A VISIT TO ST. LOUIS
Chapter 7: Voldemort's Plans
Fear making him stupid, Monksworth's blurted, "you can't do that!"
The Master's velvety voice held steel and certainty as he leaned closer and said silkily, "Au contraire mis a me ... my servant is very skilled at raising the dead. You should have done your homework about Americans. Apparently, they can do a lot of things your kind have never dreamed of. Your answer! Now!"
Monksworth shuddered, a cold sweat trickling down his back as he tried not to show how frightened he was as he contemplated his options. He didn't know that was a wasted effort as every supernatural in the room could scent his fear and relished it.
Blissfully unaware, he focused on what he could tell the Master of the City that wouldn't get him killed by his own master. Nothing came to mind as the choices were death at the Dark Lord's hands or the vampire's but the difference was Jean-Claude would kill him then bring him back and make him answer anyway.
A no win situation.
He groaned inside. He couldn't even warn his leader of the true danger to his cause. Feeling morose and defeated, Monksworth swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat and capitulated ... after all, what choice did he have? He was dead either way.
"The Dark Lord wished to determine how powerful your triumvirate is," he muttered, bitterness choking him.
The master's eyebrows rose in puzzlement. "And to what purpose could knowing that give him?"
"If you were as powerful as rumor said, he planned to capture you all and use you as a weapon against the Light, putting down the last of the resistance." He refused to elaborate. They would have to get it out of him piece by piece. At least he would not feel like a complete traitor to his master.
"He could try!" The werewolf king growled.
"This Dark Lord thinks very highly of himself," the Master said disdainfully, moving away from Monksworth.
Stunned and angry that his master was being taken so lightly, Monksworth hissed, "He's the most powerful wizard in all of Europe."
"Oh please!" the necromancer interrupted, snorting in derision and rolling her eyes. Though he feared her and dared not look at her, Monksworth seethed inside. How dare they make fun of his master?
With a yawn of disdain, the vampire with the stunning fall of spun gold hair and beautiful face (at least the half he could see) spoke, his French origins clear in his words, "What an arrogant fool this Voldemort person be. His fancy spell crafting and frightening demeanor may have scared the British sheep he's terrorized for years, but the idea of him attempting to take over the whole world is ludicrous. That is someone who has lost his sanity a long time ago."
Monksworth burned with hatred as he spat out, "The Dark Lord brought himself back from the dead and built an army to do his biding. None can stand before him!"
The necromancer moved so suddenly Monksworth hadn't registered she'd moved at all until she was right next to him. Leaning close, her face tipped upward as she was very petite, she spoke in a voice filled with acid.
"Look asshole! There are far deadlier things in the supernatural world than your demented leader and you have ever conceived of in your worst nightmares. He's so low on the bad boy list he doesn't even rate a mention."
He didn't believe her, they were just trying to make him drop more information. Well, he wouldn't so he just glared at her. But it had no effect on her. She didn't blink nor back down. Unease slithered up his spine. Was she telling the truth and, more importantly, did he really want to know?
Apparently, he wasn't going to be given a choice as she continued, "There's an evil out there so terrible that her name isn't even whispered for fear she'll hear you. She ruled the world before mankind was a speck in God's eye. She's the mother of all vampires and weres and just so you don't think I'm blowing smoke up your ass, here's a sample of my last unfortunate contact with her."
Before he could react to her crass language, his mind was suddenly engulfed by a powerful, dark evil unlike anything he'd ever encountered. Not even the Dark Lord's insanity and loathsomeness could equal what he felt now. The weight of that evil presence, though only an echo of the real thing, wrenched a scream of terror from him. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone, leaving him limp, throat raw, and mind gibbering with gratefulness that he'd not met this thing in person.
Blinking tears he'd not known he'd shed, Monksworth stared down at this little female in horrified respect. He couldn't think how she had managed to survive her contact with such evil and still have her mind intact. His heart sank. Lord Voldemort was indeed screwed, as the necromancer had so eloquently stated. There was no hope for their brethren to win this war and now he was glad he would not be alive to see it.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Sirius felt left out. What was Blake talking about? What threat could be greater than old moldyshorts? He frowned and waited to see what would happen then swallowed a gasp when Monksworth turned white and screamed as if he was being flayed alive.
What the bloody hell?
Blake looked a little white too as she moved away from her victim and sat down rather abruptly on the couch, the leopard king wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. Whatever Blake had shown Monksworth, he knew he never wanted to meet it nor feel it's power, especially if just the memory of it could drain her like that. It was growing obvious that the Americans knew more dangerous and powerful supernatural creepies than the Brits knew existed and that made him shiver with fear. Glad I'm not their enemy, he thought.
Shaking his head, he pushed that revelation aside and focused on what Monksworth had told them. What a diabolical plan! Using a powerful triumvirate could have tipped the battle in moldyshorts favor alright. But now that they were warned, how useful was this knowledge to the Americans and would they help us?
Then there's the threat Blake had shown Monksworth. Was that something his people should be worried about? Just what was so damn scary that the death eater would scream like a girl and Blake looked like warm milk?
As much as he didn't want to know, not knowing could kill them all. What have I gotten myself involved with? Sirius wondered. It didn't help to feel Richard shudder too when Blake did her thing.
The longer I'm here the deeper the bog gets, he thought miserably. Jean-Claude's voice pulled him from his dark thoughts.
With calm assurance he gave orders. "I think we need to discuss this matter a little more. Richard, have one of your wolves take this man to a cell. We'll decide his fate later. And if you would be so kind, Monsieur Black to remove your binding spell but retain some kind of spell that will prevent him from using his magic?"
"Actually, sir, without his wand he's incapable of doing much of anything. Only a rare few can do wandless magic and I highly doubt he's one of them," Sirius assured him.
"I will trust your expertise on that monsieur. Richard, have him taken away," Jean-Claude ordered.
The guards waited for Sirius to remove the body bind then nearly dragged the prisoner away as it seemed the man's legs were too weak to completely hold his weight. Richard opened the door to allow them to exit then shut it again.
"Please...everyone take a seat," the Master of the City commanded, going behind his desk and seating himself. He rested his elbows on the chair arms, then clasped his fingers together as he waited for them all to settle.
Richard gently took Sirius arm and tugged him toward a pair of padded chairs against the wall while Anita returned to sit between her leopards on the couch. The blond vampire opted to remain standing behind Jean-Claude, his light blue eyes narrowed in thought.
"So what do we do about this idiot who thinks he can take over the world?" Blake asked, bluntly.
"That is what we must decide, ma petite."
"We can't ignore it and say it's the Brits problem," Richard was quick to say. Though he hated taking on yet another problem when they were buried under more serious ones already but even he had to admit this couldn't be ignored.
"Unfortunately, my wolf, we aren't in complete control of our country only this city. To try and interfere in a wizarding war in another country will take much convincing of our allies here in the US and that will take time we may not have."
"Then we do it under the radar. We've done it before," Richard grunted.
Jean-Claude sighed and leaned back in his seat. "If only it were that easy, mis a me."
"Nothing for us ever is."
"Too true. Suggestions?"
No one said anything. Everyone knew action needed to be taken but the St Louis supernaturals were hardily tired of the fact it ended up always being them.
"At the rate we're going, we should be a council of our own, Anita said aloud, her expression sour. We're always taking care of everyone else's problems and get no thanks for it but if we don't do it our world will go up in flames. What a mess."
"A perfect summation of our chronic problems, ma petite," Jean-Claude sighed.
"Though I and my fellow members of the Light do appreciate the thought of you helping us, I didn't come here to ask it of you. It is pretty clear you're up to your chest in excrement already," Sirius piped up. "My mission was to find out what the Dark Lord wanted and I've gotten that. So I thank you all for your assistance. Now, I really must be getting home."
"I truly appreciate your willingness to not ask, Monsieur Black. Unfortunately, now that cat is out of the bag, as it were, we cannot ignore this threat. And threat it is despite it being over seas. No, we must figure out how to deal with this and take care of it once and for all."
Sirius sighed. I was afraid of that, he thought.
