Grim Travels: Coffee And Blood, #9

By Aya DeAniege

The phoenix shall rise. 

After the events of the night before, Cae and Drest leave Sanctuary in search of answers. In their absence, Sanctuary's protection is left to the dark creatures and Mungo, who is desperately hanging onto what little stability he has left. 

Cae and Drest end up in Glasgow to retrieve missing jewels, which could save Sanctuary from the approaching vampire army. Their activities from two nights previous did not go unnoticed by law enforcement, nor did the events shortly after they arrived in Glasgow. 

Nothing short of a miracle will save them. Or all the magic of two powerful witches and a spell that would take decades to create, decades they don't have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aya DeAniege
• Release date: Jul 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9798230695455

Aya DeAniege

Aya DeAniege is a Canadian author who wrote for years, first to please herself then writing stories for free--believing no one would ever pay to read her stuff--before pursuing indie publishing. She still writes mainly for personal pleasure, with topics ranging from romance, fantasy, science fiction, on to whatever takes her fancy in the future. World creation fascinates her, and when she finds one she likes, she dabbles endlessly.

Book preview

Forward

Algebra, arguably the most hated subject in high school. The bane of any teenager’s existence. The subject where they introduce the alphabet to math and make you figure things out that shouldn’t be figured out.

Who cares how many of each type of pie a store sold over a weekend? Who would want to find out, knowing only the sales and that one sold twice as much as the other?

Seriously, if the owner is so bad at keeping track of his figures, he shouldn’t own a business!

Or do the math himself, stop asking teenagers.

Turns out, and no one talks about it at all, to use magic you need a fantastic grasp on algebra. Well, to do more than the mundane, to be more than just kind of competent when it comes to magic. Or if you want to make your own spell, if you want to know before you accidentally summon some nightmare creature, if you can pull a spell off.

Basically: if you don’t want to die, you have to know how to do algebra.

I mean, I did okay in algebra, but also not great. I think I barely passed. I wasn’t even sleeping during; I found algebra fascinating, but I still did not grasp the concept.

Then I grew up, developed cancer, flew to Scotland thinking I’d be dead in a few months, turned into a vampire, inherited the magic of a powerful witch, and learned I needed to relearn algebra to use magic.

You know, regular everyday stuff.

Oh, and there were vampires attacking us, Elspeth got bitten, Sanctuary’s boundary fell—exposing thousands of creatures to humans—a guardian died, more vampires were coming to destroy us, the fae want us dead, there are, like, four different civil wars happening, and...

I’m hungry.

As I booked my flight to Scotland, I knew my world view was a little narrow, that it could be wider. I thought I knew most, though.

Sure, races existed, but they were like the myths. They just sort of existed. I didn’t count on the races being just like humans. Having troubles and squabbles just like humans.

Turns out, ‘being human’ isn’t restricted to humans. All the races have douchebags and evil in them. Each is led by a governing body that few like or follow.

Take the Council for instance, and this is only as an afterthought. During this all I thought they would swoop in and help us.

But still, take the Council.

They are the governing body for the vampires because they have the most vampires with powers. They have many vampires and are good at maintaining control. Which is fine or great or whatever. Except Drest once threw the Council out of Scotland. He held onto his land despite the efforts of the Council and was the only factionless vampire to do so. For that, the Council wouldn’t come to his rescue, even though the lives of magical creatures were on the line.

Because the Council denied those creatures existed.

The Council might have intervened, sure, but not until after Drest was broken or destroyed. They probably knew of the whole thing and sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the perfect time to send in their people and claim Scotland and the remains of Sanctuary. They would portray it to the world, wringing their hands and cringing as they said they tried to mobilize but arrived too late and wasn’t it all just so sad?

Dicks, that’s what the Council are.

They’re dicks and should be kicked.

The witches had a—a, I don’t even know what it is. They, if anyone, I would think, would want to protect Sanctuary. The magical creatures Sanctuary protected are magical, and witches can use the by-products of those creatures in their spells.

Once upon a time, the hair of the unicorn and powdered newt were a thing.

Except the newts glowed neon colours and were made up of hopes and dreams of children, and you had to wait for them to die of natural causes, of old age if you would, otherwise their body evaporated and cursed you at the same time.

So, you’d think the witches would help us out.

But no.

Because once, some two or three hundred years ago, the Grand Coven changed their direction. They took control of Bridget—my great-great-grandmother who happened to be a powerful witch—and tried to force her to show them how she did her rejuvenation spell, how she could rise from the ashes of her own death like the phoenix of myth. The Grand Coven used force and goodness knows what else, I don't dare to ask.

They had sent Mungo out from Sanctuary to save Bridget, taking her from the Grand Coven.

So, the Grand Coven wouldn’t help us because once, long ago, Sanctuary harboured a fugitive. Maybe Sanctuary still harboured fugitives from them, since it was home to hybrids, half-breeds, and the cast-offs of society. There were about four witches of various backgrounds in Sanctuary. Not a lot when you consider the balance of thousands of magical creatures.

But because of those four witches, because we dared to stand on their toes, the Grand Coven decided all those creatures and humans, should die. They decided everything could just happen as it happened. That the magical creatures should die, the land be destroyed, the guardians super pissed off, and humans eaten.

The war the guardians might start with vampires was just a bonus for the Grand Coven, but they didn’t know what a guardian was at the time.

And, as I write this after the fact, I can let you know they willfully ignored what was happening. The Grand Coven lives all over but usually meet either in Britain or France. During the events of this night, they gathered in Manchester, waiting to swoop in.

To pick the carcass clean after Drest was removed.

It’s my understanding the fae were waging a civil war and couldn’t come to our aid. That’s fine, I mean, I get that. They would have come. If not because we had their heir, who was wounded in the events of the previous nights, then because of all those creatures.

But the fae were distracted.

And one reason we were attacked was because of their civil war.

See, the King Fae wanted ultimate control over the new Queen Fae, because I guess he planned, or plans, to kill his wife. Great way to end a marriage there, kill your wife, forcibly marry your daughter.

I mean, they aren’t supposed to be related by blood, but for the fae, it’s basically the same so it’s super disturbing and I think the King Fae should be de-throned.

The humans, in the wake of the boundary dropping, were shocked to wake to dragons in the sky. I think I read one eyewitness account of a farmer going out to his field and finding a little dragon perched on his scarecrow. He thought it was a hawk of some sort, for the creature had a bird in its clutches.

And then it opened its iridescent wings, heralding the dawn with its horn-like call.

That’s how he described it.

A call from heaven, triumphant and produced on horns which signalled the coming changes.

It was kind of cool, I mean, to me.

Can you imagine just waking up one day and surprise, there are dragons?

Well, I suppose you don’t have to imagine, do you?

Because you lived it.

And you know the fallout for humans at the very least.

But you don’t know the fallout for the other races.

Drest calls us diplomats. Negotiators. We help keep the peace between the vampires and the other races. We are supposed to stand for something and uphold rules and help dictate new rules. We are protectors and caregivers.

We are not like normal vampires.

And a bitch touched our ward.

So, we’re going to settle it all out, and the races will pay in blood. All of them, even the fae who allowed this to happen. The price has to be extracted because the world has to know there are consequences to these stupid feuds.

But I get ahead of myself, don’t I?

I can’t dictate what we did after all was said and done. Drest calls it vampire business.

I can, however, tell you all about why we are where we are, why we are doing what we’re doing. That was one reason we continued with our records.

I think Drest suspected we would die, and he wanted something to remain behind, to say we were here, and we did what was right.

We stood for Sanctuary and all those magical creatures.

And the world heard us roar.

Outage

My first conscious thought the next evening was warmth and comfort. I laid on my side, a hand under my pillow. Drest lay against my back, wrapped right around me. His face buried in the crook of my neck.

Mungo was still in the bed. He had somehow wound up using my side as a pillow. His face was sitting on my waist, one hand reaching over me and settled on Drest’s hip.

Wolves are weird.

I understood Mungo needed the closeness. He needed to be wrapped up and near people or creatures he trusted with his life. Drest called it needing pack. I assumed, until I knew all about the wolf race, that was the best way to describe what Mungo was going through.

We all had a difficult night.

Mungo broke down after we found Elspeth, his mother, going through the change. Drest broke down after talking to those in the hamlet, but out of sight, and he hadn’t meant for me to see or feel him. He had tried to do so quietly, and I suspected that was because he feared my reaction to him breaking down.

I hadn’t judged him at all. Instead, I understood what he was going through.

My world had already been turned upside down, but part of that process were the weird phases of my mood, which varied from crazy to cranky and straight into sociopathy.

The events of the nights preceding would catch up to me, but I didn’t think they would anytime soon. I think it would take centuries for me to feel all that had happened, all that was supposed to have come over me.

The distance I felt allowed me to be a support for Drest.

The only strange thing about the events of those minutes with Drest, as he struggled with himself, was that I enjoyed it. Not enjoyed his pain, but I enjoyed being there for him. I liked that I could be his support, or at least try to be. I liked that I could help him.

My entire mood lifted from the experience.

I’m not sure what that meant, but since it made me feel good and kind of made him feel better, I knew I would do it again without question. Whatever he needed, however I could help so we could get through the day.

When I stirred, those were my thoughts, I went through them, turning them over in my mind. I did not rush, instead groaning and adjusting because my joints felt stiff.

My stomach grumbled in annoyance, wanting attention, and my bladder protested it had been several days since I peed last.

Then my whole body screamed a protest.

I was out of the bed so fast that Mungo ended up hitting the floor with a yipe. He sounded very much like a kicked puppy, but I didn’t have the time to help.

By the time I left the bathroom, I felt better, but also a little disturbed.

Drest had Mungo all but in his lap, on the bed. Mungo was asleep again, Drest caressing Mungo’s hair.

He looked across the room to me, brown eyes warming as something akin to pity played over his features.

Your body needs to rid itself of mortality, he said in that thick accent of his. You may find yourself surprised by what that means.

I groaned and shuffled to the bed.

I thought I was going to poop my guts out. Literally.

Keeping that in your body can have disastrous results, so the body expels it, he murmured. As your system perfects itself to absorb blood and the flesh of the human creature, a few more changes will come over you. It’s perfectly natural.

I don’t think the blood is natural, I said.

Did the cancer make it to your bowel?

I, uh, my mind was blurry for a moment, then I gave my head a shake. Definitely and around the bladder.

It could be that the changes make your body think the cancer is a waste product. To work the way it needs to, it might rid you of those bits, he said. Hence the blood. If you were in danger of not making the change, we would have noticed the first night.

Are you sure? I asked.

Yes, I am sure, Drest said. You are immortal, you will make a good vampire.

I nodded, wincing as my stomach growled in protest. Sucking in a breath, I looked at him, hoping.

No, he said. You need to learn your way around the hunger. Morgana rarely fed me in the first few months. You learn that, like pain and breathing, hunger is optional.

You don’t look like hunger is optional, I said.

Are you saying I’ve lost noticeable weight?

Yes.

He made a little rumbling sound in his chest. The sound made Mungo stir and curl tighter around Drest with a little whimper of a sound.

If you don’t use power, magic, or whatever links Makers and children, then you do not need food. I have been stressed, I turned you, it is a change for my body as well. Morgana lost a few pounds my first nights. She had to choose between feeding the two of us, and she chose herself. A choice which I too will make. We will feed when we can tonight. Once the boundary is back up, I will ask the humans for a donation. If they can give up a pint each, we might survive this without losing much more weight.

What, have I lost weight? I asked.

Only that which you lost to the toilet, he said. Though there is a certain shape to the modern human which appears pudgy. I suppose you will lose weight, not much though.

Hunger, pain, and breathing are not optional for me, I said.

You learn by drowning, he said. Hence the starvation. I learned not to breathe when Morgan waterboarded me for fun.

I stared at him, my eyes going wide.

He looked down at Mungo, caressing the wolf’s thick hair with a little smile. I think he reminisced about things which happened in the past. He looked quite pleased with himself.

Waterboarding for fun, I insisted.

Hm? he pulled himself out of his daze and looked up at me. Oh, yes. It’s quite invigorating.

"What?" I asked.

One day you’ll come and beg me to hurt you, Drest said. Depending on my mood, and if you’ve been good, I will give you that pain. I look forward to it.

I don’t, I said.

Not right now, he said as he turned his attention back to Mungo. But we all need it once in a while. A fiery desire burns through you. You put your immortal life in dangerous situations. The pain brings you back down.

And you enjoy causing pain? I asked.

It’s, Drest said before he quieted down and sighed out slowly. Hard to describe. It seems like humans are opening to that part of me, but mine is not the light bottom smacking that humans like.

You mean BDSM, I said.

More of the latter part of that, he said. Sadism is a part of us. We are predators, and we are no longer allowed to rip into our prey. You find other outlets for your desires.

I rubbed my hands on my pants for something to do.

Once the boundary is back up, we’ll take up travelling, Drest said. Wouldn’t do for us to stay around here, not until you settle a bit.

I would like to see the world, I said.

I can get you into places where humans aren’t allowed to go, too, he said. Maybe we’ll take Mungo to a couple of the countries. He has connections everywhere.

Or maybe it could just be us, I said. Maybe?

Maybe, he said. I think he needs time too. Some time away, some time to just be free. He takes that time every couple of decades.

Doesn’t he need a pack, though?

Drest considered for a moment.

He does, but sometimes he has to be alone and be wolf. That’s what he says. Disappears into the highlands someplace and I don’t hear from him until he returns.

You just let him wander off?

Yes, Cae, I do, he responded. Mungo seems to be searching for something. His kind, sorry, the fae, they do that weird walk about when they’re looking for something, but they don’t have words to put to it. The wolves go out and be alone when they’re searching for a mate, and the mate comes to them. So, yes, I let him go out alone. Sex, Mungo, and me don’t mix.

Thought you were all bisexual.

I believe humans are a shade of bisexual. Heterosexual and gay are the exceptions, not the norm.

He frowned at me.

You didn’t say that to find out about vampire sexuality.

No, I mean... I struggled.

I made a motion to Mungo because my words failed me. I didn’t see why Drest let Mungo go walking about when he was bisexual. Both were attractive, they were alone, so it seemed natural.

Drest looked down at Mungo again, then gave his head a little shake before he looked back up at me.

He’s like a blood born son to me, Drest said. Our family works under different rules than you might expect, but that is one we stick to. Do I see him naked? Yes, but I’ve chased this pup all over the damned highlands. You will too, at some point.

I’ve seen him naked.

I meant chase him around the highlands, while he’s naked, Drest said. And whether you bed down with him is your choice. I’d rather the two of you be siblings. When you mix sex into every relationship, things get confusing. No matter where we go, what we become, later on, we are still family.

That’s easy to say when you’ve been in the same place for the past fifteen hundred years.

No, that’s not true, he said with a little shake of his head. Mungo and I, we’ve travelled. I’ve left Sanctuary for over a century in the past. Elspeth is the only one stuck, and even that I didn’t realize the why to until last night.

So, we can go places, I said.

He gave a little nod and a sound at the back of his throat. The sound wasn’t quite agreement, it was something else too.

I frowned at him.

He opened his mouth, then closed it and let out an exasperated sigh.

Languages, I suggest you learn, he murmured. Educate yourself wherever and however you can, try to keep up on things.

His confused me.

The other new Makers had set out rules about learning and made grand statements about how their progeny weren’t going to be known as stupid. How they had to learn how to do all the things and become competent in them whether the progeny wanted to or not.

Lassie, the sort of vampire you become is up to you, not me, he said. Now, you want to learn the human and worldly things, I’ll help you. You don’t want to learn the magic, then you won’t learn the magic. You don’t want to learn vampire secrets? Fine. I’ll not worry myself over it. You learn or you don’t. You are a grown woman. You’ve a brain in your head.

Where would I even start? I asked.

I’d start with taking time, he said. It’s a change, being a vampire. The change to your routine, the feeding habits, the cleaning habits.

Shit, I didn’t shower last night.

Happens, he said. You don’t sleep, so you don’t lay in bed thinking about the day. You don’t eat every day, which makes it feel like it’s not a regular day. You don’t use the bathroom often, which means you don’t have the nagging reminder when you walk into a bathroom.

Do we sweat? I asked.

It is voluntary, like most things, he said. With a little control, you won’t need to wash for the usual reasons. Grease will no longer build up in your skin and hair. Sweat will be a thing of the past. Not to be impolite, but a woman’s cunt gives off a great deal of things which yours no longer needs.

You’re right, that was impolite, I said.

Which part?

You can’t call it a— I lowered my voice to a hiss —cunt.

Please don’t tell me you call it a flower.

No, but vagina would suffice. You know, the scientific term for it?

Depends on the language, I suppose, he said. I thought women were reclaiming the word to strip it of the power men have given it. My apologies. Anyhow, what you learn is up to you. But it will also dictate how I treat you. If you’re going to be an airhead, I’ll treat you like a couple of warm holes. I think it’d be a waste of your potential, but I’m also not one to waste a warm body.

Yeah, but it’s not like I can go to Oxford University.

Says who?

I frowned at Drest.

"The rules, Drest. They take the best of the best, the brightest minds in the world."

Oxford has yet to accept a vampire into their ranks. Because no vampire dares apply, is my understanding, he said. Wouldn’t it be a feather in their cap, to say they helped shape the mind of a vampire from the next generation?

I’m certain they don’t work like that. Plus, it’s way down in England.

Mungo attended, why not you?

He attended Oxford?

The university was first founded well before humans think, Drest said. Though the name may have changed, and they kept no records. Besides, I know where the bodies are buried.

I don’t think that’s how it works.

Literal bodies, Lassie. The thing you need to keep in mind when it comes to humans is that they are never entirely clean. Especially an institution as old and noble as Oxford. They wouldn’t want their reputation ruined.

What if they go public with the information? I asked.

Who does that?

I shrugged and raised my hands.

What if they go public to the world and talk about how they recently heard about a dark part of their history and now they’re building a monument to the victims or something? I can’t go to Oxford.

The main issue would be your high school general grade, which, given your country, you would need to pass all with at least an eighty-five percent average. You might be able to take the American SATs to get in, but I’m fuzzy on the how as we didn’t follow through with our plan. If you took the SATs, you’d need to be in the ninety-sixth percentile. It is easier to get into Oxford than into Yale in the United States. I would not suggest there. Your country has some fabulous universities.

Are you seriously talking about me going to university? I asked.

Have you?

No, I said.

University is a good place to start, he said. The University of Vienna is good. The University of Paris... wait. No. Yes? Oh, dear, I will have to ask Mungo. The university was split, and there was a rumour of them coming back together, and I don’t know if it is together now or not. Still, the ones it was split into are good universities. Trinity College in Dublin, that’s a good one, but I’d need permission from an old friend, and that’d be obtained on my knees. I’m uncertain I’m ready to be submitted to his fetishes again.

How do you know this information off the top of your head? I asked.

When you don’t have the internet to tell you facts whenever you need them, you memorize them, Drest said. Or, perhaps you do not. I, however, do. I like having that information. I also enjoy the look on your face when I give you facts you think I don’t have because you expect me to be a simple Scottish man.

"I do not think you’re simple because of your accent, I said. I just have a hard time paying attention when you talk in it."

You will need to gather a transcript from your schools, and any records of employment you might have, he said. If you can collect references from anyone, employers, friends, neighbours, do so. Once you have that information, we will apply to the schools of your choice.

But I wouldn’t be able to go to school because I’m dead from dawn to dusk, which is when they have those lectures and such.

Surrogacy works just as well, Drest said. A video log of the lectures and such that you can then watch once before the video deletes itself. Exams could be trickier, but you aren’t attending to impress a future boss, you would be attending to learn what you can. We will figure it out. Excuses are only boundaries you place around yourself. They are all answerable.

Says the guy who, just last night, had excuse upon excuse for why we couldn’t do things my way.

You wanted to blow up Scotland with magic, I corrected your notions.

Fine, sure, I said.

You want to go to university?

Yes!

Really? Because it sounds like I’ve bullied you into it.

No, it’s just—

Your attitude is showing, he said. You don’t believe it’s possible to go to university in your state, what is that?

An excuse, I guess, I said.

You view the world as a mortal would, I understand that, but those boundaries no longer exist. Yes, as a mortal, at your age, with your likely marks—which I assume are average for your country because it is the average—you like as not would not get into just any university. That is no longer the case. When you left high school, no doubt you made excuses then too. Can’t afford it, don’t have the time, mum and da passed away, and now you’ve got to fend for yourself. But if you really want something, the only thing stopping you from getting it is you.

Sounds like a self-help book.

I’ve read quite a few of those too, preachy, they remind me of my time in the church, but they arm a body with the vocabulary needed to say what needs to be said. For that, they have worth.

I made a face.

Perhaps I should have you read a few. Looks like you could use them. I’m sure Mungo has a whole bookshelf. When he wakes himself, we can go over and take a read.

What about the boundary? I asked.

We need Elspeth to wake first, sometimes the first night takes a little longer than usual. Plenty of time to read. The Lamia still have to contact home and then fly out here. Even if they called last night, they wouldn’t have reached Glasgow until tonight and then it’s about a four-hour drive. They’d need to get organized. I think it’ll be another two hours before they can get mobilized and Elspeth should be up by then.

Okay, but is it safe for us to leave?

No Lamia knows me by the look on my face, Drest said. He hesitated and seemed to think about what he said. No vampire knows who owns Scotland. The factions know, but by written word only, my features have never been recorded, and I don’t think those ones got a good look at my face. As for you, well, you were just spoiled meat to them before, they didn’t spend more than a few seconds looking you over. In the end, we are strangers to the Lamia. To the other factions. Only Kazimir could identify me.

Who works for the Great Maker.

Mother, Drest corrected gently.

Right, Mother, I said. And if she wanted to find us, she could pinpoint us within seconds.

And with her being reunited with her heir, we’d likely be dead before we knew she was looking for us, Drest said. "All we’d have to do is walk into