20. Council

20

COUNCIL

R ome in the Twilight Realm is a city that never left history. Though Florence has modernized to some degree, Rome has lost none of its ancient world splendor as Quinn and I drive slowly through its cobbled streets, heading towards the Vampire Council’s citadel. A city within the city, the Council’s holdings are at the very center of Rome where the human-world Colosseum, Foro Romano, and other buildings of antiquity have been made into a heritage site.

Here, everything is ancient in the settling twilight, as we drive through in the one modern thing all Vampires seem to love—sports cars. Every signpost, wall, and building around us, however, is more than a thousand years old, sometimes tens of thousands, everything preserved by magic. As if every colonnade, aqueduct, and lintel were just built yesterday, the red Roman brick, shining white marble and limestone, mottled granite full of quartz, and red clay roof tiles have never seen decay.

Even though the people in this city are dead—Vampires emerging from every shop, apartment building, and house as they throw doors wide.

Taking over the night.

This was once a Fae city, but it was lost during the War of Rome that cost Quinn his Fae life and Lucca his lover six hundred years ago. That was only the latest in an age-old battle between the Vampires and Fae, however, over this hotly contested territory. Because ages ago, the Ascendants who later gave rise to both Vampires and Fae fell to earth here, settling here and calling this place their home.

The place that later became Rome—powerful in both the human world and the Twilight Realm, from the energy of the Ascendants who once claimed it.

Those ancient angelic beings are long gone, but the energy of this city is no less now as Quinn and I drive through it in all its evening glory. As Vampires in stunning couture walk the streets, or drive them, Quinn and I turn into the massive colonnades that mark the extensive city center. It’s just like how ancient Rome would have been in the human world, had it never fallen.

It seems like a human nation’s capital now as I see Vampire security in black tactical gear and specialized, dark-shimmering kevlar on every corner, holding weapons. Their guns are military-issue rifles and handguns; I glance at Quinn as we stop at a checkpoint and he rolls down his window, two guards with earbuds stepping forward to inspect us.

“Be calm, Ariana,” Quinn says as he hands a document from his wallet to the guards. It shimmers with black, diseased-looking runes, something written in Bloodsigns as the Vampire guards look it over.

Then stare at me, lifting their eyebrows.

“Master DaPonti. Please proceed with your Kissed Dark Fae to Council Hall Six. They are ready for you,” one says in a burly basso voice as big as what he probably benches with all those massive muscles beneath his tight black gear.

“Thank you.” Quinn gives a gracious nod and the Vampire guards step back, waving him on through the checkpoint. A terrible sensation shreds my insides then, and makes me feel like all my skin is boiling off. I didn’t even see the magical security barrier until we pass through it; it shimmers with a black oilslick darkness in the evening air .

We’re through security now, though, as Quinn turns into a parking garage which might be the most modern thing here. Even this is built to resemble an ancient forum hall, however. Quinn finds a spot amongst the most decadent and expensive sports cars in the world, cutting the engine and stepping out.

He holds my door for me as I climb out—and marvel at the scene before me.

Beyond the parking garage spreads the most enormous greensward, gargantuan Roman buildings rising around it in the night. As Quinn and I leave the parking garage, heading out into the green area with me escorted on his arm, I see how the grandeur of ancient Rome has been preserved here in the city center. The Fae’s deep influence is present also, however, as Quinn and I undertake what must be the last part of our journey to the Council’s hall tonight.

Though everything is traditionally Roman in design, the buildings that rise all around us with their massive colonnades and gargantuan triangular lintels are somewhat Fae in their delicate details. Strong in their foundations yet whimsical in their decor, these buildings seem to hum with ancient power that is neither Vampire nor Fae, but both as we traverse the park grounds.

Grown for the beauty of the night, the walking mall has fantastical fountains and well-trimmed topiaries and night-blooming flowers growing in a riot throughout the space. A feeling of peace pervades the ancientness here, as if Vampires love serenity as much as Fae do. Many who are out tonight in their finest couture sit quietly, luxuriating near the cascade of a fountain, or read on backlit tablets on a bench in the flowers, another modern invention Vampires don’t shy from.

Whether their couture is from the 1500s, the 1700s, modern runway, or even all the way back to ancient Roman times, the Vampires here are dressed in their very best. I get the sense that most of them are dignitaries and workers who keep the citadel running, the day-to-day managers of the Lineage, though their Vampire Council does the ruling. To run an entire Lineage while holding this massive capital takes people, though.

Those people are here, as we head towards our destination.

Quinn nods to a few who glance up at us. Most either don’t seem to know him, or don’t care as we move through, however. A few who know who he is give a deferential nod, though it’s quite different from at the party last night where the highest echelons of Council society were in attendance.

Most of the people we see now look Roman, as if they’ve lived in this city for ages, and perhaps seen both Fae and Vampire ruling come and go. Sleek Italian Faunus, the tiny bee-buzzing people, and several Mediterranean Mer are among them, along with Rock Giants.

Though they’re far fewer than the Vampires in the city-center, other Lineages have a strong presence here in Rome, distinctly different from the Summer Fae’s ruling citadel in Florence. These other Lineages keep Rome running during the day when the Vampires sleep; and Vampires have always been far more tolerant of other species than Fae—provided those other species aren’t scared of being eaten by them. I sense the Council have strict rules to ensure the safety of Rome’s working populace, however, so that they have people to run the city besides just Vampires.

The Council has ruled with fear for generations, however, making the entire world terrified of them so none will challenge their absolute power. I feel that knowledge churn through Quinn now as we make our way up a grand set of white steps to a moderately sized building with the classic Roman colonnade in front and triangular lintel up top. The statuary high above are all Vampires rather than Roman gods and goddesses, however; as we move through an outdoor colonnade area and enter a grand foyer inside, I see we’ve come into a hall with ornate tableaux of Vampires throughout the ages inlaid into the white and black marble floor.

Inside, the round hall has Roman columns in a circle, rising to an open-air oculus high above. We don’t stop here, however, this space just an antechamber as a Vampire woman in a smart white pantsuit moves to us, touching her ear as if listening to instructions, though I see no earbud like the guards had.

She wears chic black-framed glasses that make her look even more supermodel-perfect than she already is. I see they have no lenses as she beckons for us to follow her. Our escort has long black hair done in a sleek high ponytail, cascading to her butt. Her figure is tall but classically Italian curvaceous as she trots down a wide, corkscrewing set of black and white stairs in her tall red stiletto heels.

We head deep underground; as we arrive at a short hall, there is only one entrance ahead. Massive obsidian doors bar our way, two enormous obsidian Vampire knights with winged helms and tall spears guarding the alcove before the closed doors. Diseased-looking, oilslick red Vampire Bloodsigns slither over that formidable surface. As our hostess shows us right to those doors, the runes flare. They feel like they burn and skewer me as they disassemble and slither away from the doors in a pattern of scorpions and snakes.

The doors are left before us, black as the night is long and barren of decoration. With a featherlight touch, our hostess pushes them inward.

Then steps back with a low bow—beckoning us inside.

I can see nothing ahead. All is blackness as Quinn nods genteelly at our hostess and moves me forward on his arm. I can feel his trepidation at what we’re about to face with the Council—though I also feel his relief that we are not being shown to one of the Council halls that are also killing chambers.

I did not even know the Council had killing chambers, though a thought flashes through my mind then from Quinn.

Of the infamous Coliseum of Rome, Il Colosseo.

The most famous Council killing chamber of them all, used for when a Master truly disappoints them. Quinn’s thought comes to my mind.

And then we are swallowed by the blackness within as the obsidian doors are shut behind us.

I can see nothing for a long moment. Then, as my Dark Fae vision adjusts, I pick out cowled figures seated in immense black obsidian thrones in a semicircle at the far end of the space. The space we’ve entered is a rotunda, though beyond that, the details are few. Dark like a cave, it smells ancient and musty, like someone’s basement gone to rot after a flood.

I realize now what I’m smelling; bones, as we move forward into the space. The underground rotunda smells like death, and my nose wrinkles as it overwhelms me now, making me want to gag. I don’t, but I realize that smell is coming from the cowled figures now, rather than the surrounding chamber.

All the Council dead and gone to the grave, far longer than the ages of human history recall.

As we reach the center of the space, sorcerous blue-white torches spring to life in sconces around the walls. It’s a nice piece of magic; as they cast an eerie, flickering glow across the hall, I see we’re in a somewhat small meeting rotunda with pillars surrounding the walls. There is no oculus here, however, this space meant to house the Council day or night, whenever they should meet. I wonder if it has a secret rear entrance and exit for them, since a Vampire would have to egress through the daytime oculus rotunda to leave an audience.

I get a brief mind-message from Quinn. What do you think that oculus is for, Ariana, in a society of Vampires? To enjoy the sun as it floods across the room?

I have a sudden image from him of Indiana Jones in the map room of the temple in Egypt. It’s the scene where the sun reaches the right point and the staff he’s holding blazes, discovering the location of the Ark of the Covenant. Except the sun is lighting on a Council-imprisoned Vampire in a glass coffin covered with Bloodsigns to prevent them from using their magic to get out. The sun reaches the right point, and a blaze happens.

Inside the coffin—as the punished one burns to ash, scrabbling uselessly to get out.

Horror floods me as the semi-circle of Council Masters before us pull their cowls down. As if all of them share the same thought, they do it in perfect silence, intimidating to the max as they stare at us. Quinn isn’t perturbed, though, and I get the sense the Council has Summoned him to appear before them on quite a few occasions. He is a dark horse in their society.

I feel disapproval roll all around us now, as they let their displeasure with him be felt.

“Master Quindici DaPonti of Florence and his Kissed Dark Fae Ariana Summers. Be welcome before this Council.”

The voice that issues out of the blue flickering darkness where those figures sit is one I know. A voice I’ve unfortunately been exposed to, I note Florian Delano as he rises now from far down the left side of the line. Fifteen Council members are in attendance tonight, though I don’t know if there are more. As he pins Quinn with a darkly amused gaze, I feel his vast disappointment. He was counting on his assassin being successful last night.

And this audience wouldn’t even be happening today.

I feel Florian’s vast interest in the Dark Haven of Florence, however. He doesn’t just want to punish Quinn for whatever history exists between them—he wants to take Florence for his own. Monaco just isn’t quite the jewel that having a Dark Haven in Italy, the birthplace of Vampiredom, would be. I feel Florian’s thoughts, that Florence is ripe for the taking, seeing as Quinn is weak and injured right now.

His sea-green eyes flick to me and I feel his thoughts even more clearly.

That I am ripe for his taking—and he would enjoy doing it for centuries, until he was tired of me.

Not today, bucko. I put all the focus I have into sending a thought back as I hold his gaze, not backing down to his disgustingness. Clearly, he didn’t intend for me to hear his thoughts, nor to respond, as I see him frown now, his gaze far sharper on me. I understand then that he thought I was a prize to Quinn; some pretty bauble that increased Quinn’s power somehow by being impervious to other Masters .

I stand tall now, knowing Florian’s underestimated us, particularly me.

And that perhaps he will find the Dark Haven of Florence not so easy to take over—especially not if I have anything to say about it.

“Most cherished Vampire Council of Rome. Thank you for granting me an audience before you tonight,” Quinn demonstrates his smoothest grace as he gives his best fellow-well-met smile, opening a hand as if he truly is grateful they’ve invited him here.

He’s not, but he needs to be magnanimous because he still wants to claim a seat among them. I’m not so sure, however, as I see the features of the Council members in the darkness where they sit in shadows behind the torchlight. Some of them are so old and decrepit, they look like Nosferatu, as my gaze travels over them.

But like Florian, some are hale and well, young as Quinn.

“We have Summoned you before us tonight, young Master,” an ancient Master says now as he rises from his seat, moving into the torchlight, “because you have boasted of being able to return Vampire Revenants with your power, and the power you now possess Kissed to your Dark Fae. We would like to see this power in evidence. For it intrigues us very much.”

They’re decent enough words from this Council member, a tall, gaunt man with a balding pate and long, curling wisps of hair at the margins. He has a craggy face and folds his hands before him like he was once a monk; something about him remains monkish, and I half expect to see a rosary dangling from his robe’s belt, though there is none.

“Thank you, Master Parnassos of Meteora.” Quinn is peaceable, nodding to the man who I feel is not his enemy—and might even be an ally if Quinn could gain the Council’s ear. “But it is no boast; I have indeed captured a Revenant in a box of my design, twice, and returned them to body and sanity both times. The box in question is being shipped down from Florence today and should be here soon, if you would like to examine it. ”

“We are interested in your capturing device, yes. We are more interested in the magic that powers it, however, and returns the Revenants to themselves—your power, Quinn. Unless you are lying?” Another voice speaks now as a woman rises, stepping forward to stand beside the gaunt man. Short and buxom, she’s stunning as she smiles at us, flicking long honey-blonde hair back over her robe. She’s wearing her robe open, showing a smart pink and white designer pantsuit with matching heels, a gold filigreed necklace with a massive diamond nestled between her breasts. Her eyes are a blue so light I wonder if they’re even blue at all.

Her attention pins us like knives, however, despite her pleasantly delivered words. I feel like she could flay me as soon as look at me, as if that is one of her powers.

“Mistress Elena Iliescu of Romania.” Quinn has an edge to his voice now, as if this woman is not his ally. “I would be happy to give the Council the demonstration they seek, and show them I am not lying.”

“We know you’re not lying, Quinn. You’re not even sweating an ounce,” Florian says. He gives a chuckle, though rage is in his green eyes now as he pins Quinn. I feel another thought from him then, that he’s furious Quinn’s being so charming with the Council today, and so calm despite being nearly dead earlier.

Clearly, you underestimate Quinn’s patience with assholes. I think to Florian, again focusing as much as I can.

His green eyes flick to me—pinning me hard yet again.

“Very well. Let us wrap this up,” an exceedingly ancient member of the Council says now, standing up near the middle of the thrones. A tall, lean black man with skin so dark it shines in the torchlight, he steps forward. His eyes are chartreuse, a color I’ve never heard of or seen on any Twilight Lineage. I don’t know what kind of creature he was before he was Vampire, but power boils off him like a hurricane, though he does nothing but stand there.

“All in favor of having Master Quindici DaPonti and his Dark Fae present their Revenant-returning demonstration before us in three days’ time?”

Hands go up all down the line. Only one doesn’t, a Master I can’t see in the shadows, though from her slender build she seems female, and I wonder if the Wanderer is in attendance tonight. But again, I don’t know if these are all the Council members, or just a preparatory gauntlet for Quinn to go through.

They probably agreed on this Summons well in advance and already knew how they were going to decide tonight.

“Master Quindici DaPonti,” the tall black man says now, pinning Quinn with his strange, vibrant gaze, “You will appear before the full Council in three days’ time, one hour after sunset, to present your Revenant-returning contraption and abilities. If you achieve success, you will be allowed a series of visits with this Council, to argue for your Sire’s seat among us. If you fail at your demonstration, or fail to come in three days, we will support Master Florian Delano of Monaco and the Council in annexing the Dark Haven of Florence. And your additional smaller associate Dark Haven at Pisa. You have three days to prepare. Use it wisely.”

As the man gives Quinn a nod, the rest of the Council does as well. As one, those who stood return to their black thrones, though Florian gives Quinn a nasty little smile. I’m certain who was behind that last bit about annexing Florence as Quinn and Florian share a long glance. Hate burns in Quinn’s eyes now, though he only gives Florian a cordial nod.

Triumph sears in Florian’s gaze, as if he knows Quinn can’t do what the Council’s asking. Doubt takes him, though, as he glances at me.

That’s right, fuckface. I send the thought viciously, putting my everything behind it. You think you’re coming for us. But really, we’re coming… for you.

Shock lifts Florian’s blond eyebrows just for a moment. Something inside me feels vindicated as Quinn turns and escorts me out .

Though we still have no idea what we’ll do in three days.

Or if we’ll be strong enough by then to do it.