The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 8: Under the Knife.

“Runes are methods of packing complicated magic into a pictogram. They allow for casting of larger and more intricate spells with reduced effort. Most often, they are used in enchanting, binding a spell to an object for later use. But this is not what they were originally used for, merely a Dwarven innovation that’s supplanted the true purpose of Runes. Talented Magi can memorize countless Runes, combining them together in spells of incredible power.” - Boris Eskhara, Preceptor of Rune Craft at the Urdam Ivory Tower.

After getting Cole back onto the cott, Isabelle stared down at his corpse and started to make plans. + Where is this laboratory? +

Natalie sent a mental map through the link while explaining why she thought it was a good option + The laboratory is reserved for dissecting corpses with abnormalities; the Priest in charge of it is working as a plague warden; we should have it to ourselves. +

Nodding, Isabelle shut her eyes and felt at Natalie’s blood reservoir. Standing in the great empty ocean, Isabelle felt something like vertigo on comprehending the sheer size of the Alukah’s potential. At the bottom of the monstrous basin was a reasonably sized puddle of blood, representing Natalie’s hoarded power. It was a respectable amount, about the capacity of a young vampire’s basin, and would hopefully be enough for what Isabelle planned.

Leaving the basin, Isabelle reached out into the local Aether and started weaving her spell. Shamans work with spirits, Priests call upon their gods, but Magi bend the Aether to their will through knowledge and intellect. Reaching out with her mind, Isabelle gripped the local Aether and started carving her spell into existence. The simple blood magic her darling worked was crude and inefficient, forming an idea and bribing the Aether into manifesting it. In comparison, Isabelle shaped the ambient arcane power surrounding her and commanded it to do as she pleased.

Runes like oily black blood burned in the Aether, surrounding Isabelle and Cole, sculpting reality to the elder vampire’s intent. Isabelle could feel Natalie’s amazement and confusion; seeing a Magi’s work through their own eyes was a rare experience. As the runes congealed into their final forms, Isabelle cast her spell. No ripple of power or flash of energy accompanied the magic; such sloppiness would defeat the spell’s purpose.

Reaching down, Isabelle picked up Cole, hoising his ruined body over her shoulder, and stepped through the curtains. Natalie’s mind boiled with shock and stress, but before the younger vampire could object, she realized what Isabelle had done. + I knew that rune looked familiar +

Isabelle cloaked herself in a violently powerful subtlety spell. Walking between sick patients, carrying a hulking corpse, Isabelle went unnoticed. + Yes, runes are a clever tool, wrapping up all a spell’s details in a pictogram for easy use. But those with proper knowledge and awareness can know the magic at work if they recognize the rune. +

Reaching the clinic entrance, Isabelle was forced to wait until the door was open so she could pass through. Subtlety spells relied on tricking people’s perception, and anything that caught undue attention could unravel the spell, like a door opening by itself, for example. Following Natalie’s map, Isabelle delved into the Temple’s escaping the more trafficked parts of the complex. Even though they were alone, Isabelle didn’t dare drop the spell; inhabiting Natalie and casting a complicated working like that was taxing her. Even with stolen blood to ease the mental and magical cost, it wasn’t easy. Isabelle decided she needed to teach Natalie more spells; even if the girl lacked talent, a little familiarity would make using her brain for these matters easier.

Natalie, for her part, stayed silent, simply watching events, a mixture of curiosity and caution bubbling off her mind. Isabelle’s spellweaving clearly interested her, and the former Countess smiled internally at the new hook that interest might provide. With that thought, a slight flicker of discomfort went through Isabelle. Natalie ignoring Isabelle’s request for three months soured their relationship, but still, the idea of manipulating Natalie in new ways felt… unpleasant.

Reaching the subterranean hallways containing the Temple’s huge mortuary, Isabelle asked. + How do you know about this laboratory? +

+ The Priestess in charge of it, Rihan, is an… acquaintance. I visited her lair once to identify Liam Louon after his death. +

+ Lair? +

+ Yeah… lair. +

Isabelle found the laboratory and noted the mixture of arcane and mundane locks protecting it. Setting Cole down, Isabelle got to work altering the magical defenses. They were simple things designed to warn of an intruder or meddler. It would be fledgling’s play to rip apart the spells, but that would alert their caster, so Isabelle simply neutered them. Changing what the spell considered normal to be ridiculously broad, letting Isabelle start working on the door’s mundane defenses. Which was a simple lock, meant more for privacy than security. Glancing at Cole, Isabelle decided she wasn’t in the mood for subtlety. She rammed a blood claw into the lock and destroyed its mechanism.

A psychic sigh played across Isabelle’s mind; Natalie apparently didn’t approve. Ignoring her student, Isabelle pushed open the door and found the laboratory. The doorway was marked with strips of different magical metals, and Isabelle carefully stepped across them. Once inside, she had to agree with Natalie’s assessment of ‘lair.’ The laboratory did honestly look like a better-lit version of a Strix’s nest.

A large stone slab was the room's centerpiece, with a cart of shining medical instruments next to it. One room wall was covered in shelves holding books and pickled specimens. Nearby was a set of modified apothecary cabinets. A desk covered in notes and drawings sat in one corner, facing a shockingly detailed anatomy painting hanging from the stone wall. Nodding in approval, Isabelle returned to the doorway, grabbed Cole, and dragged him inside. She placed him on the stone slab and started removing his clothes.

+ What are you doing? +

+ I need to understand the plague in better detail; Dissecting Cole will be the quickest way to reach that understanding. +

+ YOU CAN’T DO THAT! What if he wakes up?! +

Isabelle rolled her eyes. + He won’t; I know how his regeneration works. I have time to do this. +

Memories flashed into Isabelle’s mind of Cole’s faster resurrections and shocking recoveries. Isabelle hesitated slightly; she’d predicted Cole would eventually start healing at a greater rate, it was a natural side-effect of what he was, but this was… Well, it was too much, too fast.

Going over to one of the apothecary cabinets, Isabelle ran a cold hand over the labeled drawers until she found her goal. Pulling open one of the sliding drawers, Isabelle plucked out a shiny needle. Her fingers tingled a little where the needle touched, the only hint to the thin instrument's special metal coating. Taking the Stargent needle, Isabelle returned to Cole and gently but firmly drove it into his neck. Natalie recoiled in disgust, a strange sensation for Isabelle as she returned to work. + Happy? The Stargent will prevent him from reviving as long as it's inside him. +

Natalie sulked as Isabelle removed Cole’s clothes and examined his body. His neck, armpits, and groin were covered in buboes. His fingers and toes were dark with the start of necrosis, and ugly bruises decorated much of his arms, legs, and chest. Isabelle noted he’d lost weight, his muscle mass quickly withering away during his sickness. She also checked his unscarred arm, another thing to investigate in the future.

Reaching for the set of medical instruments, Isabelle prepared to start the grim work of dissection, which was proving to be an issue, Natalie was boiling with stress, and it leaked into Isabelle. Even though she was possessing Natalie’s body, it was originally the barmaid’s flesh, and her uncontrolled emotions were having an effect.

Setting down the scalpel she’d been prepared to use, Isabelle said. + You don’t need to watch this; you can sink into unconsciousness while I work. +

+ No, I… I need to see this. +

+ You do not; besides, your distress is proving annoying. If I have to manage your emotions and do this dissection simultaneously, I will likely make mistakes. +

There was no answer, and Isabelle sighed. Mercy and practicality met in a rare concert, and she said. + I swear upon my love for Cole, I’ll not abuse the gift of flesh you’ve loaned me. I’ll let you rest in one of my interesting memories and rouse you the moment the dissection is finished. I make this offer to help myself, my friend, and my darling, so please just take it. +

A wordless pulse of ascent washed through Isabelle, and she shut her eyes in concentration. This would be best for everyone; Isabelle would be free to investigate, while Natalie would perhaps gain some understanding through another’s memories. Gently, Isabelle pushed Natalie’s mind deeper into their fused mindscape, feeding the distressed Vampire an old memory.

Natalie was back in the strange grove, watching Isabelle inspect the exotic plants with a studious eye. Chewing her lip, Natalie fretted over her cowardice; she’d seen Cole die too many times, but the idea of watching him be dissected… was too much for her. She’d turned away from this new horror and was already starting to regret it. Still, despite her reservations, Natalie couldn’t bring herself to pull free from this memory and return to whatever horrific sight Isabelle would drag her into. Besides, a break from the disorienting, disturbing experience of witnessing another control her body would be good. It was wearing on Natalie’s mind quickly, and maybe she could learn something from this phantom recollection.

The memory-Isabelle was walking through the grove, followed by a nervous teenager and two armored skeletons; Natalie floated next to the group, a spectator to events long since passed. The boy, an Atredian by the look of it, stuttered through, saying. “Th-the hillock up-up ahead, that's whe-where it started.”

As he spoke, the boy gestured at a distant ridge at the grove's edge, covered in the withered stumps of strange trees. Isabelle moved towards it, seeking more information as she did. “You cleared out the infected olive trees, then?”

The boy nodded. “We didn’t want to, but once the blight started spreading, the headman said to do it.”

Reaching the base of the craggy ridge, Isabelle paused momentarily and said, “Wait here.'' Then a strange red smoke started to billow up from her dress, and the vampire floated into the air. Carried aloft on crimson vapors, Isabelle headed for the hillock’s summit. With a thought, Natalie glided after her, a spectral witness to events. Watching Isabelle, Natalie wondered if she could learn to float like that. It seemed a useful power and would certainly beat her previous attempts at flight.

Gently landing on the top of the hillock, Isabelle scanned the ugly surface, noting the dozen or so olive stumps. Natale flitted over to the stump and raised an eyebrow in confusion. The tree didn’t have rings; instead, its innards were shaped in a colored spiral, an eye-catching formation that glowed faintly in the dark night. Isabelle approached the stump and placed a hand upon it; black burning runes spread out from her palm and covered the exposed spiral. Quickly as if the mutant wood was scalding, Isabelle pulled her hand back with a pained hiss.

Reaching into her billowing robes, Isabelle pulled out a crude metal knife. It was an ugly little thing of badly shaped iron with a pale leather grip. Isabelle drove the knife down into the stump with inhuman strength. Strange smoke started to billow up from the knife, shining clouds with impossible shapes briefly visible in them. Nodding to herself, Isabelle pulled the knife free and walked around the hilltop, her eyes tracing the rocky soil, looking for something.

It didn’t take her long; at the very peak of the hill was a space empty of stumps or tree debris. A patch of mossy soil clinging to life among the dirt-dusted limestone around it. As Natalie grew closer, she realized it wasn’t a patch, but a circle, something Isabelle also clearly noticed. Natalie imagined the perfect moss circle would be hard to notice among the thick olive grove, but now it was obvious.

Crouching down, Isabelle let the tip of her iron knife touch the moss; it recoiled. The green growth retraced slightly, pulling away from the knife with unmistakable movement. Isabelle stuck the knife into the circle's center, and the moss rippled like disturbed water. The plant life closest to the knife started to wither, shriveling and turning brown. By contrast, the outer edge of the circle started to grow, and strange fungal stalks started to push out of the moss and form a ring around the circle. With each passing second, the mushroom circle swelled, its stalks bulbing into fat red caps the size of a fist.

Watching all of this, Natalie started to realize what she was seeing and felt a surge of overwhelming terror grow within her. She’d heard stories of things like this, how shepherds would spend hours moving an entire flock rather than pass over a faerie circle.

Isabelle reached down and plucked one of the mushrooms from the circle. It kept growing in her hand, the cap flushing a vibrant red, its gills stretching and twitching. Suddenly, Isabelle tossed the mushroom onto the ground and called up a fire sphere, casting a flame bolt at the fungus. It screamed, a high-pitched wail with an almost musical tone. As the fungus died in fire, its fellows started to transform. Now knee height, the mushrooms pulled themselves out of the soil, ripping free of the faerie circle and moving on strange tendril limbs. They would have looked ridiculous except for the fast-growing teeth.

A long ugly fang sprouted out of each gill slit on the mushrooms, crowning the fungi’s caps with centimeter-long blades. Then to add to the surreality, the mushroom caps started to spin, like a street performer's balanced plate on a poll. Slithering towards Isabelle, the danger of the mushrooms became clear. Natalie had seen what a spinning saw could do to flesh; she imagined these mushrooms would do worse.

Leaping back, catching herself midair on a cloud of red fog, Isabelle spat arcane words and made gestures with her hands. Actual lightning crackled between her fingers and spat out at the mushrooms. The air shuddered as storm fire incinerated the mushroom-creatures in a blinding flash. As the smoke cleared, Isabelle floated closer to the faeries circle and drove a sharpened talon into her wrist. Black blood dribbled out of the wound and slithered through the air like an onyx snake, coiling around the circle's edge. The obsidian ichor detached from Isabelle and connected to itself in a bloody ouroboros encircling the tainted ground.

Clapping her hands together and hissing out words in some fell tongue, Isabelle bound the faerie circle, the strange moss pressing against the line of blood but unable to pass it. No more strange mushrooms grew, nor did any other unseelie threat arise as Isabelle waited, checking to ensure the bindings held.

Floating down the hillock, returning to the fearful teenager and her guards, Isabelle snapped orders. “Go to your village, find your smith, and order him to gather as much scrap iron as possible. Wake up whoever you need to; just collect a wheelbarrow worth of iron and bring it to me!”

Blanching, the boy swallowed and said. “I-I don’t know if we have that much iron in the village!”

Glaring down at the boy with imperial aloofness, Isabelle snapped. “Find it, even if that means pulling nails out of houses and sifting through the midden heap. Your entire village depends upon getting that iron!”

Face going pale, the boy nodded and ran for the village; Isabelle flicked her hands and sent her guards after him as protection or threat; Natalie couldn’t tell. Staring up at the hillock, Isabelle shut her eyes and reached out with her mind, something Natalie could feel through the shared memory. Watching Isabelle work was humbling and confusing; it was like witnessing someone play an instrument you couldn’t even comprehend. Still, Natalie tried her best to understand. She knew Magi manipulated the Aether with their minds, but that was like saying someone could play the flute by blowing on wood.

Catching glimpses of it through her mentor, Natalie gathered the most basic concepts of the ‘true arcane’ as Magi loved to call their art. How Isabelle used her soul like a tool, reaching into the surrounding Aether and shaping it as she saw fit. But the incredible complexity of shaping the Aether made Natalie’s head ache just to witness. It reminded Natalie of trying to keep an obscenely complicated food order in her head while simultaneously imagining the process of carving a sculpture. Like it wasn’t enough to just hold all the information in your head, a Magi needed to manipulate and alter the information at the same time if they wanted to create a spell.

Isabelle wasn’t currently casting a spell as Natalie initially assumed; she was now ‘stretching’ her soul to touch the surrounding Aether. It didn’t match Cole’s description of his Aether-sight, so Natalie wondered if they were fundamentally different techniques. Before Natalie could really dwell on this, Isabelle sensed something. A presence in the Aether that was both entwined and buried within the hill. Something old but withered nested inside the hillock; at least it used to be withered; now it was growing anew.

Pulling back her senses, Isabelle let out an annoyed sigh. “Sidhe….”

Then Isabelle turned to look at Natalie. “We have a slight problem; I must pull you from this memory.”

Natalie was ripped from the cursed olive grove and found herself back in her body or at least a passenger within it. Natalie’s body was standing with its hands raised, looking at the laboratory door. The door was open, and Priestess Rihan stood there, eyes and hands glowing with silver fire. Natalie’s head glanced behind her, and Natalie caught a brief look at a peeled-open corpse, Cole’s corpse. Looking back at the battle-ready Priestess, Isabelle spoke using Natalie’s mouth. “I swear I have a good explanation for this.”

Priestess Rihan was missing her plague mask and wore a cool expression. “I’m listening,”

Isabelle said. “I need to better understand the plague, and to do so, I needed to dissect a recent victim of it.”

Rihan raised an eyebrow. “Which happened to be your lover, the Paladin? That seems… cold.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, a distressing experience for Natalie viewing through them. “He’s not dead!”

+ I could use some assistance, I don’t know how puissant this Priestess is, and I fear what would happen if she burned your head off. +

+ How did you not notice her approach?! +

+ I was in the middle of a complicated bit of haruspex; my mind was occupied! +

Sighing internally, Natalie weighed her options. + I think we need to inform Rihan about Cole. +

Isabelle grimaced and sent a hypothetical plan of attack. With a little luck, Isabelle could divert Rihan’s attack and get close enough to enter her mind. Then it would be easy to remove the compromising memories and even secure the laboratory for further use.

+ No, I’m not letting you rearrange her mind; the Hierophants already know, so telling her won’t be much of a problem. +

Rihan approached slowly, keeping her hands and the spell held in them at the ready. Glancing at Cole’s flayed open chest and exposed organs, Rihan remarked. “He seems pretty dead to me.”

Grunting in annoyance, Isabelle said. “There is a needle in his throat; I’m going to remove it. Once it's gone, he will start to regenerate.”

Instead of objecting or attacking, Rihan glanced at Cole’s neck and nodded. “Do it.”

Isabelle turned and gently plucked the needle from Cole’s neck. As she did, Isabelle gestured at Cole’s organs, and Natalie reeled her mind back to not get a good view. “Watch his circulatory system; it will start first.”

Retreating into her own mind, Natalie heard Rihan mutter, “Interesting…”

Then a series of wet squelches and fleshy pops filled the room, and Natalie wished she could throw up. Rihan made a humming noise disturbingly like Hierophant Nyami and asked, “The flesh is reknitting itself; is this necromancy?”

Isabelle clicked her tongue. “Not truly; his flesh is rebuilding itself before he revives. But necromancy was used in developing the fundamental elements of the magic.”

Natalie focused on Rihan instead of Cole’s regrowing flesh and watched the undisguised interest on the Priestess’s face. It seemed Isabelle might have found a kindred spirit in the corpse-tending Priestess.

As Cole’s innards continued reknitting themselves, Rihan asked. “Did you learn anything useful?”

Giving Rihan a cool glare, Isabelle said. “Some, but I would have learned more if you didn’t interrupt me!”

Rihan gave the barest shrug. “Then you shouldn’t have broken into my laboratory and started dissecting the Paladin without permission.”

Isabelle voiced both her and Natalie’s thoughts then. “I’m surprised by how well you are reacting to events.”

Raising an eyebrow, Rihan gestured at Cole. “I read the initial reports from the Solstice Ball; they said the Paladin was paralyzed by a clean cut to the spinal cord, one of his kidneys was ripped out, and he suffered from extreme blood loss. Then the next day, he was up and leading the purge of House Louon as if nothing happened.”

Gesturing towards her desk, Rihan added. “My job is to deal with irregular corpses, to pry the secrets from empty husks. Something about what happened with the Paladin felt wrong, so I returned afterward to grab the records and ask some questions. Just to find someone changed the records reducing the extent of his injuries and adding mention of the Paladin possessing a ‘powerful healing miracle.’ I don’t know what the Temple is hiding, but I guess you do.”

+ Jag… +

+ Jag… +

+ She’s worryingly intelligent. It would be prudent to strike now and wipe her memories.+

+ We can’t. Ethical considerations aside, if the Temple finds out we’ve mettled with their Priestess like that, then there will be a blood price to pay. +

A wet cracking noise pulled everyone’s attention to Cole; his ribs were sliding back into place, and the first strips of muscle and skin were growing over his chest. As they watched, Natalie noticed the large buboes on his skin literally fell off him, detaching like overripe fruit and leaving small wounds that were already healing. Looking down at the excised flesh, Isabelle remarked. “Interesting, his body managed to seal off the infected lymph nodes and eject them. I think his regeneration is growing more efficient, which would explain why he’s resurrecting faster.”

Rihan went over to a sample tray, picked up a pair of metal tongs, and started moving the buboes onto the clean tray. “These might be useful to inspect. Now, how long until he’s conscious?”

Natalie was still put off by Rihan’s almost casual acceptance of events, but Isabelle didn’t seem bothered. “A few hours at the most, a few minutes at the least. I’ll need to conduct more tests on him to get a better understanding of his regenerative paradigm.”

+ No. No. No. You are not experimenting on Cole again; I won’t allow it. +

Ignoring Natalie’s objections, Isabelle addressed Rihan. “The Temple Hierophants are aware of my darling’s unique nature. They and Cole alike would both like to keep this information secret; I trust you understand?”

Rihan gave a non-committal shrug. “Why did you break into my laboratory, Natalie? Surely you could have talked with Keeper Glynn and arranged for a dissection space?”

Natalie grimaced, uncertain if letting Rihan know the truth would earn her body some new burns. Before she could decide, Isabelle stole the choice from her. “Cole died out in the main ward; I needed to get him out of there before someone noticed. Additionally, I needed to analyze his body before he started to resurrect, and your laboratory was the nearest reasonable option. I’d assumed you were still busy working as a plague warden, so I thought it would be empty.”

Smiling slightly, Isabelle dipped her head. “I know how annoying it can be to have someone make a mess of your space. I’m sorry for intruding like this; I’ll gladly share my findings, both present and future, as compensation.”

If Rihan noticed the oddities in “Natalie’s” speech or mannerisms, she didn’t say anything. “Well, what did you learn from our regenerating Paladin here?”

Natalie was also interested in this and decided she’d pick a fight with Isabelle about impersonating her later. Shutting her eyes, Isabelle reviewed the information her spell summoned, and Natalie was struck with vertigo as alien knowledge danced past her consciousness.

“The pestilence is a mutant descendant of the bubonic plague, but that much was obvious. It was cultivated in rats and meant to be especially virulent and fast acting, but thankfully not quite as deadly as most pestilences.”

Rihan looked at Cole, raising an eyebrow, and Isabelle explained. “His body reacts poorly to unknown contagions. It lets them run rampant until he… expires then resurrects fully immune.”

The Priestess blinked in surprise. “So he really dies and comes back? Not as undead but truly alive? That really is fascinating.”

Natalie got the worrying sense that perhaps the worst possible person in the Temple had just learned the truth about Cole. Sure, Rihan wouldn’t spread this information around, but… well, the way she was looking at Cole reminded Natalie of a cat eyeing up an injured mouse. Isabelle might be Natalie’s competition for Cole’s affection, but it looked like Rihan would be Isabelle’s rival for experimentation. Natalie needed to do her best to protect him from both their curiosity. Cole would doubtlessly volunteer for whatever horrors they deigned necessary if they sold him on a worthy cause; Natalie wouldn’t let her lover suffer like that, not after the truths he’d confessed about his time in the Voivode’s larder.

Isabelle, of all people, thankfully changed the subject. “Back to the pestilence, I did find something interesting in the contagion's Aetheric presence. There were ‘tethers’ built into the disease, spiritual anchors an Aetheric entity could attach itself to. Thankfully the tethers I saw in Cole were broken and quickly degrading; nothing could use them in that state. So the reasonable assumption is these tethers are what your cleansing protocol is attacking.”

Looking down at the excised lymph node, Rihan asked. “So the Screamers, you think something is entering them using the disease as an entry point? They are being possessed by an entity, and that’s the origin of their behavior?”

Nodding, Isabelle answered her with a question. “Have you examined the Screamers? They most likely have intact anchors; we might be able to identify the entity attacking them.”

Rihan shook her head. “Not truly; we’ve been busy just keeping them alive and sedated. But I’m curious; when I’ve cleansed the infected, it didn’t feel like breaking anchors. I got this vague sense of something… something being inside people. It didn’t feel like breaking anchors; it felt like… digging out burrows.”

For a long moment, Isabelle was silent; then she let out a long breath that grew into a growl. “Seeds… You were digging out seeds!”

A rising tide of wrath boiled up inside Isabelle’s mind; Natalie pressed against the edge of awareness, trying to avoid the searing cauldron of rage she witnessed. Red vapor started to boil off Natalie’s flesh, and a low bubbling growl rose in Isabelle’s throat. Rihan stepped back slowly, raising her hands, calling up silver light to defend herself. Putting her metaphorical toe in the maelstrom of rage that was Isabelle’s mind, Natalie understood what was happening. This wasn’t the mad wrath of isolation and desperation; this was a deeper, well-cultivated hatred.

As gently as she could manage, Natalie said. + I need you to calm down, Isabelle; you are starting to scare both Rihan and me. +

Isabelle shut Natalie’s eyes, and suddenly the two vampires were standing before a burning castle. Natalie flinched away from the phantom flames but quickly gained her bearings. They were within the memory of Isabelle’s downfall and death. Staring up at her burning castle, Isabelle’s jaw was clenched so tight that Natalie wondered if she would crack her teeth.

With jerky, unnatural movements, Isabelle walked over to her impalement and pyre. Worried and confused, Natalie followed behind her mentor, finding Isabelle staring not at the tortured memory but at her tormentors. Natalie forced herself to avoid looking at the oppressive echo of the Archduke and at the figure standing at his left hand, the apparent subject of Isabelle’s attention.

In the shadow of the ancient Vampire King armed with blood in shadows was an incongruous sight. A boy, no older than twelve, fine of limb and feature, with silky blond hair. The boy was dressed in expensive clothes and looked the very image of a handsome youth. Except for the boy's smile, his doll-like face was split into a wide hungry grin showing a mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Not just the simple fangs of vampires but a full set of thin sharp teeth similar to an eel’s.

Looking down at the boy, Isabelle snarled. “Voivoide Igori Gens Suillia, the bastard responsible for my death.”

Blinking in surprise, Natalie examined the beautiful boy, noting his red eyes and pale lips. From what Cole and Isabelle shared about their enemy, she’d imagined some wretched old creature, like Petar but worse. Somehow the almost angelic youth smiling up at a death-pyre was more unsettling than any greasy bat creature dredged up from a black cavern.

Isabelle faced her student then, an ugly twitch in the older vampire’s face. “I know who is responsible for this plague. It’s obviously been modified, but I recognize the original idea and execution.”

Frowning, Natalie asked. “Who?”

Shutting her eyes, Isabelle whispered. “I am.”