Fallen (33 page)

Charlotte had arrived at Tidus within
Lycean’s outer throne room, desperately searching for Oliver. Kron
had brought her before the king grudgingly, but at least he had.
Things were happening that we didn’t have answers to. Sinister had
rescued her from Black shortly before we stopped him at
Westminster, but he and his vampire warriors had been destroyed in
the process. Charlotte took the news about Oliver’s sacrifice
pretty hard when I told her. She seemed to care little about
London’s salvation.

“It was the only way to trap Black in
Tartarus,” I said.

“We need him,” Charlotte insisted. “The
portal to Greystone has been destroyed.”

“What do you mean?” Lycean asked.

“Stonehenge has been reduced to rubble,”
Charlotte said. “It was the only known portal between Greystone and
the mortal world.”

“Pardon my saying so,” Lycean said, “but
your father and the other Breed being trapped in Greystone is good
news. They were Black’s allies, as you well know. The mortal’s are
safer with them there.”

Charlotte fumed at Lycean’s comments.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted. “Why would
your father become allies with Black?”

“The mortals that were taken by the dolls
were imprisoned within Greystone,” Charlotte said. “Black not only
promised my father power in the mortal world, he promised a captive
food supply for Greystone kept there by Black’s spell.”

“Then it’s a good thing the spell was
broken,” I said. “All of the humans have been returned. None of
them seem to even recall their imprisonment, or the dolls attacking
them.”

“But the Breed in Greystone will go mad with
thirst,” Charlotte said. “A vampire deprived of blood is far more
dangerous. There is a balance that must be maintained. Irregardless
of my father’s alliance with Black—which I never endorsed—this
could lead to either the destruction of my people, or a frenzy that
kills
many
mortals, rather than the few we cull right
now.”

My thoughts immediately fell upon the angel
who had done away with Black. As cunning as he was, he might take
advantage of a situation like that in terrible ways.

“We’ll just have to make sure, somehow, that
that doesn’t happen,” I said.

“How, when Oliver is trapped in
Tartarus?”

I didn’t have an answer.

“One thing I haven’t mentioned, Brody,”
Charlotte said. “Tom also went to Greystone. He’s trapped with what
will soon become thousands of bloodthirsty vampires. They will
certainly kill him, if they haven’t already.”

“I’ll find an answer, Charlotte,” I said. “I
don’t know how, but I’ll figure out some way to free them and set
this right.”

The leaves were beginning to change color
already in York. A huge estate owned by a very old family with very
old money resided in the countryside. A cool wind, that suggested
tumultuous weather may be on its way, blew across the well
manicured lawn through the labyrinthine hedges.

Within the garden, there was the noise of
battle. The crack of steel upon steel and the heavy breathing of
combatants locked in contest with one another could be heard. The
young lord of the manor thrust against his opponent and missed, but
barely. The challenger lunged then dodged away with expert skill,
drawing the young man into his spider’s web. At last the killing
stroke was delivered.

The young man backed away in disappointment,
removing his fencing mask. “That’s the third time this morning
you’ve done that,” he said.

“You’ll get it in time, Grayson,” his
opponent said. “You must be patient. All things will come to you in
time.”

“You keep saying that,” Grayson answered.
“But I’m nearly twenty-five already. When will I go to the city to
take my rightful place? The Empire needs me now.”

“All things are as planned,” his opponent
said. “You will emerge in London when I say that it is time, and
only then.”

The man removed his mask. The
good
angel stood there in his fencing uniform, examining the young man.
“That’s enough practice for today,” he said.

Grayson nodded then turned to walk back
toward the house.

The angel called after him, “Trust me.”

Grayson paused, turning his head in
acknowledgement.

“Yes, Father.”

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Charlotte stalked along a building ledge
overlooking an alley where criminals were wont to come and hang out
following their thieveries and other malicious acts. There was a
pub nearby, as well as a brothel operating within a rundown
tenement. These villains had everything they required close at
hand.

Two men had recently committed an armed
robbery nearly a mile away in a dark alley within a better
neighborhood than this one. The elder gentleman, who was their
victim, had been beaten severely in the process. Charlotte had
followed them back to this alley, even as constables responding to
the alarm of other pedestrians found their trail gone cold.

She felt the hunger burning within her, a
thirst that could only be quenched by blood. Charlotte had gone
nearly two weeks without claiming a kill. She could bare it no
longer. And these two were ripe for the picking.

Charlotte still prided herself on only
culling
criminals
from the great sea of humanity available
to her. She meant no harm to those mortals who did no harm to
others. Still, the hunger drove her to feed, and she already knew
that she would give in to it if necessary.

These two men were armed, one with a
revolver, the other with knives. Charlotte had spotted the weapons
during the robbery, though they had not killed their victim. She
had no fear of harm. No mortal had ever been fast enough to manage
even a scratch.

She heard them speaking, their voices
relieved that they had eluded capture by the police. They were
still breathing hard from all the running they had been doing.
Charlotte could hear their rapid heartbeats drumming in her
preternatural ears. It was time.

Charlotte leaped away from the ledge,
surrendering to gravity’s pull, plunging toward the men quickly and
quietly. She was so focused upon her prey that she did not notice
the other predators nearby. As she prepared to snatch the first
man, a strong arm grabbed him lightning quick and hurled him into
the opposite wall.

Charlotte recoiled from the intruder,
realizing who it was when he pummeled the second man to the ground
with one blow. “Alexander?”

“Greetings, Charlotte,” Alexander said.

He stood nearly a foot taller than she did,
looking down upon her with a mixture of amusement and disdain. His
muscular frame pressed noticeably against the simple black clothing
that he wore. Alexander was a warrior among the Breed and had been
one of her brother’s generals during their time under Black’s
thumb. But she had not thought that any of her people were still
left in London.

She thought to flee, but her first twitch
caused Alexander’s arm to snap down upon her own like a vice.
“Don’t go just yet,” he said menacingly.

Charlotte now noticed a dozen other vampires
in the alley with them, as well as some on the rooftops above.
There was no way she could escape. Alexander was revered among her
people. She had seen him fight many times and greatly admired his
cunning and skill. In many ways, he made a much better leader than
her own brother had.

“What do want?” she asked. Alexander’s grip
was like iron.

“I want to know where your brother is,” he
said. “I want to know where the angel, Black, has gone and I want
to know why we are cannot go home to Greystone.”

Charlotte trembled in his grasp. He didn’t
understand what had happened to her brother, that he had rescued
her and perished. Where had they been all this time?

Alexander pulled her closer to him. “And I
want to know what you had to do with it.”

A quarter hour later, Alexander and his
Breed warriors had escorted Charlotte to a rundown old tenement
across the city. They had all taken to the sky, with the full moon
watching them like a monstrous eye. Charlotte stayed in their
formation in her raven form, following Alexander’s large eagle.
Even in his animal form, he was a predator.

Along the way, she had spotted several
opportunities where she might have been able to slip away from
them. However, Charlotte found herself intrigued by Alexander’s
arrival. She had been nearly a year without contact with others of
her kind.

Her father was still trapped with her people
in Greystone, no doubt going mad as they starved for blood. Brody
had been little help to her in trying to find a way to establish a
portal. Even if he now possessed the ability, he would not risk the
possibility of Greystone’s vampires rampaging the city.

As for her own opinion, Charlotte found
herself caring less and less about the mortals. Why should she go
on fighting for them? They had never shown the least gratitude
toward any of her kind. Oliver had gotten himself consigned to
Tartarus on their behalf. Had the mortals known his sacrifice,
Charlotte knew they would not care. She was interested to find out
what Alexander might say to all of these things.

When they were all inside the tenement,
Alexander lit a single lantern that hung from one of the rafters.
“You recognize this place, Charlotte?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “This is where my brother
used to house the mortal boys that worked for him while Black was
still around. What happened to the children?”

“They were delicious,” Alexander said.

An awkward silence hung in the room for a
moment.

“Does that disturb you, Charlotte,” he asked
finally.

To her surprise, she answered, “No, should
it?”

“I thought you were fighting for the mortals
with Oliver James,” he said.

“He was destroyed along with Black,” she
replied.

Alexander grinned. “I wasn’t aware that an
angel could be destroyed.”

“Wherever they are now, neither of them will
be coming back,” she said. “What’s the difference?”

“And your brother?”

“Black killed him when he rescued me, along
with the rest of our kind who fought with him,” she said. “The
angel also destroyed the portal to our home.”

The other vampires were seated around the
large room—some in the rafters, others on the beds where the boys
had once slept. They listened silently to the exchange.

Alexander scrutinized her for a moment. “You
seem concerned for that fact,” he said.

“Our people are starving in Greystone,” she
said urgently. “My father is one of them, our king.”

“
Our
?”

“Ours,” Charlotte confirmed. “I have
experienced nothing but betrayal fighting for the mortals. We
sacrificed for them, but they will never stop hating us. Nothing we
did ever mattered to them. Even the one who might have a hope of
restoring the portal refuses to try.”

“
Who
refuses to try?” Alexander
asked.

Charlotte paused momentarily. Should she
reveal the boy to Alexander? What would he do? She had some idea—a
guess at least.

“Brody West,” she answered. “He inherited
all that Oliver had. He has abilities like Oliver as well. They
came from the same Fallen One.”

“I see,” Alexander said.

“I’ve tried to reason with him, but he fears
what might happen if Greystone were opened, now that so much time
has passed while our people starve on the other side.”

Alexander stared toward the lantern light,
saying nothing.

“What can we do?” she asked.

Alexander grinned, turning to her. “Persuade
this Brody West, of course.”

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DEATH WALKING

Donavan stood, smiling at the small crowd of
villagers who had stopped to listen to him. He had just concluded
his dissertation examining the current state of kingdom affairs,
the true nature of their dragon gods and the imminent return of
their long forgotten Creator. One of the men nearest to him looked
as though he might have a comment, to which Donavan offered,
“Yes?”

A meaty slab of fist slammed into his jaw,
sending stars across his vision and his body backward into the wall
of their town hall. He bounced off of it back into the man’s pudgy
hands, stammering for a word as blood gathered in his mouth. The
small crowd of less than twenty persons jeered at him, picking up
mud and stones from the street to throw in his direction.

The thick man turned around, holding him by
his shirt, then tossed Donavan away from him into the street. It
had been raining the day before when Donavan had come to the
village, carrying Ezekiah’s message of hope of Elithias’ coming. He
landed sprawling in the muddy street. The rocks and clods of mud
followed him. They bounced off of his back and legs and head,
stinging him.

He was assaulted with insults besides. Even
the women congregated around him were swearing at him and lobbing
their share of projectiles in his direction. They cursed him by
their dragon gods, calling him an ignorant fool.

Donavan had not come unprepared to hear such
things. Ezekiah himself had warned his disciples that the citizens
of the kingdom would likely not want to hear their message. “This
world and their serpent gods are the only things they have ever
known,” he had warned. “Do not think that they will welcome you
into their midst. Man’s heart has been turned from Elithias for
nearly a thousand years. We cannot expect to undo the resulting
damage in a day. They will despise you and spit upon you or worse.
Only, do not be afraid of them. Remember that Elithias watches over
us.”