Once again, BH and all its characters, etc., etc., belong to the brilliant Toby Whithouse. Thanks again for letting me play.
Reviews are good things! I look forward to any and all comments, and hope you enjoy!
"Well done, John," Wyndam's smile was genuine, and Mitchell smiled, relaxing.
"So, now what?" Mitchell asked. "I'd like to get outta here," he said with a slight laugh. Wyndam did not laugh.
"I have to make some arrangements for you, so for now, just relax." Wyndam grinned at Mitchell's dismay. "Don't worry, John, it won't take long, and soon you'll be in much more comfortable surroundings." Wyndam stood to leave, Mitchell stood as well.
"In the meantime," Wyndam continued, "if you need anything, just ask for Samuel. He will bring you someone to feed from. I would ask, however, that you not kill this one. I have plans for her."
"Of course," Mitchell told him, nodding.
"Oh, and Samuel will bring you fresh clothes, and show you where you can clean up." Wyndam smiled again, and left, closing the door behind him. The lock did not fall into place. Even though he was no longer locked in, Mitchell sat down, waiting for Samuel, and tried not to think of the hunger.
A short time later, Samuel knocked on the door, and came into the room, pushing a woman in front of him. She was very pretty, with long blond hair and deep blue eyes, and her heart was racing.
Senses flaring, the hunger roared at his insides. Mitchell's eyes flashed black and he pulled the woman to him before Samuel had closed the door. Without speaking, Mitchell sank his teeth into her neck, allowing her no time to scream. He drank quickly, not thinking of the blood and its sweetness, but focusing on easing the demand in his stomach. As soon as he felt that relief, he jerked away from her, and handed her back to Samuel before she fainted.
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Wyndam entered the council chamber, and took his seat at the large round table. The room could almost have been a conference room in any office building, with the ornate round table, high-back leather chairs, and business phone in the center of the table. A credenza against one wall held a tea urn, and a coffee urn, cups with saucers and all necessary utensils and condiments, and a plate full of biscuits and lovely pastries. The room also had a large panoramic window that overlooked the city. The difference from most conference rooms was that this window was covered with dark wooden blinds and burgundy colored damask silk drapes, ensuring no sunlight entered the room. The other difference was that five vampires sat at the table. Five Old Ones.
As council meetings were for council members only, there was no one present other than these five members. Two other members were absent. Margaret was assisting with operations in America, and Hetty was still in South America, not wanting to be near John Mitchell at the moment.
"Good evening," Wyndam said, nodding to each.
"Edgar," Thomas answered, as the others nodded their greeting. Looking about the table, Thomas continued. "I've explained to Edgar why we requested this council. I've expressed our concerns regarding John Mitchell, and he has graciously offered to address them, and to answer our questions."
Wyndam smiled at Thomas' easy lie. Wyndam knew he'd been summoned, and he didn't like it. However, he would go along with the charade, and pretend to be subject to their review. Although he was the oldest and their superior in the hierarchy, they were all supposed to be equals here, Old Ones deserving of respect. He'd play along, until it no longer suited.
"Where shall we start?" Wyndam asked them.
"If I may," Raphael began, examining his manicured hands, trying to be nonchalant. Wyndam was not surprised, as the Frenchman always wanted to be the center of attention.
"Yes, Raphael?" Wyndam smiled patiently. "I assume you want to know about the dogs?"
"Yes. Before we discuss the current prob….John Mitchell," Raphael continued, looking directly at Wyndam, "have the dogs been destroyed, along with that abomination the female carries?"
"No, not yet," Wyndam answered tightly, speaking slowly, as though talking to children. "As I have already stated, several times, I want to see what comes of this. This has never happened in our history. The 'abomination', as you call it, is too important to destroy simply because we've never seen the like."
"But is that wise?" This time it was Robert, still wanting to gain standing among the rest of them. Again, of no surprise to Wyndam.
"Yes, it is, Robert," Wyndam answered, smiling again, "because I say it is. So there is no misunderstanding, there will be no change to my decision on this issue. The dogs will stay alive until we see what comes from them. Then we will decide what to do. If they can breed, and produce another werewolf, it will change everything. It will change how we fight this war, where we fight it, and who we keep alive. In the meantime, I have set measures in place, to ensure they do not pose a threat to us."
"I do not like it, no matter what 'measures' you put in place!" Raphael again.
"Please, what safety measures, Edgar?" Sofia asked softly, polite as always, her voice lilting with her slight Italian accent.
"I have sent Lawrence to watch them. He has taken ten of our best with him, and is utilizing the forces in Barry. He is reporting directly to me, daily. He has already made contact, and conveyed the proper….message. So far, they are behaving themselves." Wyndam waited for the next question.
"And when they don't?" Raphael pushed.
"Then I will act accordingly!" Wyndam was losing his patience.
"What about the ghost?" Robert asked.
"She will follow the lead of the dogs," Wyndam said with a tight smile. "She is insistent on finding John, but by the time we allow her to see him, it will be too late for her."
"And where are you with him?" Thomas was eager to get onto the more pressing subject.
"He is ours." Wyndam waited for the response he knew would come.
"I don't see how that is possible, Edgar." It came from Raphael, again. "How long have you been at this with him? How many weeks and you are not finished yet! It is time to be done with this foolishness and end him."
So predictable, Wyndam thought to himself.
"It is finished." Wyndam was pleased to see Raphael flinch. "I know what I am doing, and who I am dealing with," Wyndam smiled. "You forget, Herrick brought John Mitchell to me shortly after he sired John. I've known John since he became vampire, and I know how his mind works," he answered easily.
"But such resistance, Edgar," Sofia reminded him "This process cannot guarantee control when there is such resistance. Herrick thought he controlled John Mitchell and died for it, at John Mitchell's hand."
"Yes, Sofia, John staked his maker. He had to. He could not have survived this process if Herrick were still alive." Wyndam waited for them to digest his words.
"John Mitchell," he continued, "is one of the strongest vampires to be made in last century. We all wish we were the one to find him." Wyndam saw two of them nod their heads in agreement. "Conveniently, John already has the old blood in him because Herrick was his sire."
"But he still has a conscience," Raphael said, shaking his head, "and lives by it! Look at what he has done just in the past few years, and what Herrick had to go through to try to manage him! Herrick was arrogant about many things, but not about John Mitchell. In almost one hundred years, Herrick still could not control him! What makes you think you can?"
"Do you dare compare me to Herrick?" Wyndam's voice was quiet, but the unspoken threat directed at Raphael was very loud. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Raphael dropped his eyes. Wyndam looked around the table.
"Herrick," Wyndam said with disdain, "was obsessed when it came to John Mitchell. We all know that. But you do not understand me. Herrick's ego would not let John Mitchell be what he truly is. Yes, yes," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "I know all the tales of their exploits. But it was always Herrick who decided when, where, who, and how many. That leash that Herrick tied around John was what kept John from truly being vampire. It was there to satisfy Herrick's ego and limited vision, nothing more."
"But how can we trust him?" Robert asked, leaning in on the table. "That is the concern, Edgar. He has killed his own kind, more than once. He has tried to stop others from being vampire. He has befriended werewolves, and traveled to Purgatory - for a ghost! As I understand it, you found him just as he was to be staked by the dog, after he asked the dog to do it! His ability to stay dedicated to us is…minimal, if at all!" Robert looked about the table for support, and most agreed.
So damn predictable, Robert, Wyndam thought again, and still so vain.
"Through all of his attempts to go clean," Wyndam asked them, looking at each of them in turn, his patience now wearing thin, "how many times did John Mitchell completely leave vampires behind? Not once. He always ensured that he was near a community, where he could go when he'd had enough of humanity." Wyndam leaned back in his chair, straightening his jacket sleeves. "John Mitchell has great potential. He is already a soldier, and right now, he needs someone to report to, and to direct him. Herrick always kept John confused and conflicted, so he had no choice but to try to escape."
They still did not understand him. Wyndam sighed heavily.
"The soldier outgrew the commander," he told them, his voice sharp with annoyance. "Herrick was stuck in his own vision, his own plans. Plans that gave John Mitchell very little to do, other than be a…sidekick. There was no allowance for ambition or independent thought for John. So John wallowed in the guilt, escaping, until he could think of no other way out but to kill Herrick, and then die as well. In simple terms, Herrick let John Mitchell live in anguish. It was really quite cruel of Herrick." Wyndam paused, letting them consider his words.
"Allowing the dog to try to kill Herrick," Wyndam continued, "was just another way for John to persist in the guilt, a form of self-control, keeping him from being truly vampire. By killing Herrick himself, John has eliminated that guilt and restraint."
"And isn't it that lack of restraint that makes him dangerous to us?" Thomas asked.
"Just the opposite. He knows he needs us, and that this is where he belongs. He knows he cannot survive on his own. That is why he asked the dog for his own death."
"But he is still so resistant!" Raphael insisted.
"No longer," Wyndam smiled. "John now understands what he is, and why. Or, I should say, he understands to the point I want him to understand. It would have been disappointing if he had yielded any sooner. That strength is part of what makes him so valuable."
"But this was done against his will," Robert argued, "and in the past, such attempts have failed. Yes, he has at least survived it, but what will he do when he finally learns the true consequences of what you have done to him? How will you control him then?"
"You will remember," Wyndam's voice was quiet again, "I have never failed in this. When he learns of the consequences, it will not matter. It doesn't matter now. It is done. He is bound to me."
They were still not convinced.
"Tomorrow night, he will prove it," Wyndam told them. "Come and observe. You will see John Mitchell for the vampire he truly is." They all exchanged looks, and then nodded.
"Very well, Edgar," Raphael spoke for the others. "We will see what you have created in him. But know this, if he fails, he will be ended."
"He will not fail," Wyndam replied evenly, pushing back his chair, "Tomorrow night, eight o'clock again. Sofia," he said, dipping his head.
Wyndam left the Council to find Samuel, and give him specific instructions. Regardless of tomorrow's outcome, Wyndam would not let John Mitchell die, not yet.
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