Ancient Blood: A Novel of the Hegemony (The Order Saga Book 1) (16 page)

“Your challenge is not unexpected, Hegemon Blackwood,” Iago begins, stating the obvious with severe dignity. “Though the substance of it ill-becomes even your recent descent into savagery. As I cannot entertain this madness you propose in any good conscience, I answer your challenge. The hour is late, however, so we shall begin the process tomorrow evening when we reconvene. This session is adjourned.”

The Judicis walks out of the room, followed by Draco. The rest, however, stay for a few moments to offer Sebastian words of congratulations or small gestures of support.

* * * * *

“There you are,” Mrs. Kai said when I came into the kitchen. “I was starting to worry.”

“I was just helping Ash out,” I said.

She asked me to help her get ready for the post-meeting entertainment in the parlor, since Helmut and his staff were busy and the rest of the maids and footmen were having their dinner. I spent the next hour or so stocking the carts with the appropriate blood liquors and other refreshments and got reminders of how to serve each of the items. I was glad to be able to take my mind off the surveillance video and the fight with Caroline for a little while.

Unfortunately, that only lasted until Valmont’s female Dhampir came into the kitchen with some specialty items to add to my cart. She treated me to a condescending show-and-tell of some new Vampyr narcotics, engineered to work with our physiology. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that we vamps even had our own designer drugs but as interesting as that concept was, it couldn’t hold my attention the way her blood-red leather jumpsuit did. It displayed just enough pale flesh to tantalize and stretched tightly enough over the rest to make her lack of undergarments obvious. The fact that I’d seen it all an hour ago only added fuel to my imagination. She was exactly the kind of girl I used to go for back in my wannabe days, even the snotty attitude and accent turned me on.

When she left, I caught myself comparing her various attributes to Caroline’s and felt guilty. I tried looking forward to the distraction of playing waiter but when the kitchen staff brought the naked, bound and gagged victims out of the cleaning rooms in back, it brought me back to reality. What the hell was I doing worrying about a little girlfriend trouble?

I followed the other footmen and their carts out through the butler’s pantry and into the morning room, so named because its large windows feature a view of the veranda and the little garden area. It immediately reminded me of Caroline again, since I could see her influence in the sunny yellow walls, the terra-cotta tile floors, the ceiling painted to resemble a spring sky, the fresh flowers and the white garden furniture.

We continued through the ivied trellis arch into the parlor. The ceiling painting continues from the morning room but gets a fuller treatment. Textured wallpapers and mural painting have been used to make the walls look like the edge of a lush, Northwestern forest so lovingly recreated it’s like you can step off the hardwood “deck” and go for a walk in the sunlit woods. Potted plants add a touch of reality and there are no windows to ruin the illusion, even the fireplaces on either side of the room are designed to look freestanding. The whole décor is sort of a Hemingway, big game hunter look with bearskin rugs and solid, manly furniture in leopard- and tiger-skin patterns.

During my training, when I’d remarked to Ash that the place was a little over-the-top, he explained that Caroline had redecorated it as an anniversary gift and made the patterns strong so Sebastian could enjoy it without color vision.

The band tuned up in front of the cabinet that houses Sebastian’s sixty inch plasma screen TV. They’d pushed back the big grouping of chairs and side tables to make room but still had them arranged as if the Hegemons were all gonna sit and watch them like an audience. Yeah, right. I guess they didn’t notice the guys from the kitchen chaining up the newly-cleaned victims in each corner.

Once these unwilling donors were tethered to the walls, the kitchen assistants wheeled in these little contraptions that looked like small coat racks holding dozens of loops of plastic tubing. Caroline told me that all Helmut’s “blood preparation specialists” had medical degrees or a few years’ experience as RNs and it showed in the way they inserted the needles into the major veins and arteries. The tubes were like IVs in reverse, containing some kind of valve that kept the blood inside the victim until you sucked on the end of the tube.

Ash came in from around the corner as I got into position, saying that the Hegemons would be coming down in a minute.

I was so fucking sick of all this! I was sick of standing around and playing servant while innocent people and babies got turned into snacks. I was sick of taking shit from people I couldn’t stand and having to bow and smile through it. I wanted to grab one of the machine guns from the rack in Ash’s office and shoot the whole fucking council. I wanted to grab our little recording and tell Sebastian that we were leaving the island and taking everybody in the cellar and staff who wanted out.

Anita Blake wouldn’t just stand around and let innocent people suffer because it was dangerous to say something about it. Angel would have walked up to Sebastian and told him that no humans were going to be harmed in the making of this party. If Sebastian refused, well, then it’d be battle-axes and crossbows all around.

Heroes don’t worry about getting killed for doing what’s right.

I felt like a fucking coward. But Ash and Caroline’s arguments made sense. We had a plan that we were putting into effect. Hell, we’d just scored major points toward our goal.

So why wasn’t I feeling it?

The band started playing something that sounded like the theme to
Masterpiece Theater
. I heard voices in the entrance hall, so I tried to push away my anxieties and concentrate on the job at hand. Whether it was cowardly or just practical, I knew I wouldn’t accomplish anything if I got killed or whipped to a bloody pulp because I spilled somebody’s drink.

Geoffrey came through the morning room first, closely followed by his Dhampir and Draco. Geoffrey had his Blue Tooth on again and was ordering mergers, buy-outs and assassinations while speed-reading the pages that his Dhampir handed him. Through all this, he also managed to slip consoling remarks to Draco, who was snarling his own detailed list of tortures he would one day inflict on “that motherless whore” for her most recent unforgivable insult.

As they passed me, Draco glanced at me and I took it as a good sign. Geoffrey sat down on the sofa near my station and Bishop, his Dhampir, took the chair. Draco remained standing at Geoffrey’s arm and cleared his throat.

Geoffrey held up his index finger while he finished something about arms sales to Palestine. “Right, one last bit. That oil platform scheduled for a problem next month? Right. Divert the insurance payment to the Hong Kong branch instead. From there, it’s to be deposited in varying sums into a set of bank accounts which Bishop will send you tomorrow morning. A copy of those transactions are to find their way into the hands of the
Guoanbu
. Twenty four hours later, tip off the local media but make sure they’ll have to dig for it. That’s it for now.” He pulled the headset out of his ear and put it away, looking up at Draco. “Satisfactory?”

“The accounts?”

“Two members of the Secretariat and an elder member of the Politburo Standing Committee. Their private accounts.”

“The investigations should cripple her government’s function for months. It will suffice. The oil spill you mentioned…”

“Sorry,” Geoffrey said. “I’ve already locked the cleanup bid for one of my companies.”

Draco nodded and walked to the other side of the room. Geoffrey and Bishop began discussing something in another language and I turned at the sound of Sebastian, Julia and Valmont strolling toward the parlor.

“Wine,” Sebastian ordered upon reaching my cart.

I fought my nervousness and kept my eyes downcast. “Light or heavy, Your Majesty?”

Sebastian searched me for any hint of disrespect but I was determined to be all business. “The Sixty-Eight.”

He was hoping to trip me up of course but I’d made a point of memorizing all the drinks. The Sixty-Eight was a white French vintage that was the lighter of the varieties I had on the cart. As I nodded, Julia said, “A Cognac. And mind your aim this time.”

Another test, since etiquette demanded that I serve in order of social status except in the case of Sebastian who, as host, should be served last. It would have been easy, except I couldn’t keep the images I’d seen on that disc out of my head!

Speaking of which, I noticed Valmont behind me with the victim in the corner—he was giving the guy a fucking blowjob! The poor guy’s body was responding but he looked completely humiliated. Before the guy could even finish, Valmont took the tube that was plugged into the largest vein (yes, there) and sucked the blood out. The guy looked like he wanted to collapse but I remember they’d attached some kind of braces on the victims’ knees and hips to keep them standing.

Somehow I managed to hold my nerve as I filled Julia’s glass to the proper level and handed it to her without meeting her eyes. Bored with my competence, Sebastian turned to make chit chat with Geoffrey and Julia took her drink over to where the band played. When I finished, Sebastian took his wine and headed over to join Julia. I hoped Valmont would do the same but after helping himself to a pinch of snuff (cocaine-infused blood reduced to a powder—they say it only does for Vampyrs what caffeine does for people), he took a seat beside Geoffrey. My station.

This was the way my life at home with my stepfather had been, the way my few relationships had been and the way every job I’d ever held had been. Here I was, a vampire, immortal, better looking, stronger, able to think and react quicker. This should have been the realization of my every adolescent fantasy but I didn’t feel any different than I had working shitty retail jobs to pay my bills. Excep of course, I couldn’t quit
this
job.

Even my relationship with Caroline felt more like mother/son these days than the lovers’ equality we’d shared only a month before. Would I ever get my girlfriend back, or would she just be my Creator from here on?

I couldn’t keep whatever was left of her respect for me, or my own self-respect, if I continued playing servant. I had to start pulling my weight. I knew the basic gist of our plan, so it was time I began contributing ideas and making some opportunities for us. I’d just hit on a workable but risky idea when Geoffrey called me over. I hurried over, determined not to lose my nerve when the moment came.

One of the maids handed Bishop a regular drink and left as I stepped up. The maids served Dhampirs and could walk right up to them, while we men had to wait to be called and could only serve Vampyrs. That night, Geoffrey was in a medium gray suit and white pin-striped shirt with a tie and pocket square in burgundy. It looked fantastic and I made a mental note for the next time I bought a suit.

“Majesty?” I prompted, careful to wait for Valmont to stop complaining about his problems running a “Domain of constantly warring tribes of Negroes.”

“Bring me a glass of mineral water, room temperature,” Geoffrey said.

I nodded but before I could leave, Valmont said, “Wait. Geoff, for the sake of whatever dying embers of delight still live in that mechanical heart of yours, at least have a martini. Better still, have two. This I beg you, as your friend.”

Geoffrey glanced at him and then turned back to me. “Mineral water, room temperature.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I hurried back to my cart while Valmont moaned dramatically. This was my chance, the opportunity was perfect.

I got Geoffrey’s water and handed it to him but just as I opened my mouth, Valmont turned his attention to me. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, my little glutton. I simply haven’t decided whether to publicly sodomize you for everyone’s entertainment or have you fellate me. Perhaps I’ll do both.”

“Oh, Jean,” Geoffrey said, pulling a small packet of white powder from his inner pocket. “It’s beneath your dignity as a Hegemon to hold petty grudges against servants. If he misbehaved in some way, just pass it along to Sebastian and have done with it.” He added the powder to his water and stirred it.

“So, it’s straight to the hard drugs, is it? In that case, I’ll forgive you the martinis.”

“It’s an additive of Vitamins A, B1, B2, B6, B12, E, K, pycnogenol and ginseng,” Geoffrey said.

I waited, afraid to interrupt.

“You’re becoming an utter bore, do you realize that?”

Geoffrey took a sip. “I just don’t mix business with pleasure as you do.”

“I suppose you practice Yoga every evening, as well?”

“Gave that up. NLP’s more direct and effective.”

Valmont laughed. “NL-what?”

“Neuro-Linguistic Programming, the art and science of excellence. It’s a set of holistic self-programming techniques to control one’s thought process and subconscious, increasing performance and efficiency.” A sip of vitamin and mineral water.

“Isn’t that the religion some science fiction writer started?”

“Don’t be tedious.”

“You know, there is such a thing as having too much control.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“What’s become of you, Geoff? You weren’t always like this.”