Summary
Lucius Avitus is the monster that monsters fear: the bringer of the final death, the Dark Council’s Blade. Lucius has served as the Dark Council’s executioner for over a millennium. Once marked, no target has ever managed to avoid the vampire’s sword.
Now Lucius finds himself hunting a target more elusive than his usual quarry. Another vampire is rampaging through the streets of Chicago, leaving scores of bodies in its wake, and drawing unnecessary attention to their kind. The Dark Council dispatches Lucius to find the killer and eliminate the exposure threat. Soon, however, Lucius realizes that this string of killings is not a meager instance of a vampire run amok; but rather a darker, more sinister plot that threatens all of humanity should it come to fruition.
EPISODE 1
Let us be clear from the beginning: vampires are monsters. We are not humans gifted with eternal life in exchange for an extreme aversion to sunlight. Our thirst for the blood and flesh of the living is not some meager craving that can be slaked by livestock, scientific concoctions, or magic potions.
We are revenants, bloodthirsty creatures only distinguishable from the ghouls that haunt desecrated lands in that we retain a faint image of what was our former selves. We are unholy abominations. Afflicted. We differ only from the demons in that we were once men and instead of angels.
And me? I am the worst monster of them all. I’m the one who strikes fear into their blighted hearts. I am the one who brings the final death.
My name is Lucius Avitus, and I am the Dark Council’s Blade.
#
The frost-ladened air slid like a dagger across my skin. The snows were gone, but spring had yet to lay claim to the streets of London. An early sunset had given me a head start in the pursuit of my quarry.
Not that I needed it. I knew exactly where to find him.
If Damien Demarco had been attempting to hide his activities, he was being sloppy about it. The Dark Council had been monitoring him for months, and even the fringes of human society had begun to take notice of his presence. Of course, the humans’ notice birthed only suspicions—curiosity and speculation without rational explanation. None of them would realize the true implications of the signs they had seen.
No one sane, at least. By the time they did, it would be too late. Too late for the Dark Council to cover it up. Too late for all of Damien’s victims. Too late to honor their covenant. Too late to maintain the balance.
<He’s here.> Nox’s words whispered directly into my mind. I had known my familiar would be close, but I did not feel his presence until he willed it. My eyes fell to the base of a stone wall as his form peeled away from the shadows. His sleek wolf’s head, fur as dark as his namesake, inclined toward the window above, crimson eyes glaring into the lit chamber beyond..
<Is he alone?> I replied telepathically.
The shade wolf shook its head in distaste. <No. There is another. Human.>
I had been afraid of this. <Just one?>
<Yes, only one.> This was both good and bad. Good in that it minimized the likelihood of mortal interference in my task. Bad in that Damien was almost certainly claiming his next victim this very instant.
I turned my gaze up the stony walls to the ice-glazed windows set in their milky frames. Though the glass did not open, it would be a simple matter to facilitate entry. A simple incantation upon my exit would mask any sign that I had ever passed through.
As I glanced back at Nox, I became suddenly suspicious. The shade wolf, never much for conversation, was being unusually quiet. <What aren’t you telling me?>
My familiar shook its head once more—sable waves of energy flaking off its fur like droplets of rain. For a brief instant, his look of solemn purpose gave way to panting anxiety. Though he was quick to recover, he confessed his secret. <She doesn’t have long. I don’t think she can be saved.>
Though I suspected as much, my heart sank at the news. <Death or conversion?>
<I cannot tell.> Nox admitted. <She is weak. Cancer has ravaged her body. It could be either.>
My eyes went, again, to the window. <Keep watch for prying eyes.>
<I always do.>
I began my ascent, fingers lightly grasping the sepia blocks in the wall and carrying me steadily upward. The lack of handholds served nothing to impede my progress. Among the supernatural abilities possessed by vampires, the ability to scale sheer surfaces merited scarcely a footnote. When I reached the second-story window, I pressed the tip of my index finger against the frosty surface. Though light showed plentifully in the room beyond, I did not see anyone waiting inside.
Through force of will, my nail extended from my finger—sharpening into an elongated talon and hardening to the strength of diamond. I traced a circle in the glass large enough for me to slide through. Carefully, I lifted the glass from its resting place and pressed through the portal. On the other side of the pane, I set the extracted material on a nearby table. I would need it for the later repair, but I had no further use for it at the moment.
Another presence darkened the room the moment I let my burden slip. “I don’t believe you were invited in,” the figure said upon entering.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “If only such a requirement were still in place, it would keep our kind from a multitude of troubles.”
“True enough.” The words lacked any hint of humor.
I turned to the newcomer. “How are you, Damien?”
“I was well enough,” the vampire replied. “Tell me, Lucius, do you ask all your victims the same question? I doubt you garner many favorable responses.”
“Not all—only those with the courtesy to announce themselves. As you might imagine, such is a bit of an anomaly.”
“Indeed.” A facsimile of a smile stretched across Damien’s face. “Can I interest you in a drink?”
I was hard-pressed to stifle my surprise. This was shaping up to be a most curious encounter, indeed. “One of nourishment, or intoxication?”
“I’m afraid I have none of the former, only the latter.”
A scowl came unbidden to my lips. “So, you have saved nothing of your pet to slake your true thirsts?”
Damien’s look of severity took me aback. “She is no pet.”
I cocked my head in feigned confusion. “No? What term do you prefer then? ‘Pet,’ seemed a benign way to reference the enthralled.”
“You don’t know what you speak of.” The assertion was made matter-of-factly, without a hint of petulance.
I couldn’t help myself. I engaged. “No? Then enlighten me.”
A brief silence before his reply. “I love her, Lucius.”
My snicker came unbidden. “Do you, now?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
At that moment, I was forced to steady myself. My jaw contorted as I swallowed hard, re-framing the words that sprang to my lips. “If you truly loved her, you would have spared her. You would have never brought your lips against her vein. You would have slaked your thirst elsewhere.”
“She was dying, Lucius.”
The use of the past tense was telling, bringing my worst fears to light. “So, you have turned her?”
Damien twisted his gaze to the far corner. “It will be done before the night is over.”
I heaved a sigh. “You must have known this would not be allowed. She is a duchess. She is in the public eye. The risk of exposure is too great.”
Anger twisted Damien’s expression as his eyes shot back to mine. “Yet, if she was nobody—just someone dying in the gutter—it would not matter? If it were some crack-whore or nameless prostitute, my actions would be sanctioned?”
“Yes.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded cold. “You know the rules. Our agreements with the higher powers—not to mention the humans—dictate that we are to stay in the shadows. We cannot turn anyone who might be recognized by the larger populace.”
“Such is an impossible standard in the information age.” Damien withdrew a phone from his pocket. “With this device, I can develop a personal connection with someone anywhere on the planet. No one is truly missed in an era where humans digitally record their entire lives.”
“Yet people still go missing every day.”
Damien’s scowl deepened. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. To do what you do, I doubt you could have an attachment to anyone. Your friend on any given day might very well become your prey upon the next.”
He was right. It was something I’d come to terms with long ago. It did not make the words any easier to hear. “I can tell you’ve been feeding on her—even absent your confession. You’re kinder than I remember. More altruistic. Concerns of equality and fairness would have never registered with you a hundred years ago.”
“So, you admit my choices have bettered upon my character?” Damien framed this more as an acquisition than a question.
“I would not go that far.”
“Then what would you concede?” Damien shook his head as he spat the words.
“You call me a criminal for what I’ve done, yet you admit it has improved my demeanor. You come here to implement a death sentence, while I work only to prolong a life taken too soon.”
This was where the flaw in his logic had taken root. “You do not prolong her life, Damien. You replace it with something unnatural. Something cursed.”
Damien scoffed, shaking his head once more. “Some of us view this existence as a blessing. Not all of us are burdened by your self-loathing.”
“Be that as it may.” I reached over my shoulder to unsheathe my blade. “True blessings do not come with strings attached. Our existence is one of pain and longing. No blessing can incorporate such things.”
Damien drew the knife resting at his hip. “That is where you and I must agree to disagree.”
EPISODE 2
My life has been filled with blood and violence from the very beginning. At first, I did it at the behest of the Romans. When that existence was taken from me, I continued in the way of carnage to slake my own thirsts.
Under Caesar’s direction, I told myself that the acts of atrocity I committed were in service of the greater good. I was bringing order to a chaotic world. The Empire would bring an end to barbarism, and the glory of Rome would outshine the darkness and bring on a lasting peace.
Imagine my torment when I realized the violence I would engage in—not for a lifetime, but for eternity—would do nothing but sate my insatiable needs?
#
Damien surged forward with preternatural speed, blade flashing in the dim light of the chamber. Yet, despite his passion, Damien was no warrior.
The attack was telegraphed and easily subverted. I shifted to the side, bringing my blade against his chest. Damien recoiled—fast enough to keep the sword from severing him in two, but not quick enough to avoid its touch. A venomous hissed poured from his lips and he charged again.
While my sword had the advantage of reach, Damian was too close. His savagery carried with it the desperation of an animal cornered. He had nothing to lose, and he knew it.
His knife caught my forearm. I let loose a hiss of pain and I lost the grip on my sword. I ducked, avoiding his next strike, and drove my shoulder into his abdomen. Turning his momentum against him, I hurled him across the room and into the far wall.
Breath ragged with effort, he rolled to his knees. He snarled, showcasing dripping fangs that had grown to full length. His eyes burned with fury, the magic in his blood a burning fire turning them crimson. Yet, that inferno was tempered, a mere fraction of the power I remembered.
He was still weak from allowing the duchess to feed on him. If Damien had ever stood a chance against me, that chance was lost with the effort of spreading our curse.
He surged forward once more, and my sword was waiting for him. I snatched up the weapon and lunged to meet him. The silver-plated edge slid through his heart with scant resistance.
Damien’s knife clattered to the floor as his hands came trembling against my blade. For the briefest instant, he attempted to remove the silvered span, only to realize such efforts were in vain.
Damien’s life—immortal in promise—was now over.
I yanked the blade free, and Damien sank to his knees. A violent cough racked his crippled form. He turned his eyes upon me, and I knew what was coming. This was the moment where those who thought themselves immortal came face-to-face with that great lie. This was the moment where they begged.
Even so, I was surprised to find the plea was not for his own life. “Please,” he gasped, stolen blood frothing out of his cursed mouth. “Spare her. She doesn’t deserve to die.”
“No,” I agreed. “Nor does she deserve death everlasting. Unfortunately, that is all our kind has to offer.”
Damien’s mouth opened to object, but I would hear no more of his arguments. I jerked the blade free from his chest and brought it back around. My sword cleaved effortlessly through his neck, bringing the final death. As his head left his shoulders, his flesh disintegrated into faintly glowing embers. The infernal fires consumed his body, and what scant ashes remained fell across the floor like so much dust.
Thus was the fate of all who defied the Dark Council’s edicts. And now there was only one more unpleasant matter to attend to.
The duchess’s chamber was just off the hall, and I found the rich oak doors unlocked. The gilded handles turned soundlessly, and the hinges issued only the barest of creaks as I eased open the portal and passed through. Shadows pooled around as I closed the door behind me, fought back only by the dim glow of a bedside lamp.
The woman was beautiful, even ill as she was. This was, perhaps, due to the preternatural aid given by Damien, though the process was far from complete. It seems he was saving what strength he had for the inevitable moment that I would come for him.
Or perhaps I judge him too harshly. Perhaps he shared himself to prolong what little mortal life remained in her. A foolish notion as a vampire’s blood is a poison that, though beneficial for a time, will kill any living being before long. Her death, if not the inevitable outcome of cancer, was assured the moment his blood touched her lips.
“Damien?” Her voice was weak, yet no less melodic. Her raven dark hair—the same shade as her mother's before it grayed—was spread out over her pillow and soaked with sweat. Sapphire eyes turned sour and gray by sickness scanned the shadows.
“No,” I replied softly, stepping into the lamplight. “Damien’s not here. I have come to you instead.”
“Oh.” The sound was a soft sigh, almost wistful. That it held no trace of alarm at the sudden appearance of a strange man in her bedroom told much of her state of mind. “Are you one of his friends?”
“I am like him, yes.”
She took the deflection in stride. “Is Damien coming soon?”
“No. I am here to see you over into your next life. Your new life.”
It was worded in a way to elicit acceptance. Though this was achieved, she betrayed a hint of sadness. “He told me he… told me he would be here… here… in the end.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, sincerely. “It was not meant to be.”
“I… suppose not.” Another heavy sigh as she closed her eyes. “What’s your name?”
For the first time that night, I faltered, though I know not why. Did the woman not have a right to know who would slay her? “Lucius.”
“Lucius,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper now. “Will you take care of me, Lucius?”
“Yes. I will take care of you.”
“Thank you.” A smile touched those pallid lips. “Thank you, Lucius.” With those words, she breathed her last.
I held my fingers to her throat, verifying the pulse had vanished. Finding nothing, I spoke a simple word of incantation. “Quaerencae.” At the single word of magic, my aura sharpened, veritably solidifying from haze to probing tendrils. That dark magic, given purpose, plunged into the still body of the duchess.
And found nothing. She would not rise this night. She had not taken enough of Damien’s strength. She’d ingested only enough to poison herself.
<It is done?> Nox called from outside.
I gave my silent reply. <Yes. It is done.> I ran my hands over the duchess’s face, shutting her eyes for the last time. <Let us return to the Council.>
Summary
Kings die, nations crumble, and bloodlines fade from memory.
Yet still, the cycle turns.
Just as others did in ages past, many will grapple to control the powers that govern this world. They’ll kill, sacrifice, steal and deceive just for a glimpse, a thimbleful of its force.
Some might even succeed, just as those before them harnessed powers unimaginable — the very will of creation — to rule unchallenged for a day, a year, an entire age.
But sooner or later the cycle turns again, and truth dissolves into obscurity as the world starts anew.
The shadow always gets its way.
Summary
Kings die, nations crumble, and bloodlines fade from memory.
Yet still, the cycle turns.
Just as others did in ages past, many will grapple to control the powers that govern this world. They’ll kill, sacrifice, steal and deceive just for a glimpse, a thimbleful of its force.
Some might even succeed, just as those before them harnessed powers unimaginable — the very will of creation — to rule unchallenged for a day, a year, an entire age.
But sooner or later the cycle turns again, and truth dissolves into obscurity as the world starts anew.
The shadow always gets its way.
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