Twenty-Seven
When Celsia Verain had warned of how hard it was to get invited to Mezereon's market she was understating the truth.
Blaise Harman had endured days and hours of questions and drunken People invading her personal space, she was trying to keep her composure in the dim little party being thrown beneath the foundations of a Night owned restaurant.
It had taken weeks to find the little rave and even at the door, the men posted to guard the entrance had almost refused them.
She was frightened at first that she would be recognised but no one seemed to care that a Harman had descended the stone stairs and into the din of the stinking celebration in the arms of a vampire notorious for her affiliation to the Night Lord Cebren.
"What are we celebrating?" She had stopped asked one witch who had stopped twirling for a moment to swig a champagne flute of hibiscus and blood tinged champagne.
"We are celebrating our allegiance, sister." The girl replied breathlessly.
The girl seemed drugged, her pupils dilated and pulse racing. "I am Panthea."
"Blaise Ha-"
The girl put a thick finger to her lips. "We have no clans here, sister, we are all of one House."
"Is that right?"
"Won't you join the dance, Blaise?"
Hands reached for her, sliding over her hips and thighs and she danced with them because it would look unfriendly if she did not. She had her teeth grit through it all, she felt as if each and every person were possessed of some madness.
She searched the room trying to catch the eye of Celsia who moved like a sylph through the outer darkness.
Blaise was trapped between a mass of grinding flesh, the magic in the air was potent, it was telling her to surrender her limbs to the tribal rhythm, to truly give in to the belief that they were one People of one House and one flesh.
She closed her eyes for an instant and saw how easy it was to forget the outside world but she was a powerful witch, her lineage could be traced the Queen of witches, Hecate herself who ascended to the plane of the gods. She would not be thwarted by any spell.
"You're enjoying this." Verain whispered suddenly by her ear and she found they were dancing together and may have been for some time.
"Can we go?" Blaise asked, hand grasping the vampire's cold fingers. "We should go."
"Not until we've come here to do what we need to do." Verain whispered softly her eyes raising to the far side of the room. "There, in the shadows. No, don't look so obvious. That is our ticket in but you'll have to play along. Can you do that, witch?"
Blaise saw from the periphery of her vision, in the inky shadows beneath an awning, sprawled on a couch a corpulent man was reclined with a glass of blood clutched in one hand and a woman held in the other. He was too old to be vampire and yet twin fangs glinted as the lights touched his face for an instant.
Yes he's old, but no not vampire. A skin walker through and through, he is one of Mezereon's most loyal customers.
"How do you know these things?" Blaise muttered.
We're old friends, Khan and I. And Celsia took hold of Blaise's wrist, grinding the bones lightly and dragged her out of the rabble. "Shall we say hello?"
They came to a stop before the man who was at home in the oily darkness, shapes moved behind and around him, the sound of women's sighs escaped in scant breaths. His eyes were the green of oak leaves flecked with gold and they cut through the din to Celsia and he instantly released the woman he had been holding.
"Sia." His voice came out in a short sharp growl.
Though he was a large man he moved swiftly, throwing the bodies off of him and stood before Celsia until they were hairs breadth apart. The lights played off of his brown skin, and he smelt of something wild and not altogether pleasant.
Celsia smiled, showing fangs, one hand shooting to the thick wealth of Blaise's dark hair and with a little pressure forced the witch to her knees. "It's a pleasure to see you again." He said, the strange growl working through his baritone voice.
"Pleasure?" Celsia smiled wider wrenching Blaise's head this way and that. "We will speak of pleasures after."
His eyes strayed down to Blaise who was flushed and in pain, Khan licked his lips and reluctantly turned his attention back to Celsia. "A gift?"
"Perhaps." Celsia smiled and began to gently pat Blaise's head the way one would a cat or dog. Blaise grit her teeth, sick of being used as bait for one Person or other, it licked at her pride and she hoped others would never find out about it.
"It has been a long time and you have not changed a bit. You want something of me, Sia?" He sounded for a frightening instantly utterly furious as if he were ready to go for Celsia's throat but instead he supplicated himself giving a low scraping bow. "I would give you anything."
"I have bought my offering for the feast, Khan." She threw Blaise down until the witch was on all four before him. "All I need is an invitation."
Khan made a disgusted noise in his throat. "I thought your master banned you from such places. I thought the House of Cheber had not dealings with the dens. "
"What my master doesn't know won't kill him."
There was a terrifying look in the skin walker's eyes as he cast them down to Blaise, a thread of sympathy perhaps moving in the dark forest of his gaze. "Don't be so sure." He murmured.
*
Beneath the veils of Mezereon's spells and in the warrens of his chosen, Saben was curled on her cot, her stomach cramping hard from the bad blood still working steady in her veins. She couldn't have said how she had got to her bunk or for how long she had been lying there.
There was a soft knock at the door but she was deaf, consumed by a weakness that seemed to infiltrate her to the bone. Reality was slowly being restored to her through the hurting, the knowledge of why she was here became more solid and her keen hatred for Mezereon strengthened.
Iris slipped into the room in a flash and was beside her in an instant, one small hand stroking damp hair from her head. "A bad one?" She hmmed though offered no real sympathy. "Should have known the skinny wretch was bad, not even a full blood witch, almost all human."
Saben began to shiver, her teeth chattering.
"We can't let the Master find out." Iris said.
"The Master knows everything." Saben said through her teeth, softly, hoping Iris could not hear the loathing in her voice.
"He does but he won't know this." She was utterly convicted and then she tugged hard on a handful of Saben's hair. "You won't say a thing."
"Why are you here, Iris?" Saben asked, taking pains to smooth out her voice, not to draw suspicion nor betray her true thoughts.
"To come check on-"
"No." A short sharp reprimand and then softening her voice. "I mean here."
Iris sighed heavily, knowing the curiosity of all newly formed vampires and she chose to indulge Saben. "It's a story much like your own, I think. I was chosen." Which was all she would disclose.
"How old are you?" Saben asked, though Iris looked young, her eyes spoke of different histories.
"Old?" She asked as if confused by the question.
"Iris." Saben wheezed as a convulsive flash of pain went through her.
"As humans would reckon, three hundred and twenty, I think." Iris said casually.
Iris was born in 1682, even the thought of it made Saben shudder. It seemed so strange to have been removed from life so long ago, to have been human and now be completely of an otherness. Iris had no real experience other than with Mezereon.
"It doesn't make a difference here." Iris said almost cheerfully.
Saben closed her eyes and was consumed by the feeling of being utterly trapped. Iris had been enslaved for three hundred and more years, what hope had Saben of getting Daniel free of Mezereon. What hope was there for any of them unless she killed Mezereon first? The very thought seemed to split the fabric of the room and a breeze hissed through the corridors.
"It's better in here." Iris said in hushed tones.
"What's going to happen to those children?" She asked thinking of the skinny, shivering, pale faces that had stared up at her from between the iron bars.
"You know, don't you?"
"Yes." They would die.
"Has anyone every escaped?"
Iris paused in stroking her hair. "You ask too many questions." But Iris couldn't read minds, it was never her talent.
"Answer this one." She asked with no real authority in her voice, she shivered with sickness and was completely at Iris' mercy as she had been from the first instant they met.
"No. Not alive anyhow." Iris resumed stroking her hair which had gone damp with sick sweat. "I like you Saben, please don't give me a reason not to like you."
"I hope to never do that, Iris." Saben whispered and closed her eyes.
*
Mezereon, the vampire child king sat on his gilded throne, back straight mimicking a princely stature trying to exude casual, comfort, calm but the unmistakable charge of violence was in the air as Abberline, also known as Night Lord Cebren of the House of Cheber, sat beside him.
Abberline was seated on a lower, far less elaborate couch, staring up at Mezereon whose chest and feet were bare and basking in golden light.
They had a deep history, all of it neatly not discussed as they sat before each other. No grudges mentioned though they fuelled the threat between them.
"I want to purchase something of yours." Blunt, to the point. Abberline wanted to play as few games as possible to get out of Mezereon's dens alive.
A breath hissed between Mezereon's sharp teeth.
"Oh I do love it when you talk business, Cebren." Flash of anger through Abberline's eyes at the sound of that name, the name reserved for Council business, dignitaries, a life that he held separate and also a past he didn't kindly remember. "I thought you were too modern to condone the handling of slaves?"
"We are both old men, Mezereon." He said, his voice emotionless and cold careful not to provoke the other vampire.
Mezereon laughed and light dancing about them, Abberline could feel the constriction of the spell that had been cast and it tickled his senses. He fought not to show it, not to bend beneath it but he knew lesser people were snared by the power of it. They all fell into sudden and utter obsession.
"Tell me what is this thing I have that you would come to me in humility to purchase? Is it a nice piece of boy flesh, you're after? Like the old days? Some rare or exotic blood, perhaps?" Mezereon leant forward on the arm of his throne, a copper-blond brow raising.
Abberline's eyes turned to the people lurking in the shadows, Mezereon's fanatics waiting for the chance to protect their master and claim a reward for it.
"You could wait for the auction."
"I heard you have acquired something, a vampire, a girl who sings." He said tone remaining even and calm although he could feel the emotion welling inside at the hint or mention of Saben Mariley Frost.
Mezereon went red in the face, instantly suspicious. "You know of her?"
"Her reputation proceeds her."
Mezereon gave a razor edge smile. "Why that one?"
How dangerous Mezereon could be if he knew the truth. How he would take it out of Saben's hide and destroy Abberline altogether. Abberline forced a smile to his lips, a cold, hungry smile that would have cowed a lesser vampire. "I would like her to sing for me and my House."
Anger, white hot rage flitted across Mezereon's cherubic features like a fierce ugly shadow. "I think you'll find she will only sing when I tell her to sing."
Abberline's eyes flashed, he felt his own share of anger, though his face did not change. To think Mezereon had possessed Saben utterly, having her body and the spell claiming her love, it made him want to shake with fury.
"It's a shame, I don't think she would want to leave me." Mezereon said casually and turned to the shadows. "Bring my little songbird. You'll see."
*
When the two large skin walkers burst into the room, the vampire child Iris gripped Saben Frost's shoulder, digging in sharp nails to make crescent incisions in Saben's skin. "Don't cry." Iris hissed in her ear.
Saben could not stop her uncontrollable shivering and was glad of the hard grips of the two swarthy guards as they held her up and marched her out of the room, her feet dragging on the floor in an effort to keep up.
"Where are you taking me?" She mumbled, trying and failing to match her footsteps to theirs.
"The Master wants you immediately." One of them said softly, dreamily, even large beasts could be brought to heel at the spells Mezereon had laid on his meat dens.
She forced a smile to her lips, pearls of sweat beading on her brow. "I can't wait."
She was taken through the intimate corridor, the dim little passage Mezereon's chosen often used to scuttle to and from his presence. She was instantly suspicious by the lack of sound, the strange stillness and wafting phantoms of incense. The den was lit by a few fragrant torches, the couches and cushions were empty.
The guards released her and she was unsteady on her feet, her body still riddled with weakness and she rocked too and fro.
There was a growl from beneath the breath of one of the skin walkers and his large hands grasped her garment and began to tug. The other seized the hem and ripped the fabric from the bottom. Torn between the two pulling hands, Saben struggled to remain on her feet.
She was nude.
Suffering under Mezereon's spell she would have thought nothing of it but here and now, her head clear and terrified she struggled not to hide her body with hands and arms. Their eyes were not interested in her bare flesh and they pushed her forward into the sight of the gleaming throne and also Abberline seated beside it.
Her heart threatened to beat, false breath stuck in her throat.
She forced herself to remain docile, to keep a smile at the corners of her mouth as she supplicated herself at Mezereon's feet, stumbling towards him shivering at the touch of his cold bare flesh. "What will you have of me, my Master?" Her voice was more breathy than she had intended.
Mezereon laughed and Saben flinched.
She raised her eyes to Mezereon willing him to believe in her adoration, adoration that she didn't feel inside but thinking, perhaps she could convince him with sheer force of will. From the corner of her eye she could see a dark figure shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
She knew who it was with little effort, her soul already seeking accord with him, her whole being trying to toward him for a closer look, to touch, to taste. Abberline. She was confident that she could utterly deceive Mezereon especially if she could managed to convince Abberline.
Mezereon's hand plunged into the sweat tangle of her hair and he pulled her up to his face and she found his milky pale teeth, long and sharp and threateningly close. Her lips trembled an instant before his mouth closed on hers, his tongue sliding between her lips, his hands moving possessively over her body.
She shuddered again, hoping Mezereon would mistake this for desire.
Abberline went as still as a statue, unable to do anything but watch the spectacle. Irresistibly jealous. He could feel the pulse of her being through the link they shared, the poison weakness invaded it, the loathing she felt shimmered through it and he knew her inside and out through the secret whispers their bond entailed.
She was afraid Mezereon would taste the sickblood on her tongue. He eventually released her and she collapsed like lead weight against his legs, rubbing her cheek on the silk of his trousers, her expression remote almost dreamy, lids half closed and a content smile hovering on her swollen mouth as his claiming hand rested on her hair.
"You see, Cebren? All that you see here is mine, it belongs to me, it is beholden to me." The cherubic cheeks flushed with pleasure as a hideous grin broke out on his features. "Who do you belong to?"
Say it.
"You." She replied in a long shuddering breath.
"You can not lie to me, songbird." He cooed to Saben.
"Never, my lord." She murmured.
"Ah do you hear that, Cebren? She calls me her lord."
Abberline's eyes flashed whitehot hatred. Lord. This was a sore spot for Mezereon, having been denied the status of Lord, he had been denied the title by the Council and denied a seat. But Abberline had been chosen and sought after until he finally acceded, this fact stung Mezereon even to this day.
Abberline gave the vaguest nod his eyes on Saben, uncontrollably lured by the sight of her.
"What would please you, master?" Saben asked to turn Mezereon's eyes from Abberline.
"Lord Cebren here has heard of you, my love, a vampire whose voice is like no other. Did you know his mother used to sing? Now that was a woman with many talents." Abberline was steadily simmering, the tips of his fingers digging into the arms of the chair until the leather began to tear and he launched himself to this feet at the last.
Saben knew his mother sang, she was a siren, a creature of an older world who had ruled an isle with a gentle hand and Saben knew all of that had come to ruin. The memory was a barb in Abberline's psyche, she had to closer her eyes as the strength of Abberline's emotion rocked and rippled through her skin.
Mezereon remained seated, calm, dangerously cool, stroking Saben's cheek and the next instant his hand moved to close a hand round her throat. "Why does he want you so?" He whispered in her ear.
She did not answer, though her eyes were on Abberline's face and he could see more white than he ought to and could clearly see she was under no spell. Her fangs sat on her swollen bottom lip, her eyes turned the molten gold of ancient treasures and animal thoughts rolled through her eyes. She could take a bite, it would be so easy, the most natural thing in the world and she would gorge herself on the ichor of a god and take his life.
"Enough games." Abberline said cutting through the tension with a harsh bark, Saben's teeth retracted and her eyes closed the brute thoughts deserting her, her resolve deserting her too. "I want to make a purchase, Mezereon. Either you accept or-"
"Or you'll send your Council to punish me?" He threw Saben to the ground and she landed in a sprawl of limbs, Mezereon was oblivious to how close he had come to danger. He stood, though he wasn't very tall, all the elements imagined and real made him seem larger than he was. "It is an insult to come here into my home and demand anything of me. You chose a long time ago where to put your allegiance, Cebren." Spitting the vampire's name as if it were a curse.
"I didn't know you were bitter, Mezereon." Abberline replied a cruel smile on his lips.
"We were like brothers…once."
Abberline snorted. "We were never that."
"No I was almost your father, eh?"
It seemed the final straw, Abberline swung for the vampire boy, his knuckles connecting with Mezereon's round womanly cheek sending him over the arm of his throne, ripping skins and the wolf scull from its mantle and he was scrambling to his feet on the other side.
"You will regret that, boy." Mezereon hissed.
Saben was still on the floor, content to remain there as the spell squeezed tight around her body, closing in on her throat bidding her to protect Mezereon but she watched helpless as a newborn as the two vampire's grappled.
It seemed at first as if Abberline had the advantage, being physically older, better developed than Mezereon's child body but Mezereon was impossibly quick and vicious. The sound of bones breaking, of skin ripping assailed Saben's ears and she moved sluggishly to stand.
"No." She cried out with a vehemence that brought the two to a standstill.
Mezereon was crouched on one knee, eyes narrowed and ready to lunge at Abberline with teeth bared. Saben went to him, arms reaching, wrapping around his bare chest, pressing her cheek against his hair. "No more, Master, please." She whispered and met Abberline's eyes the electric blue of striking lightning.
She saw blood roll down his temple from a small gash and it commanded her fangs and she was tempted not just by blood but the proximity of Mezereon. She could sink her teeth and seek vengeance through his flesh until he was dead and they were all free, every soul he had sundered from the natural world.
Hurt and anger rippled through the link and Saben clenched her teeth as it hit her in ever expanding waves. Abberline's clear message that she should not take this moment to strike.
Mezereon began to tremble with laughter and Saben released him, collapsing on the floor beside him.
"I will not let this one go. She has special value, don't you remember her, Cebren?" He gripped Saben by the hair once more and threw her forward. "Choose some other child from the auction, any one you wish but you will not get this one. She was one of Lucine's children. This is the one that got away all those years ago. Both of you must learn that nothing escapes me, not now, not ever."