Discordia - Short Stories from The Golden Apple of Discord Page 4
running speed makes the vehicle easy to catch up to. The gap between us will not be there for long.
A car window lowers and Coralia sits on the window frame. She waves her arm, trying to repel us, but we are too far away. Arianna is next, trying to flick what looks like a whip. After one of their window shatters from the whip, she retreats inside the vehicle. The road turns a corner and then I see a ravine. If we can run the car off the side and save Arianna or Augusta, Coralia will plummet to her death and Taralie will survive the crash. They are within fifty yards, right over the middle of the ravine. It’s almost too easy.
The car slows once they reach the bridge, and Coralia throws a bottle on the pavement.
Suddenly a huge ring of fire surrounds the bridge, yards in front of us. The flames are scalding and angry, wrapping underneath the bridge and blocking our path. Everyone slides to a halt.
“HOW?” Julian shouts.
This is craft I would expect from a seasoned full-blood, not an infant halfling of only four years in the craft. The fire eats through the structure, crumbling pavement and melting the railing.
Several seconds later, the fire starts to die. Just before the ring of fire collapses, Coralia throws another vial at the other end of the bridge and they continue speeding away. Before we can move onto the bridge, the other end explodes in a pillar of fire. The percussive shockwave blows everyone onto their backs.
They combined fire and air.
The next sound tells me I underestimated these witches. Tearing metal signals the collapse of the bridge. A menacing tower of flames, the biggest weakness of vampires, blocks our path. Such a demonstration of elemental power has not met my eyes since my days as a witch. Daichi pulls me back from the bridge as it collapses completely.
We retreat to the forest and watch the emergency vehicles arrive and rope off the area. This is the second time we have been bested by the witches. We cannot fail again.
It takes another fourteen hours to reach Prince Edward Island. When we arrive, the empty house tells us the witches have moved their father. Clothes and other personal items are gone, but hanging from a knife on the inside of the front door is their taunting note.
“Two down, three to go.”
I will enjoy watching Coralia die. I owe Haruni that much.
Although the father is not here presently, he must come back sometime. Hours tick by and we wait, but eventually Jola grows impatient.
“If they do not return by eight o’clock this evening, the neighbors die until they do return. I will not wait forever to avenge Cothelas.”
Inwardly I scoff at her petulance. This is not about vengeance; this is about justice. The justice of Dacians’ taking what is rightfully theirs. Taralie suffering Coralia’s death is an additional gift.
Julian says, “Very well. I know Draco expects results soon, and this may be the only way to get their attention. If the prescient witch can see what Draco claims, we may not have to eat so many as to draw undue attention from the Noricum.”
Silence stretches out, but I am grateful for it. At least I do not have to listen to Jola whine.
Without warning, movement from the kitchen startles everyone and I jump out of my chair. What we see should not be possible.
Taralie walks into the living room in stekie form. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Powerful, indeed. I am Julian.”
Taralie seethes. “And I’m pissed.”
What right does she have to be angry? She did not just lose her Socious!
She taunts, “Tell me. Is mental illness common among vampires?”
Julian replies, “I apologize, Lady Taralie. You confound me.”
“Suicidal tendencies. You clearly have them, since you plan to hunt my father should he not return by eight.”
Draco is correct. Their prescient sees many things.
Julian says, “I see Augusta’s talents are being put to good use. We desire to speak with you, and your father was our only option. You are needed.”
She has the audacity to roll her eyes. “What are your names?”
Julian answers her question. It is good that he speaks, as I do not know if I could be civil. The fact remains that we do not know where they are and cannot kill Coralia until we do.
Taralie sneers. “Well, then, Julian, Begonia, Lunet, Jola, and Daichi, I’ll save you the trouble of looking for us. If you ever lay eyes on my father, he will be the last person you see. We will hunt your coven to extinction.”
I want to laugh at the idea that they could ever kill Draco. Julian wisely takes the more diplomatic approach. “You need not do that. We mean you no harm. We want you to live, but if you attack us, we will have no choice but to kill you.”
She laughs. “You could try. I killed one of you as a mortal witch and another within seconds of my conversion, and it’s not just me anymore.”
That makes no sense. I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Taeleoni are witches no more.”
“Liar. You would never do that to them.”
Then Arianna appears behind her, looking just as strong as her eldest sister.
If this is true, we have utterly and completely failed. All four of them as vampires will constitute a force that could never be controlled. Taralie alone was enough to challenge the Noricum, but all of them?
“Even Coralia?”
“Especially Coralia.”
Pursuing them is suicide.
Now we must tell Draco his golden apple is forever beyond our reach.
-X-
This takes place in chapter seven from The Golden Apple of Discord - Prefect Duncan of the Noricum Vampires.
Three women and a man stand in front of my desk. They have come to New York for their biannual census accounting. My assistant, Castile, stands to my left, waiting to bring in another coven.
“Because there are four in your group, I have assigned you part of the North American western seaboard. Even with an area so broad as to encompass Portland to San Francisco, your inability to conceal your allotted kills is unacceptable.”
Sayo, the coven’s leader, steps forward. “You said to concentrate on human trafficking from the Pacific Rim into Portland, Oregon. We did that.”
“You left bodies in shipping containers for the port authority to find.”
She replies, “They didn’t tie it to vampires.”
“Only because I changed the cause of death on the medical examiner’s paperwork from exsanguinations to asphyxiation.”
She flinches and takes a step back, with good reason. If I turn her over to the Quorum for punishment, this will not end well for her.
I say, “As North American prefect I can only be over ruled by the Quorum."
She lets a breath out. “But—”
"Your endorsement is revoked. I am combining you four with another coven.”
I motion to Castile, who opens an adjoining door to another office and calls in four vampires from another coven. Sayo and the other three shift uncomfortably. They are all under fifty years old. Their contemporary ideals should have made an obedient coven that fit together well socially.
In that way it succeeded, but their carelessness in concealment forced my hand.
“Ramon, meet your new coven mates. You have done exceptionally well in southern Mexico. These four are in need of mentoring. They are reckless and lack afterthought.”
He has always been good at instructing inexperienced vampires. “Your advice to use the Sinaloa Federation drug operations as a scapegoat has proven most useful.”
I reply, “No one will question the Sinaloa to prove otherwise.”
One of the younger men in the Mexican coven clears his throat. “Then we are to remain in Culican?”
“I have new territory to assign you. The Tijuana Cartel has greatly expanded their human trafficking operations.”
Ramon nods. “Thank you, prefect. This bounty is most appreciated.”
“Be mindful of your kills.”
I motion Ramon to answer. Sayo must learn to seek his advice and obey his counsel. If she cannot, other methods of behaviour correction will be necessary.
He says, “When women don’t return home, the assumption is they have been taken to be sold by the cartel. We leave the warlords. Their greed is our camouflage.”
I add, “Learn this lesson well, Sayo. To maintain secrecy, we eat those whom society will not challenge authority to save. By disposing of kills where criminals rule, it guarantees secrecy, as they work to avoid police at all costs.”
She bows slightly and takes a step back. Perhaps she can be taught.
“Castile, prepare an updated endorsement. This eight-member coven is hereby issued Tijuana, Mexico, up to Los Angeles, California, with an allotment of no more than thirty kills per week.”
Ramon says, “Excuse me, prefect. May I make a request?” I nod. “I would like to petition for the creation of a vampire.”
An interesting request, but, if not handled properly, a dangerous one. I remember well Priam’s stories of the Dacian Wars.
“You have four more assigned under your stewardship. Why do you need another?”
“It’s not a matter of numbers, prefect, but a matter of whom.”
“You have found a human you wish to make immortal?”
“Yes, prefect.”
Ramon has been helpful. But if he has done so only to secure my favor, his loyalty can be lost easily should I not grant his request. The Noricum do not barter for obedience.
Turning to my interrogation ability, I get a feel for the portion of his mind responsible for creativity. He has not tried to lie, yet. Now he will not have the option to do so.
“This human you wish to turn, what