AN: October 12, 2020, was when this story stopped, and then a single solitary update on September 14, 2021. My, how time has passed. I was in school for three full years while this story was dead. But, it's not fully dead yet, some small ember of life still smolders.
If you notice any continuity errors please bring them to my attention, it has been three years since I worked on this.
Chapter
The Kármán line. Sixty-two miles above sea level. Three hundred thirty thousand feet. One hundred thousand five hundred and eighty-four meters. This was where Alexandria hung suspended, held aloft by her will and power alone. She lingered there a moment, at the very edge of Earth and the harsh barren expanse of space.
Alexandria waited, watching the dusty ash of the vampire float a moment, consigned to orbit. The fine powder still burned, almost invisible to the naked eye, immolating under the weight of the undimmed ultraviolet light of the sun, unhindered by the ozone layer or any atmospheric molecules.
There were many legends and popular culture depictions of vampires that she now needed to examine in greater detail, perhaps at a later time when she could sit down and peruse at her leisure. Otherwise, she would have to rely on the knowledge she had already gained.
There were more than just the bat creatures she had encountered in the Nevernever. This was a corpse and fit with more of what she expected from a vampire. At least a portion of the folklore was true here, the vampire was burned by the sun. The Russians contained it with a holy brazier. There were other weaknesses attributed to vampires, such as an obsessive-compulsive need to count and a lack of ability to cross over running water. At the moment, she was incapable of testing either weakness to her liking.
Still, vampires had more tangible weaknesses, at least in Bram Stoker's Dracula. Namely, ever-expedient decapitation accompanied by a stake through the heart. Not unlike the protocol to deal with particularly irritating regenerating brutes. The dual combo attack to the heart and head was, to put it simply just extending the notion of double-tapping a target to cape combat.
Here, Alexandria supposed it was possible that the vampire could reconstitute itself from the floating ash, but she rather doubted such a feat would be possible unless vampires here regenerated at the same rate as the Slaughterhouse member Crawler, which based on her initial observations was not probable. Either way, Alexandria carefully scrutinized the slowly burning ash for a moment more. The rate of deflagration meant that if she waited for it to completely disappear she would have to remain for six more seconds until it the molecules would be completely invisible even to her eyes. It would have to suffice for now.
Instead, she lingered, already oriented toward Russia far below for the requisite six seconds, sparing just a moment to enjoy the light and the view. It was a welcomer respite, which she gladly took, for such changes of pace were rarely afforded. This was a new world, at least it appeared to be so. A world embroiled by danger of a different make and matter than Earth Bet, but more peaceful. If she had been on Earth Bet she would've been able to see the edges of Sleeper's domain.
With a flicker of thought Alexandria descended sixty-two miles, traveling just slow enough that her clothes did not ignite. The wind whistled around her, and if she was not a cape she knew she would have felt the bone-chill of the wind and atmosphere. Instead, she felt nothing. Inviolate to the embrace of cold and warmth alike. She could feel the wind, and she could feel it was cold, but she did not feel the chill, she did not feel the need to cover herself in layers or shiver. It was merely an extra sense, it produced no effect on her body. But such was her duty and held no true resentment, just newly found purpose.
Within scant moments the barren forest of northern Russia gave way squalid-looking fortress of Novodvinskaya returned to sight. Nothing had changed since she last set her eye upon it. Still grassy cobblestone, white stone, and a crushed metal gate. Not bothering to set her feet to the cobblestone-like before Alexandria simply floated straight into the main building.
The soldiers within seemed almost frozen, still standing in the circle of light cast by their slowly smoldering brazier. Alexandria floated closer, her feet not touching the ground, wisps of smoke danced around the yellow cracked walls of the room. The shadows on the walls no longer twisted and twined, instead, they were now but normal shadows, reflecting the soldiers, or at least that was the reality that was presented before Alexandria.
The officer who had offered her the moniker of Irina, which was obviously an alias, looked quite ashen. That was not to say the soldiers under her command did not look similarly ashen, but it stood out to Alexandria's eye because she had at least tried to maintain a thin veneer of imperturbability when they interacted before.
"The vampire?" Irina asked in Russian, her tone so very polite and inquisitive. As if to say, 'I know you dealt with it, and I have full faith in your ability, but I'm asking all the same because I want to be polite.' A carefully affected tone, one meant to inquire without casting doubt that it was dealt with, when it was quite obvious that she genuinely wanted to know.
"The vampire," Alexandria noted blandly, "Is sixty-two miles above us, in low-Earth orbit. Shall I fetch her ashes for you?"
Irina swallowed once, opened her mouth, made a little noise which was an attempt at speech, and then she stuttered out, "No, great lady Alexandria, that will not be necessary."
Alexandria turned back toward the room. Now that the shadows had given way, the writing on the wall was plain to see. Sigils of protection, written in countless languages crossed over each other, phrases in one tongue shifting seamlessly on the wall into other languages, woven together like the greatest historical graffiti the world had ever seen. There was the Hebrew, the elder Futhark, and the Egyptian hieroglyphs she had seen before, but now there were languages that Alexandria had never seen, reminiscent of the Dispilio tablet's neolithic script. Those were some of the oldest, yet still etched more recently than the Neolithic. After all the building itself had only been constructed in 1701, and back then it was cutting-edge architecture. The wall, Alexandria supposed, looked like it was maybe made in the mid-1800s.
Even more importantly a door had been revealed in the middle of the wall, descending into shadow. The light of the brazier did not reach down the newly revealed stairs, which were made of unblemished white marble. The steps themselves were weathered by the passage of many steps, a sight that reminded Alexandria of the streets of old cities, like Rome, where the tread of many feet had dug grooves into the sheer stone. This was a path traveled often. How interesting, Alexandria mused. The grass outside and beleaguered cobblestone looked relatively undisturbed.
"Now," Alexandria commanded in Russian, still using the polished Moscovite Russian of a Moscow socialite, as she turned back toward the soldiers, "Tell me, what do you think you know?"
Irina licked her lips, a nervous gesture, before she spoke quietly, "I know there is a war. A shadow war, not unlike the war between the… Soviets and Americans, between the Red Court and the old Imperial Mages. Colonel Sokolov knew more…"
Irina's blue eyes darted around the room, lingering on the bodies.
"Sokolov," Alexandria stated, and the single word was a demand in itself, tell me more about Sokolov.
"Sokolov expired, not even three days ago, he stepped off his balcony and fell to his death. President Yeltsin has yet to appoint anyone to his position, as far as I know, and I am just a low-level liaison, he was waiting on the direction of Simon Pietrovich."
Ah yes, Alexandria was familiar enough with Russian politics. Defenestration could almost be considered retirement with honors. It did not bear much comment, beyond the fact that Sokolov had apparently died right before the White Council was attacked. A coincidence? Perhaps. But more likely it was enemy action. The coincidence was too brazen, too coincidental. Alexandria took a closer look at Irina, at the way her faith was still filled with youth. Disposable or malleable.
Now, Alexandria had a fortress prison full of vampires to purge. Red Court and these new corpse-vampires.
Alexandria stepped forward onto thin air. Inwardly, she debated how much to share of the very limited briefing that the White Council had deigned to share with her. She was still flying into this mostly blind. She doubted Pietrovich was below, but the fact, the possibility, remained. All she had to conduct this investigation was the fact that the amulet Baines, who had worked under Pietrovich, was tainted by the magic of Summer. The same Summer which was obviously the counterpart to the Winter Court she had already dealt with in the adjacent world.
"Adequate. I will handle this," Alexandria noted, refraining from further disclosure. Frankly, she doubted they needed to know. They were normal humans.
For a split second, she stopped at the top of the stairs, peering down into the murky blackness. Her eyes, despite their visual acuity were but human, limited to the visual spectrum of humanity. Briefly, she considered, that if she asked for a flashlight Irina and the soldiers would give one to her, probably without question. She could see the fear and trepidation in their eyes and pretended to ignore the whispered words of fear on their breath. Then again, there was perhaps a better source of light.
She rotated in place. Each brazier was about two feet across and made of bronze, the edges of the bronze glowing a cheery red and radiating heat. Their edges were etched with crosses, with four faces, each with a halo artfully done in golden rays. Sadly, Alexandria could not discern who the figures once were, such was the almost melted appearance. Alexandria's fingers closed around the edge of one of the braziers. The left-most one which the soldiers were not clutching to, she reached her other hand down and clutched a burning wooden log in her hand, tongues of fire racing up her hand, licking at the fabric of her overcoat.
Irina raised a hand, a cry of caution dying on her lips. She gaped for a second. Alexandria sighed, holding the log, which she could just fit her fingers around in her hand. It might work fine for illumination, and at the very least it would provide enough light for her own prodigious vision to work just fine.
"It might be wise," Alexandria said, nonchalantly, like she was discussing the weather and not holding a burning brand of wood in her hand, "To depart this place and consider it lost."
Irina nodded jerkily, looking for all the world like a baby bird as she bobbed her blonde head quickly. Alexandria could see that she couldn't quite decide where Alexandria fit inside her inner mental paradigm and Alexandria was just fine with such a position.
That being said, she released her grip on the brazier.
More bodies of vampires, withered, and burned revealed herself to her eyes as she descended. Parts of the walls seemed as if they had become part of a pyroclastic flow. Faint electric lights glimmered here and there. Rooms opened up to both sides, spartan looking and egalitarian. The mess of bodies continued, littering the steps. A body, human, clad in a grey cloak lay off to the side. Her face was shrunken, almost mummified in appearance. An enormous soot mark covered the wall in front of the body. Her clothes were rent and splatters of dark black blood covered the other side of the wall from where the body sat. Alexandria eyed the body, noting the way the head lolled to the side, and her throat was entirely torn open. Unfortunate.
She could hear the scrape of clawed talons against the pure marble stone floor. She could hear the rustle of fur and she could almost feel a growing sense of malignancy, trying to reach out to her mind. Trying to obscure, her mind twitched, Alexandria's eyes seeing two images at once. One she knew to be there since she could see it plain as day, the other her mind tried to whisper was also true, but Alexandria discarded the second, seeing the falsehood inherent. It was an illusion, but not physical, it wasn't an illusion of bent light, which might fool even her eyes, but instead an illusion of sight in the metaphysical sense. Alexandria ignored it.
She inhaled, as the shadows of her torch danced over the first hall revealed to her eyes. Here there were rich tapestries done in red and gold, in a style that was perhaps favored in the late Appanage period of Russia, if she was not mistaken. The iconography of Moscow repeated again and again, the emblem of Saint George unmistakable in the gloom.
Something scraped behind her and Alexandria stilled, the faintest of smiles dancing across her lips. She could hear the scrape of talons against stone. A step closer. She was prey, she supposed. Just a lonely explorer, investigator. Here, surrounded by vampires. She stood, a silent specter for a long moment before she spun in place.
A flash of brown fur, a gaping mouth filled with fangs, and spittle, malformed wings spread alongside gangly arms. A pelt of what almost looked like jaguar fur was wrapped around its waist as a loincloth, which it sorely needed, but Alexandria was above caring.
Instead, Alexandria backhanded the vampire away, its body positively rupturing from the force on impact. Its head popped off, splattering against the wall behind it, shards of brain and blood painting the wall in a macabre mural.
Another leaped at her, and she pivoted, hearing the scratch of its talons on the stone again. All she had to do was move her legs in the easiest of martial moves, a basic sweep. A sweep that shattered both of the vampire's legs at the knees. It let out a keening wail, clawed talons scrabbling at her. Its dark bulbous eyes stared up at her.
Alexandria grasped its head in her free hand, around the vampire's skull.
"Where is Simon Pietrovich? Where did he go?" She asked, staring into the vampire's eyes. Its talons stabbed toward her eye, ready to rend and gouge. Alexandria did not move a single inch, she did not start or flinch. It had seen her visage and assumed the weakness she displayed. After all, if one eye was wounded why couldn't the second be similarly marred?
Instead, its fingers broke, its talons shattering from the force of its own strike. Alexandria closed her hand like she was crumpling paper between her fingers and dropped the corpse of the vampire a moment later.
She raised an eyebrow to the darkness, as if to ask, well, was that all?
"This place is ours. This country is ours. Depart, we have no quarrel with you," A voice spoke from the still silence, from the darkness. The words were said not in English or Spanish, but in a Mayan dialect. Not any that she was familiar with, but instead the non-pulmonic intonation was exemplified until it seemed almost inhuman, incapable of being spoken from human lips.
Alexandria hesitated for a split second, her mind already working on how to move her own lips and mouth, just-so, to achieve the same effect, before concluding that she could not make that leap. Instead, she shifted to the Mayan tongue she did know, Yucatec Maya, the partially non-pulmonic words easily spilling forth from her lips, "I don't think you understand. I already asked once."
"No," the voice from the shadows spoke, seeming to gain volume and presence, "I know of you, Alexandria."
The way he said her name almost felt like it was something. Like a chill should run down her back, like a shadow over her grave. Alexandria's finger twitched, voluntarily curled slightly tighter around the piece of wooden torch in her hand. The brand cast the shadows behind the figure in long relief, other spindly limbed vampires seeming to emerge from the stone, almost as if they had been encased inside. Or hidden through illusion, Alexandria admitted to herself.
A man stepped forward, not a vampire. His features looked distinctively Iberian, unlike the meso and central American complexion of the Red Court vampires in the Nevernever. His eyes were black onyx.
He smiled. His eyes seemed to drink in the light.
"You face a Lord, swollen godling. I shall drink my fill, add your strength to mine, like the countless magus scions before you."
So be it.