She sighed and rubbed her scars, the urge to tear at her skin pulsing through her fingernails. Hatred was too weak a word for what she felt towards the ridges disfiguring her neck and shoulder. Maybe one day, in some distant impossible future, the ties that bound her to Leith would be broken.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she quickly snatched it out, hoping it was Redge or Kendel, her previous Regian manager, with some good news. Her caller ID didn’t recognize the caller. "Hello?"
"Um. Hi. I was calling about the ad in Craigslist."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
"Can I talk to Forest?"
"This is Forest."
"Oh. Okay, well I just wanted to know if it’s a joke."
Forest sighed. This wasn’t the first call she’d gotten like this since she put that ad up. It had been Kendel’s idea that she freelance. "No. It’s not a joke. Do you have a vampire problem?"
"Yeah, well, my friend does. She’s covered in bite marks."
"Can I talk to her?" Forest asked. "Is she there?"
There was some scuffling noise as the phone was passed over.
"Hello?"
Forest reminded herself she was talking to humans. If she was polite, they would just about tell her anything. "Hi there. I’m Forest. What’s your name?"
"Uh, Pandora." She said it like a question.
"Tell me about your vampire problem."
"I met him a few days ago, and now he’s in my apartment, and he won’t leave. I was kinda open to the idea of being with a vampire. I let him bite me, but he’s so violent, and he orders me around. I can’t stop myself—I do what he tells me." The girl sounded shaky. "Do you really think you can get rid of him for me?"
"Sure. I used to do it professionally."
Forest could almost hear the look of incredulity fall on the girl’s face.
"Hold on a sec."
The girl’s friend was asking questions in the background.
"Um, the ad said reasonable rates. What does that mean? Could you give me a ballpark figure?"
Before Forest could answer, she heard the other girl in the background suggest they forget this and just call the cops.
"I told you, Leith warned me about calling the cops. I don’t think you—"
"Hey!" Forest half yelled into the phone.
"Yeah?"
"Your vampire’s name is Leith?"
"Yeah, at least that’s what he said it was. Why?"
"I’ll do the job for free," Forest said quickly. "Just give me the address. He’ll be gone within the hour."
"Um, okay. Why?"
"Let’s just say I’ve got a slight grudge against him."
Zefyre twisted the pages of her report into a tight scroll as she walked into the
Rune-dy's
main meeting room, knowing it may be the last time she set foot there. She couldn't imagine any way this meeting could result in anything good for her. She'd taken the fact that her brother, Rahaxeris, was the high priest for granted and given herself too great a license. Icy fear sluiced down her back as her eyes fell on her brother sitting stone still across the room. Zefyre squared her shoulders, forcing herself forward to hand him her report.
Rahaxeris' face remained impassive as he read Zefyre’s report, but his hands shook infinitesimally on the edge of the parchment. This almost imperceptible loss of control sent a sharp wave of terror through Zefyre. She had to fight the urge to stammer out apologies and excuses.
"Tell me, Zefyre, are you laboring under your own vision of the future?"
"No, sir."
He looked at her over the edge of the paper. "You never reported to me that you were sending Philippe sacrificial messengers."
"Well…I…"
Rahaxeris lifted his index finger to silence her and looked back down at the parchment. "I see what you were doing, and I might have sanctioned it, but you went around me. And you obviously chose poorly who you sent to him."
"Yes, sir. Netriet was a mistake. I never anticipated Philippe would keep her alive, let alone form some aberrant attachment to her."
"A mistake
I
would not have made."
"Yes, sir."
"And now look at the high price of your mistake. Philippe is dead and confusion is rampant through the ranks of the werewolves. Dissention and argument over who is the new pack leader, and while they scrabble, Zeren is stomping them into the ground."
Zefyre shuffled her feet and looked at the floor.
"Have you located Netriet yet?"
"No, sir."
Rahaxeris sighed irritably. "You’ve left me no other alternative than to work with Zeren." The parchment in his hands erupted into flames. He held it until it burned down to nothing. "This altering of plans displeases me, Zefyre."
He took another long breath. "Now, tell me of my daughter and her mate."
"They both suffer with severe separation sickness. Christiana has imprisoned Syrus inside a portal that goes nowhere. No one can reach him. She sent Redge to the front lines. And while Syrus is caged, and Zeren is away, she is opening special portals and giving vampires the freedom to circumvent traffic controllers. She dumps assassins daily, directly into Forest’s dwelling on Earth."
"And so far Forest has come through unharmed?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
An undeniable look of pride came onto Rahaxeris’ face. "Are you in touch with her?"
"No, sir. She won’t talk to me. She doesn’t trust me. She communicates only with Kendel. Shall I break Christiana’s banishment and bring her back?"
"No. We need to break Syrus out first. We’ll let him bring her back."
"Forgive me, sir, but how are you going to break Syrus out? Christiana will admit no one into the Onyx Castle."
Rahaxeris gave her a withering look. "Do you think I can’t get past that feeble, usurping hag? I’m going to pay her a little visit and bring her something shiny. She never could refuse a present, and this one shall be her unmaking. Zeren is in the thick of this war, but you shall send him this letter." Rahaxeris smoothed a fresh piece of parchment and began writing.
When he finished, he rolled it, sealed it, and handed it to her. "I don’t care if you get covered in dirt and blood on the way. I want you to put that in Zeren’s hand.
You
, not a messenger. Do that successfully, and the priests might allow you a little more time to live."
Zefyre bowed. "Yes, sir. Thank you." She turned and walked out of the
Rune-dy's
upper chamber, tears flowing silently from her eyes. The knowledge that her days were numbered infected her.
****
Once Zefyre was gone, Rahaxeris sat in quiet contemplation. It was time to call a meeting of the priests. The change of his plans would have to be approved by a majority vote. He had to sell the new idea to them. However, selling was a far cry from laying bare the truth. He was the leader, and they were on need-to-know basis. He thought through the way he would inform them what he wanted without it seeming as though it wasn't
his mere desire
but what was best for Regia.
He left the main room and walked down a long hallway to his personal chambers. He placed a hand on the circular light beam in the center of the luminous Belliss stone wall until it expanded, creating a doorway large enough for him to enter.
The room would have looked bare to an outsider, like an extra quest room in an unused part of the house. But as soon as the light closed the stone behind him, Rahaxeris' most secret and vulnerable memories filled the room like a family of ghosts. They emerged from the stone, wispy, transparent, and whispering their damnable truths.
He looked at Forest, the day she was born. As it always did, the love he had for his daughter stung deeply and weighed him down with guilt. Love kept secret, denied.
My child.
There was nothing tender in this emotion. It had teeth and claws and craved the blood of all who had harmed her.
Leith's face swirled in the haze before him. Rahaxeris' hands and teeth clenched. So long, he had waited to spill his blood. His restraint through the years almost killed him. Leith would pay. Christiana would pay. Both would burn in the fire of his retribution. Soon.
The memories dissipated like steam.
He retrieved the green stone he'd created the day before from its protected place in the wall and slipped it into his robes. He left his chambers and ventured lower underground to the metal stores. Only the best metal would do for the necklace he would make with the stone. Not the best metal that could be found in Regia but the best metal in any world, anywhere. Moreover, it would be the most beautiful and powerful piece of jewelry he had ever made.
He stepped into the Worlds room and greeted Hezeron, who was bent over the corpse of strange birdlike creature, focused intently on its dissection. He glanced up swiftly at Rahaxeris and nodded.
"Rahaxeris."
"Hezeron."
"What brings you here?" Hezeron asked.
"Metal, and I need a page out of The Book of Worlds."
"Help yourself."
Hezeron asked no questions about Rahaxeris' project. He merely continued to study his specimen in silence, occasionally glancing over at what Rahaxeris was doing. Only after Rahaxeris was finished and held the necklace up to inspect it did Hezeron give him his full attention.
"Superior work, sir. Your choice of Talereneain Firelight Silver does raise my curiosity as to the intended purpose of the piece."
"Why?" Rahaxeris asked calmly, never betraying the worry now crawling inside him.
"It must be important to you to use such a magical and precious metal."
"Not at all. I'm fond of the stone I created, and I thought the Firelight made the most attractive setting."
Hezeron gazed speculatively at the necklace. Rahaxeris slipped it into his pocket. "Its purpose shall be a topic at our next meeting. Now, I need The Book of Worlds."
Hezeron stood from the table and crossed the cavernous room to a wall of shelves. His long fingers caressed the spines of the books as he scanned the titles. A terrible screaming filled the room, no louder than a whisper. He gave the Soul Jar on the shelf above his head a sharp flick of his finger. The milky glass vibrated, and the screaming stopped.
"What is in there?" Rahaxeris asked gesturing to the jar as Hezeron brought him the heavy tome.
Hezeron smiled. "Oh, that's a rather foul tempered pixie I killed on my list trip to
Neverland
. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with her."
"Why don't you splice her into that bird-thing you've got there and see what happens?"
Hezeron raised one imperial eyebrow and looked down at the dissected remains. "Hmm… Maybe. So what are you looking for in there?" He pointed at the book.
"A good place to exile someone."
"Ah. Try chapter seven."
Rahaxeris thumbed through the book, until he found the perfect fit for Christiana. He felt killing Christiana was within his right as a father, but he knew torture was better. Being the leader of the
Rune-dy
, torture was in his nature and he was exceptionally gifted at it. Yet he couldn’t torture Christiana as he would like to; time and circumstances prevented it. Permanent exile would have to suffice.
Rahaxeris tore the chosen page out and set the book carefully aside. He balled the parchment in his fist and closed his eyes. Flames engulfed his hand as he turned the piece of parchment into a trapdoor perfectly tailored for the queen.
Opening his hand, Rahaxeris examined the throbbing red jewel. It wasn’t quite ready. Removing Christiana from the equation wasn’t punishment enough. He pulled a single hair from his head and wound it around the jewel. The blond thread sank inside and took on the appearance of a vein of gold within the stone. He blew gently on the jewel and muttered a few carefully considered elvish words. With loving thoughts of his daughter and a small vindictive smile on his face, Rahaxeris set the red jewel into a simple gold chain. He tucked the necklace in beside to the one he made for Forest. It was time to call the meeting.
He
strode silently into the lab. Menjel was working and he hated being disturbed when he was in the lab. Rahaxeris wanted to grimace. Menjel looked like a butcher; blood spattered over his sleeves and apron. The excited light of new pain glinted in his ruby eyes. Whomever he had just been experimenting on was gone, leaving their blood on the operating table.
Menjel was making notes furiously on a diagram. "Come here, Rah, and look at this," he said.
Rahaxeris sighed at his use of an abbreviation for his name but said nothing. "What have you done?" He looked over Menjel's shoulder.
"I've created a new way to inject thoughts. My latest test, on an elf, worked perfectly. The injected thought made him believe he itched all over. He began to scratch his skin but the harder he scratched the stronger the itch became. It took roughly an hour, but the test victim tore all of his skin off."
"I see," Rahaxeris said approvingly. "Are you thinking of using this for interrogation or pre-death punishment?"
"Both. However, I cannot recommend it for interrogation until I figure out how to stop the sensation before the victim kills themselves. Baal can work on that tomorrow."
"Fine. Clean up. We have a meeting."
"Yes, sir."
****
Rune-dy
meetings never lasted very long. None of the priests were verbose. Since there were only seven of them and only two departments, there was hardly ever anything they didn't know about each other's work. Rahaxeris was thankful for their lack of curiosity today.
He sat at the end of the table with the heads of each department, Abshael and Cassian, closest to him. The senior levels, Menjel and Hezeron, were next, and then the assistants, Baal and Plixtz. Being the leader, Rahaxeris presided over every meeting.
He addressed the priests. "New business. Philippe is dead at the hand of an unsanctioned, sacrificial messenger sent by Zefyre."
Muttering erupted around the table.
"She must die!" Cassian said sternly.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Yes, yes," Rahaxeris said unconcernedly. "That is of little concern. The real problem is the balance was disrupted by Philippe dying before we intended him to."
"Zeren is weak. We can make him our puppet," Hezeron added.
Rahaxeris smiled inside. Hezeron had handed him the perfect launching point. "Yes, Zeren is weak, but Christiana is not." He pulled the red-jeweled necklace from his robes and placed it on the table where everyone could see. "I want to exile her."