Heart of the Raven: Mini Prologue Collection Page 2
Wolfe waved him to silence. “You’re not late, I’m just impatient. Office duty is always boring. I don’t know how you cope with it.”
Hethin winked. “I pass it off on others as often as possible. Anything new?”
“A call from the French branch wanting information on an American. Nothing exciting.” And then he remembered the envelope. “I stand corrected. The Höher Rat sent new orders for Sadihra. I left them on the desk.”
Hethin picked up the opened envelope and slid the paper out. “Ah. I see. Have you told her?”
“No, she’s still out on a call. It was only a minor disturbance, so she should be back soon. If you would be so kind?”
Hethin sighed. “Of course, sir.” He snapped a smart salute.
Wolfe returned it. “Thank you. Unless you require anything, I believe I’ll have some dinner and retire to my quarters for the night.”
Hethin nodded. Wolfe gave him something close to a friendly wave and then headed out of the plush Scharfrichter office and down the broad corridor. Silver sconces twinkled and heavy carved marble reminded everyone of the centuries that had passed. He could only imagine what a miraculous masterwork the stronghold had been when it was first built in the 1100s. Even now, with modern equipment and methods, shortcuts and power tools, it was still an impressive piece of architecture.
His own quarters were plush, though sparsely decorated. He took a bottle of blood from the miniature refrigerator and set about warming it in a pan of water on the small stove top. Many vampires had switched to using microwaves, including several of the restaurants in the stronghold. It might be faster, but it was harder to get just the right temperature. So often it was too hot, and that ruined the flavor. Who wanted boiled blood?
While the egg timer ticked away, he tidied his rooms. The cleaning staff did an admirable job when it came to dusting and vacuuming, but he liked things to be just so, and they could never manage it. They would always leave something out of place; a drawer not quite closed, shoes in the wrong order, an empty hanger in the closet.
He paused at his nightstand and opened the drawer. The picture inside was face down, but he didn’t need to turn it over to know who was in it and what it represented. It was a happier time, one before the doubts crept in. Before-
The timer chimed and he slammed the drawer closed with disgust. He didn’t have time for sentiments right now. There would be an American envoy in a few days, and it would be his responsibility to take them before the Kugsankal. That was what he should concentrate on; that and nothing else.
If only he could truly control his thoughts.
Sorino & Kai
January 10th
The sixth floor salon
The Vampire Citadel
Iowa
Sorino leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. His gaze flicked over the dark skinned vampire before him. Dreadlocks flecked with beads gave him a bohemian look that his round sunglasses complimented. The agitation on his face seemed out of place.
“-so far no one has been able to locate Malick. I have them working on it, but…”
Sorino waved him to silence. “I’ve told you that you’re wasting your time, Lurid. The best lead on locating the relic is right here in the citadel working as an Executioner.”
“So you keep saying, but we’re no closer to it. The Hand of Death isn’t going to tell you where it is!”
“Of course not, but his pet may.” Unbidden, Sorino’s eyes moved to the teenage boy who sat in a nearby chair, hunched over his laptop. Though his long bangs hid his eyes, Sorino knew they were trained on the screen, absorbed in the video he was watching.
“May. In the meantime Malick might get it!”
Sorino’s attention shifted back to his associate. “I doubt that. If he knew where it was, he’d already have it.”
“Then what about Traven? What’s to stop him? I heard that he’s headed to France.”
“He’s only running home now that the last of his family is dead. I really didn’t see that coming.” His thoughts drifted to the stories he’d heard of the trial. If only he’d gotten to see Traven actually sacrifice his own wife…
Lurid interrupted his thoughts. “You’re too calm. Either you know more than you’re telling or you’re crazy.”
“Then call me crazy.” Sorino swept to his feet and motioned to the boy. “Kai, come.”
Lurid’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you not telling me?”
“I know only what you know. If you’ll excuse us?” He didn’t wait for a response as he led Kai out of the salon and down the corridor to their room. Though much of the sixth floor had been taken out during the fighting, this end was relatively unharmed. Their original room had been decimated, but the Guild was polite enough to give them a new one and had even offered a free upgrade. The television normally cost extra, and was something Sorino never bothered with on his stays. It wasn’t worth the cost considering the mindless entertainment it offered.
Kai moved silently to the room’s seating area and once again propped his laptop open. Sorino closed the door and leaned against it, mentally scanning the corridor. He could feel Lurid moving outside; pacing up and down. The vampire’s thoughts tumbled back and forth between belief and incredulity. He moved closer to the door, no doubt listening, and then with a final irritated thought he strode away.
When Lurid’s footsteps faded, Sorino pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He skimmed the contents, nodded to himself, and moved to the phone. The buttons gave soft beeps as he dialed the number, followed by a series of clicks and then a set of staticky rings.
“As-salāmu `alayka!”
He cut in before the man could go on with his usual long spiel. “This is Sorino. I received your missive and yes, I’m very interested. Of course, I’d have to see it with my own eyes before we could discuss payment.” He glanced to the silent teenage boy. “Expect us in a few days.”
Sadihra
January 10th
The basement detention center
The Vampire Stronghold
Munich, Germany
(Scharfrichterin = female Executioner)
Sadihra signed the papers with a flourish and handed the clipboard over. The guard snapped a quick salute. “Thank you, Scharfrichterin. I will see that the prisoners are assigned cells.”
She returned the salute. “Good. Will there be anything else?”
“No, Scharfrichterin.”
She nodded. “In that case see to your duties.”
He snapped a final salute, which she again returned, and then she strode from the guards’ room and through a series of chambers to a broad marble corridor. She needed to file her report, not that it would take long. It was another assignment that should have been given to someone with less seniority.
She passed the gated doorway that led down to the Kugsankal and tried to ignore the little tremor that ran through her. She could feel the power of the ancients throbbing like a heartbeat, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Though she’d never gone through the door, or down the corridors that led to their chambers, she imagined that the sensation only got heavier and more unbearable the closer one got to them.
She slipped into the nearest elevator and quickly pressed the button. As it rose the sensation lessened, though it didn’t disappear. It never disappeared. The will of the ancient council permeated every stone of the stronghold and filtered into every mind.
She looked forward to getting out of there for a while.
The doors swished open and she strode with a purpose to the Scharfrichter office. The deep emerald carpet and upholstered chairs gave the room a heavy, old fashioned look, like some kind of library. They’d discussed redecorating more than once, but it never came to anything. It would be such a shame to change the “tradition”, or so everyone said.
Hethin leaned against a carved desk and r
ead over a folded piece of paper. The long white hair that fell around his shoulders spoke of an age his face didn’t reflect. His skin was almost as pale, and his eyes were like the icy ponds at Christmas time.
He glanced up at her. “You’re back.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted the second in command. “I apprehended two, who have been given cells. They’re both quite young.”
“Then it was an easy assignment,” Hethin’s smile looked fake. “The Americans will be arriving in a few days. You were assigned to escort them and then accompany them back to the United States?”
Suspicion blossomed in her eyes. “Yes.”
“There’s been a change of assignment.” Hethin tossed the paper to Sadihra. “You’re to remain here.”
She skimmed the hand written contents, signed by the High Council. Bitter words rose to her tongue, but she held them back. It would do no good to argue. “Thank you, sir.”
The look he gave her was half amusement and half pity. “You’re not missing much. Of course you can still accompany the Americans once they’re here if you wish. We haven’t received confirmation on their identities, except for The Hand of Death.” She didn’t even flinch and he rubbed his chin. “Perhaps he was before your time, yes?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Then you certainly won’t miss anything.” He made a dismissive gesture. “That’s all. You may go.”
“Thank you, sir.” She gave a quick, half bow and then strode from the office, the note clutched in her fist. She knew why the orders had been changed, and she was going to