The soothsayers had predicted a full moon. A hunter's moon nonetheless, and the fleeting lunar phase seemed fitting for my race and those we intended to meet. Though its full light might have shown brightly this night, it was hidden away by dark, ominous clouds, leaving the forest behind me practically opaque with shadows.
My predatory eyesight, however, was meant for nights like this. Although dark, the shadows were layered in sharp shades of black and gray, making it easy to see any approaching creature who should stumble upon this accord.
However, this wasn't something I worried about as most creatures instinctively knew to stay away from me and my species.
Indeed, it was eerily quiet for what I could guess was a usually busy forest. During the day, this stretch of sand along the lake would probably be bustling with the sounds of the happy birds around its overhanging trees and the various animals that would use the water for bathing and drinking. Even humans with their boats and fishing poles would most likely come to this spot and their laughter would bounce over the water and reverberate through the trees.
I could only guess this, of course. I have only been here at night.
But the stillness seemed fitting for such a night. No breeze to slap the water to the sand, no hum of late-season insects or nocturnal animals shuffling in the dirt. My hearing was sharp- evolution long ago deeming the ability to hear my quarry was crucial to my survival- and all my heightened senses were needed for this precarious parley.
It was probably cold, as most nights this time of the year were, but I felt little of it under the protection of my long cloak. Contrary to popular belief, my people did feel the fluctuations of temperature- we were just better at ignoring the more basic needs of our bodies than humans.
Although I didn't feel the cold, the dampness from the creeping fog was pulling on my cloak, making it heavy around my shoulders. I usually enjoyed the solitude that the cloak provided, the way the folds of it would keep me detached and hidden away from the light, but tonight it felt more like a noose around my neck.
Discarding the thing was out of the question. Wearing it was a formality that my people took very seriously and the dark blue of the colour displayed my rank amongst the noble families behind me tonight. Only the most honoured and ancient families were allowed to wear the dark colours that resembled the night we lived in. The lighter your cloak, the further you rank from the top shade: black.
Only the king of the vampires could wear that colour: only my father, Trigon.
He stood beside me, stoic and still. His slow breath misting the air was the only indication that he was not a statue but a living, breathing, menacing creature.
Most humans assume things about our race. We are thought to be immortal nightwalkers, blood drinkers, dead souls walking the earth to pillage, murder and maim. Some of these are true, of course. The sunlight will not kill us outright, but it makes us weak. Blood is our main source of sustenance but we need far less of it to survive than humans would ever know. Our bodies are like humans; we breathe, we sleep, we reproduce. Our unique blood, however, makes us regenerate faster and thus our aging process is slower. And while we do rely on human blood, we aren't prone to maiming or murdering. Not except, maybe our own.
If any vampire has vampiric blood on his hands, it's my father.
For over 100 years his powerful fist has tightened over the vampire nobles so that most now live in fear of his wrath. Their fears are not in vain as I have seen his blood lust with my own eyes. He does not take kindly to those who disobey him and I should know as I once had many brothers. Now, I am the sole surviving child of Trigon.
His reputation among the humans is as fearsome as his with the vampires. His legend is the stuff of nightmares that plague even the most hardened of warriors. Although it has been many years since he first earned this reputation, his terror is such that few humans seek him out to punish his past deeds. Their fright, like the vampires, keeps them in line.
Although he has our people under his mighty thumb, and humans only whisper his name, there is one race who refuses to bow to his might.
Our peace with them is volatile, to say the least. In the past, we have fought over territory, gold and human slaves. We both no longer need nor want the humans and both sides have more money than we could possibly use over our long lifetimes, but territory is something we will never agree on.
Territory to hunt, territory to buy or sell. It always comes down to land, doesn't it?
The shaky peace was made well before I was born so I have no memory of the wars that constantly passed between our races. I have read the scriptures and have spoken to those who were there and they all agree that our wars were becoming gruesome and unnecessary. To counteract this, 70 years ago, a pact was made and it has been upheld ever since. To honour this pact, we two tribes meet here, every 10 years. We exchange gifts and pleasantries and debate any disputes we might have had in the last decade. I was a child of but 11 the last time our races met and was not considered the heir so I was not allowed to attend.
My brother had stood in my current place, and when he returned and spoke of our enemies, I listened with curiosity and fascination. These creatures were hunters like us, human-looking like us and held their rank in high importance like us. But we were different in every other way.
My interest in those people had never waned and while I mourned my brother upon his death, I secretly delighted in the fact that I would take his place at the next meeting.
Now, I would give anything not to be standing here.
A scent over the musty, earthy odours of our surroundings tickled my nose and brought me out of my somber thoughts. It was the smell of wet dogs, the smell of nights running through the forest, the smell of sunlight on cotton. Its origin approached- a group of shadows skulking along the sand, haltingly advancing towards our party.
The werewolves had arrived.
With my keen eyes, I counted at least 20 humans walking forward, their feet edging the water. I knew these would be the strongest of the pack, to display their force, and indeed they were tall and muscled. Behind them, in their wolf form, had to be around 30 more pack members.
I could sense my father stiffening beside me. With their wolves, we were greatly outnumbered and I could almost hear my father's brain ticking away, creating battle strategies and marking the land to our advantage.
My first reaction was also to panic. It would never be shown on my face- I was taught from an early age to keep an impassive expression- but I froze at the sight of so many of our enemies before me. Before I made a move, I reached out with my empathic ability to try and gauge the werewolves emotions.
There was anticipation, fear, trepidation and malice but no other heightened emotion that would make me question their intent.
I peeked at my father from under my hood and shook my head when his eye met mine. He understood my meaning and even though it was subtle, his stance was a little less rigid. Although he loathed my ability, thought it made me a weaker vampire, he would happily reap the benefits of my empathy when it suited him.
I made my face become porcelain as the wolf representatives approached. I knew them by reputation only but could automatically see their alpha as he was closely circled by 6 strong men.
Steve Dayton was known to be a hard man who ruled his pack with ruthless authority. His brutality was almost as well known as Trigon's, only instead of killing outright, his subservience was brought on by mental persuasion, manipulation and even mental assault. They said he could talk to members of his pack through their minds and know their secrets. And if anyone betrayed him? Well, let's just say that his lobotomies were performed without a knife.
These were only rumors, of course. Ones that my father has gathered through the years through his own manipulation tactics. However, seeing the harsh lines on Dayton's face and the way his mouth was turned down into a permanent scowl, I couldn't help but wonder if they possessed a ring of truth.
The wary band stopped at an almost perfect six feet away from me and my father and the two men in the front stepped aside to allow their leader to come forward.
With clenched fists and icy eyes, both my father and Dayton gave customary bows.
"Dayton," my father was the first to speak. His voice was low and full of unapologetic loathing. "I am delighted to see you this evening. May I introduce my daughter and heir, Raven." He gestured to me and I dipped my head into my own low bow. The action made me miss Dayton's response but my empathy could pick up on his surprise. No wonder. Women weren't often chosen to be heirs in either of our societies. Lucky me.
I came up and faced him with my leveled stare. Although I was utterly fascinated by this man, by his pack and their lives, I had to remind myself to be the dutiful daughter everyone expected. I was to stand tall, say little and play my part.
"Raven," Dayton said, ducking his chin to his chest in a quick gesture. "I'm overjoyed to meet you." His tone, like my father's, was full of indifference but I detected a hint of questioning in his expression. He didn't know that my brother had been replaced. Interesting.
I gave a nod and demure smile in acknowledgment- keeping my lips closed, my fangs hidden.
"I hear you also have a new alpha-elect, Dayton." My father's deep drawl surprised me and I flashed him a glance at this new information.
Steve Dayton's face flickered with shock for only a second. His usual frown was quick to replace it, but his hard eyes now had a murderous gleam to them. He was probably wondering, as I was, how my father gathered this information. No doubt it was through bribes, subterfuge or just plain murder. Regardless, the alpha couldn't hold back now.
"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "My adopted son, Garfield Logan."
I couldn't help balking in surprise when I heard this name.
The alpha-elect came striding up from behind his father, green hair somehow shining in the darkness, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Tall, strong and confident, he came right up to my father and extended his hand. Such an unconventional gesture left my father seemingly baffled as he stared at the outstretched hand for several seconds.
I watched in utter shock as my father wrinkled his nose and gave the were's hand a weak, fast shake. He quickly pulled away and proceeded to wipe his hand down his cloak, as if he had just touched something vile and wet.
Logan either didn't notice or didn't care as he turned away from my father without a moment's hesitation. Before I could understand where his purposeful strides were taking him, he was before me and I was looking into green, fathomless eyes.
"Raven," he said to me and without meaning to, my breath hitched at my name. He must have noticed this subtle reaction as he curved an eyebrow and the side of his mouth curled.
"It's a pleasure to meet someone as lovely as you," he continued, his hand somehow swooping in and grabbing mine.
Vampire hearts beat very slowly but I could feel the quick drumming of my own against my chest as he raised my knuckles to his lips. When his mouth grazed my fingers a shock as quick as lightning sped through my body, making me shiver in both fear and delight and it took everything in me to keep my face passive and my body taut.
He must have noticed these almost imperceptible reactions as the smirk he wore became a wicked smile. His sharp canine teeth glinted suggestively in the shadows and I had a horrific, aching desire to have it near my neck, nibbling on my ear as he whispered all the terrible things he planned on doing to me.
Shocked at such a primal reaction to him, I attempted to lift my chin to show my superiority and irritation at such unacceptable behaviour. Nose in the air, I looked down on him, certain he would buy the ruse, but the slight raise of his eyebrows and the crinkles of laughter on the side of his eyes told me he wasn't buying anything today.
I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to say something sarcastic but he was already walking away, broad shoulders shaking in quiet laughter.
I stood rooted to the spot- boiling with indignation, embarrassment and admittedly, lust. Just one touch and some idiotic werewolf had the audacity to make my body go hot and fiery. One touch and I was willing to set aside my family and my species for one sordid night in his bed.
Luckily, vampires are not capable of blushing and I was never more thankful for this than I was at that moment.
After this shocking display, the meeting proceeded as normal. Gifts were exchanged, minor disputes were debated and territories were traded like cards. Garfield Logan said little during the exchange, letting Steve and other werewolves to negotiate. I tried to keep my face turned away from him and tried to stop my eye from straying over to his strong, crossed arms or his lean, chiseled chest and impish smirk. Yet despite my attempts to disregard the man, I could feel his green eyes watching me throughout.
After several hours of standing in the sand, both groups said their niceties, their formal words of affirmation to uphold the treaty, and their final farewells. Both knew full well that the majority of the pacts they made this night would soon be broken but for now, the alliance remained.
The pack left with quiet paws on the sand, their human kin just as silent as they walked away from the lake.
I walked next to my father into the woods, lesser vampires trailing behind us, making their portals back to their mansions and castles. Trigon the Terrible will call on them another night but until then, the last hours of the dark morning were theirs.
I waited in silence for the last vampires to leave as I knew Trigon would not speak until he was certain that we were alone.
"Interesting," was all he said as the final whispers of the portals closed.
I pulled my hood down, and my dark hair spilled over my shoulders. "Did you get all you hoped for, father?" I asked with what I hoped sounded like curiosity. I cared little for the deals the man made but my role as heir forced me to ask such questions.
He nodded slowly in thought. "Not as much as I would have liked. Dayton is no fool, unfortunately." He didn't try to hide the disrespect he had for the werewolf and yet I couldn't help but think how similar the two leaders were. Both were cruel and hard-hearted but businessmen right down to their core and if they were not sworn enemies, perhaps they could have been if not friends, then allies.
"It's his son, Garfield, that I'm interested in," he continued, his mighty hand stroking his bearded jaw. "He seems to have little respect for rules and ceremony. We may need to watch out for him."
I kept my mouth in a thin, tight line.
"What do you think, daughter?" he asked, dark eyes burrowing into me.
"He's a mutt," I said, with no hesitation.
Trigon chuckled lowly. "Indeed, daughter."
"We won't have to worry about him for long. How long did Dayton's last alpha-elect live? Two years? Garfield Logan will not live long enough to be named Alpha of the pack." I spoke with an unmistakable power behind my words. It was the only language Trigon understood and I have learned to speak it well.
Trigon smiled one of his cruel smiles and nodded his head as he looked at me. "Indeed, daughter. Indeed."
I took in his wrathful gaze with an obedience that I loathed but I knew I had little choice in the matter. So, I stood in the mud and dead leaves and tried not to quake. I was his only child, yes, but I knew that he would be leaving these woods to take a reluctant lover and make more brothers for me: Replacements should I fall out of line. My time, like I suspected Garfield Logan's was, was borrowed.
Seemingly satisfied, Trigon gave a huff of farewell before opening a portal and stepping through. As the dark crevice closed I could hear his perverted laughter and the screams of women. I winced at the thought of what those women would be subjected to tonight and could only pray they would not suffer the same fate as my mother.
I turned back to the lake, eager to take what little left of the night I could.
With each quick step that took me closer to the shore, I felt lighter; freer. Tonight was a night I had longed for as a child but came to dread as an adult. But it was over and I will not have to think of it again for a decade and I revelled in the knowledge.
I breathed in the night air and delighted in the rich aromas I found. I clung onto a particular one and my feet went faster as its scent became stronger.
I heard the splashes of water before I edged the shore and sure enough, he was skipping stones by the water's edge.
I took a second to admire the curves in his back, the way his fingers handled the rock and a shiver of pleasure ran through me.
Quickly, before he noticed me, I put my hood back up and tucked back my hair. I knew my eyes were the only thing he could see behind the shadows of my cloak so I didn't have to hide the predatory grin I had on my face.
Two steps out of the woods and onto the shore and despite my silent footfalls, I could see his back stiffen once he sensed my presence.
"Vampire," he whispered. The sound seemed to be absorbed into the blackness of the night.
"Wolf," I said and raised my pointed chin. Unlike his muted words, my voice almost bounced off the still waters.
I watched him as he slowly turned his lithe body toward me.
We stared at each other for countable seconds, his hard, green eyes giving nothing away.
Finally, that damned lip curled up and that ridiculous twinkle came back to his eyes. "Couldn't get enough of me, could you, Raven?"
My only answer was to race over the sand and throw myself into his arms. He swept me up as if I weighed no more than paper and put his hot lips against my own. I moaned into his mouth as the ecstasy of his touch rang through me. It was hot yet cold, pleasure yet pain, the lightness and the dark all rolled into a sweet, fulfilling comfort that I wanted to bathe in.
He chuckled at my reaction and it brought me to my senses and I pulled away from his lips.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I breathed into his neck, kissing along the way. He was doing the same to mine and I had to remind myself to stay focused on my question and not fall deep into his spell.
"I'm sorry," he said, never breaking from his kisses. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over all over my collarbone, my clavicle and my shoulder.
Reluctantly, I pushed his chest away from mine and met his eyes.
"You lied," I said, my voice breaking.
Works of fiction say that vampires cry tears of blood but this is simply not true. We have little reason to cry and our society is built on the lie that crying is a weakness. I have never, in all my 21 years as a vampire have never seen a vampire cry nor have I done the act myself. Yet standing here, in front of the man I loved, I wanted to fill up my eyes with salty tears and watch them roll down to the ground.
"No Rae, no," he said. He looked aghast and I knew he was angry with himself for misleading me. He lovingly put his hands around my face and brought his forehead to my own. "I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid that if you knew, you'd leave me and I couldn't have that, Rae. I couldn't have that."
I looked into his eyes and it reminded me of the day we met. I'll never forget the hasty, mumbled jokes he made to get me to talk to him and although I scoffed at them at first, his charisma and enthusiasm for life endeared me to him. I quickly felt a pull to him, and him to me.
Knowing I wouldn't stay mad for long, I gave him a kiss on his beautifully sculpted lips. "Please don't ever do that again," I whispered into his ear.
"Not tell you I'm the alpha-elect? Ya, I think we are good, Rae." He playfully nibbled at me and a very un-vampiric giggle escaped my lips.
He flushed with happiness at the sound and buried his hands into my hair as he kissed me with his dizzyingly hypnotic lips. I wanted to go under and succumb to his enchantment but a question had been plaguing my mind for hours now and I took a small step away.
"Gar? How have we remained a secret?" I asked as his fingers made circles on my breastbone. He knew without asking that I meant Steve Dayton and his uncanny ability to read minds.
Gar nodded, fully expecting this question. "It is Rita, my adopted mother. Steve's…mate." He hesitated on the last word. It was a word he didn't often say and I have some suspicions about that. But some things are best left unspoken. For now.
"Rita has forbidden Steve to look into my mind- being his kid and all," he continued, both of us ignoring the heat on his cheeks. "I'm the only one safe from his mind tricks and yet the only one with a secret so big that it could tear apart our way of life," he grinned. "Poetic, isn't it?"
I gave him a look. This was a topic we did speak of often and he already knew my thoughts.
"We aren't going to end up like that, Rae. We'll figure things out." He was now twirling my long hair around his thick fingers and giving me a smile that would usually have me melting into him.
But tonight was a rude awakening and our future- our happiness- while always questionable, now seemed utterly impossible.
"How? Not only are we sworn enemies, but we are both heirs to our factions. Those are lonely thrones to sit on, Garfield."
I looked into his eyes and saw his sorrowful agreement.
"Let's not talk about that now, Raven." He clasped my hands and held them to his chest. "We have two hours before dawn," he said, looking at the sky over the lake. "Let's forget about the future for two hours."
As he said this, a breeze lazily pushed his curls away from his face. I glanced over the water and was surprised to see that the clouds had parted and the full, orange moon was shining over the surface of the lake, making the warm, apricot light reflect on the ripples.
"Stay with me until dawn," he whispered and I couldn't help but smile at the picture he was painting for me as he kissed my ear.
Behind me, I heard the hoot of an owl and the return of the deer and fox as they prepared themselves for the coming winter. The high-pitched buzz of late cicadas droned around me while above me, a pair of birds glided towards the water.
Life was teeming around me despite the dark events of this night.
In his warm, strong arms I breathed in his scent and put my fingers on his neck to feel the thrumming of his blood under my touch. A taste of him, even if it was just for a brief moment in time, was worth all the worry and all the fear.
"Okay," I nodded. "Until dawn."
Authors note:
Why yes, you did fall into a worm hole. The year is now 2009 and everyone is obsessed with Vampires and Werewolves (as they should be).
Quick, go buy a house while it's still affordable.
Actually, I was re-reading Kelley Armstrong's Women of the Underworld series (start with Bitten) and this kinda flew out of me.
For more book recommendations and other great reading material, go visit your local library!