Here Be Monsters [2] (12 page)

Unsure what to expect, Siobhan was a bit surprised to find herself in what looked like a board room. The walls were wood and stained to a medium oak. The floor was also hard wood and well treated. In the center was a long oval table with twelve chairs around it .

Twelve to represent the twelve of the city's council.
 

At the head of the table sat the oldest vampire Siobhan had ever known. She'd never met her, never spoken to her, but she was very much aware of her.
 

As were all the vampires in Chicago.
 

Her name was Marion St. Clair and she ruled the shadows of the city. No vampire wanted to be directly in her line of sight. Siobhan had heard she could kill with merely a thought—her age was that great. And she had to admit, she felt that power the moment she'd stepped inside the building.
 

Actually
seeing
St. Clair—

"Siobhan O'Donnell. It is a pleasure to meet you."
 

—was a bit, disconcerting.
 

Marion looked as if she were ten, with short trimmed red hair and very bright golden eyes. Her skin glowed in the light of the room, cast by a high-mantled fireplace to Siobhan's left, on the opposite side of the table. The roaring fire made it very warm in the room.
 

Oberon seemed most affected by that fact and made a motion to unfasten his jacket.
 

They were instantly surrounded by thirteen black clad shadows.
 

"Please, Valmont," St. Clair said in her childish voice. "Relax. I am sure the former captain is simply…uncomfortable?"
 

Oberon nodded and the shadows melted back into the room's corners. Siobhan recognized them. Vampire assassins known as The
Cíké
. They were taken as young vampires and trained by a Chinese vamp to protect St. Clair.
 

"I do apologize, Oberon Geld. You see, with my advanced age and size, I am often…cold."
 

Siobhan and he exchanged a glance and moved as one closer to the table. One of the
Cíké
remained behind St. Clair. "No apologies needed—" Oberon leaned forward, and it was unsure of how he should address her.
 

"You may call me Marion. Both of you. Please," and she nodded to the chairs. "Sit."
 

They did as she asked. Oberon removed his leather jacket, revealing a dark tee shirt underneath. "Miss Marion," he began. "You know why we're here?"
 

"You wish to kill the Fallen."
 

Siobhan sighed. Well…it was nice everyone else knew about this thing and she didn't. "Yes. We do."
 

"And you've encountered her, Siobhan." When St. Clair said her name there was a slight accent that Siobhan couldn't place. Something that had been watered down through the centuries. "And she frightened you."
 

"Yes. But how did you know?"
 

"Because I have seen her," St. Clair said and there was awe in her voice. "She is beautiful and deadly. I was watching her the night she took home the reporter—" and she smiled. "By the way, Siobhan, congratulations on the new Ghoul, but please, in the future, seek my approval before you do such a thing."
 

Approval? Siobhan snorted. Vampire politics.
 

St. Clair looked at Oberon. "You know she will be here tonight."
 

"We've been tipped off that she will be. But we don't know why."
 

"
Why
, is because Siobhan is here. She's looking for Abyssinian," St. Clair leaned her head to the side. "And she smells him on you, Siobhan. But what I want to know is
why
she's seeking your brother, Oberon. Is there something unique about him?"
 

Oberon remained silent.
 

As did Siobhan. She was more worried about how this little monster knew these things. Did she have spies on them?
 

"You don't have to answer, Oberon. I have been searching for the fabled Winterbournes for some time. I'll admit my methods have been a bit clumsy—""
 

Oberon's eyes widened. "You…you're the one killing my people?"

"Of course," she smiled. "The fact that your people would hide such a treasure from us—" she smiled sweetly. "You would deny us the light with such a treat—I feel justified in finding them for myself."
 

"So you can imprison them and syphon off their blood?" Oberon said in a stern tone. "I would never allow my people to be captured and used by yours."
 

"I know. This is why you've systematically had them killed through the centuries," St. Clair said. "So now there are only two left. And you fought to spare your brother."
 

This news came as a second shock to Siobhan. It was originally believed that he had been the one killing UnSeleighe for their blood, but then that'd been disproved by the admission that someone else had been responsible. But to hear that Oberon really
had
been responsible for the deaths of elves?

He looked at Siobhan. "You will never understand, Siobhan. To let such a power fall into any vampire's hands—" he sighed. "My father couldn't let that happen."
 

"So…" and she glared at him. "He killed the Winterbourne? Specifically?"
 

"Many of them had already died in the war," Oberon said. And then he was silent.
 

"Tell her, Geld," St. Clair said.
 

Siobhan looked from him to her. "Tell me what?"
 

"That his father was known as the scourge of the UnSeleighe as he butchered the Winterbourne in the mortal realm—until he found his son. Of course, Calder was mortally wounded by Cold Iron, wasn't he Oberon. And when he fell into mori, you were made king.
 

"You tried to hide the things your father did—you tried to reunite the Seleighe and UnSeleighe. And you would have been successful—if the Fallen had not returned."
 

Siobhan listened to St. Claire, but watched Oberon. She wasn't angry at him for his father did—but the fact he'd tried to cover it up was astonishing.
 

St. Claire continued. "And then when the bodies started dropping, you went into the world to discover what as happening. What you found—" she shook her head. "Did you try to cover this up as well, Oberon."
 

"What is she talking about?"
 

Oberon gritted his teeth. "I only just discovered the truth, Siobhan. Just before I was arrested."
 

"About what?" Siobhan put her hands on the table. "Will you please speak to me?"
 

St. Claire laughed. "Apparently the one he trust to lead Underhill discovered the truth, and made a covenant with me—with my
Cíké
. He read what Calder had written—why he'd targeted the Winterbourne," St. Clair said. "So he too sent out assassins to kill. They were to test the blood with a kit he provided and if they tested positive, the Cíké were to dispose of them by removing their heads, draining them and burning what was left." Her eyes seemed to burn with the intensity of the fire. "Until I received a very odd request—to kidnap Abyssinian Geld. Oberon paid a very high price to have his brother brought to him. But you see, I saw the tests of your brother's blood, Oberon. I know he's Winterbourne. And yet you hid him away," she licked her lip. "Until last month when that body appeared, and Abyssinian suddenly reappeared."
 

Siobhan stood and backed away from Oberon. "The
Cíké
took Abyssinian…and then you kept him in your basement? You had your own brother kidnapped?"
 

"Because he's my brother, Sio," Oberon said as he stood. "I couldn't let them do that to him. So yes I kept him in my basement and I experimented on his blood—trying to see if there was a way to reverse Merlin's curse from him. But there was nothing." He sighed. "And then the bastard let you drink from him—"
 

St. Clair was on her feet—or more or less she was abruptly in front of Siobhan—her hands on either side of Siobhan's face. "You have tasted the curse! It is true? Did you walk in the light? Did you feel its warmth on your face?"
 

Siobhan realized at that moment that the little monster hadn't really
believed
in her heart there was something out there that would allow her to see the sun again.
 

Until now.
 

"Don't answer her!" Oberon bellowed.
 

"Y—Yes—" Siobhan said in a frightened voice. She could hear the little girl's power in her mind, feel it creeping inside. It was as if her brain were being squeezed and would ooze from her ears in rivulets of blood.
 

"Give him to me!" St. Clair demanded.
 

And then the little girl was no longer there—but slammed against the opposite wall as the fireplace—held up like a picture by invisible nails.

"Daughter of Braelwyn,"
came the familiar deep voice of Maeve.
"My daughter…do not waste your precious Abyssinian on such half-breed debris…instead, offer him up to me."
 

And she was there, melting out of the shadow, wearing a cloak of darkness. Her sharp teeth were visible past ruby red lips.
 

"Oh no…" Oberon said as he backed away.
 

"Maeve…" Siobhan said…and was lost in the monster's dark, black eyes.
 

- 14 -

"What?" Thom stood and pressed both hands on top of the desk. Outside of the Regent's office twilight persisted, the sun little more than a distant glow. Underhill never really vanished into darkness the way the mortal realm did at night. He'd grown so accustom to this he had forgotten what it meant by true darkness. Xe-Faun had woke him with distressing news.
 

"I saw the prince by the north cairn." The elf bowed to him in apology. "But I was still too far away to stop him."
 

"And you're sure it was Abyssinian?" Thom searched Xe-Faun's face, hoping the elf had made a mistake.
 

"Yes. I have sealed only a third of the cairns, Regent. And I had just finished with the smaller one that once stood nearby."
 

The Cairn in questions opened up directly into Grant Park in Chicago. It was one of five major cairns first established between the worlds by Merlin. Thom knew Abyssinian had gone back there—to his blood sucking whore. Damn him. And now he'd put the entire world at risk again.
 

Illeië had lied to him. The prince had
not
slipped into a coma. He would deal with her later. Right now the important thing was getting Abyssinian back. "And Silira?"
 

The Regent turned and slammed his hand on the desk. "Damn them all. They're going to get us all killed…destroy eons of life…"
 

What exactly was he supposed to do now? Both of the Winterbournes were gone—probably back into the mortal realm where the Fallen was.
 

"Xe-Faun," he said in a low voice. "Take your best men," Thom straightened as he turned and faced his right hand. "Track him down. Silira and Abyssinian."
 

"Bring them back?"
 

"No…" the Regent said as he strode past Xe-Faun to the door out of the office. He had a Healer to see. "Kill him."
 

Abyssinian
jumped through the cairn's ring of lights just as he heard someone shout. He was pretty sure it was Xe-Faun, but he didn't have time to stop now. Especially not for one of Thom's lackeys. The transition from twilight to solid night wasn't as bad as the difference in the air pressure.
 

Underhill always felt light—as if the gravity of the world couldn't touch it. He was lighter in Underhill, and falling was never an issue as he always seemed to land on his feet. Much like a cat.
 

But that wasn't what was nagging at him as he crouched low near Grant Park, the famous Buckingham Fountain in view. What was troubling him now was the constant pain in his side. The spell Silira had used had indeed given him energy—strength—he felt as he would if fully healed.
 

But the pain from the wound was still there, just as Illeië had warned.
 

And that pain could hinder him.
 

He couldn't think of that right now. He had his katana, and a change of clothing. Though these weren't the black leathers he was accustomed to wearing, their brown deerskin was soft and well fitted. He slipped on the last boot, paused just a second as the twinge in his side demanded attention and then took off into the city.
 

Finding Siobhan wasn't hard. Silira had said the
Chimera
club. He knew of the place. Had patrolled it often as it was a vampire hot-spot, and owned by one.
 

Halsted. The heart of Chicago's club scene. Neon, the shouts of party-goers, and the exhaust fumes of cars greeted him as he tried to pinpoint exactly where she was. After a second he sensed her to his right down a side street that lead to a plain door with a single red bulb above it.
 

He didn't want to go in the obvious way—in case Siobhan and Oberon needed him as backup. Maybe there was a back way.
 

But when Abyssinian turned to find that way, the door popped open with an audible clunk and pushed itself in a few inches. A metallic voice said, "She's waiting for you."
 

She? She who?
 

But he didn't bother to ask. Nor did he worry he was walking into a trap—of that he was certain. And the familial ties to Oberon told him his brother was here as well. Abyssinian reached behind him and pulled his katana from the shoulder sheath and moved forward through the door.
 

The thudding of industrial music vibrated against his chest as well as the hilt of his weapon as he moved down the corridor. When he stepped out onto the floor of dancing bodies, he hid his katana as he moved along the outer edges, though his elven eyes were constantly searching for Siobhan and Oberon.