Jacob ran, dodging eucalyptus trees with bases wider than a car, leaping over fallen branches and shrubbery, his feet barely touching the ground. Sunni was asleep on the roof of the fort, and he couldn’t just sit there and watch her. Every muscle in his body was taut as a bowstring, and he hoped to release the tension with a bit of hunting. But even as he ran he obsessed: about what was going to happen next with Richard and the Council, and about his overwhelming desire to take Sunni fully and entirely, body and soul.
He was in pursuit of a six point stag. Every sound registered in his heightened senses, from the tapping of a woodpecker to the grinding of a termite. The stag crashed through the undergrowth, zigzagging wildly in its effort to lose the predator on its tail, but there was no contest between them. Jacob was simply enjoying the hunt, appreciating an opportunity to exert himself. The stag was getting tired, though. It was time to take him down, drinka little bit, and let him go back to the herd. Jacob leaped into the air, feeling buoyant as a bird.
Then, as suddenly as if he’d hit a trip wire, Jacob pulled up short and dropped to the ground, on his feet, but barely. The deer continued to run, unaware in its panic that it was no longer being pursued. Jacob’s fangs dropped, his legs and arms tensed, every nerve stood at attention. He turned toward the sound of footsteps.
Enzo Rizzoli stepped from between two trees, adjusting a wine red tie against a cherry-colored shirt with a hand that sported three rings and a heavy gold bracelet. He and Jacob bowed to each other, performing the greeting that had been standard when each had been alive.
“That was quite a show, Jacob,” Enzo said. “I haven’t seen hunting like that since Napoleon’s time.”
“You mock me,” Jacob said, but mildly.
Enzo clapped him on the back. “You were rather slow. ”
“I was taking my time, enjoying the chase,” Jacob grumbled. “What do you want, anyway?”
“Scipio wants to see you,” Enzo said.
“Where is he? ”
“He is very close.”
They walked to the edge of the woods, where a black Escalade idled in an empty parking lot. Jacob could see two other vampires inside: a tall female with chestnut hair was driving, and in the passenger seat sat a blond male whose highly developed musculature made his suit jacket look like it was stuffed full of potatoes. He was wearing dark glasses, even though the sun was only a glowing half sphere rising behind the eastern hills. Around the vampire’s neck was a ring of angry red scar tissue.
“What happened to the young yeoman?” Jacob asked.
“Lazarus used a chain on him.” Enzo sighed. “Poor boy. He didn’t even know about such things. He thought by becoming a vampire he’d be invincible.”
“Where’s Scipio?” Jacob asked, feeling adrenaline pump through his limbs and torso. He had no intention of fighting Enzo and the other vampires, but his body didn’t seem to know that.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Enzo replied.
“Come now, ragazzo, what’s going on here?”
Jacob knew that Enzo couldn’t lie to him. They had been friends since they were young yeomen together in Europe. At about the same age, both had been forcibly converted by an unscrupulous vampire. In Enzo’s case it was his own mother, who had turned her whole family in a hopeless attempt at preserving the domestic bliss she had known as a human. Both had been military men, and both had joined the Council to restore order to a life that no longer made any sense.
Enzo sighed. “You are summoned before the Council. They are meeting in the secret place.”
Jacob thought of Sunni, asleep in the leaves on the roof. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Enzo smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“Do you know what they want? ”
He shrugged, pushing out his lower lip. “It is not for me to say.”
Jacob climbed into the backseat. The car headed east, with the beach on one side and rows of boxy, pastel-colored houses on the other, everything aglow in the fiery light of the rising sun. The woman vampire drove very fast, barely applying the brakes, weaving in and out of traffic, both on her own side and in the opposing lane. Several times she avoided obstacles by driving on the sidewalk. In a human this would have been dangerous, but vampire reflexes were so fast that the other cars seemed like wagons drawn by mules. There was the possibility of being pulled over by the police, but then she would just glamour the officer and be on her way. It took less than two minutes to arrive at the Palace of Fine Arts, a gorgeous beaux arts temple left over from the Panama Pacific Exposition of 1915. The female vampire dropped all her passengers off without a word and sped away.
“Cloak yourself,” Enzo said, but Jacob already had. The young vampire was having trouble. He flickered in and out like a dying lightbulb until Enzo thumped him on the back.
“Concentrate, Patrick,” he growled. “Your mind is distracted.”
Patrick stopped walking and squared his shoulders. In an instant he was fully cloaked. Two joggers passed within inches of him, causing him to jump back to avoid a collision. The three vampires skirted the pond that flanked the Palace and entered the center of the monument. Enzo smiled as he looked up at the circle of Corinthian columns, each one adorned with a maiden in Roman dress, splayed over the top of the column as if she was resting from the climb. Jacob knew the Palace, in its ruined splendor, reminded Enzo of his native Rome.
“Buona sera, ladies,” Enzo murmured to the statues. He led the small procession to a cement wall flanked by two columns. He felt around the mossy, pockmarked wall until his hand found its quarry. He pulled, and a door appeared. He waited for the other two men to enter and then he pulled the door closed behind them. They were at the top of a narrow, damp staircase that descended straight into the earth. There was no light, but none was required.
They walked down the stairs and along a low-ceilinged hallway. Eventually they emerged into a vast, circular room that roughly mimicked the dimensions of the monument above them. There was an empty area in the center, tiled with marble, surrounded by ascending rows of seats, benches for spectators and chairs for the members of the Council.
It was a small assembly. Four vampires sat in the lowest tier, facing a platform supporting a chair and a lectern. A glass and a pitcher of water sat on the lectern, as if they were expecting a speaker who would lecture at length. Jacob hoped he wasn’t the speaker they were waiting for, for he had very little to say in his own defense. He was a farmer, after all, not a lawyer.
At the far left of the group was Scipio. Even though he and Enzo were both Italian, Scipio possessed none of Enzo’s sartorial flair, as evidenced in the nondescript dark suit and white shirt he was wearing. He appeared as tired as a vampire was capable of, but he sat ramrod straight with his head forward, the very picture of dignity and nobility. He gave Jacob a small nod of acknowledgment. Next to him was a vampire named Nasim. He was Moroccan, if Jacob remembered correctly, and was dressed in traditional garb, a galabiya, its mandarin collar edged with gold braid. Nasim had been vampireborn in the mid-nineteenth century and had risen quickly in the ranks of the Council because he was a consummate negotiator and harbored no allegiances toward any of the old European vampire clans. Nasim was leaning over, whispering to a woman Jacob didn’t recognize.
It was rare to encounter a vampire who had been turned in the twilight of their years, as this woman had been. Jacob didn’t know the reason for this: perhaps a lack of access or simply a lack of interest. After all, humans were usually turned for romantic or sentimental reasons, and it was the rare old man or woman who was capable of making a young heart flutter. The female’s wrinkles had been erased by the conversion process, but her shoulder-length hair was as white as a swan’s down. She was slender, pale even by vampire standards, and wore a plain black dress topped by a thick shawl.
It was cold in the underground chamber, and although vampires couldn’t be harmed by cold, it bothered most of them, especially the ones who had lived before central heating. Jacob remembered too well the winters in Providence, when his wife drew the curtains on their bed and they huddled together under their blankets. It was some-times so cold that they couldn’t sleep for shivering. In the morning frost would rime the insides of the windows and the water in the washbasin would be frozen solid.
The last Council member was a man Jacob knew well. Looking at Isaiah Eddington was like staring into some strange mirror, in which you could see not only your own image, but also the reflection of your whole family. It was a mirror that also reflected back your sins. In Isaiah Jacob saw his own face, tinted with the African blood of the slave who was Isaiah’s mother. He had Jacob’s aquiline nose and blue eyes, but his lips were fuller and his skin was the color of caramel. Isaiah didn’t acknowledge Jacob, only stared straight ahead as he waited for the proceedings to begin.
Scipio stood as the three vampires reached the platform. “Jacob, please take a seat,” he said, in a formal tone.
Jacob’s two guards evaporated into the darkness at the edge of the chamber, although he knew they were loitering somewhere nearby in case they were needed.
Scipio sat down and spoke from his chair. “Jacob, you know Nasim and Isaiah. ”
Jacob nodded.
Scipio indicated the woman. “This is Melinda Peterson, of New York City. She is one of the newer members of the Council, turned only two years ago.”
“Mistress Peterson. “ Jacob bowed, lifting back up just in time to see the woman nod at him curtly.
“It has come to our attention that Richard Lazarus has been in contact with the dhampir called Sunrise Marquette, whom you have been assigned to guard.”
The hope that Jacob had been harboring, that the Council might not yet know about Richard and Sunni, that he might be able to stall for more time, flew out the window.
“That is, unfortunately, correct,” he answered. “But he hasn’t convinced her of anything. She isn’t on his side.”
“That is irrelevant,” Melinda said.
Jacob tugged nervously on his nonexistent beard.
Isaiah cleared his throat. “Jacob, your guarding of the dhampir had an inauspicious beginning, but since then you have carried out your duties with integrity. ”
“Excuse me,” Melinda said, “but isn’t Jacob Eddington your brother?”
“Half brother,” Isaiah replied. “We had the same human father. But what is your point?”
“My point is that Isaiah is most likely biased,” she said to Scipio.
Scipio’s lips twisted with irritation. “The Council heads sent him here, Melinda. It is not for us to question their judgment. We have a decision to make, so let’s confine our comments to the issue at hand.”
Jacob was unable to sit still any longer. He rose to his feet. “What is the issue, by the way?”
Nasim answered him. “I’ll speak frankly, Jacob. The Council has determined that Sunni Marquette must be eliminated.”
Jacob swallowed slowly, holding his eyes and lips steady, not allowing his emotions to show. His hands wanted to ball into fists, but he kept them loose at his sides. If he gave anything away it would be a death sentence for Sunni.
“Ordinarily it would be you who would undertake the task, but there is a question of whether you have been compromised. We are here to determine whether to reassign you or allow you to complete your mission.” Nasim’s handsome face stayed neutral as he spoke.
Jacob paced to the edge of the platform, as close as possible to his interrogators. “Of course it must be me who eliminates her. I have been her guardian for twenty-four years. I know all her habits. For anyone else it could be dangerous. She is not aware of them yet, but when she is frightened her abilities appear, and they are formidable.”
“Some Council members have questioned whether you have developed feelings for the dhampir,” Isaiah said gently. “If that’s the case it’s better for all concerned if you recuse yourself.”
“I have no feelings beyond concern for my fellow vampires and hatred for the traitor Richard Lazarus. I will do my duty, you can depend on it.” Jacob stared into Melinda’s pale blue eyes, trying to control his rampant emotions but knowing that she was reading him like a book.
“I have grave concerns about you, Jacob Eddington,” Melinda said.
“It’s time to vote,” Scipio said decisively. “All in favor of allowing Jacob Eddington to complete the task of eliminating the dhampir Sunrise Marquette, raise your hand.”
Just as Jacob expected, the three men’s hands lifted. Melinda’s gaze was icy. Why did she hate him so much, he wondered.
Scipio looked down at Jacob. “You have three days to complete your task, Jacob. We are sending Enzo Rizzoli to assist you. When it is done, report back to the Council for reassignment.”
“I object,” Melinda shouted. She rose to her feet, aiming an accusing finger at Jacob. “He’s in love with her, it’s as obvious as the nose on his face. He cannot be trusted with this task. The consequences of Richard Lazarus joining forces with this dhampir would be disastrous. We must reassign him.”
Nasim seemed to find her outburst embarrassing. He looked away into the darkness. Isaiah kept his blue eyes focused on Jacob. His half brother knew everything that Jacob had lost and Richard’s role in it. His vote had been purely personal.
Scipio gazed at Melinda with patience, like a benevolent parent watching a child have a tantrum. “The vote has been taken, Counselor.” He clapped his hands twice. “Enzo!”
Enzo and Patrick soundlessly materialized out of the darkness. “Yes, sir?” Enzo asked with a slight bow.
“Did you hear the verdict?”
He inclined his head. “I did, sir.”
“Then go with Jacob, without delay. ”
Patrick stepped forward. “May I go too, sir? I have never killed a dhampir.” His handsome, boyish face was suffused with excitement.
“You wish to confront Richard Lazarus again, after that episode with the chain?” Scipio asked, with a slight note of sarcasm.
Patrick’s face fell. “I thought it was just the dhampir.”
Scipio waved a hand at Jacob and Enzo. “Go, now. You have seventy-two hours to execute the task.”