- 12 -

  A Gift of Blood

  Staring into the poputed darkness, a small part of him regretted not having received the mark he was due. At least it would have warned off any would-be attackers, like the markings of a dangerous insect or snake, letting predators know that taking a bite of it was not a good idea. He clutched the rge golden phial to his chest with both arms and wondered if it made him even more of a target.

  "You’ll have to carry the torch, it irritates my blood," said Terrant, passing it over to him. He shook his arm in the same way one would if it had fallen asleep. Matthew took the torch hesitantly, believing that he would feel the same impact as his companion, but he needn’t have worried. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he now had to carry his cargo under one arm, he would have been grateful for the light and warmth of the torch.

  All around them it cast shadows. Every so often, he would catch the movement of someone out in the darkness, a constant reminder that they were not alone as they moved down the streets and pathways. He couldn’t have known it, but the torch was attracting a lot of attention. Terrant was greeting unseen passers-by with a subtle nod every now and then. Terrant seemed to be on edge, so Matthew tried to start up some conversation.

  "Have you been to this pce before?"

  Terrant kept his gaze fixed ahead and offered him only a dry "no." There was a pregnant pause before Terrant half-rexed.

  "The vampires out here keep to themselves. They honour their ‘old ways.’ The Guard won’t even come out this way. Being the oldest known vampire carries a lot of weight with some people. He’s known in certain circles as the ‘King of the Vampires.’

  What would that make Fenrir?

  "He has enough hangers-on and people that rest on his every word that it’s not an entirely hollow title. Like Fenrir, he looks after vampires that come to the city. "

  "Does he give them work and a pce to stay?"

  "A lot of them work at the abattoir. They have this notion that older vampires need to kill the blood they drink. The abattoir serves that purpose. It also stinks, so there must be something to it. "

  They ducked down a narrow close which brought them closer together. Terrant flinched and tutted as he found his head closer to the fme than he was comfortable with.

  "You don’t feel the need to kill?" The question felt even more personal than he intended, given their surroundings.

  "Not yet," Terrant said sarcastically.

  The question was not without merit however. He thought back to his recent experience with bear blood. It gave him some inclination that there may be a whole different aspect to being a vampire that he was hithertofore oblivious to. Anyway, he could truthfully say that he did not feel the need to kill.

  "Phew," Matthew sighed, jokingly.

  "I never spilled blood as a human and I’ll do my best not to do it as I am now."

  "Fenrir says that whatever you were terrible at as a human, you become good at as a vampire."

  "Mm-hm." Terrant was barely listening; his thoughts lingered on the previous point.

  "What were you bad at?" The child's bluntness snapped him back, and before he had time to process what he had asked, he found himself replying.

  "Being a husband,"

  Matthew had stopped walking and looked like he was performing a difficult maths puzzle in his head.

  "Well, that means you’re a good one now!" He looked pleased with his working.

  Terrant looked at his feet and replied sheepishly.

  "I am trying."

  Matthew gave him the purest smile, which almost made him believe his own words.

  As they approached the corner of the next street, there were people standing, huddled together and warming themselves by small fires in metal stands on the cobbled pavement. The fires back-lit what at first looked to Matthew like high-walls. He thought they had reached the outer walls of the city. He was amazed to look up and discover they made up the facade of a massive cathedral. The building looked dark and menacing, now repurposed as a sanctum in which Tyber could hold court. The stained gss windows flickered ever so slightly from the fires inside, and only the darkest of colours lit up.

  "Time to ditch the torch," said Terrant, taking it from him and extinguishing it in a puddle. He shook out his arm once again.

  Matthew did not mean to stare, but he had hardly been able to make anything out on the entire walk there. Now the fires lit up the people next to them. It was all he could do but focus his attention on them. Some of the sets of eyes started to look back unimpressed until a rge door on the side of the building creaked open.

  The inside of the building was dimly lit, which made the pce look evermore eerie. Terrant headed straight for the doors, and had it not been that the only alternative was to stay put in the darkness, Matthew managed to bring himself to follow closely behind.

  As they got closer to the door, it became clear that it was a hive of activity inside. They stepped inside to a small lobby where there was hardly any space to move due to the number of people. No one took any notice of them as they cut through the crowd to get to the main hall. They finally stepped through a rge stone arch-way and the adjoining room opened up into one rge area. Matthew had never seen anything like it. The roof, he thought, was in the sky. At the far end of the massive room was a miniature staircase leading to a ptform which sat above the rest of the seats. The seats were arranged in long straight rows with a gap down the middle, leading to the area at the front. Atop the ptform in front of them was a magnificent marble chair. It made him think of the justiciars sbs. The only difference being, the vampire who was resting upon it was clearly at ease.

  For all intents and purposes, it was a throne. For this reason alone, it did not take much to deduce that sat upon this chair was Tyber. He held an ornate goblet in his hand, no doubt a ceremonial piece from this pce's past. He was already staring across the room at Matthew and Terrant.

  Matthew assumed that the phial must have caught his eye; he was holding it now like a trophy. It did not look out of pce in the new surroundings. Across the room, he could see Tyber get up from his seat and descend the steps. As he did so, a couple of vampires on either side moved in to protect his fnks. Tyber gently pushed them away with one hand on their shoulder, first on his right and then on his left. The bodyguards stopped moving but kept their gaze fixed on Tyber at all times.

  He looked old. Not as old as Fenrir, but his style of dress was from a time before. It made him stand out and gave some credence to the air of superiority he carried himself with.

  "A gift for me?" He had moved in a much quicker fashion than Matthew could give him credit for. He almost bowed as he presented the phial with the words "A gift of blood".

  Terrant simply gave him a confused look.

  "Wonderful. And how is my esteemed colleague?" He had clearly noticed Fenrir’s mark on the phial. "

  "He is well and wishes you good health."

  Tyber took the phial from him and held it in front of his face, inspecting the weight as he did so.

  "Fenrir sent me this?" he said, looking out of the corner of his eyes, "I haven’t seen him in over 100 years. You have no idea how amusing this is. Come with me to my quarters, I must write him a thank you note for your return."

  Two of Tyber's entourage grabbed Terrant as he attempted to go through the door.

  "Have you drank this evening? Join us, we’re just about to"

  "No, but I will when we get back."

  One of the men raised an eyebrow at the other, who in turn looked around for Terrant’s "we".

  It wasn’t that Terrant was slow; quite the opposite, in fact. He was simply too engrossed in the activity going on around him. It was simir to the tombs, but the people here carried themselves differently. The individuals here were PROUD to be vampires.

  "I thought Fenrir was a smart businessman, smart enough to know that the kids a bit on the old side." One of the vampires beckoned over his shoulder, pointing with his thumb at Tybers' quarters. Terrant looked at the door and then back at the two men. All at once, they understood each other.

  Terrant lunged for the door but was stopped and pinned to the ground just before he could push through.

  On the other side of the door, the room was dimly lit. However, Matthew could see everything that was happening as Tyber composed his letter by candlelight. Matthew wondered to himself if all important people sat behind a desk when carrying out their work. Tybers desk was not as impressive as Fenrir's, but it was much more ornate. The carvings on the curved legs were exquisite. The only symbol he was familiar with was an etching of the sun, which joined each leg to the table-top. There were figures and animals which wrapped around the legs. The people were dressed in robes and held their palms upwards toward the sun above them.

  He heard the scratching of the paper as Tyber signed his note. He pced the note in an envelope and melted a small amount of wax in a golden bowl. Tyber looked up from his desk and smiled the oddest smile.

  "Have you ever sealed an envelope, son?" He asked, looking Matthew straight in the eyes.

  Matthew shook his head and barely mustered a "no."

  Tyber got up softly from his seat and walked over to Matthew. Something inside told Matthew he was in danger, but he couldn’t move. He could only look at the door, where he could make out the muffled sounds of a struggle.

  Tyber was behind him now and had csped his hands around his shoulders. He walked him the few steps across the room to the desk. It now felt like Tyber had complete control over him. With the lightest of touches, he lowered him into the seat. Keeping a hand on one shoulder, Tyber reached across and picked up his wooden seal. He held it up in front of Matthew and showed him the intricate design, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Matthew could make out a stylised "V" with a smaller collection of words running through it. He pced it in Matthews's hand, which was still under the desk. He brought the hand up over the envelope and freed it only to collect some melted wax, which he applied to the envelope.

  Tyber was close enough now that Matthew could feel his breath. He could feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he knew stamping the seal would bring them to the crescendo that was approaching. He closed his eyes, which made the tears trickle down his face. He pressed the wax and felt the motion of Tyber as he jerked his head back. A thud at the door stopped Tybers' final approach. On the second thud, the door flew open to reveal Terrant ying on his back, pinned by Tybers' bodyguards. His foot was still in the air, his heel only just reaching the door. He had made a rather impressive hole, but everyone’s eyes were on Tyber, who spent no more than a second on the scene before shrugging his shoulders and turning back to finish the task at hand.

  Tybers lips made it to Matthews neck before Terrant could call out.

  "He’s marked!"

  Tyber's demeanour changed immediately as he began spitting and clearing his mouth as though Matthews' skin alone was poison. He grabbed Matthews' head and inspected both sides of his neck. There was nothing to be seen. Momentarily, he turned back to Terrant, a look of distrust in his eyes. He grabbed a letter opener and ran the bde down the side of Matthews' face, just missing his eye. Matthew winced but resisted the urge to scream out. There was a short pause before bck liquid ran down the cut, mixing at the bottom of his face with his trail of tears. Tyber reached under the desk with both hands and threw it across the room. Still holding the letter opener in his other hand, he pointed it at Terrant, who was still subdued on the ground.

  "What is this?" There was fire in the old man's eyes.

  "He’s tried to have me killed? He must know the implications."

  Terrant attempted to reason with him, albeit from his absurd position on the floor.

  "That’s not why we’re here."

  Tyber wasn’t listening to him.

  "After all I’ve done for him, I didn’t choose sides."

  They wrestled Terrant to his feet before doubling him over with a punch to the gut. Tyber pushed both the guards away, he wouldn’t need them if he wanted to dispatch Terrant then and there. He grabbed him by the hair and brought his eyes directly in line with his own.

  "Go back to him. Let him see that he’s failed."

  He hit him in the gut again, and this time every ounce of air left his lungs, causing him to fall to his knees before falling forward, barely able to support himself and struggling to catch a breath.

  Matthew leapt up from his seat and tried what he could to let Terrant rest his weight on him. Looking up at Tyber, he saw a look unlike any of the others he had witnessed from the old man. Disgust.

  "And YOU? He’s tried to use you. " A boney finger emphasised his point.

  "Go back and see if you can find any remorse in his eyes."

  His final act was to sm the door, revealing the rge hole Terrant had made. Matthew picked Terrant up as best he could, the tter still struggling for breath, and walked him out of the Cathedral. The crowd slowly parted as they made their way through. Every pair of eyes was on them. When they finally got outside and the main door closed behind them, Terrant fell against the wall and slowly slid down it. Matthew, not knowing what to do, knelt beside him and tried to will some air into his lungs. As if it had worked, he heard a snort come out of Terrant. Terrant looked up and smiled a wry smile.

  "That was close."

  "Which part?" Matthew was genuinely asking.

  Terrant let out a short ugh as Matthew helped him to his feet again. He waited for him to steady himself.

  "Where to now?" Matthew asked, holding the cut on his face.

  "You heard the King, back to Fenrir."