Ancient Blood: A Novel of the Hegemony (The Order Saga Book 1) (6 page)

“Oh, gimme a break,” I told him. “This whole thing’s bullshit and you know it.”

Ash hooked his fingers into the pants of his brown khaki uniform. “What I know is that Hegemon Blackwood specifically ordered you assigned to this duty.”

“Yeah and of course, you always do what you’re told like a good little Nazi.”

Stepping into my personal space, he stabbed his finger into my breastbone. “You listen to me, smart ass. You better check your facts before shooting your mouth off about things you don’t understand!”

Knowing I had the moral high ground allowed me to meet his otherwise withering glare. “Yeah, well, I understand the difference between wine bottles and people!”

The Dhampir’s eyes narrowed but they also couldn’t meet mine any longer. There was a guilty conscience inside the loyal solider after all. He turned and marched into the maze’s opening.

I was familiar with Dhampirs as a type of half-vampire, born with the ability to see and slay the invisible vampires of Serbian folklore. Caroline, however, tells me the word originates back in the cloudy mists of Vampyr prehistory, along with Vampyr itself (which Order “historians” also claim predates its usage in the Slavic Mediterranean) and probably means something like “sub-Vampyr.” As long as they consume Vampyr blood regularly, their aging process is arrested and they gain some of the superior healing abilities of a Vampyr. As well as being daytime protectors and servants, Caroline’s historians also say Dhampirs were probably created as a means of extending one’s blood supply in areas where humans were hard to find after dark.

“You’re gonna need to memorize the routes to the center and to the tunnel entrance,” Ash continued, like nothing had happened. “I’d suggest you take notes. This place can be a real pain in the ass if you get turned around.”

The interior walls that formed the maze corridors were considerably shorter than the surrounding ones (about eight feet high) and made of mortared stone rather than concrete. I could see that this allowed the floodlights above to light everything. “Brighter than I expected,” I remarked. “With his eyes and all, I’d have figured Sebastian would want it dark.”

“Hegemon Blackwood prefers the lights on. Doesn’t want the advantage.” There was grudging admiration in his voice, with an undercurrent of disgust that I heard because I was listening for it. “Right turn, here at the first junction.”

“And I’m just supposed to come in and clean up the bodies when he’s done, right? It’s bullshit, like I said.” I ran ahead to block his path. “Sebastian’s dumping this on me to fuck with my head, Ash and you’re helping him. Why?”

“Wasn’t always like this,” he muttered.

“Yeah, so Caroline keeps telling me. That doesn’t explain why you didn’t just put the sonofabitch out of his misery fifteen or twenty years ago when you saw it wasn’t getting any better.”

The storm-blue eyes found mine again. “It wasn’t like that. All this, it happened gradually, a piece at a time. Not as easy as you think to see where things are leading.”

“Fine,” I acknowledged. “But now you can. You know exactly what he’s doing and you know where he sleeps—”

“Look, you think you’re the first guy to come in and start talking like that?” Some of the spirit seemed to flow out of him and he leaned back against one of the stone walls, tilting his head toward the sky. “I doubt you’d understand what I meant if I spoke of things like duty and commitment, so I won’t even bother.”

I stayed quiet.

“This isn’t a normal, human place that can operate by normal, human rules. Nobody comes here who hasn’t already had some experience in a high security environment. Even so, it’s a tough atmosphere to work in. The ones who snap end up in the cellar or worse. We’ve got a ten percent suicide rate among the island’s staff and that’s down from ten years ago. Part of my job is screening out the people who can’t handle this place. The unfortunate side effect is that you end up with guys like Wilkes. You say the wrong thing to the wrong person and it’ll get back to the Hegemon. If I don’t do my job to the best of my abilities, he’ll replace me with somebody who will. At least I know I’ll attend to my duties without deliberate cruelty.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your business-like manner is a great comfort to your victims.”

Next thing I knew, there was an elbow slamming into my diaphragm. The breath rushed out of my lungs and Ash shoved me against the wall, my arms pinned at my sides. “I didn’t say it was perfect, goddammit, I said it’s what I can do! You got any relatives? Friends? Wait till it’s people you care about being tortured while you watch. At this very minute, the FBI’s running a background check on you, compiling names for him…”

The naked pain in his voice scared me more than the images his words brought to mind. It honestly wasn’t something that I’d considered at that point but I had no doubt Sebastian would do it. It was right out of the Evil Overlord Handbook, after all.

“But if Sebastian wasn’t around anymore—”

“The entire continent of North America could erupt into war.” The former Marine folded his muscle-corded arms over his broad chest. “Without the Hegemon, there’s nothing keeping the Governors in line. Imagine America pulling itself apart in a new civil war, possibly while under attack from both Mexico and Canada. After the news got out, Europe and the other Domains would jump in to help ‘stabilize’ things. It’d be a God-damned free-for-all.”

“Whoa, wait, what about the fucking president? Or Congress? You really think everything would just fall apart if Sebastian and his flunkies weren’t holding it together? That’s stupid!”

Ash nodded. “Oh, they’d surely try. The problem is that historically, smooth operation of government is not what happens when vamps fight over a prize as juicy as North America. Power shifts, alliances are made and broken. Things fall apart, in other words. Now, it might not go as badly as all that but it’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Not with America. If you want any chance of surviving here and helping Caroline, then you better learn how to do what you can. We understand each other?” he asked.

I nodded.

His mask of calm discipline fell back into place and he led me further into the maze to explain specific procedures. I pulled out my notebook and jotted down the rights and lefts, wishing I’d played a little more
Dungeons and Dragons
. The mapping skills would have come in handy.

* * * * *

After I’d been trained in all the basic functions of my new post, Sebastian appeared and demanded a live demonstration. Wilkes had left a Dhampir police officer for Sebastian to hunt while Ash was showing me short cuts. It wasn’t pleasant but I kept Ash’s words in mind and did my job. I opened the gate and climbed up to the small viewing deck on the side so I could see where Sebastian left the body.

I won’t go into detail, since I didn’t watch most of it but I did see Sebastian leap one of the eight-foot stone walls and what I heard of the kill itself was pretty awful.

I got to hold Sebastian’s robe for him while he hunted, so one of the more awkward moments of the night came when I met him at the opening and he just let me stand there with it. I’ve always been a little body shy around other guys, so imagine how much fun I had trying not to let my gaze fall below the waist of a guy who towered half a foot over me.

I hate outdoorsy types.

“When thou collect the carcass for disposal,” Sebastian said, visibly exalting in the feel of the October breeze on his nudity. “Thou will find a goodly portion unsullied. I give thee my leave to feast upon it, since I’ve given orders that thee are to receive no stored blood from the kitchens this night.”

I hadn’t fed yet and felt my hunger intensify at the prospect. “Well, thanks but I guess I’ll just have to go to bed hungry.” I’d be damned if I gave him a wedge like that to drive between me and Caroline.

He grabbed me by my lapels and yanked me up eye-to-eye. Now I was in close proximity to a naked, bloody monster with truly foul breath. This job was just getting better and better.

“While I must endure thine presence, thou be my Creation by law. I’ll not have a man of my line who feeds naught but by the teat! My Caroline may well have a delicate sensibility for feeding but even she can hunt prey when needs be. How will thou feed, should she abandon thee, when thou have not the stomach for even another’s kill?” I remember the earnestness beneath the mockery and I think he was honestly doing what he thought best for me.

At the time though, all I heard was my stepfather Jim.
“When are you gonna grow up and stop playing those stupid imaginary games?”
Other times it was,
“Why don’t you quit sitting in your room and reading all the time? Why don’t you lose some weight, get yourself a girl, maybe try out for the football team? You’ll never get anywhere just sitting around on your fat ass.”
Then there was the ever-popular:
“I don’t like those freaks you hang out with- bunch of fucking Satan worshippers.”
Basically, you could distill it all down to,
“Why can’t you be a real man? Why can’t you be more like me?”

“I don’t want any part of your kill,” I spat back at him. “I already have the only thing of yours I need.”

That put the olive branch through the wood chipper. Sebastian threw me down, yanked the robe out of my hands and strode toward the house. “We shall see how long that particular arrangement holds!”

I stood up and mentally kicked myself. My behavior hardly constituted “doing what I could” much less “letting him believe that I was submitting to him.”

I managed to resist my temptation to feed on the cop’s body. Ironically though, I did scoop up an animal’s mess that night.

Funny how our lives seem to follow little patterns, isn’t it?

* * * * *

I had to sleep in a room up on the third floor with the house servants. The place reminded me of a college dorm and like most attic rooms, featured an angled back wall with just enough room for a bed, a dresser and a bedside table. It lacked a window, which was a plus. The books and DVDs I’d packed in Princeton were still in their boxes, shoved under the bed. Sebastian’s house had four open guest rooms at the time, not counting the suites for the visiting Hegemons but I was still stuck with the maids and footmen.

Being so newly Created, my sleeping patterns were still erratic. Early on, I’d sometimes slept thirty-six hours at a stretch, while recently I’d been known to wake up in the middle of the day and not fall back to sleep.

That night, I woke a little before sunset, brushed my teeth and treated myself to a long, hot shower in the third floor men’s bathroom. I also had to shave again. Before my Creation, I could get by with a day or two between shaves but now my hair and nails grow much faster. When I got back to my room, I found a new, pressed suit waiting for me, delivered anonymously by one of the silent, scurrying maids.

The suit was amusing: chocolate brown with shiny gold buttons. The jacket was cut short in front and featured tails in the back. What really made it sweet was the matching vest and bow tie in Hunter Green. Give me some mutton-chop sideburns, or maybe a big ol’ Sherlock Holmes pipe and I’d really be stylin’. “Look! Waiting the tables! Mopping the floors! It’s Footman!”

I put on my costume and ran down to the kitchen to get a couple blood packs for me and Caroline. The kitchen is larger than the ones in some restaurants but the bustling activity made it feel tiny. The chef (whose name was Helmut) shouted orders to his assistants and inspected everything while his staff mixed and refrigerated and prepared in a frenzy. I grabbed Type A Negative for Caroline and O Positive for me from the nearest of the giant blood refrigerators and popped them in the microwave.

The packs by the way aren’t the usual hospital-style things. They look more like those cold packs that you throw in the freezer and then use in coolers. They hold a pint and keep fresh for weeks. They’re manufactured exclusively for The Order by some company in South America, both empty and pre-filled. Your drug money at work. I was trying to be considerate by nuking the packs, since you get better results by bringing them up to heat in a water bath but Helmut still gave me a dirty look for invading “his” kitchen.

“We’re gonna kick this blood up a notch, folks! Bam!” I said in a pretty good Emeril impression. He turned away in a huffy silence.

There are advantages just to being a Vampyr, regardless of your status.

* * * * *

I found my beloved surfing the Internet at her desk, as usual. The room was built as a study for Caroline out of Sebastian’s Dhampir quarters. As Caroline told it, she’d slowly moved more of her possessions into it as relations between her and Sebastian grew more strained. A door connects the two rooms but she kept it locked.

“Hey,” I said, closing the door and walking over to give her a kiss.

“Oh, great, thanks.” She continued typing, ignoring the pack for the time being. “I just got—”

“So caught up,” I finished along with her and she laughed. From what I could see, she was in a chat-room with somebody. I recognized the name as one of the anonymous “contacts” within The Order that she traded information and gossip with. I popped my pack and drank while she finished.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline said, swiveling around to face me. “But I’ve—oh, my goodness, what are you wearing??”