The Darkest Colors: Exsanguinations

By David M. Bachman

Having survived the blood events following her Change, Raina was struggling to adapt to this newfound life of power, privilege, and danger as a hybrid-race Fallamhain vampire. Completely inexperienced and far younger than her peers, she had not yet been fully accepted by the members of the International Vampiric Council. There were few people in the world that she could consider allies and even fewer still that she could trust. And there were far, far too many people that were eager to kill her. With her personal life beginning to unravel as she narrowly escaped assassination attempts, Raina desperately needed to forge new alliances ... and keep her sword close at hand. Ten years in the making, “The Darkest Colors: Exsanguinations” is the second part in the original trilogy of the Raina series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David M. Bachman
• Release date: Sep 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301773671

David M. Bachman

Born in the Midwest, and an avid writer since the age of 13, David M. Bachman's works of fiction span over 25 years. His first published work, "When Raindrops Come Crashing," marked the start of his foray into publishing in December 2000. Since then, he has written a number of other fiction novels and short stories, including the carefully-crafted "Raina Fallamhain" series that has involved well over a full decade of composition and over nine full-length novels. He currently resides in the East Valley area of Phoenix, AZ, where many of his recent stories are based.

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The Darkest Colors: Exsanguinations

By David M. Bachman

Copyright 2012 David M. Bachman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter One

London, England

Raina was already accustomed to receiving nightly visits from the dead, even before she had become one of the dead, herself. Of course, these visits did not come every single night, nor were they necessarily predictable. But they were frequent enough that she had struggled off and on for years to find various ways to deal with them. The dead were not threatening. Or at least they hadn’t been, until Raina Delgado had died.

They only spoke perhaps a third of the time that she encountered them. She did not always actually see them, but without fail, she always sensed their presence. Sometimes, however, they would do a bit more than simply make a guest appearance. It was on those occasions that they usually chose to remind her of the fact that they were all dead because of her.

Insomnia was an obvious consequence of the dreams she had. Raina had been pushing herself more and more to stay awake for longer periods of time, busying herself with a variety of things that were both legitimate must-do’s and other things that bordered upon obsessive-compulsive behavior. Anything that kept the dreams at bay, she had figured, would help her hold onto her own sanity. Anymore, she saw sleep as both a terrible price for living and a luxury for people other than herself; it tormented her randomly with dreams that dripped bloody guilt, and it wasted valuable hours of her already limited time in this world. Days or nights wasted snoring and drooling, tossing and turning, could be better put to use doing something constructive. There would be plenty of time to sleep when she was dead. Well … completely dead.

This had been one of those nights for dreams of the speaking dead. It was nothing as obvious or straightforward as someone approaching her at random and saying, Hey, Raina. You killed me, or I’m dead because of you. Usually, whenever she had bothered to try to describe them to anyone else after the fact, the dreams had sounded relatively benign; to her, they were saddening, sinister, and even damning.

On this particular night, however, the dream was more of a lucid memory than a random and freshly-created experience. Raina found herself in a familiar but generic Arizona social scene, sitting at a table in a dimly-lit corner of the establishment’s outdoor smoking patio. She picked up a waiting glass of rum and cola, idly stirring the ice cubes about with the thin straw in the drink. She became aware of the fact that Brenna was already sitting across from her when she heard the scratch of a cigarette lighter. Brenna lit up a clove cigar, casually expelling a cloud of smoke politely away from her. She laid the lighter down upon the opened pack of cloves upon the table, gave Raina that signature smile of hers, and stared directly into her eyes.

So, my sweet, Brenna sighed with her soft but sultry voice, what happens next?

Raina simply stared at her. As she looked on, just as helpless now as she had been before, Raina watched with mute horror as a dark, wet stain appeared in the black fabric of Brenna’s dress, right in the middle of her chest. Brenna seemed utterly oblivious to the rapidly oozing wound.

What happens next? she asked again. Her tone never changed. She always sounded the same when she asked that damned enigmatic and final question.

Raina shook her head and began to get up from the table to leave. She knew that Brenna was dead. She knew that this was a dream. She just wanted to leave it, wanted to walk out of this dream and into something else. Raina felt her own throat tightening with emotion as she tried to weave her way between the sloppily-arranged patio tables and chairs. She heard Brenna ask that question once more behind her. Raina tried to squeeze her eyes shut, breaking into a full run – futile as ever, like sprinting through waist-deep molasses. She tripped over one of the patio chairs, fell forward, and landed so softly upon the ground that the impact was imperceptible.

My sweet, Brenna murmured seductively, with a soft chuckle in her voice. Her voice was not loud, but it seemed to surround her.

Raina covered her head with her arms as she laid face-down upon the floor. Hands were soon upon her, shaking her carefully but firmly. Loki’s voice called to her softly but urgently from her left. Gradually, as she lay there sobbing, she became aware of the softness of the ground beneath her, the flexing of the surface upon which she lay as she was being shaken, and she eventually returned to the even more unpleasant realization of waking reality.

She awoke in tears, as she had many times before, but she shunned Loki’s attempts to console her. If she allowed herself to take comfort in his embrace, she might actually fall asleep again, as she sometimes did when this happened, and she would only have to repeat the process once again. Raina threw aside the heavy comforter and silk sheets of the bed. Half-blind, she stumbled awkwardly to the nearby bathroom, rather rudely shutting the door behind herself with a bit of a slam.

This was her problem, her shame, and her own personal hell. She did not want pity. She did not want to share this with or force this upon anyone else. She only wanted to be left alone. She only wanted it to stop.

Smoothing her frazzled hair away from her face and squinting slightly against the rather mild light of the touch-activated lamp in the bathroom, Raina faced the unpleasantness of her own reflection at four o’clock in the morning. The dark circles under her eyes from sleep deprivation always seemed that much worse when the pupils of her eyes were forever dilated, and the streaks of tears down her cheeks were already beginning to dry to subtle, salty trails. Her hair was as frizzy as ever from the abundant humidity in the air, in spite of the mansion’s elaborate air conditioning system. Her lips were dry and becoming somewhat chapped, accented with traces of that white thirsty goo that often came in the wake of a bit too much booze the evening before.

Considering how she believed her appearance, alone, was enough to be a disturbing turn-off, she was all the more amazed that Loki was willing to put up with all of her issues: insomnia, moodiness, anxiety, and alcoholism. Had she not been the Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council and Mistress of the House of Fallamhain, in addition to being his Maker, Raina wondered just how long Loki really would have been willing and able to tolerate being with her.

She stared at her own image for a minute or so, gripping the edges of the porcelain pedestal-style sink tightly as she forced herself to get control of her own emotions. Usually, just the sight of herself in tears was enough to make her stop crying because she hated the way that she looked in that state. And, as she had been taught to continually remind herself, she was the Grand Duchess. She had to be stronger than this. Other people depended upon her strength. Lives were at stake, and they relied upon her to provide a resilient, inspiring example for them to follow if they, the vampires of the world, expected to survive from day to day in this world. She could not allow herself to buckle so easily under the stresses of her existence as a vampire, much less something as petty as an unpleasant dream. Crying over a nightmare was something for children. Human children, of course, and not at all for a vampire of nobility.

After a few minutes, Raina felt that she had sufficiently regained control of herself. She splashed a bit of cold water upon her face, both to wake herself up and to help rinse away the evidence of her tears. Of course, it was pointless to try to appear nonchalant to Loki, but she didn’t want to be questioned by everyone else that saw her roaming about the place at that hour. She wrapped herself in her favorite black silk kimono-styled robe, the one that had once belonged to Brenna, and she paused to meditate for a minute or two to try to calm and clear her chaotic thoughts before finally opening the bathroom door.

Raina nearly walked right into Loki with a gasp, finding him to be standing right outside the door. So much for relaxing.

Bad dreams again? he asked.

Raina ran her fingers through her frazzled hair, wincing as she forcefully combed out a tangle. I’m sorry.

Why are you sorry?

I woke you up.

It’s okay. He embraced her with his well-muscled arms, pulling her close to his thick, bare chest. She readily nuzzled herself against him, savoring his warmth and his scent. They’re only dreams. They’re not real.

They’re real to me, she replied sadly. The people I dream about are real. The things they say are real. The fact that they died is real.

But they’re gone now. You have to accept that, he told her.

I have accepted it, Raina insisted, clutching a lapel of the black robe. But accepting isn't the same as forgetting.

The robe had become something of a security blanket for her. She often wrapped herself in it when she began to dwell too much upon her memories of Brenna. She had taught herself to use the robe as a reminder of the fact that Brenna was dead, that the beautiful person that had once filled that robe was gone. While the realization that Brenna was gone always hurt, the physical token always worked to convince her that it was an irreversible fact. The one thing she hadn’t yet figured out, unfortunately, was how she could also manage to convince herself that she was not to blame for Brenna’s demise. Rather, she instead had a wealth of reminders that always made her believe otherwise.

She excused herself from Loki to go on another one of her insomniac walks, insisting that it would be best if he didn’t stay awake to await her return. She was done with sleep for that night. She wished that she could be done with it forever, just to get away from the dreams. Reluctantly, Loki nodded in acceptance, kissed her tenderly, and trudged off to return to bed while Raina quietly padded out of the bathroom and slipped out into the hall.

The Fallamhain Mansion was relatively modest compared to the size of others she had seen, but it was filled with such history as to be a constant source of fascination for Raina. Unfortunately, in spite of all its many relics and its beautiful décor, she had never been comfortable in this place. She had never truly been able to call it home. Her real home was back in Arizona, back in America, just a humble little manufactured home on the eastern outskirts of the East Valley near Phoenix. Someone else owned that place now, presumably giving paid tours of her former residence to fans and curious folk that wished to see the site where Raina Delgado had died and Raina Fallamhain had arisen in her place.

Duvessa had kept a stable full of consorts. The first of them, Sebastian, had long held a penchant for overindulgence that had resulted in the Change of Duvessa’s human daughter, Elizabeth. Rather than punishing Duke Sebastian Fallamhain for his crime, she had tried to sweep it under the rug. Elizabeth had rebelled against her plans, so Duvessa had traded her off to someone else – a situation of both convenience and cowardice involving German Nazi officials in World War II. Tortured and left for dead in Birkenau as the Allies closed in, she was rescued by and then married to Count von Reichenbach, adopting the first name of Wilhelmina in her gratitude. In time, her thirst for revenge had swelled and ultimately boiled over with the seemingly random death of the Count, who had become her lover and mentor. Being the sole heir of the tiny but wealthy and politically powerful House of von Richenbach bloodline, the Countess had used her sudden ascension to power as a starting point to embark upon a bloody campaign against Duvessa.

Toward the end of the Countess's crusade, Raina had been pulled from her mundane human life and thrown into the violent vampiric drama, injected against her will with the blood of two very different vampires as well as an infusion of human blood. Ultimately, she had become something that was less than human but not quite a full vampire, with the strengths and features of three different races – human, Commoner, and High Court. In the seemingly chaotic series of events that had followed her usual Change, many had died, including both the Countess and Duvessa … and Brenna.

Duvessa had previously lined the halls of her mansion with framed photographs, paintings, and encased artifacts, making the entire place into a sort of private museum featuring the history of the Fallamhain bloodline for the past two hundred years and beyond. Raina had expanded upon this theme significantly over the past year, alone, with recent photographs, framed news articles, and a few relics. The photos were of her Communion of Blood, her first public appearances, and of her duel with Countess Wilhelmina. The items on display included swords once owned by Duvessa and her consorts, as well as Wilhelmina’s, whose blade still exhibited the dried smears of its victims’ blood … one of its last victims having been Brenna.

Loki often insisted that Raina only did this to torment herself, and others called it macabre and morbid. Raina simply called it a necessary measure. She could never allow herself to forget how much had been lost. Although she had never admitted as much to anyone else, she needed reminders to convince herself that suicide was not an option. For Raina to kill herself would have been to declare that everything (and everyone) sacrificed in her name had been a waste. She only lived on now to honor their lives and to respect their last wishes … whatever their wishes may have been in reality.

Raina passed by the glass-enclosed display of swords, pausing as she always did to reflect upon these things. After a moment, she resumed stepping about the wrap-around balcony overlooking the grand dining hall below. The hall below was empty, its long table and many chairs empty, clean, and gleaming with polish even in the relative gloom. A large, elaborate crystal chandelier hung over the table from the cathedral-like ceiling far above, and what little luminescence filtered in from a light that glowed in another room below made the structure shimmer like so many cold raindrops held in suspended animation.

She heard a man’s laughter from the room below, politely restrained but sincere, and she recognized its owner. The light was emerging from the nearby den downstairs. There was someone awake in this place at all hours of the day and night, particularly because the mansion’s residents (both humans and vampires) never adhered to a rigidly regular sleep schedule.

Although she really wanted to be alone for the time being, she nevertheless decided to go downstairs to investigate and perhaps try to be a bit social. It was raining steadily outside at the time, anyhow, so one of her usual lazy twilight walks through the courtyard was pretty much out of the question. She backtracked to the main hallway, descended the grand staircase leading down to the marble-floored foyer, and quietly padded over through the dining hall and into the den.

Simon was reclined upon one of the black leather sofas in the den, watching a rugby game on television and holding a bottle of beer in hand as he simultaneously chatted with someone on a mobile phone. Raina did not announce her presence as she stood in the doorway for a minute or two, watching him idly as he went on with his conversation with his buddy apparently about what was going on with the repeat-broadcast game on television. Simon set down his beer upon the table nearby, oblivious to her presence, and laughed on as he made some rude references to the opposing team.

After a few moments, on a whim, Raina stealthily picked up the beer and began to take a sip. Right about then, Simon reached for the beer, grasped empty air, and realized with a start that it was gone.

Simon turned to look at her with his mouth agape and eyes wide, and immediately he switched off the wide screen television and sprang to his feet. He nearly dropped his mobile phone in his rush to rise, and for a moment he fumbled about with the phone in such a way that he almost appeared to be juggling it before he finally grasped it solidly again. Raina could not help but to make a disgusted, wincing face in reaction to the taste of the stout ale.

I’ll call you back, he muttered into the phone quickly before disconnecting the call and snapping his body into a state of attention. Your grace, I … I didn’t know you were...

How the hell do you drink this stuff? she asked, ignoring his unnecessary formalities. It tastes like mud and sawdust mixed with tap water.

I could get you something else, if you’d like? he suggested immediately with his usual nervous enthusiasm.

Raina shook her head as she set the beer back down upon its coaster on the neatly-polished contemporary black end table. This was one of the few rooms in the mansion furnished with modern furniture, electronics, and décor, primarily upon Raina’s insistence after making this her new place of primary residence. Until her arrival, Duvessa had kept the entire place like a sort of time capsule, with only a few bits of modern technology amidst all of the rest of the contents that were largely over a century in style, design, and actual age. She hadn’t been a technophobe in the least, but she did have a very definite preference for all things of a much earlier time period. It was understandable; Duvessa had been old enough to remember the rise and fall of Napoleon, perhaps even to have met him in person when he was still alive.

Too early in the morning … I mean … too late in the night for alcohol for me, she said. Besides, I don’t want anything that’ll just put me back to sleep.

Bit of insomnia?

Something like that.

I could brew up some coffee…?

No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. I know where—…

Cream and one sugar, right? he interrupted with a knowing smirk.

Raina hated to be waited upon hand-and-foot, but as she had learned over the past few months, some people genuinely seemed to take some kind of pleasure or personal satisfaction in being subservient.

She reluctantly nodded, sighing, Yeah, that’d be great.

Right away, your grace. And just like that, he slipped away to her right down the narrow hall that led to the kitchen, leaving a faint scent of cigarette smoke and ale in his wake.

She supposed that, at least on this occasion, Simon felt that he’d been caught slacking off. Truth be told, Raina didn’t care either way. She didn’t see him as a human servant so much as an important ally, as well as an all-around nice guy. He was in his mid-thirties, average in height, average in looks, but far, far above average in his general enthusiasm, intelligence, and energy level. Simon had apparently been Duvessa’s favorite human servant, both from what Raina had been told and what she had read in some of the former Grand Duchess’s personal writings. In Duvessa’s words, Simon was such an incredibly hard-working and devoted chap, calm and efficient in a professional setting but adorably awkward in private, and always good for a smile.

Whereas Loki was more of a flawlessly obedient and stoic trooper, Simon was just flawlessly … well … human. Apparently, people like Simon were what helped to remind her why it was necessary to continue to stress that vampires should integrate and live harmoniously with humans. Others in the High Court tended to isolate themselves from humanity and surround themselves almost exclusively with other vampires or, when necessary, only quite mature humans with very frosty personalities.

Duvessa, however, had preferred to employ and attract a slightly more youthful, vibrant band of individuals, at least with her human servants, while preferring far more mature individuals as her consorts. Of course, by her own admission, Duvessa had done this for the sake of better keeping in touch with the times, to stay fresh and current with the generation of the day. She had felt that it had increased the longevity of her popularity and helped her avoid appearing to be out of touch or completely aristocratic, although she had been quite unsuccessful in the latter objective.

As such, Raina had found almost every one of Duvessa’s human servants and young vampire associates quite ready to devote themselves to their new mistress. While she was not fond of the idea of anyone being in servitude to her, at least Raina was able to relate to these people quite easily because of the relative lack of generational barriers.

Simon was a bit of an odd duck, though. Raina followed him into the kitchen and watched as he went about the task of preparing a pot of coffee for brewing with the usual frenetic pace he had in doing things. She wondered where Duvessa had run across someone like Simon. Surely, it had to have been a completely random chance encounter. She couldn’t imagine that Duvessa would have put out an a want ad seeking a hard-working man with great professional skills and a keen sense of humor, but a tendency to be very awkward in private settings, particularly around female vampires.

What really seemed odd to her was how much Duvessa, in her journal writings, had insisted that Simon had appeared to be quite infatuated with her, if not in love with her. As far as Raina could sense, it seemed that he did not miss Duvessa at all. Instead, Simon had actually appeared to have been relieved by her death … and now had something of a crush upon Raina. Either Duvessa had been truly terrible at reading human sentiments, having been so full of herself that she had felt everyone had worshiped her, or she had apparently mistreated Simon in such a way that he’d been glad to see her go. Raina, it seemed, had been in the house that had fallen from the sky and crushed the wicked witch.

So, did you just wake up, or were you getting ready for bed? he asked as he began hurriedly tossing a couple of scoops of darkly-roasted coffee beans into the grinder.

Just got up. Can’t sleep … as usual, Raina replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as she leaned upon the doorway. Clumsily, she lightly pricked one of her knuckles upon one of her bared canines. She saw just a tiny dot of blood rise to the surface of her pale skin, and she put it to her lips to suckle it away. Even after several months following her Change, she was still having a hard time adapting to her fangs.

Oh, I’m … I’m sorry, your grace, he said, turning to her with a sudden look of sincere apology. I thought I had the telly down far enough, but I might have been a bit too loud on the phone…

You’re fine, Simon. Really, she insisted with a smile. Even with these big, pointy ears of mine, I couldn’t hear you at all until I walked all the way over to the far end of the dining hall.

Oh. He seemed genuinely surprised, perhaps even disappointed as he glanced down for a moment. Was it the dreams again?

Now it was Raina that was surprised. Who told you about that?

No one, I … it was, umm … I just … I was reading, y’know, and ah, I … well … the Web, Simon stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck – one of his many nervous tics. But I mean … y’know, it was just … this site was, y’know, it was probably rubbish, just rumor, and…

Simon.

He straightened up immediately. Yes, your grace?

Relax. We’re just talking, Raina said with a smile. You know, like normal people. I’m not going to bite you or anything.

Well, that’s … that’s certainly good to know, he replied with a nervous chuckle after a moment’s hesitation. He almost seemed mistrusting of her reassurance.

If it helps, just pretend that I’m someone else. Don’t be so uptight, she told him as she folded her arms under her breasts. You don’t need to be so formal. It’s just us in here right now.

His smile faltered and he considered that for a moment. Simon took in a deep breath, stuck out his lower lip slightly, and exhaled with a brief jump of his eyebrows before rubbing his chin.

That’s, ah … that’s exactly what she used to say, Simon replied.

Raina’s smile vanished as well. I’m not her, Simon. I’m nothing like her at all.

Simon hesitated, smiled a bit more again, and nodded. Well, you’re quite right about that.

He began to manually grind the coffee in the hand-cranked mill. He appeared just slightly less tense, focusing upon his task, but she could sense that he still was uneasy. As a Fallamhain vampire, Raina had the same High Court abilities of psychic empathy – her ability to sense the emotions and intentions of others, not quite true telepathy. This ability was far less effective in trying to read humans for whatever reason, whereas with vampires and particularly other High Courts, the connection was especially powerful and sharp. With other vampires, she sensed their emotions as if they were her own. Sometimes it was very difficult to discern her own true feelings from that which she was picking up from those around her. Instead of being a means of forewarning against hostile intent, as evolution had presumably meant it to be, it often had influenced her words and actions negatively.

If someone else was extremely angry, she tended to become a bit short-tempered, herself. Another’s feelings of lust in moments of intimacy seemed to fuel her own, as though she fed upon them. And whenever someone was particularly on edge, such as Simon seemed to always be when he was around her, it made her feel rather uncomfortable, too. Even with two centuries of practice, Duvessa had once admitted to having the same tendency to be affected by outside emotions.

What was she like? Raina asked rather abruptly. I mean, you know … as a person?

Simon paused in cranking the coffee mill for just a second, glancing at her.

You mean, as a human?

No, like … as an individual. You know, on a day-to-day basis?

He finished grinding and offered a shrug with a curled lower lip.

Well, she was … nice, actually.

As far as she could tell, Simon’s simple description of her was totally sincere.

Nice? Raina echoed after a moment of stunned silence. You mean you never saw her get angry with anyone?

Well, she did have her off moments now and then, he admitted with a shrug as he removed the lid of the mill and shook the coffee grounds into the French press. He froze for a moment, reconsidering his statement, before resuming his actions. Actually, she had a lot of off moments. But for the most part, I thought she was rather nice. I mean, I’ve worked for people a lot worse than her before, I can tell you that.

Raina was still gripped with utter disbelief. What on earth did you do for a living before you met Duvessa?

I sold electronics in a department store downtown, Simon answered. Believe me, it’s much easier to deal with an aristocratic vampire with rage issues than it is to face random members of the general public on a daily basis. He set down the coffee mill and turned, pointing to her with both hands. That wasn’t directed at you at all, your grace, I swear.

No, I … I know what you meant, she chuckled.

Don’t get me wrong, Duvessa was still a complete and utter lunatic. I mean it. I could always tell that, deep down inside, she was a complete nutter. Seriously. She was absolutely stark raving mad, he explained, gesturing with both hands excitedly as he often did. But at the same time, she was also extremely intelligent.

Some of the smartest people in the world are also some of the craziest, Raina commented. Sometimes it’s easy to mistake a genius for a lunatic, and vice-versa.

Maybe so. But either way, Duvessa was smart enough to know that she couldn’t go around abusing people without a reason, because then nobody would want to work for her. So really, she was always rather nice to me. He grinned. She had to be. I was the only one that could get her all those fancy electronics at a discounted price and then set everything up so that it actually worked.

Really? You’d never know it by the old-school Victorian look of this place. Raina considered that for a moment as she watched him fill the French press with boiling-hot water from the special filtered, high-heat tap near the large stainless steel sink basin. What kind of electronics, exactly?

Simon shrugged again as he put the plunger lid atop the press. A bit of everything, really. She was always fond of technology. This instant hot-water tap system, for example, she thought was amazing. But then, you have to also consider that she was born in the days before indoor plumbing…

Specifically, Simon, she interrupted him gently, what kind of ‘fancy electronics’ did she request?

He hesitated once more, this time not so much out of his shyness or anxiety. Instead, he seemed reluctant to surrender what was apparently a secret of some kind.

Just … things.

What things?

Electronic … things.

She rolled her eyes impatiently. Simon…

Computers … laptops, mainly, he finally began to confess, mobiles, radios, monitors, cameras, alarms, locks, that sort of thing…

Wait, wait, she blurted again, waving her hands as she stepped closer. Simon almost reflexively shrank back from her a bit. Sorry. You’re just talking about security equipment, right?

Mostly, yes. His eyes shifted away nervously as she stood with his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth onto his heels. She, um … she had a lot to hide … as I’m sure you already know.

Yes, I do, she agreed, and I think I know where she kept a lot of it.

Simon drew his lips in, biting them for a moment before speaking. You want in the cellar, don’t you.

And how.

I’m, ah … not sure you really want to do that.

Oh, I do, Simon, she assured him with a nod and a smile, stepping closer. I most certainly do.

Not … if you knew what’s down there … your grace.

You know what’s in there?

"I’ve, ah … heard things and … seen … things…"

So, you’ve been in there?

Oh, no … no. He was looking everywhere but at Raina, now. I mean … well, not exactly.

Meaning?

I’ve taken a peek or two … with the monitors…

Raina stopped her advance just within arms’ reach of him. She wasn’t trying to intimidate him, at least not consciously, but she couldn’t help drawing nearer in her piqued interest. She had wanted to get in the cellar for months, but she had not yet found anyone that Duvessa had entrusted with knowledge of how to gain entry. The former Grand Duchess may as well have done the old trick of swallowing a key, because apparently she had taken the access codes with her to the grave.

Ever since she had first relocated to the Fallamhain Estate and had begun to explore its grounds, Raina had been stumped by what it was that Duvessa had taken such great measures to keep hidden and secure in the main cellar of the mansion. There were at least three layers of protection that had been heaped upon the two known entrances to the cellar: a heavy steel door with concealed hinges, an electronic keypad door lock, and an electronic alarm visibly connected to the top of the door that presumably would be tripped if it were opened without prior access.

Given Duvessa’s level of paranoia and the many dark secrets of history she’d kept from so many, Raina had never yet tested the doors, for she feared there might be other security measures involved that could prove dangerous, if not lethal, if she triggered them. At the very least, she didn’t want to deal with a perpetually wailing alarm or an unwanted visit from outside security or police officers, because she had no idea yet how to disarm the system.

What was within the cellar was anyone’s guess. Raina had theorized that it was likely a collection of historical relics, some of which probably included incriminating evidence that would have revealed her links to German Nazi officials. Specifically, it likely involved Duvessa’s association with Dr. Josef Mengele and those of the camp at Birkenau. These things could have put her at risk of being tried and executed for past war crimes, or at least they would have destroyed her public image. Loki and others had speculated that it was simply a stash of wealth, including jewelry, gold, silver, and other such things. Duvessa had amassed an incredible network of riches in her time, some of which Raina was only gradually learning were entitled to her and yet unclaimed.

What monitors? she asked him softly.

The, ah … monitors she had installed … had me install for her, Simon stumbled. He looked at her almost fearfully. Really … seriously … you don’t want to go in there. There’s nothing in there … for someone like you.

She blinked. Someone like me?

Raina tried her best to read him. He was afraid, no doubt, but she was beginning to realize now that it wasn’t about her, now. He was bothered by the past, by memories. She still wondered just what Duvessa had done to him, or how she had at least threatened him, to make him act this skittish. His anxiety around Raina was probably attributable to her obvious resemblance to Duvessa, at least as far as her High Court features of fangs, elongated and pointy bat-like ears, and pale flesh that actually glowed to a subtle degree in times of stress or excitability. But his reaction to the subject of the cellar was strictly that of plain fear, if not horror.

No, Simon said. You’re certainly not like her. Not at all.

Raina stared at him for a moment longer as she began to understand. She placed a hand gently upon his shoulder and he tensed up even more, if that was at all possible. She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, hoping to ease his stress before it drove her into an obviously nervous state, as well. Her own skin was already beginning to glow visibly.

Simon … if you’re getting at what I think you might be getting at, and if you know how I can get in there, then it’s absolutely imperative that you get me in there, she told him. If there are things in there as bad as you seem to be saying there are … criminal things … then I need to know what I have in this place. I don’t want something like that being held against me by someone else. Do you understand? I don’t want to be put on trial for being in possession of something illegal that Duvessa left behind.

Oh, you won’t, he said quite confidently. Nobody can accuse you of anything. Not since the video cameras were installed, they can’t. I can prove you’ve never set foot in there.

That’s not enough. If there’s something terrible down there and someone else knows about it, just the fact that I still have it under my roof is enough to get me in hot water with the authorities, she told him. And even if it’s nothing illegal, I sure don’t need to give the IVC Elders any more excuses to question my title. As it already is, I’m practically going to be facing the Spanish Inquisition when I go to discuss the Code with them. The last thing I need is for them to think that I…

They already know … your grace.

They already know what?

Most of them already know what’s in there.

She stared at him. How?

They’ve been in there.

When? How?

When she was still, ah … here, he explained reluctantly, she would host events. Meetings, parties … things like that … and at some point, she would usually go down there with someone. I was told that she liked to … well … entertain her guests there.

What’s down there, Simon? Raina asked him flatly.

Sometimes … most of the time, actually … she came back up alone. Or if three of them went down there, only two would come back up. He gulped audibly. I’ve heard things, and I … I saw a video once…

What… is … down there … Simon? she demanded, growing annoyed.

I don’t know, he finally said. So help me God, I don’t know. But I’m too bloody chicken to find out. All I know is that whatever’s down there … someone like you … you’d never want to see it.

Raina gently took hold of his other shoulder and tried to meet his gaze. His eyes were almost closed now and his face turned down and slightly aside.

Simon … Simon, look at me, please. Slowly, he complied. Do you have the access code?

He nodded again, uttering, Yep.

You can disable the alarm?

Yep.

Then you can get me in there, right?

Yep.

And you never thought to mention this to me until now?

Well … you never asked.

You knew I’ve wanted in there since I first got here, she told him. You could have let me know a long time ago.

Not if I wanted to be able to sleep at night.

She smiled. You’re a night owl. You don’t sleep at night half of the time, anyway.

Figure of speech.

I get it. Simon, you’re a sweetheart, Raina said, leaning her face in towards his. Simon tensed up as though he expected her to bite off his nose, when instead she quite innocently gave him a kiss on the cheek. Relax. I told you I wasn’t going to bite you.

Sorry. Old habit.

Why? Did she bite you on a regular basis?

He looked aside again. Well, there was a time or two…

Wait … forget that I asked. C’mon. She took hold of his black tie and gave it a tug, using it as though it was a leash. Surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprising, after all – it popped off. Raina held up the clip-on tie with a raised eyebrow. Jeez, did she choke you, too?

Actually, no, he answered as she handed it back to him. He unbuttoned his collar and grinned. I’m just too lazy to tie a real one.

* * * *

Chapter Two

There was a small study in the lower level of the mansion that Raina had preferred for her alone time, which was usually spent either reading Duvessa’s journal entries, writing her own, or studying various writings and articles regarding the history of the Fallamhain bloodline and other prominent members of the High Court. It was more or less a miniature library with many shelves full of various old leather-bound books and photo albums, a small but well-crafted mahogany desk with a matching (but uncomfortable) chair, and a very cozy lounge chair bound in black leather. After descending the stairs leading down into this small but well-finished room, the door leading into the main chamber of the cellar was to the immediate left.

The level of Duvessa’s concern for protecting the contents of that cellar chamber was quite obvious. The door was a heavy-gauge steel unit painted flat black with stainless steel fixtures, kept shut by a lock that could only be accessed by a numeric keypad. The hinges to the door were concealed within the equally heavy steel frame of the door, so Raina had never been sure if the door opened inward or outward. The wall surrounding it was solid concrete covered by decorative wood paneling that matched the rest of the study, which looked rather dated – Seventies or Eighties interior fashion, Raina guessed. A video camera watched over the entrance from an opposing corner of the study, which Raina had often regarded with a subtle feeling of paranoia, herself, until she had finally covered the camera with a cloth one day so that she could read and write in peace and confidentiality.

I’ve always wondered, she mentioned to Simon, halting him by merely touching his shoulder as they reached the bottom of the stairs, who’s watching that camera, anyway?

Oh, nobody, he replied quite calmly. It’s automated and only set to record when the main door is opened. I was told she asked for it because she wanted to know who else was going in and out of here.

Where does it go?

Simon turned and blinked at her. I’m sorry?

The video feed from that camera, she elaborated. It has to go to some kind of a video recorder somewhere, or at least to a monitor. Right?

Oh … yes, of course. That would be in the cabinet next to the desk, he replied, gesturing to the wall beside the desk.

This was certainly news to her, as she had never seen anything next to the desk, other than a simple wall upon which several framed documents and photographs had been hung.

What cabinet?

Oh, sorry. I just assumed that you’d already seen it by now. Here, let me show you, he said, hurrying over to the desk with obvious excitement. He knelt down for a moment, reaching underneath for something. There’s a key hanging from a hook under here.

He stood up once more, holding up the key with a smirk, and then turned to face the wall. Raina had noticed that the wall did seem to have a gap between the wall, itself, and the left edge of the inset bookshelf in the center section of the wall, but she had never thought much of it. Simon tilted one of the photos, an old black-and-white group photo of the members of the House of Fallamhain taken sometime during or just after the World War II era, revealing a round brass keyhole set into the wood. He poked the small matching brass key into it, gave it a half-turn, and stepped back. That four foot section of the wall beside the bookcase opened up to reveal a bank of small television monitors and related security video equipment, as well as a row of numbered and coded switches.

She wasn't just worried about someone physically getting into the cellar. She was worried about someone taking a peek at it with the cameras in there, he explained as Raina drew closer with wide eyes of amazement.

People such as yourself, apparently, Raina said with a smile.

Simon shrugged. I set up most of this gear. So, of course, I had to know how to get access to everything. I was the only person she would allow to service any of it in the event that something stopped working.

So, she knew the whole time that you could peek in there whenever you wanted?

Well … not exactly, Simon reluctantly admitted. I set up the system and set the codes, but I don’t think she entirely trusted me not to be tempted to check things out later. Hence, she had this secret locking door installed to cover up the whole thing. She figured that one little lock would be enough to keep me out of the system, but … well, obviously she didn’t do a very good job of hiding the key.

Raina watched as Simon poked the power button of monitor after monitor, switching them all on. Nothing was being displayed on any of them at the moment except a blank, dark gray screen.

I guess she figured that nobody else would be looking for a key under there because nobody else knew this was all hidden behind the wall, Raina suggested with a shrug. I sure as hell never had a clue all of this was in here.

Simon flipped a few simple black switches under the monitors, looking up curiously to see if anything changed. These control the lights in the cellar, but … oh, wait.

He entered a three-digit number into the keypad at the end of the row of switches, just above which was a red LED display showing the numbers 001. The display of the monitors suddenly blinked to life, displaying nine different camera angles that all appeared to show different rooms.

You have to activate the camera group with this, he said, pointing to the keypad. You can also access the other camera groups throughout the estate with this panel.

"Wait, wait, what? Camera groups? Raina sputtered, her mouth slightly agape. I’ve never seen any cameras around this place, other than that one in the corner here…"

She had the whole estate under surveillance at all times. All the entrances and exits, at least one camera per room in every room … even in the loo, he replied, his nervous demeanor seeming to mostly vanish as he slid into his technophile mode. The exterior cameras have a remote link to the security company she had working under contract for her, and you can access them from this panel, too. But all of the interior cameras are closed-circuit and they only feed to this set of displays down here. She just had this upgraded about a year ago so that she could view the cameras from her laptop in the office upstairs or down here.

Jesus, Raina murmured, watching as Simon cycled through several sets of camera views. I’ve seen movies about drug dealers with setups like this. Was she expecting a bunch of ninjas to come sneaking onto her property in the middle of the night?

Cat burglars, perhaps. There were a few incidents with intruders in the past, he answered, but it always turned out to be either thieves looking to steal valuables or paparazzi trying to peek in the windows to snap photos. She was more concerned with keeping out humans rather than other members of the High Court.

Raina nodded at that, as it made perfect sense. Given the way she ruled the High Court, Duvessa had everyone so terrified of her power and she had surrounded herself with so many capable men and women that a sneak attack upon her main residence would have surely seemed like a suicide mission. If a human had been caught trespassing, they would have been prosecuted; if a vampire had been caught, they probably would have been executed.

The thing is, Simon went on, she made it sound like the idea behind all of this was to collect evidence against any trespassers we caught. But if you notice where some of the cameras are located…

Simon switched to a set of interior views that included, as he’d mentioned, cameras positioned in discreet locations in bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as the main library, the dining hall, and the kitchen.

Unless her guests were stealing bath towels and pillows, Raina mused, I’d say she was probably a hardcore peeping tom.

Not just that, Simon said, poking a button on the front of one of the shelved devices under the row of switches. A small tray slid out of the device with a compact disc, or rather a DVD, sitting upon it. Holding up the disc, he told her, She was an amateur pornographer, as well.

Raina gaped at the disc he held up. She … recorded…?

Herself, mostly, but probably whomever else was visiting at the time, as well. She liked to keep these mementos of her favorite nights for later on, he replied with utmost seriousness, not even showing a hint of a smirk now. The video and audio quality isn’t the best in the world, of course, but this system is set up to record video from all cameras simultaneously. Each of these four DVD-R units is set up for one camera group each. The recording could either be triggered manually or automatically for up to eight hours per disc. If recording is triggered by an alarm condition, such as if the cellar door was opened, it would record for up to five minutes after the alarm condition is cleared.

Raina looked at the disc he held, seeing that it was only vaguely labeled with a #4 handwritten with a felt-tip marker. Is there anything on that disc?

Simon shrugged, glancing at it briefly as he answered, Well, I’ve seen worse things on the Internet…

Can I…? Raina asked as she pointed to the disc and then to the recorder from whence it had come.

He hesitated, but then nodded almost begrudgingly. He knew what was on that disc. Raina had a strange feeling that he had almost been tempted to remove that disc and either stash it away or destroy it to keep her from seeing it. She could appreciate that he was a nice guy that was often going out of his way to be polite and kind to her – especially her, being his employer, the Grand Duchess, and all that – but she didn’t want to be coddled like a little girl. She had seen a lot of terrible, terrible things in her time. She had done some terrible things, too. She was sure that whatever was contained on a video disc would be nothing especially traumatic for her.

Simon reinserted the disc into the DVD-R deck and closed its tray, then used the buttons on the front of the deck to navigate through the in-disc menu that displayed on each of the nine monitors.

It’s much easier to view on a laptop because you can do a lot more with it. But this works, too, he explained as he brought up a scene of nine camera angles displaying from the same period of time.

The video was in color, although a bit grainy from its low resolution, and the sound was very tinny, making the audio seem as though one were hearing everything through a hollowed-out coffee can. There were several people visible in several rooms, and after a few seconds of study, Raina came to identify a few of them: Ladies Svetlana, Noriko, Mary, and Jen, Duke Sebastian, and of course Duvessa. The dining hall view showed a gathering of many people, none of whom Raina could readily identify, and she guessed it to be a night upon which Duvessa was hosting a party of some kind.

Mary was, somehow not surprisingly, mixing drinks in the kitchen area, Jen was primping in front of a bathroom mirror, and Svetlana and Noriko were attending to the unidentified guests. Duvessa could be seen stepping away from her opened laptop computer in the study where Raina and Simon were now standing. She had apparently just then manually activated the cameras’ recording, as Duvessa quickly ascended the stairs and hurried up to the dining hall.

The ghost-like image of Duvessa, wearing one of her many elegant, flowing white formal dresses was, in itself, enough to give Raina a slight chill. She disliked having to see video clips of her predecessor being replayed all the time on television news reports and in documentaries. She had seen most of those clips so many times that she had eventually grown fairly numb to them. Footage of Duvessa in this familiar setting, especially being reminded of the fact that she had once sat at the desk next to where they were presently standing, was just eerie. Raina could not help but to nervously glance over her shoulder, as though she expected to catch a glimpse of the actual image of Duvessa ascending the stairs across the room from them. She was not an especially superstitious person, but she could not deny that on some level, so many things of the Fallamhain Estate seemed to give off such strange vibes that she felt it would have been easy to believe that it was haunted.

The audio only plays from one camera source at a time, but you can select the audio track independently from the camera angle you’re watching, Simon informed her as he cycled the audio from one camera to another and to yet another.

Raina watched silently, enthralled as she heard the voices of people that had been dead for months. The brief three seconds of audio she heard of Mary singing softly to herself in the kitchen as she prepared a tray of several drinks was especially creepy for some reason. The audio from the dining hall was too full of too many people talking at once to be intelligible, but she could see Duvessa entering the room and grabbing the attention of a male that was seated near the far end of the long table. She leaned over, said something briefly to him, and he nodded compliantly before getting up. As though on cue – actually, she saw Duvessa turn and give him a signaling nod – Duke Sebastian could be seen excusing himself from a conversation he was having with someone else at the table, following after Duvessa like a well-trained dog.

Have you watched this video before? Raina asked Simon.

A few times, yes, he admitted. He paused for a moment. I, ah … honestly thought of turning it over to Scotland Yard awhile back.

Raina cringed. I’m about to see something bad, aren’t I?

Grimacing sympathetically, Simon said, You really can’t see anything graphic from these angles. The cameras inside the cellar are on a separate camera group, and the footage from those is on a separate disc, but I’ve never found any recordings of anything from inside there. She always kept them somewhere else.

Probably in the cellar, along with all of her other dirty laundry, Raina suggested, watching the trio come into view on the camera view of the lower study.

Raina watched as Duvessa walked over to the desk in the study and, surprisingly, opened the door to the cabinet of video equipment that Simon and Raina were presently facing. Simon switched the audio over to the camera in the study so that the conversation could be heard. The sound of Duvessa’s voice in casual conversation, as opposed to the more haughty and formal tone she used in public, actually made Raina shudder.

…just six months ago, Duvessa explained to the unknown male. From where we stand here, you can see everything in virtually every room of my entire estate.

That is very impressive, said the man with an accent of some kind – Dutch, German, or something like that. It is almost like being … what, ah … what is the word?

Omniscient, Duvessa said for him as she turned to face him with a smile. Their faces were much clearer in this view because they were much closer to the camera. Raina could now see that the man with whom Duvessa spoke was a High Court vampire. This allows me to be able to see all and know all … to be the goddess of one’s domain … or at least within my own home.

That was met with a warm chuckle from the other vampire. Perhaps you could introduce me to someone, so that I may have something like this for my own home. I would like that feeling of, ah… security, I think is the word.

It certainly does give peace of mind, she replied with a nod. But of course, it is no substitute for the close company of good people … especially those that you can trust.

Yes, I agree—…

The man’s sentence was cut abruptly short as he was grabbed from behind by Duke Sebastian. Giving Raina yet another chilling reminder of past events, she watched with horror as a cloth was placed over the unidentified High Court’s mouth and nose while Duke Sebastian simultaneously pinned his victim’s right arm behind his back. Duvessa sprang forth and seized his other arm as he attempted to reach for something from within his suit jacket’s inner pocket – a cell phone, a weapon of some kind, she could only guess.

Duvessa and her bloodspawn quickly subdued the male High Court. Within seconds, the blonde-haired male’s muffled and barely audible cries became silent and he sagged in their shared embrace. Duke Sebastian hooked his arms under the male’s shoulders and began to drag him backwards while Duvessa calmly stepped over to the cellar door. There were four beeps as she entered the pass code, followed by a loud bang before she pulled the door open. The room beyond the threshold of the door was pitch black from the perspective of the camera in the study, but neither Duvessa nor Sebastian showed any hesitation about dragging the unconscious male High Court in there and shutting the door behind them with a solid thump, accompanied by the loud clack of the door’s heavy bolt latching shut.

Okay, Raina said with a sigh, I’m pretty sure I just witnessed a murder.

Well … I can’t say for sure, Simon answered, because that’s about as far as this goes. After this, there’s a few minutes of nothing before Duvessa and Sebastian come walking out of there.

When did this take place?

A couple of months before, ah … before she left, Simon said as he paused the video. Before she left here for the last time, I mean.

So, wait … you’re saying that guy was…?

Count Klaus von Reichenbach.

And after he went in there, he never came back out, right?

Not that I can see from any of the footage that I’ve got here, no.

So, he was murdered in there?

Simon opened his mouth to say something else, thought twice about it, then nodded. I believe so, yes.

Why on earth did you keep this video a secret for so long? Raina demanded, not so much angry as simply stunned. What stopped you from taking this to the authorities?

He shrugged. "A lot of things … one of them being that I didn’t want to wind up like the Count. If you don’t mind me saying, I was scared