CHAPTER 6: SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Several Miles Outside Constantiople

He was pleased to find that Cassia's supply cache was located in a much securer location than his former resting place. It was a large, deep, seaside cave, hollowed out by a rushing underground spring that flowed into the sea, and better yet, it was hidden when the tide came in during the day. Not to mention the protections the witch had cast upon it. She called it a repulsion charm, working alongside several others responsible for deterring trespassers. He could sense magic in the air, sinking into the very stone, carrying that spice-filled scent he always associated with her. He could hazard a guess that if a witch did not want to be found, they could easily disappear in a place like this…

The main chamber consisted of a deep, round pool—almost a small lake—from which he emerged with a soaked shake of his head, depositing a heavy, antiquated chest at her feet. It appeared he was getting that bath she mentioned after all. "Is this it?" he breathed; he didn't need to—which made diving for chests in deep, dark cave pools much easier—but it was a habit, and his sense of smell was like a second pair of eyes now.

"Yes." She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you for getting it for me. I do not believe I could have managed it on my own whilst in this weakened state…"

He hadn't been thanked for anything in quite a long while, so he stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. But he offered her a smile in return, which seemed to be the right answer, for she reached out, slicked his sopping wet hair out of his eyes so she could see them, and nodded in satisfaction. She was always doing strange things like that.

She dragged the chest closer to her and knelt before it, running her hands along its edges pensively, and he pulled himself out of the water quickly to crouch close beside her, very interested in the contents of the box. She had promised weapons. And mayhem. Two of his favorite things. But when Cassia directed her arms in a complicated pattern and flicked her fingers commandingly at the lid of the chest, popping it wide open without even touching it, a screeching murder of crows careened out of it, flapping wildly and letting out their raucous cries before colliding into the woman's chest—and disappearing in black smoke. It happened so quickly and suddenly that it actually managed to startle him, sending him darting backwards and almost back into the water.

"Oh dear—" She turned around and righted him with a laugh. "Not to worry. Just a defense mechanism in case one of my sisters stumbled upon this little secret of mine. I had nearly forgotten about it…"

"You have sisters?" he asked, making a valiant attempt to appear unaffected by the alarming incident.

"Oh yes. Many," she sighed. "I love them all very dearly, even if all of them are nosy," she paused grimly, "…and have an unfortunate habit of trying to slaughter each other every now and again. There is no harm in taking precautions."

"A wise perspective," he agreed with arched brows. He wondered if witches employed the same brutality as vampires.

"Indeed," was all she replied. And then she proceeded to stand, lift one leg over the side of the chest, then the other, and disappear inside of it. A few moments later, in which he had not moved an inch, her head popped out and she asked, "Are you coming?"

Intrigued, he crept over and peered past her face into the cavernous depths of the chest. There was an entire room down there. He watched her drop down lightly, landing on a plush, four-poster bed of feathers. Looking up at him and seeing the blatant hesitance in his face, she laughed and called up to him, "Come, Boy! 'Tis safe down here with me! Don't be a ninny!"

No. No she did not.

He gave no warning before he vaulted inside the chest and deliberately landed on her, capturing her wrists and pinning them above her head while she was still winded and couldn't fight back. He then leaned very close to her face as she caught her breath and proclaimed very seriously, "I will not be accused of being a ninny…"

For a moment, she looked shocked, before she burst out laughing, which shocked him in turn. "Is that what has you all upset?" she managed to get out between bouts of laughter. "I deeply apologize. How terribly rude of me—" she broke off into more giggling.

He let go of her wrists, and sat back, still straddling her hips, so as to examine her curiously. She was not afraid of him at all. He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or amused. But her laughter was a contagious sound that nearly infected him. As it began to taper off, he found he wanted to hear more of it, so he proceeded to attack her ribs mercilessly with dancing fingers—as he had once done to tease his smallest sister, centuries ago, he remembered—and declared as one would a proclamation of war, "I do not accept your apology." And he did not relent even after she was writhing and crying delectable tears of laughter, pleading for him to stop. It was a rather unorthodox form of torture, but just as fun, and it would suit his purposes…for now.

He only let up when she was too exhausted to fight back, then she turned to him and enunciated weakly, "You—are—terrible. If I had the energy to move, you would be in big trouble, wicked Boy."

"I know." he grinned.

Her head lolled back and she stared up at the opening above. The walls were, of course lined with stone tablets and texts. He distinctly remembered now where he had learned to read. He had never seen a book before he met Cassia. Little memories like this kept lighting up in his mind, and explained much. He wondered if his maker would not have taken notice of him were it not for the things Cassia had taught him. Then again, were that the case, he would likely have simply been killed instead, like so many others like him… He shook his head of such thoughts, happy for the distraction when the woman beside him spoke again.

"When we head north," she mused, "I had a thought that you might rest here during the day whilst I continue on. We will make it twice as far in half the time than if we traveled solely by night." She grinned at him. "Your 'Ancients' won't expect that, will they?"

"Rest here?" he repeated incredulously, taking in the tapestries on the walls, the furs upon the ground, and the soft bed beneath them. Since when was the last time he had been in a bed with the intention to rest in it? Vampires did not rest in beds. But there were no windows in the chamber, and with the lid of the trunk closed, no sunlight would reach him. In theory, it was the ideal resting place. No one would think to look for a vampire in a trunk. And while the idea of putting more distance between him and the Ancients during the daylight was more than appealing, even brilliant, in principle…was it wise to trust Cassia—a human, no matter what else she was—when he was completely vulnerable? He would be placing his existence in her hands, and even if she meant no true harm…

"Those who hunt you…" he began carefully, "they too walk in the sunlight, do they not?"

"They do…" she tentatively agreed, turning towards him again, and attempting to read his face. He gave her nothing, face sculpted into a mask he had mastered. Somehow, she still pegged him, leaning up on her elbows to scrutinize him, "…You do not trust me, sweet Boy?"

Miraculously, he found that he wanted to. He truly did. But trust was not in his nature. Trust got one killed in this world. "You have already been captured once," he reminded her in the most neutral tone he could manage. "You are vulnerable if I am not with you." Quickly, he came up with the compromise, "I will rest here during the day…but you will stay with me."

She frowned, but reclined again, relenting with a sigh, "Yes, very well. Perhaps I have been overestimating myself a bit as of late…" She turned her head towards him and observed him with new eyes. "Since when have you become the wise one?"

"One must quickly become wise if they wish to survive this long," he pointed out nonchalantly, secretly brimming with pride at her words.

"Do you remember…" she mused, an amused twist to her full lips, "when your younger brother dared you to climb the tallest tree by your house? When he accused you of cowardice for denying his fun, of course, then you had to prove him wrong…" She giggled as his face went slack with the conclusion of the memory, "You fell right into the chicken coop."

"I did do that," he acknowledged with some astonishment, blown away by the sudden clarity of the memory. "You fixed my wrist when I went to visit you…" He frowned in thought. "I was a very foolish human."

"I thought you were wonderful…" she protested quietly, touching a hand to his face briefly before sitting up and walking over to a vast, carved oak cabinet. "But come now. We have much to do before the night is through, no? I did make you many promises…"

Excitement built in his chest again, and he hopped off the bed after her, eager to see what she had for him. She grabbed a satchel and placed it in his hands, opening the double doors of carved cabinet with a cloud of dust. There, lining the shelves were several vials and crystal bottles of various colored fluids. Some glowed, like the small, acid green vial she detailed as an explosive poison. "The gas it emits when the glass is broken is quite lethal—I hear it melts some from the inside out," she giggled like a little girl at some memory. "I'll have to dig up the antidote for you, just in case—ooh," she exclaimed upon finding a set of round boiling flasks filled with a rosy concoction, extremely warm to the touch as she handed them off one by one for him to place in the bag, "these are my favorites. Have you ever seen someone explode before? Make certain you place yourself a good distance away when you toss it—" And so on and so on, his eyes grew wider with each new weapon she placed in his bag, detailing some new horror even he hadn't dreamed up yet.

He couldn't wait to try them out.

"None of these spells are my specialty," she explained in her teacher's voice as she shrugged out of her prison clothes with her back to him—though, considering the former, he was hardly listening, "but with enough skill you can distill certain aspects until they work just as well. I am no pyromancer, but I can certainly make one run away screaming for mercy…"

He watched with quiet fascination as she dressed in a knee-length, forest-green split tunic and dark leathers. It was not often he admired the body of a mature woman, as his choice of prey usually ran much younger… Still, it made his gums ache with want, and he knew he would need to feed soon. He pondered at the convenience constantly having a human around would offer. Though hunting was his favorite thing to do, having a healthy, seemingly immortal human always available to feed from could definitely be helpful in a pinch… He wondered if she might even let him—submit to him without a fight. Something about it seemed almost taboo in its sinful implications, and terribly alluring because of it.

She glanced at him as she tightly laced up some fine boots, and smiled, completely misinterpreting his interest. "I have no suitable garb for you at the moment. I am no enchanter, but it's possible I might throw something together on the way north when I am at full strength again. Something resistant to silver, perhaps… An intriguing thought," she mused, muttering about certain complicated combinations of enchantments under her breath.

Yes, he decided firmly that finding Cassia again in the capital of the world could be nothing but serendipity. He was not normally one to believe in such fanciful things, but it appeared that even he could be proven wrong. It could not be coincidence that just when he needed someone the most, when he was panicked enough by the wrath of the Ancients to even contemplate procreating out of desperation, the universe simply dropped exactly what he required directly in his figurative lap. No, he was not yet ready to become a maker—the very thought still repulsed him at times—but Cassia…

Cassia, he could work with.

Somewhere Around Midnight

Outside an Abbey in Constantinople

"Shall you cause the distraction, or shall I?"

He tugged the satchel of weapons abruptly from her with an affronted glare that was so blatantly forbidding and possessive that it made Cassia erupt in strangled laughter. She shook her head at him with a grin.

"I suppose that answers that question, then," she giggled.

"Why would you ask that question?" he remarked, still offended that she would even consider it, and continued to needle at her, "Is that why you brought me here? To taunt me?"

Her shoulders still shook with laughter as she pointed out wryly, "Technically, you brought me here…"

"Semantics," he accused her, tugging the bag of weapons farther out of her reach protectively. "I will not hear your wordplay. You are a cruel woman."

"And you are a wicked boy," she returned and quickly pecked his cheek before dropping from the roof, sliding down a colored awning and landing lightly within the shadows of the alley below where he heard her whisper, "I'll be counting on you to prove it…"

That sounded like a challenge.

Once he was certain the witch was out of sight, he extracted one of the rosy flasks from the bag of weapons, considering it first with a gentle toss to get a feel for the weight, then the beautifully crafted stain-glass window of the church across the cobbled street. Anticipation bursting in his chest, he then proceeded to lob the delicate crystal orb at the building with all his strength, seeing it almost blur out of sight with the force of the throw and crash into the window. Upon impact, not only the window, but an entire chunk of the building was singularly blasted out of existence. High pitched screams cut through the quiet of the night almost directly afterwards and more joined into what could almost be a symphony in the chaos that followed.

He hadn't had this much fun in decades—maybe not even ever. It was a whole new brand of warfare. The stupid humans didn't even know how to fight back. (You can't fight what you can't see). He watched as the flesh from an entire frantic crowd of fleeing clergymen melted into a pile of bleached white bones before his very eyes as he casually dropped the glowing green vial Cassia had briefly mentioned as a corrosive poison into their midst. The very ground blackened beneath their gristly remains, and it was here he had to admit that witchcraft was a truly terrifying power. But with that power in his hands…it was intoxicating.

When he finally met up with Cassia in the courtyard as planned (after draining a few nuns amidst the chaos), it appeared he had been having a little too much fun, as she was being surrounded by several members of the abbey's guard. Cursing under his breath, he proceeded to pelt the meager remnants of his diminished arsenal upon the aggressors, retrieving his witch from harm's way in the next instant where they watched from a safe distance as the warriors scurried out of their empty armor in the form of rats.

Cassia was laughing, shaking her head in bemusement. "I wonder at the combination which created that effect—fascinating! I will have to experiment with that later…" Screams were still echoing in the burning night around them, as he was certain that one of said unorthodox combinations had summoned horror terrors to carry on the distraction in his absence. He didn't know where they were now, and didn't quite care as the sorceress was beaming at him with bright eyes. "You are a marvel."

"Was there ever any doubt of that?" he challenged her with a smirk.

The excitement of the chaos had her eyes dancing and her blood-curls whipping around her, turning her beauty into something primal and feral that appealed to him on a visceral level. Her hand darted forward, snatching up his own and she tugged him after her towards a barred door. "Come, wicked Boy. Timing is of the essence."

The dank dungeons beneath the abbey stunk of excrement and decay he noted after kicking the barred door in. He stuck close to Cassia and tried to drown out the unpleasantness with her spicy scent which he now recognized as something like cinnamon—and something else he could only describe as magic. Always the magic. If he focused he could almost feel it pulsing through her like her blood, just waiting to burst out so he might taste it. But then more guards assaulted them, interrupting his perusal of the attractive vein in her neck.

He dispatched with them quickly, tearing off heads as easily as he used to when his human mother told him to behead a chicken for supper in his living-youth. Their suits of armor were like foil to him, ripping and denting, and renting the vulnerable insides, turned against those it was made to protect. Those in the cells screamed in horror at the blood spilt by what appeared to be nothing more than a young boy—however it soon became clear to them he was anything but. The captive audience was an interesting change for once, he remarked to himself, and thought it a shame he couldn't have one more often. Perhaps he would from then on, he considered, licking the blood from his hands idly.

"Cassia!?" a voice from behind the bars suddenly cried out. "Cassia! Sister?! Is that you?"

"Sister Cassia!" another similar voice called with evident relief.

Both their heads darted towards the sound of the witch's name, but then Cassia darted over, exclaiming, "Arcadia? Calista?!" She reached through the bars to grasp the hands of two, identical women in rags. Underneath the filth of the dungeon, he could see they both held a certain resemblance to his witch… "What are you both doing here?! I thought you both to be settled in the Black Forest by now!"

"We were," began one, "Father sent us on our way, but—"

"—Mother was displeased…" finished the other.

"Templars," explained Twin One with disgust.

"She's working with Templars!" Twin Two echoed in disbelief, and moved her face closer to the bars to whisper, "And now, vampires!" They both backed away when he stepped up beside the elder witch, deciding then was a good time to assert his presence.

Upon seeing Cassia's beguiling ease with said presence, they both simultaneously exclaimed in betrayal, "Not you too!"

And then they both broke off into tangents, screeching at both them, and each other, finishing each other's sentences all the while—it was almost creepy. He looked at Cassia at a loss and she let out a long, put upon sigh in response to his wordless question, shaking her head. She let them argue and screech for only a moment more before bursting out in a deeply commanding tone, "SILENCE! Useless sacks of lubberwort—the both of you! Enough of your sniveling! I have had it with your constant use of incessant noise this night!"

They both shrunk back and fell deathly silent in the face of the elder sister's anger—that was, until Twin One burst out in tears, blubbering out apologies. Twin Two wrapped her arm around her sister consolingly and begged Cassia, "Please don't kill us, Sister! We didn't mean to upset Mother—we will do anything you ask of us from now on—please—"

"I have no intention of killing either of you!" Cassia shouted, half in exasperation and half in horror. "I was not even aware you were here! My boy and I came only to retrieve my belongings—not to murder my siblings!"

Both the twins eyed he and the elder witch skeptically on the edge of hysteria. Then Twin Two exclaimed dumbly, "This is your vampire?"

"She is my human," he corrected stiffly, and eyed Cassia with an arched brow. "Your siblings are annoying…"

"I know…" she sighed, raking a hand through her hair as one does when they sense the onset of a headache. She sent him a pleading look next. "Sweet Boy, would it trouble you too much to…"

He had the grate up and off its hinges before she could finish her sentence. The twins, who had shrunk back at his approach, then dashed to their elder sister and proceeded to embrace her simultaneously with cries of gratitude, but it did not escape his notice that they strategically placed Cassia between themselves and him in doing so. It made him want to laugh at their antics, despite himself. Witches were funny.

But Cassia had decidedly had enough of the two of them, prying them both off of her and rounding on them both sternly. "Enough. Now, what is this you say about Mother and vampires?"

In absence of one to embrace, the twins held on to each other as one trembled out in a whisper, "Th-there is a group—"

"—Mother is working with a group calling themselves—"

"—The Ancients," Godric finished for them grimly. "Unless I miss my guess."

Both girls stared at him wordlessly and nodded.

Godric exchanged a meaningful glance with Cassia. It appeared the fun was now decidedly over. "We need to leave. Now."

"Agreed…" she nodded, and turned to her sisters. "Keep up now. We are to retrieve our belongings and flee this place."

"But…Sister—" Twin One trembled out.

"—what about the others?" Twin Two gestured at the other trembling prisoners in the cells.

Cassia hesitated rigidly, but steeled her face into a cruel mask of indifference. "…It is too late for them now. Be thankful we stopped to spare you from their fate."

For a moment, it looked like they might protest, but one look at Cassia's resolve, and another fleeting one at him had them relenting. "Yes, Sister…" they murmured together, falling in line behind them as they marched down the cellblock.

"Do you know which chamber they keep the effects in?" she barked back at them harshly. "I was unconscious when they brought me in."

"How did you escape?" Twin Two enquired incredulously.

Cassia looked annoyed at the skirting of her question, but answered graciously, sparing him a soft look, "My boy found me…" Then her eyes turned sharp again and she ordered, "Focus, Calista. Where are our belongings being held?"

Twin Two, or Calista, he supposed she was called—the more sensible of the two in his opinion—lifted her nose to the air and gave a sharp sniff, nostrils flaring like a dog. Letting go of her weepy sister, she darted ahead, calling, "This way! It's this way! Follow me!"

"Calista is a shape-shifter," Cassia explained to him as they pursued her. "Not a natural one, but close enough. It's a useful talent."

"Like when you transform into a bird?" he asked her, suddenly remembering a large raven that used to watch over him when he was a child.

"Yes," she smiled. "But I'm nowhere near as talented as little Calista in that art. I can only assume one shape. She can assume any shape she wants at the height of her power, and even retains some of their talents in her human form. Ergo the enhanced sense of smell…" she tapped her nose.

"She likes to be a bear," sniffed the tiny Arcadia, and jumped when he scrutinized her.

"What can you do?" he asked, eyeing the little witch dubiously.

"I-I-I—" she stumbled over he words, looking horrified to be speaking to him, and looked to Cassia as if to ask if it were even allowed. Looking close to rolling her eyes, Cassia only arched a brow at her tiny sister, and gestured as if to say 'go on then.' Taking a deep breath, she breathed, "I can see ghosts."

"That is all?" he goaded her, very underwhelmed after what he'd come to know of magic.

"No," she huffed, affronted. "Sometimes they talk. And sometimes, if I ask nicely, they do things for me."

"Such as?" he taunted her wryly, finding antagonizing the youngest witch to be highly entertaining. Cassia gave him a chiding look, but made no move to stop it. In fact, her lips gave the slightest twitch of amusement.

"They warn me of danger," she growled at him.

"Oh, I see. How useful that must be for you in situations like this." He spun theatrically, gesturing at their dismal surroundings widely with his arms. The fact that she would not be here if her imaginary friends truly watched her back went without saying.

Arcadia balled her fists and mumbled at her older sister, "I don't like your vampire. He is mean…"

"I could show you mean, if you like," he zoomed close and whispered it like a promise in her ear, making her jump and put Cassia back between them.

"N-no! I m-m-mean," she squeaked, hiding behind the older witch, face blushing wildly, "perha-ha-haps another time…"

"Focus, Arcadia," Cassia repeated what she had said to the elder twin, and he noticed she had the same meditative and calming tone she used whenever she wanted to teach him something. "Listen… What are the spirits telling you now?"

The girl closed her eyes tightly, and took in a deep shuddery breath of the cold, dank air. He could even see her breath start to become visible, and it appeared the temperature had dropped several degrees in a very quick and sudden way. He felt a sliver of unease worm its way through him as he knew that now was the middle of summer time; even as he hid below ground and in caves during the day, it still did not become as frigid as it was down in the dungeon this night. And though the temperature did not bother him, he felt strange, and almost violated as if invisible hands were stroking his skin. When he felt his hair start to stand on end, he finally admitted to himself that maybe there was something to the youngest witch after all.

She shuddered again and breathed in a voice that was not her own, "Something…something is…coming…" Her eyes shot open as a high pitched scream could be heard deeper in the dungeon, making them all freeze up. Arcadia dashed ahead, crying out for her sister, "Cali!" He and Cassia followed not far behind, sprinting after the girl passed cells of prisoners, reaching out for them as they passed.

They all halted before a chamber with the door flung wide open. Before them, tiny Calista was held brutally choking by her neck in the long fingered hand of a tall, pallid stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger to Godric, however unfortunate the fact was to admit… His pitch black hair was pushed back from his thin, gaunt, chalk-white face and hung to his shoulders in pin straight locks, his thick roman nose a cruel hook between two black, hawkish eyes—like two lumps of oh-so-unfeeling coal.

"Vicinius…" he snarled through a clenched jaw, fangs automatically dropping in the presence of the enemy vampire, his entire body tensed to spring into action at a moment's notice. One wrong move from any in his proximity and he was not sure what his actions might be. As it was, everyone—barring the clawing and scratching Calista—was as still as statues.

Vicinius turned his head slowly, as if bored. Although the raise of his eyebrows indicated surprise when those lumps of coal landed upon him. "Ah, Godric. I was not expecting you of all people to stumble so conveniently into my realm. You are quite the slippery fox since the destruction of dear Appius, I will admit…" He returned his languid gaze to the struggling witch. "Is this your human…?" Godric tensed further and growled threateningly, to which the Ancient paid no visible reaction to. Instead, he just continued talking in that deceptively pleasant tone. "You know, you really should not let them wander so freely. You never know when something might…" here there was an audible crack, and Calista's struggles ceased, her body slack and ominously limp, "…snuff them out." Vicinius then dropped the girl unceremoniously to the chamber floor and the body landed in a crumpled pile with a final sounding thud of tangled limbs falling around her.

A chilling, unearthly scream clawed its way up Arcadia's throat.

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