    "Brother Caballero once hinted at something like that," Hagen nodded humourlessly. "Greed is one of the most underestimated sins and the hunger of the authorities and the state is worse than a black hole: too much corruption and selfishness."


    "Selfishness in what way?"


    "Well, positions in the civil service can be extremely comfortable or if you hold political office, don¡¯t you think?" asked Hagen. Someone like him, who had a different view of this world, also seemed to see people as such in a completely different way. Nevertheless, he did not speak arrogantly, but encouraged his counterpart to think. "I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve come across this time and again in your career, when outgoing politicians create new posts for themselves or for their allies just to stay in the fat-cat civil service?"


    "Mhh, at least I¡¯ve wondered about many a post," Samantha admitted. As a policewoman, she had had to do a lot of office work herself, but she had never been involved in the deeper workings of the state bureaucracy and had never presumed to consider the functions of other departments obsolete because she might lack knowledge. "But if the knights know so much and live by the Bible, why don¡¯t they clean up the mess?"


    "Because our fight is a different one," Hagen said obviously. "That, on the other hand, is a problem that society has to solve."


    "So ... if we saw someone being robbed on the street, we¡¯d just watch?"


    "I don¡¯t know what you would do," Hagen, who was difficult to judge, shook his head. "I would intervene."


    "So, are the knights helping after all?"


    "There¡¯s a difference between immediate and protracted crimes. Why would a good person stand by and watch someone being harmed?" Hagen questioned, trying to divine the woman¡¯s motives. "Even if the line is not always clear. I think you¡¯d be only too happy to get out now to catch the drug dealer."


    Samantha had been caught red-handed. "Well, if these blood couriers don¡¯t turn up, why not? An immediate crime."


    "Hardly," Hagen replied, and he wasn¡¯t convinced by the woman¡¯s argument. "The dealer may take advantage of his customers¡ä weakness, but they have made their own choice and in the end, everyone will receive their judgement sooner or later. Vampires, however ... are eternal creatures who can escape their judgement until they are eliminated. That¡¯s why our fight is a different one, a far more important one, than the fight against the weaknesses of humans."


    "Hard to argue against that," Samantha admitted, sipping her coffee thoughtfully as she internalised Hagen¡¯s words and wondered what unusually controlled monks were all about. This was Samantha and Peter¡¯s initiation, their entrance exam, and Hagen was supposed to observe and support them. However, Brother Caballero had mentioned in his extensive conversation of the past few days that monks were more active in the background and this led Samantha to wonder why Hagen was here now. She and Peter were initiates, the rank before they were officially accepted into the Order of Knights, and alongside the monks, there were the squires and knights who fought on the front line. Samantha, however, was now at the front and had a monk with her, with whom the other members she had met in the last few days had barely exchanged a word. In fact, many had avoided Hagen as much as possible and hadn¡¯t even turned their eyes on him. He didn¡¯t seem to care, but he was actually treated like a leper.


    Regarding vampires, Peter asked an awkward question. "Speaking of the bloodsuckers. Brother Caballero said that vampires have keener senses. They see, smell and hear extremely well. He also said that trained vampires can sense energies - aren¡¯t we sitting here, so close to the clinic, on a platter? Can¡¯t they hear us talking?"


    "No, it¡¯s not that simple," Hagen replied unconcernedly. Although he and the initiators had pistols with them that fired special incendiary ammunition, this mission was not designed for a confrontation. "It¡¯s true that vampires have tremendous perception, but they have to control it and focus it when necessary."


    "Adjust it like a rifle scope?"


    "Depending on the sensory organ, that would apply to the eyes. Hearing is far more sensitive. Vampires hear so well that they have to learn to tune out their distant surroundings, otherwise they would be driven mad by the extreme stimulus of sound. It is therefore unlikely that a vampire will hear us speak. If they noticed us and focussed on us with eye contact, the situation would be different. Depending on their experience, the creatures of the night can hear and see several hundred metres away."


    "Luckily we have these with us," joked Peter, playfully raising his night vision goggles. "You can see a long way without selling your soul."


    "That may be true," Hagen admitted, but the monotone monk illuminated both sides of the issue. "However, the majority of vampires do not choose their existence. Many are turned against their will and then come to terms with their fate."


    If that was true, Samantha questioned the knights¡ä motives. "And yet vampires are to be destroyed? Even if they didn¡¯t choose this path?"


    "In the end, it doesn¡¯t matter how, and as I said, many come to terms with this path," he murmured with a hint of regret, the first spark of emotion quickly disappearing again. "They feast on the living, discover dark arts for themselves, possibilities upon possibilities that fuel the purest instinct of many vampires besides hunger - ambition. They become powerful and stretch their hands over the heads of humans to make them dance like marionettes in a theatre, or to drain them of their blood." Hagen grabbed one front seat each and spoke out clearly. "Never forget that the puppeteers¡ä strings are already tightening over a lot of heads and we¡¯re the only ones who can cut those strings."


    That was what had finally convinced Samantha when Caballero had given her a little history lesson. Not that the monstrous part was any less important to her, but basically the society of the night was full of crime and if there was one thing Samantha still wanted, it was to uphold justice and the law. Of course, a certain compulsion remained for her and the similarity to Oskar¡¯s offer was immense, but the Knights fought for the good of society and she would not end up serving one man alone, and whatever his personal goals were. Like the vampires, she came to terms with her fate. "There, look."


    A blue van reversed into the alley between the clinic and a block of flats, stopping so that the bonnet was still visible and the edge of the opening doors could be seen on either side.


    "Let¡¯s listen in and see if those are our customers."


    "On it Sam," nodded Peter. He picked up a bugging pistol with a narrow dish installed on it, equipped with a tiny screen that allowed him to adjust the sights to a precise point. "I¡¯m getting voices."


    Everyone in the van plugged in earphones and, apart from the occasional interruption from passing cars, two female voices were clearly audible.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "You¡¯re late again," grumbled an old voice. "I told you not to turn up just before shift change! All it takes is for someone to say something to the administration and I¡¯ll not only lose my job, I¡¯ll end up in court!"


    "You¡¯ve already been caught once," sighed the second, grumpy voice, unimpressed. "And what did we do then? Right - we roughed up the snitch and everything was fine."


    "That doesn¡¯t work all the time! Fortunately, today is our last meeting."


    "And you¡¯d better keep that to yourself!" hissed the second voice warningly. "Here, the 50,000 dollars and now let¡¯s go in and get the boxes."


    After the voices fell silent, Peter lowered the bugging pistol. "That wasn¡¯t much, though."


    "Don¡¯t worry," said Hagen, pointing at the van. "We primarily want to find out where this transport is going. The cargo is secondary for now."


    A figure approached the van, pushing a shopping trolley full of rubbish in front of him, wrapped in a ragged coat and other layers of tattered clothing. It was hard to make out, but it was a middle-aged woman who began rummaging through the bins in the alleyway. Passers-by paid her no attention and after a while she drove her shopping trolley deeper into the alley, past the van and disappeared behind it.


    "Perfect, I¡¯ve got the signal," Hagen remarked as he pulled out a tracking device. "Now it¡¯s time to wait. We¡¯ll follow two blocks behind."


    "So homeless people aren¡¯t just scouts?" Samantha asked in amazement. "Or was that someone from the Knights?"


    "No, someone from the street who got a dozen tins for putting a magnet on the inside of the back wheel. As for work, believe it or not, a lot of homeless people are extremely reliable because they appreciate the value of wages like hardly anyone."


    Not that Samantha had ever been an extreme believer, but there was a pinch of religion in her humility. "Well, these people have little, want little and are free from the worldly greed for possessions. They lead a simple life, as God would have it, eh?"


    "An apt view, but shhht. Look," Hagen instructed.


    The van shook for a moment and the doors of the driver¡¯s cabin were opened again. "Let¡¯s get out of here," sighed the second voice. "The beers are on me later."


    After this statement, the van drove off and at the ordered distance, separated by several bends, the tail car followed. The pursuit went on for more than three quarters of an hour and at times even crossed the city¡¯s highway, ending for the pursuers only at the exit of the highway, on a hill from which they could look down on the Irish Shamrock neighbourhood, the Las Vegas of Great Kingston.


    The green of the Irish was not necessarily the colour of the place, as one might infer from the name, but glamorous lights and colourful, creative advertising symbols reflected a corresponding charm and the promise of the legendary pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.


    "The van has stopped just under 500 metres away," said Hagen and, like the passenger, he picked up a pair of binoculars to observe in the darkness from the switched-off vehicle. "Can you see anything?"


    "Hard, with all this light," Samantha murmured, irritated by all the flashing lights, but her hunting eye wasn¡¯t going to let her down today. "Wait, I think I¡¯ve got the van."


    "Where?"


    "Near the building with the crown on the outside," Samantha pointed the way and zoomed in closer. "It¡¯s called For the King.


    Yes, there was the van, at the side entrance of a shop where neon lights formed a pot-bellied man who repeatedly lifted and emptied a jug under the name For the King, matching the huge crown on the main fa?ade.


    "Good eye," Hagen praised simply. "Try to get the frequency, Initiant Brown."


    "On it," Peter nodded, his bugging pistol at the ready again. At this distance, it took him a while, but at first the two drivers of the van were just on their own anyway, smoking a cigarette. They were apparently waiting for someone and the glittering nightlife of the pleasure-seekers took its course on the side, with Peter accidentally overhearing the clear moans of someone having sex. "Whoops."


    Hagen remained unmoved, but Samantha smirked coquettishly. "Ah, the simple pleasures."


    "Do I hear envy, Sam?" Peter chuckled amusedly.


    "After all the stress, I was already envious of the patients in the sanatorium when they ate ice cream and there was none left for me," Samantha laughed freely. It really did her good to be back on duty. "That rather reminds me of my disguised assignments as a prostitute."


    "Punishing men and women who just want a bit of fun," Peter grumbled, gradually centring his pistol on the van. "It works in Europe too, depending on where you are and all that tax money."


    "Just more that could be squandered by politicians."


    "But at least the citizens would have more fun."


    "Nothing against fun ..."


    "Neither of you are having sex tonight," Hagen interrupted, without any regard for social skills. "Someone¡¯s coming."


    Around the back corner of the For the King came a group of three people, led by a lean man wearing a smart Dolce & Gabbana suit. "Was there a problem?" he asked the drivers, his voice quite high-pitched.


    "The old lady was very nervous again," complained the grumpy female voice. Now with a clear view of her, her rather masculine figure became clear. "Even if it was our last transport, perhaps we should take her out of circulation."


    "No, too close to the Tenebrae," the man replied, looking at the unobservable cargo area of the van. He snapped his fingers and his two companions each took a medical cooler out of the vehicle, which they brought round the corner of the house. "And even if she unpacks, it won¡¯t do the Tenebrae any good. With this vampire blood, we have the final component for our invasion of Great Kingston, even if the first blades have already been crossed."


    The younger of the riders, who had been silent until now, became curious. "You mean the thing at the warehouse?"


    "No, I¡¯m talking about tonight," the man mentioned happily. He formed his fingers into claws and left a furrow in the concrete fa?ade of the building: Without a doubt, it was a vampire blowing the rubble off his claws. "I got a call earlier. It seems that the Ultima Bellator have launched an attack on the Tenebrae. A costly slaughter for each side and a matriarch has been killed."


    "So things are about to get really exciting," grinned the masculine woman. "And our reward..."


    "You promised!" the younger woman demanded. "We finally want to become vampires."


    "Thank you, I know what I said," the lean man vainly rejected the demand and his eyes fell into a stare. "Eternal night, how I hate it when simple minds think I¡¯m incompetent."


    Strangely enough, the strapping woman seemed to be the more level-headed one, despite her harsh pronunciation. "We didn¡¯t mean any disrespect, of course. We¡¯re just so excited."


    "Oh, I am too, sweeties," the man furtively lifted one corner of his mouth. "How about you two fight over it? One can be a vampire, the other a blood knight."


    The riders looked at each other, but there was no sign of competition and the younger one shook her head. "That¡¯s not what you promised!"


    "She¡¯s doing it again..." the vampire remarked sullenly, radiating a threatening demeanour despite his gaunt figure. "Do you think her tongue tastes good? I should rip it out."


    That was enough to shut the younger woman up, while the roughneck again summoned appeasement. "Forgive her, please. The nights have been exhausting and-"


    "She¡¯s a fierce free spirit," the vampire suddenly said in praise, but followed it up with disappointment. "And you¡¯re a replaceable, submissive cunt."


    "What?!" the grumpy woman clenched her fists. "Ungratef-!"


    Suddenly the vampire was standing behind the woman and he was a good head shorter than her! He bent her back and bent her over his knee before biting her neck viciously and starting to drink.


    This not only frightened the younger woman, because despite the distance, Peter and Samantha were barely able to stay in the car and were about to get out. Hagen¡¯s hand, however, pinned Samantha to her shoulder and, startled as she was by the vampire¡¯s act, she looked back at the giant in the back seat. Not one of his muscles twitched, so little strength did it take him to keep the former policeman in check and Samantha looked directly into Hagen¡¯s eyes: indifference, coldness, soulless, so many words came to her mind at that look and a realisation. He scares me. She stayed in the car, as did Peter, who looked just as anxious. Apparently Hagen had a similar effect on him and they all returned to their night-vision goggles.


    "Mhh, rawwrr!" the vampire hissed. His chin and suit were stained with blood and the burly woman hung motionless over his knee. "She tastes much better than she looks."


    "S-you¡¯ve got her..." the younger woman backed away along the wall.


    "Not at all, she¡¯s still alive, just barely," the vampire grinned slyly with his fangs and snapped the lady¡¯s neck in his hands. "Now she¡¯s dead, because remember this lesson." Immediately rubbish, the vampire pushed his victim off his knee and straightened his suit in dark glee as he stood up. "Don¡¯t suck a human to the last drop lightly. Feeling the last heartbeat ... is the height of ecstasy, but because death reaches for a vampire, we need all our strength to resist it and immediately fall into a defenceless sleep for days or weeks. Got it?"


    Uncertainty characterised the survivor, who stared at her dead companion for a while before her eyes sharpened and all morals were thrown overboard. "Got it, now give me my reward!"


    The vampire¡¯s servants, returning from the building, pulled the dead woman into it and the vampire licked his lips. "Of course, my sweet," he promised her and eagerly invited her into the house. "Let¡¯s celebrate the completion of your mission with a good fuck and your transformation." The tomboy honoured the offer without hesitation and disappeared into the For the King with the gaunt man.


    In the car, the mood among the initiators was more than tense, while Hagen murmured calmly. "Cl¨¦ment Chevalier."


    Peter looked back. "Who?"


    "The vampire we just saw, that¡¯s Cl¨¦ment Chevalier," Hagen explained and with his Black Pitch, he showed a classic painting of the man he had just seen, wearing a French officer¡¯s uniform from the colonial era. "He first appeared during the French Revolution and tried to keep the monarchy in power. After that failed, he joined the Apostles. A gruesome contemporary."


    "No shit," Samantha replied approvingly, clenching her hands tightly on her lap. "We just watched the act. What son of a bitch does that to his own people after a job well done?"


    "Him, even though he¡¯s known for much worse."


    "Then let¡¯s get him out of circulation quickly!"


    "Don¡¯t underestimate Cl¨¦ment," Hagen denied as he tucked away the black pitch and crossed his arms. "If it were that easy, he would have been killed centuries ago. Besides, he¡¯s a strong blood mage and don¡¯t let his stature fool you."


    Samantha didn¡¯t say it, but her ambition was aroused. Nobody had done it before? She would do it! "So this is probably a base for the Apostles, this For the King?"


    "Definitely," Peter agreed, proving that he wasn¡¯t just an accessory who had become involved in this new world through a chance acquaintance with Samantha. "They were talking about vampire blood? I rather thought we were watching this clinic because they¡¯re diverting human blood reserves or something like that. Why are they getting vampire blood? Is this Cl¨¦ment too good to be a donor himself?"


    "His personality could speak in favour of that," Hagen pondered to himself. "But maybe it¡¯s about quantity or power. The blood of powerful vampires is of exorbitant quality and can be an ingredient in magical rituals, for example."


    "And such blood would be stored in a crappy hideout like the clinic?"


    "Lairs are not necessarily impregnable fortresses."


    "Maybe so, but you should never skimp on personnel," Peter grinned self-deprecatingly. "It was no different with the police."


    The humour still didn¡¯t elicit a corresponding reaction from Hagen. "Initiator Rockford, what do you think?"


    "There was something else," Samantha remarked as she thought of a name of the groups and orders she had learnt from Brother Caballero. "Cl¨¦ment said that the first blades were crossed and the Ultima Bellator attacked the Tenebrae. Our allies, right?"


    "Extremely rare," came back Hagen flatly.


    "Extremely rare? Aren¡¯t they servants of God or something like that?"


    "The Ultima Bellator are an extremely radical order of devout warriors," Hagen explained patiently. "I guess Brother Caballero has only scratched the surface, although I think this information is too important to mention now. There have been rare situations where the Knights have allied themselves with the Ultima Bellator, but this order is uncompromising and also rejects the authority of the Church and anything human, nor do they show consideration for anything or anyone when it comes to fighting evil."


    "Oh, surprise," Samantha realised bitterly. "Humans have a common problem and everyone does it their own way."


    "It¡¯s more complicated than that, but unfortunately, yes."


    "I¡¯m too happy to let the brother explain more," Samantha nodded, elated. The night was still young and she wasn¡¯t a bit tired. "Shall we go back and report back?"


    "We will," Hagen said, leaning back into the back seat again. "Good work, Initianten. I guess this will make you full members of the Knights."


    Not a very difficult mission, Samantha felt. Peter probably shared this view, but he raised his empty coffee cup in a slightly celebratory mood. "Well, I think we deserve something to celebrate. McDonalds or Burger King?"


    "You know I think they both suck," Samantha winked.


    "Mhpf, then what?"


    "Dinner," Hagen suggested, synchronising his gaze with that of the initiators. "I fancy some cake."


    Peter assured himself. "At night, at three o¡¯clock?"


    "I like cake."


    "Were you once a police officer?"


    "No."


    "Then one got lost on you," Peter claimed with amusement as he started the car and he was actually only slightly behind Hagen, at least in terms of height. "The big man wants cake at three o¡¯clock at night, so he gets cake."

 Ryan - 7

    ¡°It¡¯s almost three nights now, kid,¡± Gordon¡¯s voice rang out anxiously over the earpiece of the mobile phone. ¡°I think you¡¯d better get back to work with me.¡±


    Ryan paced back and forth tensely in his flat in the early evening while he spoke to the detective on the phone. "No, I¡¯m not letting these wankers get away with it!" he said angrily. His anger at Helen¡¯s serious injury was still swelling inside him. ¡°And I¡¯m not the one who was taken by surprise. So you¡¯d better look after yourself."


    "Occupational hazard," Gordon dismissed the incident in the garage that he had told Ryan about. The detective¡¯s voice remained calm but firm. "I honour your intentions, and I fully support them, but you¡¯re just too new to this world. There¡¯s no shame in calling off the hunt for now."


    "Calling it off is just another word for giving up and that would mean the apostles have won!"


    "For now, but even the Tenebrae are having enormous difficulty tracking down those bastards in Great Kingston," Gordon mentioned, taking an audible sip. ¡°And the Tenebrae have good scouts and contacts. All the things you don¡¯t have, unfortunately. So don¡¯t take it so tragically."


    Ryan gripped the metal armrest of his desk chair and crushed it with rage, but he wanted to restrain himself in the face of Gordon. The detective had always been good to him so far. "I don¡¯t want to give up, Mr Mitchell. I want to ... kill."


    Gordon¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t all concern. He wanted to make sure. "Even if it kills you?"


    "... yes."


    "All right, Ryan," Gordon murmured thoughtfully, as if he were passing on secret information. "I¡¯ll give you that chance if you¡¯re really ready for it."


    "I am," Ryan confirmed with focus. "How are you giving me this chance?"


    "Our investigation ... take the next lead on your own," Gordon said, probably putting his feet up on his desk. "Because I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have Apostles to slaughter."


    "Yes? Why? What did you find out?" Ryan enquired. Of course, he had realised beforehand that working with Gordon would also have put him on the trail of the apostles. However, he wanted to do it on his own, as he was now being offered.


    "I was at the King¡¯s Eye, but that was a dead end," Gordon sighed, but the detective wasn¡¯t tired of it. "Only then I thought to myself, reporters like to seek out public places when they want to talk to informants about juicy details and the victim might have met his killer that way."


    "So you searched the reporter¡¯s schedule?"


    "No, everything in the King¡¯s Eye was gone," Gordon said in a cautionary voice. "The flat was also completely empty and the house server must have been completely rebuilt a few days ago. That was also the case with two of the three remaining victims. The Apostles seem to be trying to cover their tracks."


    "Shit, and what have you got then?"


    "Fortunately, we still have the data we¡¯ve already saved," Gordon laughed heartily. "My private agency was probably even attacked last night because of it."


    "What? Why didn¡¯t you say anything?"


    "Hey, I told you the day before yesterday to come back to work," Gordon said light-heartedly and took another sip. "Besides, Mato and his men fought that bunch of ... oh, you can¡¯t even call it a fight. There were no vampires there. Just cannon fodder."


    With regard to the detective agency, Ryan was briefly curious. "And ... how did your unsuspecting secretary Kylie take the whole thing?"


    "I told you, you couldn¡¯t even call it a fight. Apart from that, she didn¡¯t see it directly and to her it was just a brutal brawl in the alley, in our bad neighbourhood ... even if it happened all around the building."


    "Was the data worth the attack? Were they of any use again?"


    "It would seem so," Gordon replied. He was a blood knight and a member of the Night, but in the end he was an investigator first and foremost. "I have a bar in my sights, small but nice. The ideal place for quiet business meetings."


    "I don¡¯t quite understand," Ryan tried to follow. "Of course you were talking about public places, but I thought you didn¡¯t get any information about the reporter? How do you come up with a bar?"


    "Well, I¡¯ve spun this thread further," Gordon, the old rascal, connected. "Let¡¯s assume the murderer met the reporter at a certain place. Maybe the killer chose the same place to meet the rest of the victims, and lo and behold, we have three hits: Brad Sederik, Cecile Hamilton from Steeling Goods and the state controller had all visited the bar in question for a business lunch in the last few months."


    "I assume the inspector is the one whose details you were able to obtain?"


    "No, everything was gone from him too, but still. The state itself really does keep all sorts of shit and you can¡¯t just get hold of it, especially not such sensitive files. I passed it on to Saunders and a night later he sent me the information."


    Ryan wasn¡¯t surprised. "Tz, the Tenebrae must be paying someone high up in the civil service?"


    "Someone? A lot of them certainly."


    "And you¡¯re sure about the bar?" Ryan followed up and went to his fridge. A slight inhibition was still there, but he tore open a blood bag and quenched his thirst.


    "I think it¡¯s the best lead," Gordon said, his voice softer. "Three out of six dead is no coincidence and the rest were probably there too. You need to go there and search."


    "More data?"


    "Hardly," Gordon doubted. For him, only the old-fashioned method remained. "Places like this regularly delete everything, and the last victim we looked for was only hours ago when the servers were reset. So if the bar didn¡¯t delete everything, then the Apostles probably did. You¡¯ll have to ask the staff or guests."


    "Does anyone remember?" questioned Ryan, whose body was now filled with renewed vigour to match his spirit. "There must be hundreds of people in and out a month."


    "You¡¯d be surprised how some people are remembered, especially those who want to be inconspicuous."


    "Well, you¡¯re probably right. It doesn¡¯t hurt to try and I can fixate on a target," Ryan said gratefully. "Any more advice?"


    Hard to believe, but Gordon could be really serious and even quieter. "If this is the trail and you screw it up, we should enjoy one last sunrise. Clear?"


    "Crystal clear, Mr Mitchell. I¡¯ll call you when I know more. Goodbye."


    "Good luck, Ryan."


    It was probably a blessing in disguise that Ryan still had the fine clothes from Lithia¡¯s job and that they were freshly laundered. An ideal outfit for a visit to the bar, where he was about to leave his flat and bump into someone outside his door.


    "Slow down Mister Bond," Melissa tried to tame the eagerness and a savoury whistle escaped her lips. "And what a secret agent. What have you got yourself all dressed up for?"


    "Oh hi, Melissa," Ryan raised his hand, but he couldn¡¯t contain his impatience. After drinking, he was extremely energised. "I wanted to go out and you? Were you just about to knock?"


    "Guilty," Melissa said, imitating a knock. "And I seem to have the perfect timing to stop you."


    "Stopping me?" asked Ryan, only now taking notice that the woman looked like she was getting ready for a nice night out. "So I don¡¯t go out?"


    "A hundred points for the candidate!" nodded Melissa, with two thumbs up and she smiled warmly. "You know, I¡¯ve never noticed that you¡¯re any great cook and, as a computer expert, I¡¯m sure you live on fast food and reheated food, so I thought, as a big thank you for your help with my connection the other day, I¡¯d invite you to a hearty dinner among neighbours. Only good home cooking, so the best."


    This was far from perfect for Ryan, but he tried not to let it show. Yes, he had helped Melissa and his relationship with her was good and her gesture very warm, so he didn¡¯t want to offend her directly. "That sounds really tempting," he began honestly, because the smell from Melissa¡¯s flat really promised a damn tasty meal. Now he really wished he knew how to cast blood magic to politely talk his way out of this situation. "Just you know, this, well, where I¡¯m going, this is an important business meeting! You know, work, work."


    Actually, that was a plausible reason to turn down the food, but Melissa¡¯s joyful mood faded anyway. "Oh, work," she repeated in disillusionment and turned away in frustration. "God, I¡¯m such an idiot! I knew I shouldn¡¯t have planned this as a surprise!"


    "Hey, it¡¯s the thought that counts," Ryan said encouragingly. "And besides, I¡¯d only be disturbing little Andrew¡¯s sleep."


    "Andrew is staying with my mum for the next few days. She likes having him with her and I so rarely get the chance for my own time."


    "You¡¯ve put him somewhere else especially because of me? Then I should probably have known better."


    "I¡¯m a terrible mum, aren¡¯t I?" Melissa replied, disappointed in herself, without looking at the man. "Saying something like that."


    If there was one thing Ryan knew by now, it was that his emotions were extremely heightened after drinking and that applied to everything and at that moment, it was appreciation and compassion. "I¡¯m not a dad, but mums and dads need their lives too and I can¡¯t imagine how hard it must be as a single parent. You deserve an evening like this."


    "Which I won¡¯t have now..." Melissa realised sadly. She looked at him, dissatisfaction at his rejection resting in her gaze. "But my fault, my problem. We all have our jobs. Have a good evening."


    "Melissa, wait!", Ryan stopped her in quick motion, with a firm grip on her arm. Fortunately, he had his strength halfway under control by now.


    This unexpected, perhaps somewhat rough manner made Melissa pause, undecided. "You¡¯re going to be late."


    "Come with me!" Ryan said hastily before he even realised what he had just said and let go again.


    "Huh? To a business lunch?"


    Ryan couldn¡¯t take that back now without seriously offending the woman. "Well, sure!" he clung to the invitation tensely. "It¡¯s not like we¡¯re discussing super secret information there and who says I can¡¯t bring an escort?"


    "Oh, I can see what this is going to be," Melissa grumbled and walked towards him sternly. Was she about to make a scene? "Poor single mummy has to be pitied?"


    "W-what, it¡¯s not like that."


    "Aha? What¡¯s it like then?"


    "Well, well," Ryan faltered. If he was honest, he found the woman¡¯s reaction unnecessary and beastly and was building up a little aversion. "You¡¯ve gone to all this trouble and it won¡¯t hurt anyone if you come with me."


    Women, with that certain look that could kill. Melissa was about to put it on. "If there¡¯s one thing I can¡¯t stand, it¡¯s your kind."


    Ryan admitted defeat. "My kind?"


    "Yeah, caught stone cold," Melissa abruptly changed her mood to cheerful and pulled an imaginary zip over the man¡¯s upper body, right up to his chin.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Huh?" blinked Ryan.


    "Oh your face, too delicious," Melissa smirked. Her scene had just been an act. "Did you really think I was one of those people who twist everything in a man¡¯s mouth?"


    "Yes, he was really nasty!" Ryan sighed with relief. He¡¯d really been taken for a ride. "You¡¯ve just really won me over."


    "That¡¯s as sweet as your invitation," Melissa smiled gratefully and scurried into her flat. "Just give me ten minutes, please, so I can put the food in the fridge."


    "Wait, I¡¯ll help you."


    What was Ryan thinking? Nothing, he realised. It had been an impulsive act that had led him to find himself with Melissa at Richie¡¯s, the supposed place where the Red Artist met his victims. He had put Melissa in extreme danger, but at least it had heightened all his senses and it was a good sign that he didn¡¯t smell any odours of blood knights or other vampires. Not again would someone get hurt or even killed because of him!


    "IT must really be worth it," Melissa marvelled as she entered the manageable bar. It was 10 p.m. and there were maybe 20 people here, some of them keeping to themselves. The atmosphere was tranquil, accompanied by a real piano player and his slow, soft tones.


    "What do you mean?" asked Ryan, taking the woman¡¯s fluffy winter jacket from her and hanging it up by the entrance.


    "Not the most expensive place, but the decor and flair alone. You have to leave a few dollars here."


    "Well, you¡¯re my guest. Everything¡¯s on me."


    "That¡¯s sweet," Melissa said, but she turned round and pressed her purse against the man¡¯s chest. "But I actually wanted to feed you and instead you were kind enough to take me with you, so at least I¡¯m paying."


    "Fine, give me a few notes then," Ryan smirked, cheekily holding out his hand. "You find us the table and I¡¯ll get us a few drinks, agreed?"


    "Division of labour, I like it," Melissa grinned back and pressed a 50 dollar note into his hand. "I¡¯d like a Long Island Iced Tea and give the barmaid some of the good Ulysses."


    "Aye, aye ma¡¯am," Ryan saluted playfully and walked over to the long bar counter. It appeared to be handmade and one of a kind, befitting his new league. Not that Ryan was super rich now, but after uncovering the Apostles alone, he received $5000 in cash from Gordon, sponsored by the Tenebrae, and another 20000 in his new bank account as a reward for the successful mission for Lithia. "Good evening."


    "Evening," the barmaid replied as she polished off a glass. She was a slim girl, maybe in her early 20s and not exactly tall. "Always nice to see new faces at Richie¡¯s. Date night?"


    "Not quite," Ryan said, looking back queasily at Melissa, who had already taken up a separee by a window. "I have a business dinner here and had the spontaneous idea to take my neighbour with me."


    "Wow, that sounds really enthusiastic."


    "It was a bit of a quandary," Ryan shook his head and kept his tone low. "She¡¯s my neighbour and wanted to surprise me with dinner and well, I just have this appointment here and she felt so bad and I actually thought her invitation was great, so now we¡¯re just having dinner here instead of at her place."


    The barmaid smiled respectfully. "That¡¯s very decent of you. It¡¯s not easy as a mum to get time off for a meal."


    That made Ryan a little perplexed. "How do you know she¡¯s a mum?"


    "Guessed," the barmaid lifted her shoulders. "She just has that mum vibe. I saw exactly how she had you under her thumb at the entrance."


    "At least she has a strong personality, that¡¯s true," laughed Ryan, placing the 50 on the counter. "And she¡¯d like a Long Island Iced Tea or no, make that two, please."


    "The classics are still the best," nodded the waitress and started mixing. "And your business? Reporters? Corporations?"


    "Reporters, perfect keyword," Ryan introduced, leaning on the counter to show her the picture of the dead reporter. "My business is more of a search. Have you seen this one here before?"


    The barmaid took her time mixing drinks and examining the photo, but she shook her head. "No, sorry. Doesn¡¯t look particularly memorable either and isn¡¯t one of our regulars or one of the ones who pop in from time to time."


    "Too bad, and what about them?" Ryan kept the ball rolling and showed the pictures of all the Red Artist¡¯s victims.


    Less willing, the woman enquired. "Are you a cop?"


    "Private investigator."


    "Okay, then I¡¯ll answer that too," the waitress winked, unabashedly relaxed. "But no, I¡¯m sorry. They were probably all one-off guests. But I¡¯ll definitely remember you for a long time."


    "Thank you for the compliment," Ryan replied unexpectedly and a sweet odour rose in the air, which he couldn¡¯t quite place, but it came from the waitress. "I don¡¯t hear that often."


    "As if," grinned the barmaid as she put down the two tall glasses of iced tea and took the money from the counter. "That¡¯ll be twenty-five dollars."


    "Make it 30."


    "Nice and generous," the waitress said happily as she returned the money and leaned meaningfully over the counter. "Don¡¯t take this as an extra bonus, but what are you planning to do after your meal?"


    The sweet smell intensified and Ryan was unprepared for the directness. "Eh ... walking home with my neighbour, I guess."


    "All the way to your flat?"


    "Oh, no, no, we part ways at the doors."


    "Then the place would be free for me later, when my shift ends in two hours."


    "Damn, you¡¯re not holding back, are you," Ryan realised, not averse, but he pulled himself together. "I ... how about my mobile number?"


    "Not the answer I was hoping for, but a start," the barmaid said and exchanged numbers with him before blowing a kiss in the air. "And call me Sandra, sweetie."


    "Sandra, you¡¯re welcome. I¡¯m Ryan," Ryan introduced himself and took the ice-cold, steamed-up glasses.


    "Well then ... maybe I¡¯ll see you later, Ryan, and a tip: my colleague Andr¨¦ might know something about this wanted man."


    "Sounds good to me. Is he there right now?"


    "The gorgeous guy at the piano."


    "Thanks for the info," Ryan nodded and went to the private room.


    "Found a new girlfriend?" Melissa joked as she got her glass and took a sip with relish. "If so, she definitely knows how to mix cocktails."


    Ryan took a seat opposite the woman. "Let¡¯s just say she was pretty open-hearted."


    "I could see that."


    "Surprised me, too."


    "Just don¡¯t break a sweat," Melissa giggled and leaned back. She didn¡¯t seem to have any expectations of the man, but instead of just a smell, she became noticeably warmer and a faint whiff of vinegar surrounded her. "Although I have to admit, a chat like this between us would be nice."


    "Until you find out that I¡¯m not a racketeer, but a mobster."


    Melissa raised her drink and the glasses clinked against each other. "Nice try, but you¡¯ll have to pay me back for my mean joke on the doorstep in another way."


    Ryan didn¡¯t have any of the drink, but he let the flavour of the Long Island melt in his mouth. "Oh, you¡¯re paying. I¡¯ll take that as an apology."


    "For someone who spends a lot of time holed up in his den, you¡¯re pretty smart," Melissa admitted. She wasn¡¯t a woman who couldn¡¯t admit to mistakes. "At first I thought you were the typical clich¨¦, pretty to look at but a quiet type."


    "New circumstances are always difficult for me," Ryan admitted. As a human, he had always been more of a settled, steady type. He could change, but that always took time and what was his last change, if not the biggest and probably the last of his life. "And let¡¯s just say my new working environment isn¡¯t as comfortable as my previous one."


    "Working environment? You¡¯re sitting in your own flat. What can¡¯t be comfortable there?"


    "Maybe, but there are still video meetings and phone calls," Ryan listed, remembering the past. He didn¡¯t like making calls without a picture, not even today. No matter who he called, he always had to prepare sentences in advance and even then he often got his words wrong. "And believe me, when an angry, perhaps unjustifiably annoyed voice booms in my ear, it¡¯s 100 times worse than getting an enema in the office."


    Tell me about it," Melissa said sympathetically, taking a particularly hearty sip of her iced tea. "When clients complain about photos. Especially the ones who don¡¯t have an artistic streak or when they try to push the price down because I -didn¡¯t work according to their ideas-, which is a euphemism for bad work."


    "Cheapskates, eh?"


    "Hell yes. You often find them in my line of work because photography is so easy and you can charge so much money for this and that."


    Ryan remembered a little wistfully. "Every job deserves respect. My father worked as a plumber for 42 years. A backbreaking job, and the money could have been more, but he was satisfied and often said to me: ¡äSon, everyone can do something or does something that the other person can¡¯t or won¡¯t do. Make a joke about professions, but don¡¯t belittle them and money alone says nothing about importance ... and now grab the ¨¹ummel and unclog the blocked toilet."


    Melissa laughed. "I guess he proved his point in the end."


    "He did and he lived by his motto. He often railed against bankers, office jobs and civil servants, but usually emphasised that we needed them somehow ... most of them, anyway."


    "Lived?"


    For Ryan, his family had to be dead, but unfortunately that really applied to his father. "He didn¡¯t get to enjoy his retirement for long. Heart attack."


    "I¡¯m sorry."


    "It¡¯s all right," Ryan raised his hand, wanting to get off the subject before he had to declare his whole family dead. "He could never turn down a good meal and what better way to do it than to do the same and enjoy a good meal?"


    "And your business appointment?"


    "What can I say ... probably late. Too bad."


    "Those who are late, how right you are," Melissa raised her a toast. "Honouring death, that¡¯s what I toast - to your dad."


    "To Dad," Ryan joined in and then they both ordered their food. It was nothing out of the ordinary and while she had a burger with a side of fries and a salad, Ryan tried a steak with gravy and potatoes. The flavour melted in his mouth, but he ate with restraint and couldn¡¯t bring himself to feign a healthy appetite. It must have seemed strange to his companion, but it was probably just because he had drunk his fill beforehand.


    "Everything okay?" asked Melissa, who had almost finished her plate. "You¡¯re not even halfway through."


    "Mh, my stomach¡¯s a bit queasy," Ryan talked himself out and glanced at his mobile phone. "My client is way overdue and appointments should be honoured."


    "Nothing worse than waiting and waiting, like at the doctor¡¯s," Melissa sighed in unison, but she wasn¡¯t too sad about it. "But you know, then we can enjoy the evening a little more. Always look on the bright side."


    "I prefer that to this stress every time," Ryan nodded and stood up. "I¡¯ll tell you what. Get us two more Long Islands and I¡¯ll go to the quiet room and make a phone call about my client so that I at least know what¡¯s going on."


    "But don¡¯t keep me waiting too long," Melissa giggled and headed for the bar.


    Once Ryan was sure she was busy, he walked towards the bathroom and past the piano player. "Hey man," he said, further shielded from possible view by a narrow column. "You¡¯re really good."


    "It¡¯s always a pleasure when my work falls on willing ears," smiled the bald Andr¨¦. He was built like an Adonis and his face was smoother than a baby¡¯s bottom and the warm light from the bar accentuated his sandstone-coloured skin. "Certainly sweetens your evening, you and your pretty lady."


    "It certainly adds to the atmosphere," Ryan praised, searching through the photos on his mobile phone. "Oh, I hope you don¡¯t mind if I talk to you while you¡¯re playing?"


    "I can multitask. But what else could you tell me?"


    "More like a question," Ryan replied, showing the man the pictures. "Any chance you¡¯ve seen any of these people here?"


    "Mhh, no, no," Andr¨¦ looked through the photos without stopping to play. The face of the report, however, brought a grin to his lips. "Oh, I remember that one. Really handsome, although he¡¯s a little too tall for my taste."


    "Yes? You remember him? Did he happen to meet anyone here?"


    "You bet," Andr¨¦¡¯s eyes lit up and he spoke normally. "The real eye-catcher was that skinny bloke he was seeing. Lean isn¡¯t everyone¡¯s cup of tea, but I love smaller men."


    Ryan respected this orientation without any ifs or buts. "It¡¯s often the same for me with women. You can give them a great feeling of security when you can embrace them completely."


    "My words exactly, but why are you looking for the man?"


    "Well I¡¯m a private investigator and the little guy ... well, he¡¯s married and tends to ..."


    "There¡¯s always a catch and it fits, because he¡¯s been seeing lots of different people here for the last few months," Andr¨¦ sighed disappointedly as he came to the end of his current piece and spoke to the guests via a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, after a short break, I¡¯m here for you again."


    Ryan¡¯s investigator role seemed to be working. "You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a picture of him, would you?"


    "More than one," Andr¨¦ said, still reeling from the infidelity, and he pulled out his mobile phone. "He just looked too good, I couldn¡¯t resist."


    Ryan finally got a glimpse of the supposed red artist. "Looks harmless," he murmured to himself. The man was indeed short and a little scrawny, wearing a Dolce & Gabbana suit. "Would it be okay if you sent me the pictures?"


    And there it was again, the rise of a new, intense smell, which this man was now giving off and in his case it was a spicy chilli pepper "Sure, but you¡¯ll pay for my after-work drink later. I need to digest this shock."


    "Sure thing," Ryan agreed. He gave the man a 20 dollar note and received five pictures of the suspect in return. "That¡¯s a real help, thank you very much."


    "Not for that," Andr¨¦ grinned and went to the bar himself


    At last!, Ryan thought and hurried to the toilet. There were only two cubicles and after checking that no one was there, he sent the pictures to Gordon¡¯s mobile phone with a message. Mr Mitchell, this is our suspect! A Richie¡¯s employee confirmed to me that this man had met with several people over the past few months, one of whom he could positively identify as the dead reporter!


    Five minutes later, Gordon¡¯s text message came back. This is an absolute slam dunk Ryan! I texted Saunders directly and he sent me a file immediately! The linnet in the picture, that¡¯s Cl¨¦ment Chevalier! He¡¯s a high-ranking Apostle!


    So our guess was right that the Red Artist is an Apostle! What now?! How does that help us?!


    Now that we know who we¡¯re dealing with, perhaps we can follow new leads on these companies. Have you forgotten? It was a big project and that means a lot of money and money can always be traced somehow, especially with a name! Come to the my agency tonight and we¡¯ll take these sons of bitches down! See you later, I¡¯m busy now! Great work Ryan!


    Ryan splashed a few litres of water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His muscles were trembling and the prospect of imminent revenge fuelled his bloodlust. But first he had to let the evening fade away and didn¡¯t want to rush his companion home to avoid arousing suspicion. There was so much time inside and he stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes to control himself better. As soon as the door opened a crack, he instantly tensed, the scent of a vampire clearly floating in the air and his eyes darted around the bar.


    Fortunately, Melissa was sitting unmolested in the private room. Sandra was behind the bar, Andr¨¦ was playing the piano and none of the other guests were behaving suspiciously or seemed to be a threat.


    "That took a long time for so little food," Melissa noted with amusement and pushed a Long Island across the table. "And you missed out."


    "Missed out?" asked Ryan, stopping, prepared for a nasty surprise any second.


    "Yeah, apparently your complaint call did something," Melissa informed him, pointing to the exit. "Maybe three or four minutes ago, a smartly dressed guy called Patrick was here enquiring about you. I asked if he was here for the business lunch and he said yes. When he asked where you were and I said in the toilet, he said he wanted to speak to you in private outside."


    "Yeah, right," Ryan said, using that lie, surreptitiously rubbing his fingers together tightly. "I told him on the phone I wanted to talk to you in private first."


    That sounded quite Spanish to Melissa, as her expression revealed. "You don¡¯t have to read him the riot act outside because of me. I¡¯m your guest here."


    "And as my guest, you stay in the warm. Besides, you pay and whoever pays, enjoys."


    "But don¡¯t leave me sitting here alone," said Melissa, glancing sharply at the counter. "Miss in heat is already pawing with her runners and just waiting to jump on you."


    "My word, I won¡¯t run off with her," Ryan promised with a smile, even if it was a good face. "See you in a bit." That was his goodbye, maybe forever, he realised.

 Kayra - 6

    Kayra sighed very softly and was a little disappointed. Impulsive and probably blinded by his supposed strength, Ryan came out of Richie¡¯s bar and a good snowdrift hit him from the side as she carefully followed every little flex of his muscles from above.


    His nose detected the fresh odour of a good half-dozen people, and yet he continued undaunted towards the bar gate in a side alley covered with holey tarpaulins. Only the extremely fresh smell of blood seemed to make him hesitate for a moment, but he was taken aback and tore open the gate, so that ashes trickled towards him and he found the purest slaughter!


    Various firearms and melee weapons lined the ground and eight dead people lay strewn across the entire alley. Either their throats or bellies had been slit, their bodies beaten to a pulp or they had died from hitting the walls of houses and the tarmac. In the midst of this carnage, two piles of ash could also be seen, constantly being reduced in size by the wind.


    ¡°What the hell has happened here?¡± Ryan growled angrily and he was furious. ¡°Mitchell?! Have you been fucking with me?¡±


    ¡°Quiet, child!¡± Kayra¡¯s voice echoed in the alley. It was like the wind and yet like a whisper, using her blood magic to disguise her voice. It was similar to the acoustics of a Juda¡¯Aerith. ¡°We don¡¯t need witnesses.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?!¡± asked Ryan, not really any quieter. There was no one in sight and suddenly he couldn¡¯t move and his body was lifted into the air. ¡°Stop it!¡±


    ¡°I said quietly!¡± warned Kayra calmly. She used telekinesis against him and flung the man from one wall of the house to the other before fixing him back in the centre hover. ¡°Do we understand each other now?¡±


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± Ryan lowered his voice as the telepathic force held him in a vice-like grip, forcing him to calm down. ¡°It¡¯s all right, it¡¯s all right! I¡¯ve got it!¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Kayra sighed, but she let him go almost completely. It was something of a lesson in power as he dangled by his foot, upside down above the ground. ¡°Poor, lost child. Look at you.¡±


    ¡°No, I rather see you,¡± Ryan said, pointing in her direction on one of the rooftops. However, as she was cloaked and protected by the darkness, it was doubtful that this sighting did the man any good before he was suddenly dropped. ¡°Nhpf ... okay, one more time - what happened here?¡±


    ¡°Apostles,¡± the voice replied, moving away from the man¡¯s gaze so quickly that he no longer knew where it was ¡°When one of the two vampires went into the bar to lure you out, I took my chance and eliminated the other vampire in the group first. The eight humans, before they even knew what hit them, it was all over. The vampire who came back was too careless and an easy target for me¡±


    Ryan slowly picked himself up from the ground and apart from a bit of dirt, he had nothing on his suit. ¡°That was my job!¡± he growled with restraint, thumping his own chest, ¡°Did Gordon send you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then who did?! Mato?! The Tenebrae?! I could have done this on my own.¡±


    ¡°Not remotely,¡± Kayra doubted with certainty. ¡°Not even if one of the vampires had been alone could you have put a scratch on him. This time, the Apostles put up a little more of a fight, although that was nothing to me, surprise or no surprise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already won one fight against vampires,¡± Ryan announced with conviction, tightening his suit before he felt the power of telekinesis again and couldn¡¯t move.


    ¡°I know, I saw it happen,¡± Kayra murmured into his neck. Her voice was still distorted and with her tall figure, she was pretty much on par with Ryan. ¡°The investigator saved you, but you? Lost like a fawn in the woods and now blinded by the bubbling of your blood.¡±


    No matter how hard Ryan tried, with all his raw, vampiric strength, he couldn¡¯t turn even an inch backwards. ¡°Thanks for the reminder. I¡¯m just trying to get by somehow, and the way I see it, you¡¯re one of those pairs of eyes that¡¯s on my tail. Who are you doing this for?¡±


    ¡°A question with no answer.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my list of them is pretty long,¡± Ryan said strained. ¡°Is there a deeper meaning to this action here or can I go back to being useless?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still a child, without a mother, without a father, without someone to guide you,¡± Kayra listed the obvious, but her tone was also tinged with regret. ¡°That¡¯s why your bumbling ways are excusable, still.¡±


    Ryan defied the statement immaturely. ¡°Generous. Do you want to be my mum and tell me what exactly I¡¯m doing wrong?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s about time,¡± Kayra returned sternly. At the end of the day, Ryan was part of her clan, her family, and she meant what she said. The child was alone in the night, without care and help, and yet he had already come a long way, even if he had made mistakes, and what better protection could there be than to finally familiarise Ryan with his nature? So Kayra grabbed his right shoulder in a gesture of familiarity but also admonishment and instead of using her telekinesis, she now held him in place with sheer force. ¡°You need to control yourself better, starting with your ecstasy.¡±


    ¡°My ecstasy?¡±


    ¡°You had been drinking before you left tonight. Everything about you screamed that,¡± Kayra lectured calmly. ¡°Every move you made was predictable, even though I respect the protective instinct you projected onto this ... female.¡±


    ¡°Her name is Melissa.¡±


    ¡°Yes, vinegar.¡±


    ¡°Vinegar,¡± Ryan murmured when it came to the smell of Melissa. ¡°What¡¯s that all about? Sweet, vinegar, chilli.¡±


    ¡°You unknowingly casted blood magic,¡± Kayra explained in her lesson, surrounded by death. ¡°We vampires, for the most part, have a natural attraction, even those not plagued by the curse of beauty. You have unwittingly fuelled the barmaid¡¯s blood, her natural urges extremely heightened.¡± As she went into more detail, she chose her words more cautiously. ¡°The sweet smell was evidence of that and when your Melissa realised it, she reacted like any female animal that senses competition. That¡¯s why her body got hotter and as for the vinegar ... that¡¯s none of my business or yours.¡±


    This reticence made Ryan sceptical. ¡°I get it, and Andr¨¦ was probably the male version?¡±


    ¡°Half, he was aroused and upset because of you.¡±


    ¡°Noted, so I need to find my inner centre,¡± said Ryan, but he didn¡¯t quite take this lesson to heart. ¡°It¡¯s easier said than done! Those Apostle pigs, I want-!¡±


    ¡°Everyone was like you once,¡± Kayra whispered soothingly in his ear and he relaxed. She, in the role of a mother - nothing she had ever wanted and still didn¡¯t want. At least that¡¯s what she believed. ¡°Even the mightiest of the mighty had to tame his ecstasy, his emotions.¡±


    The fact that he was being spoken to so normally seemed to calm Ryan¡¯s nerves. ¡°And how ... do I do that?¡±


    ¡°Try your hand at telekinesis. Channelling your energies into exercises weakens your emotions.¡±


    ¡°Is that an extra lesson now? Because I have no idea how it works.¡±


    ¡°It sounds simple, but learning and refining it isn¡¯t,¡± Kayra instructed him. ¡°You just have to want to do it. Fix an object and think however you want to use it. Finger work is essential. Only true masters can do it with eye contact alone.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s it? I want to move it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    Ryan had no way of knowing what exactly the woman wanted him to do: Teach him? Protect him? Listen to him? In any case, he couldn¡¯t quite come to terms with the situation, but he followed the advice and tried to focus this emotion, the frustration, on his telekinesis by staring at an empty tin can and pushing it. The power of his mind became palpable for a moment and the veins on his hands popped out and he shook all over as if he was lifting a heavy weight and absolutely nothing happened! ¡°Great tip,¡± he breathed out exhausted.


    ¡°Impatience is not a good quality. Your time will come.¡±


    ¡°And what about you?¡± Ryan now nailed down the motives of the stranger ¡°You robbed Gordon.¡±


    Of course, Kayra wasn¡¯t surprised that the detective had told her about this incident and she didn¡¯t feel caught out, but she waited a while before confessing without hesitation. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You stole our data.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he remember?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t explain it to you?¡± Kayra asked in astonishment. ¡°When we vampires drink, our prey¡¯s senses blur. Everything that happened before is forgotten. The more we drink, the more they forget, but we¡¯re talking about five to ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the info,¡± Ryan said honestly. ¡°... apart from Mato, no one has ever bothered to give me a single tip. Why you?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s my job and we...¡± Kayra stopped herself. Her sympathy, her attachment, became a little too strong and she almost gave herself away.


    ¡°We?¡±


    ¡°All you need to know is that I¡¯m your ally, just like Mr Mitchell¡¯s,¡± Kayra claimed. After all, she could have easily killed Gordon. ¡°I did what I had to do and will continue to follow your shadow, but heed my words when I tell you this now: don¡¯t tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about our meeting. I will remove the remains here and you ... claim this victory for yourself.¡±


    ¡°Why would I lie?¡± Ryan questioned reluctantly as he pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your number and you¡¯ll get mine ... but only call me if there¡¯s no other way,¡± Kayra said, and she wasn¡¯t worried that he might pass the number on. Her mobile phone wasn¡¯t cheap and was set so that only numbers stored in her phone book could call her.


    ¡°And your way is the lie now? I¡¯m not a show-off who steals other people¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°I honour your words and it¡¯s not normally my way, but it¡¯s for your protection,¡± Kayra emphasised meaningfully and saved his number, while she gave him hers before sliding the phone back into his pocket. ¡°It will enhance your reputation and earn you more respect.¡±


    ¡°Yes ... and make me a bigger target.¡±


    ¡°No doubt, but all the better for me.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Not entirely altruistic, eh?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Ryan was a pawn, he realised, but he knew his options. ¡°What if I do tell?¡±


    ¡°It weakens you and makes my future intervention much more complicated or even impossible,¡± Kayra stated before her hand left his and no matter how quickly he turned, she was gone and her last words faded away. ¡°Please, do us both a favour and keep this to yourself.¡±


    Ryan looked around provisionally to take in the extent of the carnage before sighing and stroking his suit. It was half dirty and wet ¡°I wonder if Melissa will buy that an iced tea was too much. Nah, better I just say I stepped in too deep a puddle. Better to be a klutz than a lightweight.¡±


    If that night and the next two were already suspiciously quiet, which Kayra welcomed as a welcome break, a call from Patriarch Stein was about to change that and bring her to Tenebrae headquarters. Before that, however, she had returned home briefly and received a blood eye from her father, as he didn¡¯t want to risk anything while Kayra was so close to the Tenebrae. She had initially feared that Ryan had disregarded her advice, after all, she couldn¡¯t keep a close eye on him everywhere and all the time. Her presence at the Tenebrae at night, though Ryan¡¯s fault, was simply the result of his discovery of Clem¨¦nt Chevalier, which Kayra blamed herself for. After all, she had already met the apostle at the warehouse and she could have sped things up considerably, but she hadn¡¯t known who it was and hadn¡¯t had time for a picture because of his surprise attack. ¡°Kayra, of House Stein,¡± she introduced herself, with a polite bow.


    ¡°The presence of House Stein was expected last night,¡± Saunders replied as a note. She knew him only by name, but she had not met the Tenebrae lawyer of Great Kingston before and had only heard that he was primarily pragmatic in nature. ¡°What stopped you?¡±


    ¡°Prudence,¡± said Kayra. Although that was true, she had also hoped to get a note from Billy, but the Juda¡¯Aerith, and his mobile phone, had remained silent. ¡°After the attack on Matriarch Austin, which House Stein had even uncovered earlier, it was too risky for our father to let someone march off immediately. I think you understand that?¡±


    ¡°Of course, my question and your answer were merely for the record,¡± Saunders nodded. He was sitting at the table at the entrance to a staff lounge, typing silently on the keys of his laptop. ¡°And despite our defeat in relation to Matriarch Austin, Lady Gardner sends the gratitude of the Tenebrae to House Stein.¡±


    ¡°This thanks should have been addressed directly to Patriarch Stein.¡±


    ¡°Lady Gardner felt it impolite not to be able to express such an important thanks face to face,¡± Saunders explained calmly, rising to his feet while placing his left hand behind his back and holding out his right. ¡°So now it¡¯s the two of us, representatives of our superiors, exchanging gratitude and appreciation face to face.¡±


    Superior, Kayra thought. Those were the words of a real lawyer and she didn¡¯t think he was trying to insult her, even though she felt the word was totally inappropriate for her relationship with Oskar. ¡°Extremely prudent, as Patriarch Stein himself preaches,¡± Kayra said with a forced smile and shook the offered hand.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Saunders agreed and returned to his work. ¡°But I think you¡¯ll want to enjoy some refreshments now. Please, come in.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good. Goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    In the large lounge, which was on the 50th floor, there was a complete glass wall on one side, which gave an impressive view of Great Kingston at night, as this office tower was on the edge of this business district and the view was therefore not blocked by other tall buildings.


    Kayra recognised 24 faces, 22 of which she didn¡¯t know. She had seen some of them in passing at some point, but only Mato and Dalia were halfway familiar and considering what lay ahead, it was no wonder that such calibre, including herself, was present. The Tenebrae had called -to arms- for a decisive battle.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Dalia said with a disdainful undertone. As so often, even at this formal gathering, the imposing warrior was at least wearing her bracers and greaves, armoured gauntlets as well as single shoulder armour and a long broadsword on her back. ¡°So Patriarch Stein is sending us at least one of his clan members. The absolute minimum, in the service of the Tenebrae.¡±


    Kayra didn¡¯t let the gruff tongue shake her composure. ¡°An experienced warrior like you certainly knows that numbers don¡¯t always matter. Especially since House Stein recently lost three members when we helped defend Matriarch Austin.¡±


    ¡°And now she is ashes, what a disappointment.¡±


    ¡°For all of us, indeed,¡± Kayra replied. She knew about this failure, in which the Matriarch had been deliberately used as bait, at the behest and therefore complicity of the Tenebrae. ¡°But that¡¯s war: we stand together, we win together, but we also lose together. Don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in this fight,¡± Dalia patted her chest, ¡°So losing is out of the question.¡±


    ¡°I truly pity your opponents,¡± Kayra said thoughtfully. She knew that Dalia was not only a harsh contemporary who verbally lashed out at many, but also possessed the necessary strength of a feared warrior. On the other hand, she firmly, if calmly, put her in her place with a fact she knew. ¡°It took more than a few lives to get you on our side back then, right?¡±


    Dalia¡¯s expression immediately revealed that she realised what was at stake. ¡°A lot,¡± she admitted openly. ¡°In the greatest of all wars, why should I fight for the weak first?¡±


    ¡°And yet, in the end, you were on the side of the weak.¡±


    ¡°If that had been the case, I would have been on the losing side. In the end, the Germans were simply no longer worthy of my strength.¡±


    Cheeky but clever, Kayra could also tease. ¡°Yes, that included your loyalty, although I do understand you on that point - loyalty is always easy when there¡¯s nothing at stake.¡±


    ¡°How good that there will soon be a test for that, for our loyalty,¡± Dalia smirked icily. She was brusque, but not stupid. ¡°How about a good drop to cement our unity?¡±


    ¡°What better reason would there be?¡± asked Kayra rhetorically, as a human member of the lounge staff approached her. This tray, with two wine glasses filled with very light-coloured blood, had clearly already been prepared and Kayra picked up a glass, but the smell made her suspicious. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but is that the blood of a young child?¡±


    The employee ducked her head and left after Dalia took her glass and spoke sternly. ¡°No, Patriarch Stein has explicitly made us aware of your dislike regarding this.¡±


    ¡°Too kind,¡± Kayra smiled gratefully. The smell was an indicator, but it was no guarantee of the origin of blood and so she raised her glass with the warrior and let the first drop wet her lips. She immediately stopped the flow, but that drop ran down her throat.


    Dalia, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying her drink. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± she grinned maliciously. ¡°Surely there¡¯s nothing wrong with this fine drop?¡±


    It was only thanks to her enormous self-control that Kayra didn¡¯t break her glass, but her hand was trembling slightly. She did not, however, give her counterpart the satisfaction of seeing her disgust and anger flaring up inside her. ¡°You said it wasn¡¯t children¡¯s blood...¡± Kayra murmured wanly. She set the glass down before wiping the drops of blood from her lips and flicking them away in disgust.


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Dalia affirmed without batting an eyelid and she swirled her drink teasingly. ¡°Only my glass is full to the brim with it.¡±


    A long, long time ago, much to her ignorance, Kayra had been handed the blood of a child and only told after drinking it. ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯ve been handed children¡¯s blood before and you have-¡±


    ¡°I have what?¡± Dalia cut him off mockingly and drank her glass demonstratively and happily. ¡°Are you insinuating that I would deliberately offend a guest and ally?¡±


    ¡°I apologise profusely!¡± the previous employee rushed over, her breathing tinged with fear. ¡°I took the wrong tray! That wasn¡¯t for you!¡±


    Kayra tried to maintain her composure despite the situation and without looking at the employee, she placed the opened blood glass on the tray presented. Nevertheless, she gave the bent young woman a disapproving look. ¡°Nobody¡¯s perfect,¡± she said in self-reflection, barely moving her lips as she spoke. However, her anger at the stranger quickly faded, for Kayra had already heard it in her tone and she saw that the employee¡¯s fear was not for her, but for the gruff warrior.


    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Dalia shook her head exaggeratedly and demanded subliminally harshly. ¡°Bring our guest whatever she wants immediately, and only the best.¡±


    ¡°N-naturally!¡± the employee nodded hastily. There was no doubt that she had been forced into this confusion.


    ¡°... I¡¯ve lost my thirst for the time being, but thank you for your efforts,¡± Kayra said forgivingly, her gaze fixed solely on Dalia.


    ¡°That, too kind,¡± the employee inclined her head and took both glasses before turning away.


    Dalia, meanwhile, wiped the blood from her lips. ¡°A pure delight,¡± she said with satisfaction. ¡°How anyone can fail to appreciate such a delicacy is beyond me.¡±


    Kayra couldn¡¯t quite keep her right hand steady, which kept contorting back and forth between her fingers and claws.


    ¡°Her yellow eyes shine so brightly,¡± Dalia lifted the corners of her mouth. It was common knowledge that the more a vampire¡¯s eyes shone in their natural colour, the more emotional they were. ¡°You¡¯re not going to blame me for this unfortunate mix-up and attack me, are you?¡± Dalia didn¡¯t seem to believe those words, but that didn¡¯t stop her from verbally following up and approaching her guest with her imposing stature. ¡°Or ... could it be that you enjoyed this exquisite drop so much more than you¡¯d like to admit? Innocent, pure blood, almost as if it had been stolen from a cradle.¡±


    ¡°I feel insulted,¡± Kayra gritted very softly, and for a moment she was truly ready to tear her claws through the snake¡¯s guts. ¡°How dare you...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± Dalia offered lowly, matching her guest¡¯s level. ¡°We¡¯ll find out what you really want: An apology or the truth. This waitress has deeply offended your senses, so she must be severely punished for it.¡±


    ¡°Unacceptable,¡± Kayra said firmly against this offer. This woman had been innocent and should not be used for the warrior¡¯s games.


    ¡°Then the truth,¡± Dalia said, lifting her chin. ¡°Admit how fantastic this drink really was. If you don¡¯t, we¡¯ll punish this useless waitress - your choice.¡±


    Harm an innocent woman or speak a repulsive lie as truth? It seemed Kayra would lose no matter what she chose. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the employee huddled next to the counter, knowing full well what could be, but not with Kayra! ¡°Come to think of it, I¡¯m too thirsty after all...¡± she said, suddenly pulling the waitress into her hand with telekinesis.


    This surprised the startled employee and Dalia. ¡°What are you doing?!¡± the warrior grumbled as the action drew everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°You said punishment, but not from whom,¡± Kayra replied. She stood behind the waitress and put her lips to her ear in a whisper. ¡°You know, I detest drinking children¡¯s blood, just as much as I hate it when someone is taken against their will, in any way.¡±


    The employee was relatively small and only stood out because of her wide pelvis. ¡°P-please, I just-¡± she gulped in agony.


    ¡°I know,¡± Kayra soothed, gently stroking her victim¡¯s neck. ¡°Nevertheless, you must confess your guilt and suffer my consequences. The alternative would be for this ruffian to have his way with you, which would probably be the end of you and that would not be fair in the least and would be a loss to this world. Do you confess?¡±


    The waitress¡¯s eyes were in pure panic, darting from Kayra to Dalia, unsure of what the right answer was now, before she quietly surrendered as quiet as a mouse. ¡°I ... made a mistake. I ... am ready for my punishment.¡±


    ¡°So be it,¡± Kayra said, rubbing her cheek gently against the woman¡¯s. For her, it was a spectacle more than anything else, for all the eyes that had long watched tempted, hoping to see how Kayra would feast, for despite their higher evolution, vampires were bound by their instincts and so was Kayra¡¯s spectacle. ¡°From now on, you are at my service.¡± With that she had claimed the woman, which was normally a foundation stone for her own power base, but this served to protect the waitress, from whom she now began to drink gently.


    Everyone in the room was a silent, spellbound witness to the act and Dalia looked anything but happy. ¡°This is not a punishment,¡± she clenched her fist.


    Kayra took her time. Although the blood was riddled with stress, it was still pleasantly warm and delicate on the finish. ¡°This woman is bound to me forever,¡± she sighed. She let go of the paralysed waitress and gently lowered her to the floor in front of her. ¡°You¡¯d think some people would see that as a punishment.¡±


    Dalia immediately lifted her foot and tried to step on the employee¡¯s neck, but her attack was frozen by telekinesis.


    ¡°You¡¯re not disobeying the rules of our society, are you?¡± Kayra now turned the tables. In the end, Dalia was probably stronger than her, but she had fresh blood in her veins and telekinesis was better at stopping raw power than the other way round. ¡°An attack on my servant is an attack on me.¡±


    Dalia kept trying without her foot moving an inch and her attention turned from the employee to Kayra. ¡°This woman works for the Tenebrae and therefore for Lady Gardner.¡±


    ¡°We are all the Tenebrae,¡± Kayra stated logically, her telekinetic hold not wavering; such were the laws of the night. ¡°You want this woman for Lady Gardner? Then you must be questioning my claim, if that is of such immense importance to you.¡±


    There really wasn¡¯t much more to it and a fight would have broken out between the two of them when Saunders¡¯ monotone voice cut in. ¡°Ladies, please,¡± he said unimpressed and rightly so. He was even above Dalia in the hierarchy. ¡°A little more dignity and civilisation.¡±


    The tension between the two rivals subsided, along with the foot and the telekinesis, but Kayra added her finishing touch. ¡°I¡¯m all for it, Mr Saunders. The laws of the night.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So let¡¯s get to the point of our presence,¡± Saunders announced. With his briefcase in hand, he gained access to the screens in the lounge without making any great effort to make a better or higher point for those present. At the same time, he lowered the sun blinds on the row of windows, which in the middle of the night was probably more of a defence against possible spies. ¡°Thanks to a series of honest endeavours, we were able to avert a catastrophe for the vampires of Great Kingston at perhaps the last moment, because the Apostles have created a new, powerful bioweapon.¡± Although otherwise dry and unassuming, Saunders now had the air of a British officer, composed and yet more than aware of the danger. ¡°They call it Slow Sun and have been secretly developing it for months and even with our excellent contacts, we¡¯ve found it hard to get information. All we know is that it is a virus that kills vampires in agonising fashion within five to seven days,¡± explained the lawyer and an uncertain murmur went through the ranks of the vampires. For him, however, this was no cause for concern, but rather an opportunity to demonstrate his power. ¡°What exactly the apostles intend to do with it is unclear and it is meaningless. Presumably the virus is being taken to the Apostles¡¯ base in Great Kingston and we will take advantage of that. We¡¯ll track the transport and find our enemies before we take them out and secure the virus to cement the Tenebrae¡¯s sole rule over this city.¡±

 Samantha - 8

    From a test straight to a major operation, that was a huge leap for Samantha! Her equipment was remarkable and far better than what she was used to from special police units, but still similar in appearance. The fact that she was now right at the front with Peter as she ran up the stairs in front of her was more out of necessity than because the Knights thought they were ready. There were still far too few of the Order in Great Kingston to fight such battles, but Samantha had been told that this battle had to be fought at all costs and it had already begun.


    ¡°Secured!¡± Peter announced at the open door to the roof, through which a shallow floodlight shone and sporadic gunfire echoed.


    It was after midnight and Samantha hurried outside with her sniper rifle in the shallow wind and snowfall. ¡°Place the booby trap halfway up the frame in case we get any unwanted visitors!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to say that won¡¯t happen,¡± Peter said tensely as he planted the small bomb. ¡°But with magic, monsters and whatnot, you have to be prepared for anything.¡±


    ¡°Just as Brother Caballero has emphasised several times,¡± Samantha replied. The monk had been the only one against sending such inexperienced squires into battle who hadn¡¯t even received the slightest training in the art of holy powers. However, Samantha had come up with the idea of being able to use her skills as a markswoman at a safe distance, so that they were not exposed to immediate danger. Thanks to this compromise, she could now set up her long sniper rifle with a bipod at the edge of the roof and use the scope to get an overview of the battle within this vast waste disposal facility that lay at the very edge of Great Kingston.


    It wasn¡¯t the Vatican Knights that were currently engaged in combat, but vampires against vampires, as had already been reported by the Vanguard and that was - Tenebrae against Apostles. There was a soft blanket of snow everywhere and shadows flitted back and forth between rooftops and dirty pipework, almost impossible to spot unless they engaged in a direct confrontation. They fought or used blood magic, while firefights took place between the buildings in particular.


    ¡°Now we just have to wait for the Go,¡± Peter said. He took a deep breath and watched the whole thing with binoculars from cover and would serve as a mere pair of eyes, as was customary in such constellations: a marksman and a scout. ¡°How exactly are we supposed to distinguish between vampires and these blood fighters?¡±


    ¡°Blood knights,¡± Samantha improved. She could follow the action between the buildings much better, as many of the figures there usually moved at a normal pace. ¡°The commander said that not everyone is a blood knight. Blood knight is something like the precursor to vampire, a reward.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Peter apologised, overwhelmed. ¡°This briefing was too much for me after the last few days. Too much information all at once.¡±


    ¡°Well, luckily we¡¯re only on the sidelines. We should still have enough concentration for that,¡± agreed Samantha. She wasn¡¯t in top form either and had been overwhelmed by the flood of information.


    The Vatikans Knights¡¯ scouts had been following the Apostles¡¯ trail closely, but with the discovery of Clem¨¦nt Chevalier, the noose had tightened at this point. Apparently, the apostles wanted to use a new type of virus that slowly killed vampires. However, since such a bioweapon could have unforeseen, catastrophic consequences for humanity, it was the Order¡¯s job to secure the virus at all costs and not go on the hunt.


    ¡°All units report,¡± a man¡¯s voice with an Eastern European flavour crackled over the Order¡¯s internal frequency. His name was Jannek.


    One by one, various units reported in, as did Samantha. ¡°Sniper team two in position.¡±


    ¡°We have the advantage,¡± Jannek tacticked harshly. He held the insignia of a full knight and was the commander of this mission. ¡°The bastards are completely preoccupied with themselves. My unit and those of Knight Lea and Knight Thomas are trying to advance as far as possible without being sighted. Squire units one to three secure our flank. Four to six form the rearguard. The rifle teams can scout out suitable targets at will, but there is no firing yet and I repeat myself - the virus has absolute priority! Once we have it, we¡¯ll retreat immediately and if all else fails, we¡¯ll unleash our secret weapon!¡±


    Samantha was still curious as to what this secret weapon was all about. She hadn¡¯t asked at the briefing and assumed that if she had known, the commander would have mentioned it. ¡°Anything in mind yet, Peter?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more a question of where we should start,¡± Peter replied indecisively. There were simply too many targets, although parts of the complex were very labyrinthine and not exactly favourable for snipers. ¡°I think we should just wait until the Knights are in trouble and then support their position.¡±


    ¡°That will be a great help,¡± Samantha agreed, her jaw dropping. Despite what she had been told and her previous experiences, she couldn¡¯t believe her eyes when she saw what she could only describe as a fire-breathing demon flying over the facility. ¡°Do our fireballs do anything at all against these beasts?¡±


    Peter swallowed. ¡°Hagen said that these bullets kill pretty much everything, but it¡¯s always best to hit them in the head,¡± he quoted, as the sniper rifles used a powerful ammunition calibre filled with white phosphorus, which burned at 1300 degrees when ignited.


    ¡°It¡¯s lucky that this wisdom doesn¡¯t stop at vampires and fantasy monsters - at least there¡¯s some normality,¡± Samantha joked dryly, thinking of Hagen. The silent giant had arrived with the troop, but he had stayed with the vehicles as a rearguard, although she couldn¡¯t quite understand why. Monk or not, Hagen clearly struck her as a fighter, a front-line soldier, and this impression had only been reinforced for her. She had seen him take an absolutely absurdly large sword out of a van, wrapped in a huge brown leather scabbard. It hadn¡¯t had a crossguard, but the blade had been equal in length to Hagen¡¯s size and almost as wide as Samantha herself.


    ¡°Look at that lump on the roof,¡± Peter said with a symbolic gesture, ¡°next to the big chimneys!¡±


    At the spot in question was a handsome man whose musculature was very pronounced and whose hairstyle was reminiscent of Native American warriors. His movements were so fast that to human eyes they looked like a sequence of still images in which the vampire was always standing somewhere else and he swung his fists effortlessly against three other vampires before tearing a five-metre-high electricity pylon from its steel anchorage to use it first as a giant bat. Then he threw it like a spear at one of the flying demons and impaled the monster with it, but one thing was difficult. In this chaos, it was difficult to tell who actually belonged to whom when it came to Tenebrae and Apostles.


    ¡°And those must be mages,¡± Samantha murmured, mesmerised. Earlier she had heard from one of the squires that some magical mercenary called Icewind or something similar was also supposed to be fighting for the knights, but Samantha had not seen her yet, unlike the current mages.


    Not far from the chimneys observed earlier were a man and a woman turning lightning, fire and ice into all sorts of tricks. They protected themselves against an approaching demon and its flames with a kind of aquamarine glowing energy bubble until it had flown past them.


    Samantha had been told that mages in the service of the Tenebrae used forbidden magic and she was prepared for anything, but what she saw through her scope were just two battered, sweaty humans. After surviving the attack, the man helped the woman up and they seemed to encourage each other. Pull yourself together, Sam, went through her mind and her finger came off the trigger.


    Peter didn¡¯t completely miss this. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m okay,¡± Samantha replied, as focussed as possible. ¡°Like you said, it¡¯s just so much at once. I¡¯ll be glad when we¡¯re safely back at the convent.¡±


    ¡°Me too Sam, me too,¡± Peter agreed with a hearty pat on the shoulder.


    ¡°Contact!¡± announced Commander Jannek. ¡°East side! East side! All teams - fire at your own discretion!¡±


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Samantha murmured almost too quietly, pointing the barrel of her rifle in the direction of the new shots and even explosions.


    Two squire units took up positions behind the corners of buildings and pipes. On average, each unit consisted of three to five members and their main weapons were mainly handy submachine guns, which were the best choice for this narrow terrain. Their opponents possessed a rather colourful mix of firearms, but at least they all seemed to be human.


    ¡°On the roof, Sam!¡± recommended Peter, and in the aforementioned advantageous position was a woman with an assault rifle, keeping the knights quite at bay. ¡°She¡¯s got to go!¡±


    Samantha brought the crosshairs over her victim and zoomed in on her face. ¡°Target locked,¡± she murmured quietly and cocked the trigger. Even without all the commotion for cover, her shot would only be a whisper as a silencer was attached to the muzzle of her gun and there was nothing standing in Samantha¡¯s way.


    ¡°The stage is all yours!¡±


    What was Samantha waiting for! She wanted to shoot, she really wanted to, but her finger spasmed and didn¡¯t quite pull the trigger. Her whole body began to tremble and transmitted this vibration to the gun, causing it to rattle softly.


    ¡°Are you jamming?¡± Peter asked indecisively and took down the binoculars. He looked worriedly at the wobbling rifle. ¡°... Sam?¡±


    ¡°I-I can¡¯t,¡± Samantha realised, her eyes fixed on her victim¡¯s face before she put the gun down. As a policewoman, she had shot criminals before, and once she had even shot with the intention of killing, without hesitation or problems with death afterwards. But now, even as this stranger kept firing at Samantha¡¯s allies, everything inside her was blocked. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, Peter.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Peter grated helplessly. What was he supposed to make of it? ¡°We could switch, even if I¡¯m not as good as you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, I can¡¯t move at all. I can¡¯t even stand up,¡± Samanhta replied flustered. Was she afraid of this situation? All the violence, all the monsters? Had she simply overestimated herself? She couldn¡¯t even shoot at the people and felt sorry for them. ¡°There are still lives down there, human lives.¡±


    ¡°The worst kind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more than aware of that, but I still can¡¯t,¡± Samantha broke off and looked at her trembling hands.


    ¡°We need more support fire! Clear the rooftops!¡± Jannek demanded vehemently over the spark. ¡°Sniper team two, are you active yet?¡±


    Peter looked at his helpless partner before answering. ¡°Our rifle commander! It¡¯s jammed! We¡¯re trying to fix it!¡±


    ¡°Lord in heaven! Hurry up!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re working on it!¡± said Peter at the end of the transmission. He knelt down and despite the delicate situation, he took the time to speak quietly to his partner. ¡°I think we¡¯ve both underestimated it a bit.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± Samantha snorted, disappointed in herself. ¡°I¡¯m sitting here, useless, while they need our help. I¡¯m not working.¡±


    ¡°Because this is war and not the police,¡± Peter stated. It sounded as if he was only now realising this. ¡°Soldiers fight ... differently. There are no rules here and it¡¯s pure chaos. To be honest, there¡¯s not much left and I¡¯ll piss myself.¡±


    ¡°Then what are we doing here, Peter?¡± asked Samantha, perplexed.


    Meanwhile, one or two painful screams came over the radio. ¡°We have an injured person! We need help!¡±


    With concern, Peter glanced at the crackling radio on his chest. ¡°I guess fighting evil won¡¯t do it for an answer this time,¡± he said, rightly - platitudes were fruitless now and he dug deeper and more personally. ¡°What did your dad always say?¡±


    ¡°My ... dad?¡±


    ¡°You know, when you told me about your hunting trips. What did he tell you about life and death?¡±


    Samantha didn¡¯t see how exactly that was relevant in this situation. ¡°You only kill to preserve or defend, but what does that have to do with this? We¡¯re not fighting animals, we¡¯re fighting people and ... well, not people.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°They may not be animals, but the principle remains the same - preserve and defend,¡± Peter argued matter-of-factly but empathetically. ¡°Just think what will happen if they release this virus. I mean, we¡¯re talking about a fucking bioweapon here. That¡¯s just madness and it doesn¡¯t even make these monsters animals, because animals would never build a weapon that could destroy themselves or their environment or their prey.¡±


    In a way, this statement made a lot of sense to Samantha and her trembling lessened. ¡°Animals just follow their instincts and they are pure,¡± she said, gathering herself. ¡°But these creatures are neither human nor animal and those who follow them are no better.¡± Samantha told herself this and it soothed her conscience at least enough to allow her to fall back into her old pattern for the moment - no hesitation and no guilt. ¡°Be my eye, Peter.¡±


    ¡°Will be!¡± replied Peter, who seemed equally taken by his partner¡¯s new-found courage. ¡°And every confirmed hit is a beer on me!¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll make you poor,¡± Samantha murmured macabrely, taking aim at the woman on the roof again.


    The squire units of the knights had been pushed back quite a bit at this position until the whispering shot hit the enemy rearguard on the roof between the eyes. The Apostles on the ground were completely unaware of this, as they were too caught up in the battle and their advance meant they were fighting partly in open positions, allowing the crosshairs to thin out the rear ranks. The delayed realisation of the sneak attack finally gave the squire units the opportunity they needed to turn the tide at this point and advance quickly.


    Jannek took note. ¡°Sniper team two, is your weapon in action now?¡±


    ¡°It is, commander!¡± confirmed Samantha. ¡°We¡¯ve just cleared the positions at this junction.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! Keep covering this side!¡±


    Peter cheered this action. ¡°Nice work, Sam! Now how about a vampire?¡±


    ¡°Quite a step up,¡± Samantha admitted. ¡°Find me one.¡± She did the same herself, of course, with the search also serving as an overview of the entire situation.


    It was just a guess as to affiliation, but the Apostles were relying on numbers in this battle. They had more humans, vampires and monsters and this realisation was given a powerful boost.


    ¡°At the workshop!¡± warned Jannek. ¡°Black Orcs!¡±


    The wide gates of a hall intended for the repair of lorries slid open and a veritable horde of at least 60 or 70 fierce-looking beasts stormed out into the open. Their misshapen skin was pitch black, their grimaces deformed and their mouths riddled with tusks, and they wore old-fashioned armour while wielding axes and swords, but their rear ranks, in stark contrast, used modern weapons. Fearlessly, this mob split in two directions, and though their front line was shot down by both Tenebrae and Vatican¡¯s knights, the Black Orcs charged towards their ranks, crashing into their opponents unbroken. They were truly brutal beasts, swinging their weapons mercilessly and overwhelming their targets in close combat for the time being. However, this did not stop the Blackroks with the firearms from firing without regard for casualties and even killing their own units in the process.


    ¡°Okay, one step back from the vampire to those critters,¡± Peter suggested, but he didn¡¯t have to say that twice. ¡°Even if the angle isn¡¯t the best.¡±


    Indeed, Samantha didn¡¯t have too good a view of the Black Orcs with the firearms, but the ones she could aim at she took shot after shot until she had to change the magazine.


    It was at this point that Lea, a knight of the Order, stepped into action on the streets. She even had a metal roundel attached to her left forearm, which she used to skilfully block the blows of a few Schwarzokrs. At the same time, she fired at her opponents with a submachine gun in her right hand, while a soft, golden light gathered around that hand. Suddenly, she slammed that hand on the ground in front of her and an explosion, like a crashing wave, threw every charging opponent high through the air and would have allowed the knights to make another advance.


    The ominous rumble of a great demon thwarted this, however, as it appeared at the back of the Order fighters, its flaming breath setting the street alight before landing on the edge of a roof and spewing its fire against the Tenebrae as well.


    ¡°We¡¯re stepping up,¡± Samantha murmured to herself as the monster lingered on this fixed point, spitting out fireballs. She gave it a clean shot to the right eye, but despite the hit to the head and the onset of phosphorus fire that covered half its face, the creature did not die. ¡°What?!¡±


    The demon hissed, its body twitching, unable to pinpoint the source of the attack before it was hit in the chest and wings. It tried to fly away, but it was more of a big leap than a real flight, towards the nearest rooftop.


    ¡°Come on Sam! One more!¡± Peter followed the attack in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s not possible! Die at the end - what¡¯s that?¡±


    Out of nowhere, a sprightly, heavily armoured woman appeared near the demon, wearing a helmet in the shape of a dangerously horned goat¡¯s head and wielding a formidable two-handed sword. The demon was far larger and bulkier than the stranger, yet her backhand was simply enough to deflect a powerful slash from its claws before she cut off the beast¡¯s head with a swipe.


    ¡°Kill this fury Sam!¡±


    Peter didn¡¯t have to say that twice and even though Samantha appreciated her partner¡¯s doggedness, these constant, obvious comments were a little annoying. ¡°She¡¯s too fast!¡± she admitted, and no matter how hard she tried, she could barely keep up with the constant shifting of positions as the sword-wielder plunged down into the streets, nefariously and precisely dispatching orc after orc in seconds. One swing of the sword into the void was enough to create a small gap in the tarmac, as if a bomb had hit it.


    This was probably reason enough for Knight Lea¡¯s units to retreat, and the Black Orcs who had attacked the Order turned their full attention to the Tenebrae.


    ¡°We¡¯ve found the location of the virus!¡± Jannek announced to the knights over the radio channels. ¡°Form up all units around me! We¡¯re advancing on the waste sorting outhouse and we do it yesterday!¡±


    Samantha understood. It wasn¡¯t the marauding sword-wielding woman who had persuaded Lea to retreat. There was a mission to fulfil and she would do her part by slaying one of these powerful vampires.


    There was no shortage of targets, but hardly any of the night creatures stayed still for long and impressed in one way or another. They could even turn into animals! When one of the humans from the ranks of the Tenebrae was grabbed by a demon that only had wings instead of arms, a white owl flew into the beast¡¯s face and buried its claws in its flesh. As the little owl dragged the demon along with it, the demon let go of its grabbed victim and as it flew past, the owl transformed into a tall woman. Despite her rather lanky figure, she smashed the monster onto one of the roofs like a flyweight and landed light-footedly and elegantly next to its remains, her dark cloaked cape blowing in the night wind. The fact that the oriental-inspired woman was immediately surrounded again by suddenly appearing vampires left her absolutely cold. She always let attacks against her slip by millimetres into nothingness or she raised her arm in defence, looking almost bored, as if she was about to strike a steel beam, before her claws tore the first enemies apart. Her remaining adversaries began to hesitate, but briefly her eyes fell on her own chest and her lips moved. Was she talking to someone? It made no difference! This behaviour enraged her opponents and they attacked her again, but suddenly the lanky woman ended the fight in seconds and she seemed completely focused on herself, as if she had just been given some really bad news, which she passed on immediately.


    It was Samantha¡¯s opportunity as her target remained silent, but a new message from Jannek stopped her trigger finger. ¡°Everyone!¡± the commander said urgently. ¡°Some Apostles have just disappeared with the virus through a blood portal! We¡¯ve no business here anymore! I¡¯m ordering an immediate retreat!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± asked Peter, taking down the binoculars. ¡°Seriously?!¡±


    ¡°Mission blown, great,¡± grumbled Samantha to herself, but at least she would fulfil one of the Knights¡¯ purposes and take out a vampire.


    The stranger on the roof was still talking to herself when the whispering shot rang out. Suddenly, however, she was standing in the closest spot unscathed and the second shot didn¡¯t hit her either, but her cat¡¯s yellow eyes were now staring directly into the crosshairs as if she had her attackers in her sights.


    Samantha stiffened. ¡°We might have a problem,¡± she murmured quietly as her scope suddenly went blank.


    ¡°Problem?! What is it?!¡± Peter listened and drew his pistol. ¡°Where?!¡±


    ¡°That vampire spotted me!¡± Samantha said, standing up hastily with her sniper rifle at the ready. ¡°I think she-!¡± The gun was knocked out of her hand and the force alone threw Samantha several metres back against the edge of the roof.


    ¡°Sam!¡± Peter shouted, searching in vain for a target with the gun. The realisation was delayed, but Peter couldn¡¯t breathe and blood was gushing from between his lips as a hand had pierced his chest to the small of his back.


    The vampiress was standing right in front of him and she held the man¡¯s still beating heart between her claws and pulled it towards her through the gaping wound.


    Stunned, Samantha¡¯s pupils widened as her partner fell backwards and their eyes met one last time. ¡°Peter,¡± she said quietly, her breathing choppy.


    An immense pool of blood immediately spread around Peter, while his body still twitched, but all life was gone from him and his murderess stood over him without remorse. She lifted the heart in her hands as a demonstration and slipped a metal chain loop from the sleeve of her other arm. She dragged it across the floor with a swish and struck the concrete next to Samantha¡¯s head with lightning speed. All her gestures were aimed solely at spreading terror and arousing fear. ¡°Far away, hidden in the shadows... You felt very powerful, didn¡¯t you? You really think you¡¯re a hunter,¡± said the figure, whose gaze was as distant as her voice and irrelevantly crushed the heart between her claws. ¡°Allow me to show you the last mistake of your life.¡±


    What could Samantha do? Quite apart from being gripped by shock and grief, how could she stand up to such a creature? No, that was it for her, but at least she was going to face her murderess, angry and as defiant as could be, without a word!


    ¡°I see,¡± the woman murmured, and she seemed marginally impressed. ¡°Humans, stubborn to the end.¡± Again she clanked her chain loop and began to rotate it, ready for a painful blow. She took a lunge forward and paused jerkily, and as if Samantha didn¡¯t exist at all, the woman spoke composedly, but in a rush. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me and listen to me carefully now: I have learnt that the Apostles have used a blood portal to get the virus to the Carson`s Climb and they intend to use the Tower`s environmental system to spread the weapon across America. You need to make your way there immediately and make sure you have a working mobile phone with a live camera function.¡±


    Samantha surreptitiously, albeit nervously, tried to reach for her gun holster and opened the tab. As she wrapped her fingers around the grip, Samantha felt immense pressure on them, as if someone had grabbed her hand and she just couldn¡¯t draw the gun.


    The woman, whose mouth button was now visible and a phone call obvious, simply pointed at Samantha. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple and every second you spend questioning instead of doing brings us to the brink of defeat! ... ... Run. It¡¯s still a long way to go, but with your speed, running is better than the car. If you¡¯re fuelled with fresh blood, you should manage this little race.¡±


    The conversation was almost like everyday talk as fires spread through the buildings around the roof and the creature of the night almost completely ignored Samantha. She clearly didn¡¯t even remotely perceive it as a threat and even her hand was free again, gently pulling the pistol from its holster once more. Halfway through, Samantha stopped as the tip of a blade was pointed at her eye.


    The heavily armoured woman from the streets stood beside her and gently pressed the steel against the sniper¡¯s cheekbone. ¡°Even with all the fear in your veins and the disgusting sweat on your skin, your blood still smells so tantalising,¡± the warrior said softly and covetously, standing in front of Samantha so that her back was facing the other vampire. ¡°A drink worthy of victory ... when I¡¯m done here.¡±


    ¡°Others are just as close, but they don¡¯t enjoy my trust?¡± the phoner replied with circumspection, as if wary of the sword-wielder¡¯s presence. ¡°And you¡¯ve already done a lot - now prove that it wasn¡¯t a coincidence ... ... very good. As soon as you get to the Climb, call me back immediately.¡±


    ¡°Kayra, what could be so important in the midst of this battle that you would take the time to make a phone call?¡± the sword bearer asked appraisingly, scratching the tip of her blade across Samantha¡¯s face, towards her neck and over her rustic equipment across her chest.


    ¡°You can hardly call this a battle anymore, Dalia,¡± Kayra remarked anxiously before revealing her news. ¡°Also, the Apostles escaped to Carsons Climb with the virus and I relayed that immediately. Do we have a capable blood mage with us?¡±


    The helmet hid her exact expression, but Dalia looked over her shoulder doubtfully and the virus seemed secondary to her right now. ¡°Interesting, how do you know that so well? None of us have made it to the virus yet.¡±


    ¡°What does that matter right now?!¡± Kayra replied, irritated. ¡°We need a strong blood mage, because I¡¯ll bet anything that the Apostles have created a barrier on the Climb so that you can¡¯t just follow them.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re right,¡± Dalia nodded. She turned her head back to Samantha, and while the fighting continued and half the waste facility was either devastated or in flames, the tense atmosphere on this rooftop was strangely calm. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it immediately after I finish this.¡±


    Samantha swallowed a thick lump as the sword was unsheathed. It swung not even a millimetre past her eyes and suddenly there was a manic yelp!


    Dalia had struck backwards, severing half of Kayra¡¯s left arm and the metal chain around it, but the wounded woman quickly recovered despite the fatal wound. There was pure fury in her eyes and her fangs were completely bared as Kayra raised her foot considerably and kicked the blade out of Dalia¡¯s hand. There were no more words between the women and the sword-wielder growled animalistically, which echoed through her helmet, and a real exchange of blows ensued, with Kayra making up for the loss of her arm thanks to her flexible legs.


    Sheer, brute force, that was all Samantha saw before her eyes, as she had seen all too often among humans and criminals, or was it comparable? No, absolutely not! She watched as claws tore clothes apart, fists smashed dents into solid metal and animalistic growls emanated from the throats of these creatures. Women like Samantha? No, they were beasts, nothing else and not even animals! Disgust and anger watered Samantha¡¯s eyes, which fell on Peter in the midst of this brutal battle, his gaze blank, without a future and his last emotion clearly frozen in him - horror.


    ¡°I will personally exterminate your entire clan!¡± Dalia roared hatefully. She broke through Kayra¡¯s defence with a mighty blow to the stomach that you could feel even as a spectator. ¡°And now you¡¯re going to hell!¡± The warrior gave Kayra a powerful punch to the jaw that catapulted her off the roof and into the centre of a building flickering with flames, after which Dalia breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°And now for my victory feast, little human whore.¡±


    With all her emotions pent up and out of panic, Samantha attempted the impossible! As her target slowly turned round in arrogance, she drew her pistol and fired several shots.


    If at first it seemed as if Dalia had dodged each shot, the warrior stopped and grabbed the right side of her helmet in disbelief. ¡°Narrghhhh!¡± she cried out in agony. A bullet had ripped open her armour and a trail of phosphorus began to melt the metal she was tearing from her head. ¡°MY FACE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!¡± Her cheek was disfigured, blistered and glowing mini-sparks would not stop eating into it. Still, Dalia looked unstoppable as she picked up her sword from the ground and walked towards the knight with heavy steps, lacking superhuman speed and any sense of decorum. ¡°I¡¯m going to ram this sword up your cunt and bleed you like a pig so it can flow like a spit on my tongue!¡±


    Once more Samantha tried her luck, but her target blocked the remaining shots with inconsequential sword swings. I¡¯m with you, Peter, she thought, and as with Kayra before, she defiantly faced her fate and the hand that sped ahead. But the grip passed through her as if Samantha were a ghost? She didn¡¯t understand what was going on, because Dalia blurred completely and everything around Samantha was bathed in a white-blue light.

 Ryan - 8

    Until two minutes ago, it had been a bit like the good old days: Ryan had been sitting at a desk with a PC and a filled mug on it, and he could put his feet up in peace, like on many a quiet day during his work back then. But today, instead of a nice, warm cup of coffee steaming away, he was tempted by fresh, cool blood with a greasy odour. Nor had Ryan been working on the PC to analyse new data or follow a lead on the apostles. In the end, it wasn¡¯t a simple, quiet day either, and it was Gordon¡¯s office where Ryan had been trying to pass the time, because tonight was way out of his league, as Gordon had so charmingly put it, being involved in the attack on the Apostles. However, because Ryan wanted to do the detective a favour, and he also didn¡¯t want to just hang around his flat, he¡¯d been hanging around his detective agency just in case the Apostles tried anything. A phone call Ryan had just received from his unknown saviour made that completely unlikely, however, and while he hadn¡¯t been entirely sad to miss out on this bloodbath before, things were completely different now. Now a lot seemed to depend on him, him whose league probably didn¡¯t even exist that night, forcing him to make an unpleasant decision. Ryan needed fresh blood and lots of it if he was going to have the strength to run to his destination and the soggy mug on the table certainly wouldn¡¯t be enough, though he gulped it down hastily, like a hard drink to give himself courage. A quarter of an hour earlier he¡¯d had a nice chat with KC at the reception to take his mind off things and it had landed Ryan a date, which he would much rather have had now than what he was about to do.


    ¡°Back already?¡± Kylie grinned cheekily and happily, propping her head up on one hand. ¡°I guess you want to bring our date forward, eh?¡±


    Ryan was exasperated, but even a child like him knew what was at stake at that moment. ¡°How about a taste?¡± he asked straight out, fuelled by the fresh blood in his pulsing veins, and he focused entirely on the woman. Ryan had no idea if he was working this blood magic on her and she would forget about the bite anyway, but he wanted as willing a consent from her as possible.


    Kylie didn¡¯t seem to be affected by blood magic and this sudden offer seemed strange to her. ¡°You¡¯re one of mine and who knows what will happen on our date, but no. Not to mention, if MG came back and saw us making out here, that would be highly unprofessional. Sorry Ryan.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sorry too.¡±


    This apology only added to Kylie¡¯s confusion. ¡°Sorry? Sorry for what?¡±


    The world stood still for Ryan now, at least as far as everything but him was concerned, he was so quick. Regretfully, he studied the look of confusion around Kylie¡¯s eyes and how she remained motionless, like a doll. His first real drink from a human and Kylie had to take the fall for it. Ryan stood behind her and honoured her dark beauty as a follower of the goth scene, with her deliberately ripped trousers and see-through parts of her strapless top. She was a little thin for Ryan¡¯s taste, but her slim physique harmonised perfectly with her style. ¡°Now I¡¯d really prefer the baked-in date,¡± Ryan whispered softly in her ear, gripping her by the shoulder and waist. As he¡¯d been told once, it was as if he¡¯d done this hundreds of times before, and following his nature, he drove his teeth into the point of Kylie¡¯s neck where the heartbeat was most vivid. Having expected something harder from the thin figure, Ryan was pleasantly surprised by how soft Kylie¡¯s skin was, but her blood had a slightly acidic flavour to it. It didn¡¯t take him to Valencia or any other place in his mind this time either, but instead, Ryan felt human again? There was no other way he could put it. Kylie was so warm, so tender and her heartbeat felt like his as he took sip after sip, red drops spilling from his mouth and running as fine lines down her neck. Ryan embraced her more and more, almost like a lover, and he held her waist and even grabbed her breast, Kylie moaning in rapture as if she was experiencing orgasm after orgasm. This moment should never end, Ryan would not accept that! However, he could feel Kylie¡¯s heart beating more and more restlessly and becoming quieter and he suddenly felt as if something or someone was tugging at him and trying to pull him into an endless abyss. You have to control yourself, the stranger¡¯s words went through Ryan¡¯s head sternly but with good will, and as hard as it was for him, he released his bite from the neck of the completely battered and overwhelmed woman. There was no large couch or anything comfortable like that in Gordon¡¯s agency, but his office chair was very spacious and Ryan carried the unconscious woman to it, where he carefully set her down. ¡°Your gift won¡¯t have been in vain,¡± Ryan said gratefully. Was it the fresh blood in his veins? He didn¡¯t know, but his mind was now completely unclouded: strength instead of weakness, self-confidence instead of doubt and victory instead of defeat! With this attitude, and one of Gordon¡¯s special pistols, he stormed out the door and disappeared into the chilly snowy night at vampiric speed.


    Ryan was able to keep up his abnormal pace all the way to Carsons Climb without feeling drained or weak at the end of his fifteen minute journey. The streets were empty of people and only the front desk of the exclusive residential tower was occupied by a woman. Ryan didn¡¯t choose the front, however, but jumped up to a fire escape and as he climbed it, he tried to call the stranger. ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± he murmured quietly to himself as the call sign rang out endlessly. ¡°Come on.¡± Ryan tried to get the call through to the end of the fire escape, which unfortunately didn¡¯t even go as far as a quarter of the climb, without success. He was sure that breaking down the fire door would set off at least one silent alarm, but he couldn¡¯t afford the luxury of stealth now and he kicked the door in without setting off an audible alarm. Why doesn¡¯t she answer it?! he asked himself. She had told him to contact her as soon as he reached the Climb and it was all about her. Had something happened to her? An unpleasant thought as he took a lift up. Not that Ryan was fully versed in environmentalism, but he knew that the Carsons Climb epitomised the cutting edge of sustainability and self-sufficiency and had the latest in environmental technology on the roof, even featuring the first attempts at terraforming. The lift didn¡¯t go all the way to the roof, however, and Ryan became more cautious as the Apostles were sure to have guards posted. However, this very thought quickly proved to be wrong, which made him more suspicious. Was he walking into a trap? Another luxury he unfortunately couldn¡¯t consider at the moment. Full risk was his only option, because no matter how many times he tried, the stranger wouldn¡¯t answer his calls and what was with the live camera function anyway? Even the cheapest mobile phone had one. Should he send her impressions? What was the point of her watching everything live? Questions upon questions and Ryan now did the same as the woman - he trusted her. Her request must have made sense, so he called her again using the live function, but he clipped his mobile phone to his belt. A heavy, electronically secured steel gate awaited him in front of the roof, but he would deal with it and how he would.


    Suddenly, an irrepressible force pulled Ryan with it and broke through the door! He landed on the roof and found himself in a brutal scuffle with another man, like a bar brawl. He managed to throw his attacker off him, only to be immediately hit by a lightning-fast punch. He saw no one and received another invisible blow from the other side. ¡°Show yourselves!¡± he demanded. He saw the next onslaught of two opponents coming and, just as he wanted with all his might, he froze them with telekinesis and threw them both towards the edge of the roof.


    ¡°Stop!¡± a high-pitched voice commanded and now the familiar feeling of telekinesis locked Ryan in tight. ¡°What is that? A single Tenebrae henchman?¡±


    ¡°Let go!¡± shouted Ryan, trying with all his might to free himself from Clem¨¦nt Chevalier, whom he recognised, but to no avail. ¡°You¡¯d better get away! We¡¯re about to be swarmed with reinforcements!¡±


    This bluff clearly drove uncertainty through some faces. A total of nine could be made out, spread across the roof, but one of them smelled like a human and was working on some kind of mobile heater. ¡°Idiots,¡± Clem¨¦nt said dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t let this gossip intimidate you! The Tenebrae knows nothing of our plan.¡±


    ¡°Then how did he get here?¡± one of the women asked nervously. ¡°I recognise him! It¡¯s the blood moon child! Quickly! Kill it!¡±


    ¡°I have eyes in my head,¡± Clem¨¦nt replied knowingly. He didn¡¯t let go, but he didn¡¯t kill either, and there was charm and admiration in his voice. ¡°You¡¯ve caused us quite a few problems in the last weeks, after we were able to work in peace for months before that. You are living proof of how much influence blood moon children can have on fate.¡±


    ¡°Then you know how this night will end for you,¡± Ryan replied unruffled. He wasn¡¯t afraid and surveyed the situation on the vast rooftop.


    There were futuristic-looking mixtures of chimneys and antennas everywhere, which must have reached another 50 metres into the sky, and next to the Apostles¡¯ mobile heater was one of the hazardous materials canisters, which was connected to the environmental systems via a hose covered in metal rings, where an automatic programme was trying to crack the access.


    ¡°Even if your words were true,¡± Clem¨¦nt said unimpressed and pushed his prisoner hard against the broken door. ¡°In less than ten minutes everything will be ready and we will spread the instrument of our power all over America and it will travel all over the world. It will take no more war to finally put the Apostles in charge, because from now on it¡¯s: Join us or death.¡±


    The fall had left no marks on Ryan, but he remained seated and made no hasty moves. ¡°By poisoning yourself? Stupid plan.¡±


    Clem¨¦nt reached into the pocket of his elegant coat jacket and pulled out something, which he clutched tightly in his right hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Rather use it now to make the most important decision of your still young existence as a child of the night - swear allegiance to the Apostles or die with all those who won¡¯t be so wise.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± spat Ryan at the floor. ¡°Total dominance over humanity?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just the natural order of things,¡± Cleme¨¦nt lifted his shoulders as he watched the heater work from time to time. The only human among the apostles used an injector to draw blood from a bag and insert the injector¡¯s filled ampoule into the heater. From Clement¡¯s mouth, everything sounded like pure truth, without exaggeration. ¡°Only the Tenebrae have been standing in the way for thousands of years, telling too many vampires that we have to be careful and hide. That¡¯s not right, and if the humans would submit, we could make their stumbling world a better place.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ryan hissed contemptuously. He didn¡¯t believe a syllable of the word, for he had seen in a short time what the apostles were prepared to do, sacrificing human lives like cattle. ¡°The way I see it, you Apostles really are power-obsessed wankers who think they¡¯re better than everyone else.¡±


    ¡°And humans don¡¯t? Don¡¯t they think they¡¯re the dominant species of this world?¡±


    ¡°Well, they don¡¯t have to hide from the light every day either,¡± Ryan stated, only casually noting that he was speaking from his new perspective. ¡°Humans are adaptable and tough. We, on the other hand, have a fatal weakness, but what am I telling you ... you¡¯ve probably long forgotten the warmth that the sun provides for body and soul. But I haven¡¯t and I never will.¡±


    The phrase put Clem¨¦nt in an annoyed mood and if he had previously spoken without an accent, now a French one came through. ¡°OK, as soon as the mixture is ready, someone please shoot a big load of Slow Sun straight into his lungs. It¡¯s almost like the ramblings of the revolution back then, about equality and decadence. Putain de merde.¡±


    No matter how much Ryan analysed the situation and searched for an option, it was no use to him. He hadn¡¯t even stood a chance against half of these vampires, he knew that, even with the fresh, burning rush of blood inside him.


    ¡°Hello?¡± came an extremely quiet, muffled voice. It almost sounded like it was in the inside pocket of a coat. ¡°Is anyone there? All I can see is black.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s eyes followed the source to his mobile phone, which was lying on the floor near him. He must have lost it on impact and wasn¡¯t reaching for it right away. ¡°Bring your worst,¡± he addressed the Apostles and stood up gingerly, turning his back to the enemy and clutching the phone to his chest as he picked it up, hiding it and whispering. ¡°In a moment.¡±


    ¡°In a moment what?¡± Clem¨¦nt asked, amused, his vampire ears fixed on his guest. ¡°What now? Are the reinforcements you were hoping for coming?¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Ryan murmured. He looked at his mobile phone, where he saw no one in the opposite picture. ¡°Is it you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± replied a distinctive narrator¡¯s voice that Ryan had heard somewhere before. ¡°Be a good lad and give me a better picture. I just need to see more for a second.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ryan nodded. Surely the Apostles wouldn¡¯t give him a chance once he revealed the mobile phone. Instead, he wanted to use his body as a shield and went backwards at top speed to get a better live image! A shot from the side immediately broke the mobile phone into its individual parts and telekinesis hurled Ryan against one of the housings of the environmental systems.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to hazard a guess,¡± Clem¨¦nt¡¯s voice overplayed with amusement as his human servant removed the previously inserted ampoule from the heater. The blood in it had turned into the purest gas and he inserted the object into a socket in the virus canister. ¡°You little rascal wanted to make a live transmission so that someone could join you via a blood portal. Crafty, crafty, but no Tenebrae henchman or Lady Gardner herself would be powerful enough to break through my barrier and powerful... which powerful vampire would you know? You, who are less than a pawn.¡±


    This time Ryan struggled to get up. ¡°So much for influencing fate, eh?¡±


    ¡°With the right fingers on the pawn, it too can influence fate,¡± Clem¨¦nt said with conviction. He seemed to be holding some kind of remote control in his right hand and tapped it thoughtfully against his chin. ¡°But now tell us - who was on the phone? Come on! Make us laugh!¡±


    Everyone was highly amused and laughed dirty. Nobody took Ryan seriously or saw him as a threat, and if he was honest, he wasn¡¯t. Clem¨¦nt had been right, because what was Ryan doing other than being the figure of the unknown? No! It wasn¡¯t quite like that! The stranger had set the strategy, but Ryan had made his own move, and what a move it was!


    The whistling night wind was broken by a thunderous rumble, as if the earth was about to crack open. Out of the air, without cloud or any source, red lightning shot down from above onto the roof of the Climb, but it was deflected onto a pink, smoky-looking barrier that appeared all at once around the top of the residential tower. Like heavy spear thrusts, the reddish bursts of energy crashed into the guilt at ever shorter intervals, splintering it to converge on the spot where the mobile phone had been aimed.


    Similar to the previous shield around the tower, a bright red, large portal now unfolded as a semicircle, but its surface was more like water and only faintly misty. A metal-clad boot stepped out of the doorway, followed by a wide, dark cloak and the face was unmistakable! It was the man who had been present at Julia¡¯s execution, called Patriarch Stein, and he was bringing reinforcements. Some sort of giant zombie monster, abnormal in stature, waved its arms behind the man¡¯s back and with a blink of an eye, the portal contracted and finally fizzled out as a red cloud.


    The amusement, any grin, everything was gone from the apostles¡¯ faces and deadly serious, even two or three frightened expressions stared at the newly appeared duo and as the word Stein was repeatedly uttered, Clement spoke in warning. ¡°Patriarch Stein.¡±


    The cats yellow eyes of Stein looked unimpressed and hardly interested in the apostles. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ryan said uncertainly. This large zombie creature made him hesitant to step to Stein¡¯s side. ¡°Where¡¯s the woman? Is she all right?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, she was extremely badly wounded, but she¡¯ll survive,¡± the patriarch replied confidently. ¡°And she didn¡¯t doubt you for a second. Good work.¡±


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t really do much, so-,¡± Ryan began, when he was interrupted by a small recoil.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    A vampire had landed a blow so immensely hard against Stein¡¯s face that there had been a shockwave, and her fist was still clenching against the man¡¯s head with all her might.


    For Stein, however, this attack was like something from another world, non-existent, and he hadn¡¯t moved an inch. Not even a wrinkle formed on his cheek from the clenching fist, but the vampire¡¯s eyes fell briefly on his attacker. From beneath his cloak, his right backhand came out almost ridiculously slowly and although the arm swing was executed without excessive speed, Stein sent the vampire to the ground so hard that she trailed a trail of blood and the red became a fire. The friction must have been so strong that the victim caught fire and was instantly reduced to ashes. ¡°And you really think this virus gives you control over the night?¡±


    Clem¨¦nt was convinced. ¡°The fact that you are here only confirms my belief and it doesn¡¯t matter what you do now - the Apostles have already won.¡±


    ¡°The grits aren¡¯t in the air yet!¡± said Ryan, pointing to the environmental system. ¡°The programme hasn¡¯t gone through yet and if I get my hands on the system, it certainly won¡¯t get through!¡±


    ¡°Please, I¡¯ll let you approach without the gene defence,¡± Clem¨¦nt offered confidently and made way.


    Was everyone so afraid of this patriarch? Ryan thought so and took a step, but Stein stretched his arm in front of him. ¡°Use your eyes, child,¡± he warned warily. ¡°The canister is rigged with explosives.¡±


    Was that so? Indeed it was! There was a bomb on the canister. ¡°Patriarch Stein is clearly raising the level,¡± Clem¨¦nt nodded enthusiastically and presented the remote control he had previously concealed in his hand. ¡°Too bad it won¡¯t do him any good. Environmental system or not - once the virus is free, the only difference is how much time it needs to spread. So last chance: both of you bow to the Apostles or perish.¡±


    ¡°Or we eliminate you before you can detonate the device.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I have a dead man¡¯s switch as a trigger. If my hand goes off, the bomb goes off.¡±


    ¡°That changes the situation a little, but not our objective,¡± Stein remarked. He clearly had no intention of submitting and opened his coat. In addition to some kind of old-fashioned officer¡¯s outfit, he was wearing pieces of armour in places. ¡°Ryan, you need to shut down the environmental system and try to get rid of the bombs somehow.¡±


    ¡°As soon as we get close to the canister, it¡¯ll blow everything up,¡± Ryan surmised, though he was ready to attack, and more than ready. It wasn¡¯t the fresh blood he¡¯d drunk earlier and he couldn¡¯t explain it, but it seemed that being close to the Patriarch made him stronger. ¡°Don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°That is Clement¡¯s trump card and he will only play it when there is no other option,¡± Stein analysed the situation in a calculated and calm manner. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ll keep this little gang sufficiently busy so that you have a clear path with Raugh.¡±


    ¡°Raugh?¡±


    The patriarch pointed his backhand at the zombie. ¡°Raugh, protect and support Ryan and do whatever he tells you, but that container there is not to be damaged under any circumstances.¡±


    ¡°Raugh follow Ryan,¡± the zombie nodded. ¡°Raugh defends.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s that easy,¡± Clem¨¦nt said fearlessly and, like all the other vampires, he pulled an injector of reddish gas from his coat pocket. ¡°Time to show you more of the wonders that can come from ancient alchemy, modern science and magic!¡± With a strained groan, he and the rest injected themselves with the unknown substance.


    Instantly, Ryan sensed an echo of sorts, a threat, and his instincts told him that all the Apostles had just become a lot more dangerous. ¡°Can you still keep the gang busy, Patriarch?¡±


    ¡°Whatever that was has strengthened the Apostles, much like after a Caperie,¡± The Patriarch explained, though he didn¡¯t elaborate on what Caperie meant. He was much more intent on subliminally provoking his opponents. ¡°But the effect is far weaker and even with this drug, this bunch is at best a hindrance to me, nothing more and that¡¯s supposed to be a miracle?¡±


    The Apostles seemed to see it differently and were more than willing to attack. ¡°This is just the beginning!¡± Clem¨¦nt announced and he began to make burning spell circles appear on the roof. ¡°This remedy is based on the virus, which can destroy but also raise vampires. Curious, isn¡¯t it? Mixed properly with powerful vampire blood, it becomes an energising tool, while weak blood is like kicking out a fire with your foot, leaving behind the same white smoke of a days-old, extinguished fire.¡±


    The chatter impressed the patriarch as much as anything before - not at all. ¡°Neither that, nor hordes of black orcs and other demons will save you now,¡± he said in the face of the beasts that appeared from the flaming circles.


    They were mainly a lot of small, horned imps and black-skinned, medieval-armoured monsters, and only two large, winged creatures that took up position above the canister stood out.


    ¡°Oh, it will be such a delight for me to suck you dry completely and take your power from you,¡± Clem¨¦nt said with fervour, receiving clear, sneering encouragement from his subordinates. ¡°You are a relic from times long past, unworthy and incapable of change, otherwise you would have joined us long ago ... or saved your wife. The future has no place for relics!¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± was Stein¡¯s impassive response. Theatrically, he raised his right hand above his head and a tiny, bloody ball formed across its inner surface, accompanied by red streaks whizzing around it.


    The Carsons Climb was built so high that it was even level with individual clouds, but none of them were close to him. However, the wind was now picking up and a noticeable vortex was beginning to circle the roof, so it wasn¡¯t just the clouds of the same height that were being sucked towards the Climb. From even loftier heights, wisps of aerosols coiled like snakes towards the Climb and soon its upper floors were enveloped in a small storm.


    Ryan didn¡¯t need to be a genius to guess that this was the power of Stein and it left him in awe, but he wasn¡¯t paralysed. He could see that this demonstration was more than respectful to the Apostles and Ryan was ready to follow the Patriarch into battle.


    ¡°Look at you,¡± Stein continued calmly but more seriously, as if he was extremely displeased with something and his cloak flapped loudly with the powerful drift, ¡°what do you think you can achieve? Apart from the french officer, none older than 300 years, intoxicated by your drugs, you call me a relic of a bygone age and think you can rob me of my power? Go ahead, come on ... you little punks. History won¡¯t even remember you and I, as a witnessing relic of it, have long forgotten you already.¡±


    That was too much for the apostles and almost all of them attacked! Firearms blared and leaping attacks surged forward. One of the men even turned into a kind of hairless werewolf, as big but not quite as muscular as Raugh.


    Stein crushed the blood in his palm, unleashing the full intensity of the vortex that shielded the roof from the outside world and sent loud thunder and bright lights crashing through the clouds. He didn¡¯t even fend off the attacks, but dodged them with pure footwork and leaps.


    ¡°OK Raugh, I guess it¡¯s our turn then!¡± said Ryan, looking at the zombie. ¡°Take care of those weird demons!¡±


    ¡°Raugh clear the way,¡± the zombie nodded and stomped off undaunted. The little imps spat fireballs at him, but the weak explosions fizzled out against the massive flesh of Raugh, who crushed several imps and ran over a dozen black orcs like a steam locomotive. The blades and axe blows of the armoured demons that joined them did little more than carve the zombie and even stuck in his flesh, allowing him to grab the attackers and throw them around like puppets, smashing them to pieces.


    Ryan followed him and as he ran, he kicked a few remaining imps away like footballs. He dodged the swings of the Black Orcs with ease, plucking them out with his claws before grabbing one of the axes. Not that he was a skilled axe-wielder, but with his speed and brute strength, he severed many a head from his shoulders. However, he was no match for environmental control. One of the winged demons spewed its flame breath at him and Ryan hadn¡¯t forgotten: Vampires were very flammable.


    Patriarch Stein only had to deal with fire to a limited extent. Clem¨¦nt threw fireballs at him, but Stein¡¯s dexterity and his magical blood shield protected him from any damage. The damage he inflicted on his enemies came when he froze one of the apostles using telekinesis and used it as a living shield in front of him. She intercepted a few bullets for him before Stein threw the woman at an apostle. He seemed to control the bodies of both almost perfectly when their arms and legs became messily intertwined and they suddenly exploded as a red cloud. Then he simply appeared in front of another enemy and cut it into three pieces with a claw slash, leaving only four apostles.


    ¡°I expected no less!¡± Clem¨¦nt admitted and all the slain Black Orcs were tapped by him. All their blood fuelled his power and he used it to unleash a wave of pure energy on his enemy. At the same time, his lean body swelled to a trained stature.


    For the first time in the fight, Stein had to apply more as he used the exact same power and there was a draw in the centre of the impact. The difference with his opponent, however, was that he had to fend off the shots and punches of the other troublesome apostles without shedding a drop of sweat.


    This was Ryan¡¯s chance! He faked an advance on the environmental systems and lured one of the flying demons. The monster came towards him breathing fire, but he ducked under it and caught it by the tail. He brutally smashed the creature to the ground and repeated the whole thing several times over its head until the beast just twitched and Ryan sensed something at its back.


    Suddenly one of the apostles appeared! It had disengaged from the main fight and was swinging out with one of the Schwarzork swords when it was intercepted out of nowhere by a massive hand.


    Raugh saved Ryan from the sneak attack by smashing his fist down on the woman¡¯s head.


    ¡°We make a good team, Raugh!¡± praised Ryan.


    ¡°Raugh prot-!¡± the zombie began as the second demon flyer grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him along. However, the beast did not enter into a tussle with him, which spoke in favour of a certain intelligence. Instead, the demon fluttered around Raugh, dodging his blows and showering him, albeit fruitlessly, with blasts of flame.


    This was Ryan¡¯s chance! Although the human apostle servant tried to stop him with a pistol, he simply threw him off the roof and set about environmental control. Ryan didn¡¯t have a minute left to shut down the system, but it didn¡¯t come down to a last second race and he deactivated the connection. ¡°Phew.¡±


    Clem¨¦nt didn¡¯t miss it. ¡°The things you don¡¯t have to do yourself.¡±


    This distraction cost more Apostle lives as Stein disposed of the leader¡¯s remaining two henchmen, leaving the two to face each other alone. ¡°It is indeed a miracle that you have survived so long in this skirmish.¡±


    ¡°Long enough,¡± Clem¨¦nt replied and he was about to let go of the dead man¡¯s switch, but he couldn¡¯t. ¡°That won¡¯t do you any good!¡±


    Stein had full control thanks to telekinesis, but he couldn¡¯t easily take out his enemy. At least not without releasing the dead man¡¯s switch. ¡°Is that what you said during the revolution?¡±


    Clem¨¦nt was far from admitting defeat and he spoke in words that sounded like gibberish. The patriarch¡¯s gaze darkened and the roof burst open next to Clem¨¦nt like a volcano spewing lava.


    Something huge emerged from the glowing rock, with very long arms and eight of them. The body of this new beast looked like some kind of structure made of sticks, only it was far more bony and was characterised by hanging shreds of skin and a jaw that resembled a crushing iron casting.


    ¡°You want souls?¡± Clem¨¦nt addressed his summon. ¡°Then Stein must die!¡±


    ¡°Stein,¡± murmured the best, hot vapours escaping from her mouth and making her jaws click together threateningly. ¡°I will devour him.¡±


    ¡°A demon lord,¡± Stein stated. He continued to hold Clem¨¦nt¡¯s hand, but the new opponent no longer allowed him to act so lightly. ¡°You must be truly desperate... and this creature won¡¯t change the outcome of this fight.¡±


    The demon lord puffed a veritable fountain of vapour from his nostrils and four scimitars took up one hand each. ¡°Human or vampire, all bow to me!¡± the demon claimed and went on the attack. He wasn¡¯t exactly slow and his blade swings gave the impression of a rotor movement.


    This clearly forced the patriarch onto the defensive without him striking back. He dodged as best he could and still didn¡¯t release Clement¡¯s hand, but if this continued it was only a matter of time before the canister was destroyed.


    Ryan stood helplessly in front of the explosives and didn¡¯t dare touch even one. What could he do? Maybe he could seize the moment! Clem¨¦nt was too distracted and if Ryan was quick enough, he might be able to kill the apostle and secure the dead man¡¯s switch. He tried, but Clem¨¦nt immediately looked back and threw a blood spear at Ryan, piercing him in the shoulder and pinning him next to the canister.


    Stein saw this and at that moment, he himself was caught on the spot! Two blades rushed towards the patriarch from each side, and although he was able to stop the impact with a blood shield, he could no longer move.


    The demon pressed down with all its weight on the protective shield, which it towered over by far, and to make matters worse, a veritable hellfire erupted from its mouth above the protective sphere, from which it itself remained untouched despite its proximity.


    ¡°Now we¡¯ll finish him off!¡± Clem¨¦nt announced triumphantly, supporting the demon with a beam of pure blood energy that hit the back of the protective shield.


    Ryan couldn¡¯t pull the blood spear out of his shoulder, so he wrenched himself free so that his shoulder was split open completely, but he could take the pain. Stone also seemed to be able to withstand these powerful attacks, but he was out of the game and Ryan stared at his blood-covered claws. What am I supposed to do?!¡°, he thought, stricken. So much fresh blood, so much innocent blood, so much blood?! Blood! It struck Ryan like lightning and he dragged himself to the apostles¡¯ equipment and shouted. ¡°Raugh! Grab this flying demon, but don¡¯t kill him! Bring him to me!¡±


    The zombie had taken quite a beating in the meantime and was clearly burnt and charred, but he was indefatigable. ¡°Raugh catches,¡± he said and got hold of the flying demon by the foot. Against its sheer strength, the fire-breathing beast stood no chance and Raugh carried the whimpering prey to the canister.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope this works, big guy,¡± Ryan said uncertainly, but he had no choice. He drew his own blood with one of the injectors and tried to heat the ampoule. ¡°Hold his mouth tight! We need a fire!¡± Ryan got exactly what he wanted, although this proximity to fire made him very uncomfortable indeed and the heating injector burnt his entire palm.


    Clem¨¦nt had just been in the throes of victory, but the action on the canister caught his attention and he also seemed to be struck by an unpleasant flash of inspiration. ¡°NO!¡± he shouted, breaking off his attack on Stein. ¡°The old-fashioned way then!¡± Instead of detonating the bombs by remote control, he tried to detonate them with his magic.


    Before the explosion, however, Ryan managed to ram the injector into the hose connection between the canister and the environmental system and inject his gaseous blood.


    Not only did a considerable bang follow, almost throwing Ryan and Raugh off the roof. It was Patriarch Stein¡¯s moment to use his shield as a reverse shockwave and break the Demon Lord¡¯s attack and stance! He then launched the hell dweller high into the sky with a fist strike, swirling blood around him that absorbed the property of the flames blazing everywhere, so the Patriarch soon compressed a fire of his own into a ball that he used to blow up the Demon Lord in the sky.


    No demons, no apostles and a white cloud from the destroyed canister - that was all Clem¨¦nt had left, clenching his fist in anger. ¡°This war has only just begun,¡± he threatened blatantly, creating his own, much smaller blood portal through which he retreated as upright as possible. ¡°Great Kingston will belong to the Apostles.¡±


    The night sky cleared and the strong wind lost momentum. The roof of the Climb had definitely seen better days and all that broke the silence after this battle was the crackling of the still blazing fires.


    Ryan was completely drained and tried to pull himself together before a hand was held out to him. He looked up at the arm, at Patriarch Stein, and let him help him up, slightly dazed. ¡°Have we won?¡±


    Stein was calm himself and his cloak covered most of his body again. ¡°The Tenebrae may favour subtlety and will have their work cut out to cover it up, but yes - we seem to have won,¡± the Patriarch surmised, looking at the disappearing white cloud. ¡°Clem¨¦nt seemed very worried. What exactly did you do?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was thinking about how he was raving about the virus,¡± Ryan explained, presenting his blood-covered hand. ¡°He said weak vampire blood is like leaking fire. I¡¯m absolutely no expert of the night, but I would describe my blood as weak.¡±


    ¡°Extremely creative,¡± Stein acknowledged the act and he paced the remains of the battlefield. ¡°Yes, that might have worked, and if not, at least we prevented the virus from spreading quickly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a real optimist, aren¡¯t you?¡± replied Ryan, limping after the Patriarch. ¡°But what¡¯s the point if the virus spreads slowly instead of quickly?¡±


    ¡°A chance. The Tenebrae will surely have captured a sample of it and we can develop an antidote or we can find it among the Apostles. They must have one too.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Ryan followed, kicking an empty vial away from him. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯d have blackmailed everyone with it.¡±


    ¡°Most likely.¡±


    Ryan briefly went into a defensive stance again as something massive stomped through the smoke. ¡°Raugh?!¡± he shuddered, because the zombie was missing its head and left arm and he wanted to help it.


    ¡°Easy,¡± Stein said, holding back the attempt to help. ¡°He¡¯s all right.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got no head ... stop, how can he move then?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, he¡¯s fine,¡± Stein assured him, taking his hand off Ryan.


    Although Raugh¡¯s body staggered around a little disorientated, after clearing away a piece of rubble, he found the zombie¡¯s head and sat it up as if nothing had ever happened and the arm did the same. ¡°Apostle defeated?¡±


    ¡°Yes Raugh, we are victorious and can return home now.¡±


    The zombie nodded dully and at the sight of him and with the fight over, Ryan managed to enquire. ¡°What happened to the woman? I don¡¯t even know her name.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve earned it,¡± Stein conceded, and he seemed genuinely pleased that Ryan was enquiring about the woman. Although sirens sounded in the near distance, he and Ryan took a relaxed stroll across the roof, accompanied by Raugh. ¡°Her name is Kayra and she¡¯s my daughter, just like Julia was. Unfortunately, she was ambushed and nearly killed in the process.¡±


    ¡°Julia,¡± Ryan repeated and it clicked for him. So that was why Kayra had been watching and protecting him. ¡°But why all the secrecy?¡±


    ¡°The same reason that awaits us after this battle-politics,¡± the Patriarch said, beginning to build a blood portal large enough for Raugh. ¡°If you recall my words on the night of your transformation, I had unfortunately had to distance myself from Julia. That¡¯s why we couldn¡¯t be open with you without further ado.¡±


    ¡°Mh, but after the action here, there will be no way to hide your involvement,¡± Ryan remarked, remembering what had happened in the alley next to Richie¡¯s. ¡°The fact that I¡¯m supposed to have done this on my own won¡¯t work this time.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re absolutely right, and it won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Stein said, silently waving Raugh through the portal. The patriarch then began to move his hand in circles, fanning all the small fires so that everything around him went up in flames. Presumably he wanted to erase all traces of it. ¡°Lady Gardner will be anything but pleased and may also categorise you as an enemy, but that is not important. What¡¯s important is what the public will see and I can tell you right now that everything was planned by the Tenebrae and me from the beginning, a masterful piece of collaboration So everyone will be told.¡±


    ¡°And do they all believe it?¡±


    ¡°Some of them will, but no,¡± Stein admitted with a faint shrug of his shoulders. ¡°But don¡¯t worry about what else the night will bring. For now, we¡¯ll decide the story.¡±


    There was nothing for Ryan to say in reply and all he could do just before he left the portal was look at the sea of flames behind the Stein following him, whose outline looked like a huge shadow, from which his yellow cat eyes stared out and expressed what he had said: Stein had long forgotten this and he was ready for the future.

 Epilogue

    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?¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    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 prot¨¦g¨¦¡¯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.