

Discordia

Short Stories from

The Golden Apple of Discord

Book I of The Discord Trilogy

Copyright © Lauren Hodge 2014

First Edition by CreateSpace

Lauren Hodge has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the publisher's prior permission in writing.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN-13: 978-1499389395

ISBN-10: 1499389396

This takes place during chapters one and two in The Golden Apple of Discord - Aggie of the Milunfran Toronto coven.

The dry erase boards at the front of the lecture hall are drenched with a litany of COS and SIN. They'd make more sense if the professor's accent was English. Or French. Or American...anything but Chinese. Whoever thought having a Differential Equations instructor with a foreign accent was a good idea needs to be banished.

That has possibilities. A fire banishment sounds even better. The Yukon in the parking lot still has a set of element invocation elixirs Cora made months ago.

Thank Heaven it's Friday.

My phone buzzes with a text...from Cora. "5+2X=13 what is X? Do I divide or subtract 5 from each side or what?"

Cora has an algebra class this semester, an algebra class. Not calculus, not statistics, just good old fashioned regular algebra, and she's falling behind. How we're twins I'll never know.

As I start to type out a response, a prescient vision takes my sight. Seeing things before they happen is a magical blood power that immerses the senses. A wave of energy surges through my body, removing any visual reference I have to the present moment.

Standing in the middle of Wellesley Street, the morning sun shines down on my house. A floral delivery truck is parked next door in front of Mrs. Wong's house. A run-down, windowless, blue van pulls up to the curb in front of my home and lurches to a stop out front. Two men in casual suits and one woman in an antique grey dress hop from the back, leaving the doors open.

One man and the woman go to my front door. The other man sneaks toward the back. Back in the idling van, another woman waits in the driver's seat and another man in the passenger's seat crouches to the floor.

With a simple twist the door knob completely breaks apart and the couple quickly enters the house.

My vision then shifts to the basement. Tara is under the stairs holding immolation elixirs. She's cornered, wearing a bathrobe and up against three. The clock on the wall reads 10:24.

Without warning, the vision vanishes and I'm staring at equations. I look around and see no one is the wiser, but I need to record what I saw. The information in my visions is crucial to keeping my sisters safe and doing our job as Milunfran witches.

This is only a possible future, but it's churning my stomach. I always get a sense of foreboding when a vision is of my sisters being attacked. Strange that it's in our home. They must be daring creatures.

I pull a journal—kept there for exactly this reason—out of my pack and the details spill out.

Daytime, five creatures, all look human, Mrs. Wong's Friday flowers being delivered next door, two in van, three break into the house, protective enchantments fail, Tara in bathrobe and wet hair, hiding under basement stairs with immolation elixirs, clock in basement reads 10:24.

I check my phone. The current time terrifies me.

10:12

The flowers come on Friday... Tara is in a robe with wet hair, fresh out of a shower, probably washing off our clubbing from last night...last night.

As I bolt from the lecture hall, my hands shakily dial Tara. No answer. I leave a voicemail to get out of the house now, and then I dial Cora. She's in class, so it goes to voicemail as well. Running toward our car, I call her again. This time she answers, but I cut her off before she can speak.

"Tara is in trouble and there's no answer on her end. She's going to be pinned in the basement against three human-looking creatures. The enchantments I put around the house won't work. The flower truck is out front, this is happening in minutes!"

Cora whispers, "Meet me by the car."

I redial Tara's cell and the house phone, but there's still no answer. She was in a bathrobe in the vision. Is she in the shower right now? If she can't hear the phone ring, she's a sitting duck.

Cora bursts from the double doors at full speed. A group of students don't move away fast enough and she doesn't even slow down as they're slammed to the side. Their shouts of protest don't even register on Cora's face as she sprints to the car and unlocks it.

She drives in case I get another vision.

Cora dials Ann on speakerphone. Ann picks up on the second ring. Cora shouts, "Tara's in trouble and headed toward the basement. We're on our way there but she's not picking up the phone. You need to warn her the enchantments don't work on the attackers. They'll be there in—" she looks at me.

I check my watch and reply, "In, like, three minutes."

Cora honks the horn at the cars sauntering through the parking lot. "Get out of the way!"

"Drive on the sidewalk," I say.

Cora slams on the gas and rolls us onto the curb. Horns of other cars blare while we bounce around the cab, our tires squealing down the city street.

Ann whispers into the phone, "I'm at the station, but I'll go hide in a bathroom stall to stekie." Her astral projection like blood power will be much faster than waiting for Tara to pick up the phone.

Cora asks, "What should I do if a cop tries to pull us over? You said she had immolation elixirs?" The fear in her voice indicates she has more than police on her mind.

"Yes, but the vision cuts off. They must not have a power to mimic if she's resorting to elixirs, but she can hold them off until we get there."

An uneasy feeling creeps through my gut. When seconds count, the cops are just minutes away... We're minutes away.

Over and over I dial and redial the house phone. Finally I hear a click. Someone picks up. Tara yells into the phone, "Whatever you're selling, go away!"

"TARA, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!"

"Where are they coming from?"

"The back and front door! We're across town—I didn't see anything until a few minutes ago."

There's a rustling on the other end, and then the line goes silent. She needs stealth now, so I can't call back. Visions are never this close to the event; what was I supposed to do with ten minutes of warning?

Cora concentrates on not killing us at the speeds she's driving. 10:24 comes and goes without a call from anyone. At 10:32 we screech around the last corner and Cora almost nails the brick retaining wall pulling into the driveway. The flower delivery truck is still next door, but our front door is wide open.

Running downstairs, the scene changes the uneasy feeling into panic. Ann's stekie stands over a pile of ash...and Tara's nowhere in sight.

Ann bites her lip. "She burned one of them, but they knew where she was. They even knew her name."

Squatting down, I pick up a small handful of ash. It's dry and light and has bits of clothes in it. If the clothes are this far gone, the fire must have been very hot.

Cora says, "Ann, come home, we have work to do."

-X-

Cora calls our Samanos, Sarah, and reports what we know. Sarah is on the next flight from Ontario. I prepare a scrying bowl and two elixirs, one with the ash and another with Tara's blood. Either should give us a location, but there are five hostiles. If enchantments don't work on them, we must carefully make a banishment elixir that will. Ann says they called Tara "Lady Taralie," which means they came for her in particular. If they have any offensive powers, they're really stupid to take her, but she was holding elixirs in my vision. I don't think they had anything she could use.

I pour the elixir with Tara's blood into the scrying bowl, dip in the lead crystal on a string, then hover the crystal over a map. Something's wrong; the crystal just hangs. She's only been gone for under an hour. I won't even consider the possibility she's dead.

Ann is on the phone, calling in a favor from a friend at the police station, giving as little information as possible. It's not like we can show them a pile of ash and say "This is what happens when you torch mythical creatures with an elixir."

Ann asks, "Aggie, what's the plate number on the blue van?"

"It didn't have any. It was old and beat-up–looking."

Her face falls, but eyes widen when she looks at the non-functioning scrying crystal. "Yeah, I have to go. Call me if you hear anything."

Cora comes up from the basement with a sandwich baggie. "Do you need more ash?"

Ann prepares a fresh scrying bowl while I pry the top off the bottle of ash elixir. After I repeat the scrying process, the crystal again refuses to move.

Dropping the crystal on the map, I scrub my face. "I don't get it. I can't find Tara or the kidnappers."

Ann sits on the couch across the coffee table from me. "Before they took her, they said they didn't mean her any harm."

Cora scoffs from the archway. "Funny way of showing it."

Ann shakes her head. "They said she was going to free them, they were really polite. I don't think they're going to kill her."

Cora says, "Yeah, but for how long? It's not like she's going to enlist with kidnappers."

Ann scrubs her face. "If I had just seen inside that van, I could stekie there. They left so fast, it was hard to see them."

Cora suggests, "Telepathy bridge elixir?"

I point to the crystal lying useless on the map. "A blood scrying just failed. Telepathy only works in a certain range."

Ann says, "Different dimension? It'd explain why the scrying didn't work."

There's really no way we can check for that. The room falls silent. Tara would have an idea of what to do. She always has an idea.

"Why didn't I get a vision in time to save her? Why can't I see her?"

Cora pulls an elixir vial from her back pocket and holds it out towards me. "There's another way to see her."

My stomach rolls at the sight of it. There is only one concoction with that dark green color. "You want me to force a vision? That's only ever worked once."

Cora places the vial on the map in front of me. "You only ever tried it once."

"That's because it's poison and I have to vomit before it kills me!"

"If you have another way to find her, I'm all ears, but Sarah won't be here for another six hours."

Ann says, "If you're gonna do it, do it before she gets here. There's less griping that way."

Forcing the bile down my throat, I snatch the vial from the table. Ann fetches a mixing bowl for me to wretch into. It's nearly impossible to calm myself down when the picture of Tara cornered in the basement wearing a bathrobe is burned into the back of my eyelids.

Sitting cross-legged in front of the coffee table, I adjust the mixing bowl in my lap. Cora pries the stopper off the small bottle and I slam it like a 5-hour Energy. Horrible nausea washes over me as the poison settles in my gut. It takes all my concentration to keep it there, but water is my element and bodies have plenty of it. I will the elemental energy flowing through me to encase the elixir as much as it can, but that only buys me seconds.

The reaction of the elixir is so violent it attracts a massive amount of energy and forces my prescience into action.

My vision changes to the inside of a moving van. Tara is being held like a child by the man I saw in the basement. She's convulsing, very pale, blindfolded; her mouth is taped shut, and her wrists are bound. Golden liquid is smeared on her chin and staining the neck of her robe. As much as I want to tell her we're coming for her, she can't see me. This is the future.

The creature who was crouching in the front passenger's seat now slumps against another one of the intruders. He appears fatigued or injured.

When I look through the metal gate separating the cargo and cabin, the only thing visible is forest on either side of a two-lane road. There are no street signs, but there are power lines, which means this isn't terribly remote. Without any markers, there's no way to see where the van is heading.

They're still moving, so I can wait this vision out until they pass something useful.

Tara continues to writhe and whimper. A kilometer of road passes with nothing but potholes. Then the vision begins to slow. The poison elixir is getting to me. It's beginning to seep into my blood, having defeated my body's attempt to encase it. The van is turning, and I see what could be a road sign up ahead, but everything is blurry and fading.

Distant screaming echoes in my ears. "Aggie, you're out of time!"

"Just a little longer."

Ann's voice replies. "She's slurring."

A slapping noise cracks and my face burns. Lurching forward, I vomit into the mixing bowl. A combination of stomach acid and elixir replaces Tara's cage in my sight as I continue to heave. After ridding myself of the elixir, I slump to the floor. Ann wipes sweat from my forehead while Cora disposes of the bowl's contents.

Ann helps me to the couch; I'm too weak to get there myself. Tara probably would have been able to hold out longer. She's made of steel.

I shiver and ask, "Now what? There was nothing useful in the vision."

No one has an answer for me.

-X-

This horrible sense of foreboding won't go away. After picking up a replacement doorknob, Ann makes me some raspberry tea, trying to get my stomach to settle down. Cora is fetching Sarah from the airport. With any luck she'll beat evening rush hour.

There's no way I can force another vision; I wouldn't survive it. Ann and I try to make a list of potential creatures. They look human, though, so that rules out most of the usual suspects.

Ann asks, "What about Furies? They look human and have the speed we saw."

I answer, "Furies are only women. Three men are involved with this. Well, two now."

"When Tara cast the immolation spell, he lit up really fast. Not just his clothes; the whole body turned to ash. What does that?"

If only I had some of their blood, a banishment elixir would be easy. "Perhaps it's intentionally designed to destroy their remnants. Like a kind of supernatural self-destruct."

Ann asks, "Who needs a witch to free them?"

I have no idea.

By the time we get the front lock repaired, Ann phone buzzes with a text from Cora, who is still driving "1 min out."

A quick sweep through the living room removes all evidence of vision-forcing. Sarah is old, rigid, and she thinks us halflings are inferior. In her mind we'll screw up if she's not guiding our every move.

She pronounces griping wrong.

The Yukon bounces, squeaks, and lurches into the driveway. We can thank Cora for Sarah's incoming "shaken, not stirred" mood. She, not Cora, opens the front door and, without even saying hello, tosses her scarf and gloves to Ann.

"How long has Taralie been gone?"

My twin is staring daggers at our link to the Twelve. Sarah is lucky Samanos-cide isn't Cora's pressing desire at the moment.

Ann scurries to take her coat. Cora says, "Thank you for your heartfelt sympathy concerning the abduction of our sister."

Sarah shakes out of her bulky coat. "Sympathy will not get your coven leader back. Augusta, anything new?"

It burns that she's right.

"Only her in a van bound and gagged. No location references to go by. She's been gone almost nine hours."

Sarah glances at the scrying crystal on the table and nods. "Have you received any ransom demands?"

I ask, "Err, how would that work? It's not like Furies leave a note with their Gorgon asking for a few meals in return for Tara."

"They would know where to find the Twelve."

What do the Twelve have to do with this?

Cora replies, "So they would, but we don't?"

"Halflings cannot be trusted with that knowledge."

Cora's hands ball into fists. Does Sarah even know how close she is to an injury-induced hip replacement?

"Sarah," I reply, "we know how you feel about us being bastard halflings, but can you please, for the sake of a Milunfran coven leader, get a handle on your contempt? Sympathy won't get our coven leader back, but neither will rude comments."

She makes that face some people do when they're out of Metamucil, but she nods and sits down on the couch.

Ann says, "When I stekied into the basement, they said Tara was going to free them. Do you know of any race being enslaved by another who would think a Milunfran witch would help them?"

Sarah replies, "We do get requests for protection. Non-aggressive creatures like muses, nymphs, faeries, but they would never kidnap a witch to make a point."

Cora grumbles, "Why don't we ever get those easy assignments?"

"Halfling... Other covens are not as...combat-capable as you are."

Cora rolls her eyes and mouths to me silently, "Expendable."

Ann asks, "Do you have any idea what took her?"

"Where is the ash Coralia told me about?"

Cora hands her the bag and she takes a pinch, smells it, and rolls it between her fingers. "It doesn't smell familiar. Show me the scene."

Everyone moves downstairs, stepping over the busted door. Sarah clings to the railing, her age showing as she makes her way down the stairs. She bends over, slowly brushes some ash away with her fingers, and scratches at the burn marks on the linoleum floor.

She asks Ann, "How long did it take him to burn after the immolation elixir?"

"Not long, only seconds."

"Failed banishment," she says.

I ask, "How do you know?"

"Intensity of the fire. The burn marks on the floor are deep but not wide. It had to be a hot fire to cause them, much hotter than an immolation elixir is capable of on its own and Taralie doesn't have the power for a banishment on her own."

There's nothing more in the basement for Sarah to inspect, so we pick up the remaining immolation elixirs and head upstairs. We're all tired, so Cora makes nocturnal elixirs for everyone. Sarah views this as abusing the craft. We should care, but this is an emergency and she's maintaining our fragile politeness by remaining silent. We go over both my visions, leaving out the forced nature of the second one while Cora fixes the door knob.

Sarah says, "You say she had a bite mark on her wrist."

"Yes."

"Just one?"

I nod.

Cora says, "A warning shot, perhaps? To show her who is boss?"

Ann fingers the crystal at her neck. "But why would they hurt someone they wanted to help them?"

Cora drops the screwdriver and gasps.

"What?" I ask.

"What if they're not just threatening her? What if they're using us? They could be hiding nearby, making us hostages in exchange for the help they need. It's what I'd do."

Ann says, "They knew her name. What else do they know?"

"I wonder if they know how my visions work. And if so, did they get around them?"

Sarah asks with a sour voice, "How do you mean, child?"

I reply, "They might be creatures I can't see. I saw nothing until they were close to Tara."

Cora says, "Explains the delay. You said you've never had one so close to the event."

Ann says, "If they're beyond sight, how do we fight them?"

Every single one of us looks to the pile of immolation elixirs on the table.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and those seemed to work pretty well last time.

A vision seizes me of Tara walking in the door. Dawn creeps across the sky. She's wearing a dirty sweater and jeans but no shoes. Her skin has a grayish tint to it, and her casting crystal is gone. She comes through the front door, breaking the knob Cora just fixed.

Then the vision cuts off.

Sarah presses me quickly. "What did you see?"

"Someone is coming. She looks like Tara, but I don't think it's her. She's wearing clothes I've never seen before and doesn't have a casting crystal."

Cora asks, "What kinds of creatures can produce a glamour spell?"

Ann squeaks, "But she's alive?"

Sarah answers, "For now."

-X-

The hours tick by and dawn approaches. The only lead we have to work on is the fake Tara that's going to come any minute. When we hear the doorknob break, everyone scrambles to their feet with immolation elixirs at the ready.

True to my vision, the imposter comes around the corner, but freezes and puts up their hands. "Wait, guys, it's me!"

Cora telekinetically tosses the imposter into a wall. I don't care how long it takes or what I have to burn, but this fraud is gonna give my sister back.

-X-

This takes place between chapters two and seven in The Golden Apple of Discord - Lunet of the Dacian Vampire coven.

What went wrong? Draco trained us to turn her and keep her under Cothelas's verbal mind control. She is not only able to use his power; she also cannot be contained by it.

Taralie.

Now my Haruni is dead at her hand, and Taralie has Cothelas immobilized, her arm around his throat. Our Dacian king says, "Move to the door. Do not let her leave."

Like hearing your own heartbeat, but being unable to alter it, I obey his command.

Taralie squeezes his throat and looks to my coven mates and me. "Move to the far corner of the room."

We can no more resist her than we can resist Cothelas.

Our feet shuffle, stopping only when they can go no farther. Taralie moves to the door, dragging Cothelas as a barrier between us. He tries to speak, but she tightens her vice grip on his throat. Then the flesh of his neck yields in the crook of her arm.

His body collapses to the floor, his head still hanging in her hands.

This scene is unreal. Cothelas, a vampire so mighty even the Noricum's Prince Verus fears him, lies heaped on the floor. He was an ancient one, the most powerful of our kind.

Taralie flings his head to the floor and flees. Even as the motor boat pulls away, I dare not follow her.

He is so still, so very, very still.

Jola kneels by the body of her Socious, weeping like I had been just a few short hours ago. We suffered much for this half-witch. She was supposed to overthrow the Noricum usurpers and place our kings on their rightful thrones. How will we tell Draco of this failure? How can we ever face him? It was not supposed to be like this.

Over Jola's cries, Julian says, "Lunet."

Jola... What will happen to her now?

"Lunet!"

I snap my gaze to Julian by the door. "What!"

"Is Taralie still within your range?"

"You mean to go after her?" I hiss. There is no way we can capture her. Cothelas was the only reason we had a chance in the first place.

"She is less of a threat now that Cothelas is dead. We cannot return to Draco empty-handed."

I was once Draco's golden apple. Taralie may have been my replacement, but I still have my uses. If Julian fails, he is of no value to our king.

King... We only have one king left.

"Draco failed to anticipate her resistance to Cothelas. If he wants to blame anyone for returning empty-handed, he can blame himself."

Julian and Begonia both relax their shoulders a bit. Like the rest of us, they know Draco is patient and does not act precipitously. Nor should we.

In only a few minutes Taralie's power leaves my range, leaving us with nothing but a dead Dacian.

Julian says, "We should leave for Brasov. I will deliver this news in person."

Jola sniffles. "What about...?"

Begonia kneels down to the floor with her, sullying her dress with our king's blood. "What would he want?"

Jola weeps uncontrollably. We need to get back to Draco, to safety, and the only thing she can do is bawl. Haruni was killed by that witch, and here I stand, fulfilling my duty. Duty first, love second—it is the Milunfran way I was taught as a child.

Jola cries, "I cannot, I do not know!"

Begonia looks to her Socius, Julian, asking for answers with her eyes.

"Jola," Julian says, "leave this to us."

He nods and Begonia pulls Jola to her feet and out of the room. The scrape of the metal door drowns out her sobbing.

Julian turns toward me. "Burn him," I say. "Leave no trace of us here. If the witches find this place, they will learn more about us than we want."

Julian replies, "You and Draco said Milunfran spells and enchantments are of no use on us."

"Draco also said Taralie would be held under mind control until she was conditioned to be our ally. Burn him."

I leave him to the task and start thinking about how we will get to land. Taralie took far more than our boat.

-X-

The ten-hour flight out of Toronto passes too quickly. The two-hour drive to Brasov moves faster still. When Draco's power enters my range, it is accompanied by foreboding. He stalked the Severin sisters for years, Taralie in particular. He said her power would be beyond anything we could imagine.

He was right.

Begonia opens the throne room door. Daichi is against the wall and looks to us with confusion on his face. Our group looks much different than when we departed Bran Castle.

Draco sits on his gold throne, his chin resting on his hand. The identical throne beside him will remain empty forever.

Draco's mistress Odessa stands to the side of the dais. Petrov, Cyril, Jason, Deke, Anca, and Bao all stand against the walls. Clarissa is missing. It is not like Petrov to leave his Socious, but she has no love of the throne room, and, being only a decade-old vampire, she has little to offer us in the way of experience.

Julian, Begonia, Jola, and I stop several meters in front of the throne and bow; then Julian steps forward.

"Sire, you charged Cothelas to turn the halfling witch, control her, and bring her into your service. Haruni, Socius of the half-witch Lunet, perished during the abduction. I am sorry to report that Cothelas's power held no sway over Lady Taralie and she killed him moments after her transformation was complete."

The room fills with gasps, and my coven mates look to our last king. Draco is still as ever; he didn't even flinch over my beloved Haruni's or Cothelas's murders. I wonder how he regards his precious golden apple now.

Draco speaks quietly. "Julian, tell me everything."

Julian swallows thickly.

Draco once told me something High King Priam of the Noricum used to say. "Do not fear the raging king. Fear the one who will not be seen." Draco may yet kill us for our failure.

"We cornered her in their basement. She had an elixir that she commanded to combust, and Haruni fell quickly. After her abduction, the transformation took hours longer than Lunet's and only ceased when we removed her casting crystal. Her waking confusion lasted only seconds. She immediately took Cothelas as a hostage and used his voice against us. The king commanded her to release him, but the command held no sway. By the sheer force of her grip around his neck, she decapitated him. I burned the remnants as to leave no trace."

Draco nods. "Leave me, all of you."

Everyone withdraws from the throne room, eager to avoid any forthcoming wrath. When I enter my quarters, Haruni's coat over a chair forces the wretched witch's face to mind. He really is gone. Never again will we love.

I knew Taralie was dangerous. I never should have let Haruni go without me. Jola's screams echo across the castle, cursing Taralie. Why do I not feel the hatred toward Taralie I hear in Jola's voice? Is it because once upon a time I was the halfling earth witch?

I was raised as a full-blood earth witch, and my blood power in human form was much like Taralie's: to feel and understand the powers others possess. Taralie had an advantage; she could channel what I could only see. Normally a mimic's power is like Taralie's, but I was still useful. In Milunfran life, when a child was born, I told the Samanos of their power.

I was fifteen when my world crumbled.

When it came time to wed, a prescient in my mother's coven had a vision that my children would not have blood powers. There could be only one reason for that, and because she had no choice, Mother revealed my true parentage and Father's secret.

She was not a full Milunfran, but a halfling, and was not always faithful to her husband, the man I thought was my father. I only possessed a quarter of Milunfran heritage in my veins.

Her shame was great, but I bore the punishment.

I was a burden, incapable of bearing Milunfran children. Outcast and alone, I traveled south, finding work in Thuringia, Germany, as a factory worker in porcelain manufacturing. Every day I cried for my lost way of life until I had no more tears left. For ten years I slaved away, the wages barely keeping me alive.

One winter evening, I walked toward the room I rented above a brothel. It was bitterly cold and I couldn't afford coal for the tiny oven I had salvaged from an estate fire the previous winter. The frozen mud in the streets was a comfort, because come spring, my only pair of boots would be worn through, and replacing them took a month's wages.

This was going to be my life. I was going to die in that factory, hungry and with holes in my shoes.

The strangely clear night reminded me of the lessons that guided me through childhood. So many planets aligned would be a time for rituals and celebrations. Festivities I would never be a part of. A single tear rolled down my cheek, in memory of what I could have become.

I barely heard the man calling my name over the sound of wagons and horses moving down the street. I pretended I did not hear them and increased my speed.

When two well-dressed men approach a woman like me, it does not typically end well for the woman.

He called out again and asked if I was Lunet of the Milunfran Saxony coven. I turned to face them. I had not used my power for years; it took me a moment longer to realize they had powerful abilities.

One had the power to physically transport himself in an instantaneous way. The Milunfran stekie could transport a consciousness, but to do so physically? It was unheard of! The other well-dressed man could bend your will to his by the sound of his voice.

Saying nothing, I clutched my shawl around me. The taller of the two men took a step back. He said that he did not mean to frighten me but he had been seeking me for some time. He said I was wanted, but not by my coven. He promised me warmth and food and that I would not be violated.

From his clothes alone I knew he had the means to offer what he said. As I looked up at the planets once again, my only thought was that I did not want to die in that factory. If I died around a warm fire with a full belly, it was better than eternally slaving away for what I could never have... the chance to be a part of a people again.

I was changed into a vampire that very night.

The agony of dying was not at all what I expected, but at the end I was reborn. When I drank my first human, I was alive and empowered. For years I had shuffled through an inhumane existence, and now I would never want again. My connection to Earth vanished, but she, and my coven, abandoned me long ago. The increase of my blood power's range more than made up for anything I lost; kilometers of awareness were mine to watch.

Even though I wanted to, Draco forbid me from waging war on my former coven. Instead he turned my attention to education. I was taught to read, write, hunt, and was given the privilege of changing three humans into vampires. One of those became my Socious, Haruni.

As the years passed, Draco's training turned to expectation, then disappointment. I did not know what he expected me to deliver, and he refused to give me any further information, saying that if I did not know, he could not teach me. Haruni was my safe harbor, loving and kind as my Milunfran coven used to be.

One evening in the late 1970s, piles of star charts were laid out on a table in the castle library. The handwritten notations were in Draco's hand, indicating an upcoming planetary alignment. Looking further, I saw it was the same alignment that peaked the night I was changed in 1802.

The Dacian kings' finding me on that cold winter night was no accident. When I asked Draco about it, he told me I had failed and was being replaced. He spoke of a greater power, one that could overthrow the Noricum and reclaim our rightful place in the world. This time, Draco failed me.

-X-

Draco comes and goes. Nearly a week passes with no word of Taralie. I failed to bring Draco his new golden apple, instead bringing news of Cothelas's death. Taralie must pay for killing my love, but a small part of me does not hate her.

That part of me remembers being a witch, like her. Under other circumstances we may have become friends, but my loyalty is to Draco, who saved me from the factories. I will not hesitate to kill her if ordered.

Suddenly, Draco appears in my chambers. I rise and bow. "Yes, sire?"

"Many years ago, you asked me to wage war on the Milunfra. I am now giving you that opportunity. You will take Julian and three others of your choosing without powers Taralie can use. Under no circumstances will you allow Coralia to live. Even as a human witch she is powerful enough to cause us concern. You will hold Augusta and Arianna hostage until Taralie joins us. Lady Taralie has started feeding in Toronto and it is only a matter of time before the Noricum become involved. If Verus reads her... They will know of Cothelas's death and nothing will stop them from marching down on us. Can you handle this?"

His order brings a smile to my face. I may not be able to kill the new golden apple, but I can make her suffer.

"Yes, sire. I will want Daichi. He can tell if Taralie will lie to appease me when I have her sister's throat in my hands."

He stares at me, stroking his fingers behind his ear. "The Milunfra were foolish to discard you. I have every confidence you will do well."

And with that, he vanishes.

Yes, the Milunfra were foolish to discard me. Now their sins will be brought to bear on their Toronto coven.

One by one, Draco transports Julian, Begonia, Jola, Daichi, and me to Toronto. If she is feeding here, I suspect she returned home to her sisters after fleeing the barge. Draco jumps away, making sure his power is not within Taralie's range and thus, does not have the means to escape. Running at full speed in the early morning hours, we descend on the Severin home.

Something is wrong.

I cannot feel any of their powers, the house is dark, the windows are blown out, and glass is scattered through the snow.

Julian also sees this and motions for us to remain silent.

The scene inside the house is even more savage.

Furniture is overturned, while picture frames are embedded in walls. A terrible battle happened here, but what concerns me is a resonance of energy. The walls drip with Milunfran power.

Julian whispers, "Lunet, what caused this?"

"Nothing good."

"Do you not feel their powers?"

"They are not within eight kilometers of this place."

Julian says to Jola, "Check their sleeping chambers for personal items, please."

Jola does so quickly. She is out for blood; her...our rage will serve us well.

Daichi checks the driveway. "Their larger vehicle is gone. The other two are still here."

Begonia asks, "Where would they go? Are they even alive?"

I think back to when I was rejected by my coven. There was one place I wanted to be.

"If they are still alive, they will go to their human father on Prince Edward Island."

Daichi asks, "How do you know that?"

"Once an earth witch, always an earth witch, and we always think of our roots."

Begonia touches the wall and jumps a bit when she does. "What if they are not alive?"

"Then they are dead, but I can promise you, whatever battle caused this tomb, we want no part of. It is beyond my knowledge."

Jola comes down the stairs. "Their personal effects are untouched. If they left here, they did so in haste."

I look at the destruction. "Yes, they did."

We quickly depart toward their childhood home. The human father will be most convenient. He is defenseless against us, and I have every confidence they will return to him sooner or later.

Several hours later, the witch's powers come into my range. My theory has been proven, and they are ours for the taking.

"I feel their powers. Ready yourselves."

Julian says, "Jola, Begonia, and I will kill Coralia. Lunet and Daichi, I leave it to you to apprehend Augusta or Arianna, whichever one is easiest."

I say, "In an area this remote, they will be in a vehicle. Keep to the road."

Numbers are on our side, but time is on Taralie's. After taking a moment to inspect her talent, I see that her range is equal to mine. Our approach can use neither the element of surprise, nor a visible assault. We must get close enough to blindside Coralia. A few minutes after sensing them, I catch my first glimpse of the car. The behemoth of a vehicle jerks across lane markers, trying to escape. In an area as desolate and heavily forested as this, they have made it too easy for us. They are all there. No loose ends and no witnesses to clean up afterwards.

Our immense 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."

Sayo asks, "Be mindful how?"

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 his or her occupation?"

The truthful answer rips itself from his throat before he can create a lie to appease me.

"She is a drug mule for the Sinaloa Federation."

He rubs his throat. It is a common response to my ability.

"Does she have family ties to any cartel?"

"None." He coughs a bit after he answers. Others say it feels like the gag reflex in your throat kicks in without warning.

"Have you or any member of your coven purchased humans outside of your assigned quota?"

"No."

Everyone except Castile shifts nervously. Vampires without additional aptitudes do not like being reminded of those of us who do. It is why the Detachment and the Quorum are so feared.

That reminds me of a call I need to make.

"I can see no reason to deny your petition. See that you file a Socious registration when the time comes."

Ramon lets out a shaky breath. "Thank you, prefect."

"Castile." I snap my fingers. "Amend the permit to include the creation of one additional vampire with a Donec Dignissim report dated six months from now. I wish to see Ramon's new Socious then."

After Castile makes a copy, I take their new endorsement, sign it, drip red wax on the bottom, and stamp it. The Noricum seal ensures equality in our world. Peace to the victor, mercy to the meek, death in rebellion. These are the words we live by. Without them, our society would disintegrate under the banner of war with every coven greedily fighting for blood.

With the Noricum, we are all equal.

Castile ushers the new Southern California coven out. Once they leave, I pick up the phone to dial my mentor, High King Priam.

"Prefect, before you converse with His Majesty, I have the information you requested about the errant vampires in Toronto."

I put the phone down. This has been a difficult case.

"As you instructed, I placed the locator on the conspicuous vehicle and found a distinct pattern. Every three days it moves from deep in the Algonquin Provincial Park north of Toronto into various areas of the city. Every time that vehicle makes the trip, multiple humans are found dead in a manner consistent with feeding."

This is exactly the kind of intelligence I was hoping for. Not in several decades have I had such a hard time pinpointing an illegally feeding coven.

"Do you have a name this vehicle is registered under?"

"It belongs to a Blake Severin, but I do not believe he is involved."

"Why not?"

"The vehicle is covered in mud and a back window is shattered. He is a high school mathematics teacher on Prince Edward Island, not Toronto."

"Stolen?"

"I believe so, prefect."

This is to be expected of an errant coven.

"Do you have a location?"

He hands me a satellite picture printout of a cabin nestled in the deep forest next to Reed Lake on a path named Bissett Creek Road. If the illegal coven thinks hiding in a remote location will protect them from the consequences of their crimes, they are mistaken.

"Well done, Castile. You are dismissed." I pick up the phone to call Priam, but Castile stays put. "Something to add?"

"Assistants are normally present for the monthly conference."

It always irritates me when Castile gets like this. I would ask for a new assistant, but he is good at what he does.

"I will be sure to tell Priam of your contribution. You are dismissed."

He leaves, but I wait until the elevator doors close before I dial Priam.

"Duncan, it is good to hear from you."

"You as well, High King."

Priam chuckles. "What formalities have we to get out of the way?"

"Formalities can wait. I have a more pressing matter to seek counsel on."

"Oh? Have you found the problem in Toronto?"

"I have."

"Is it the Dacians as I suspected?"

This is news to me. I never knew he suspected the Socious killers. "Why would you suspect the Dacians? Do you have news from Brasov?"

"Nothing I did not already know. The Dacians have long danced in the shadows of the human sex trade market. Romania is Toronto's chief source of slaves. When you told me of a coven in Toronto flagrantly disregarding our laws, I naturally suspected them."

Decades ago Priam instructed me never to assign a coven to Toronto. Now I know why.

"I would expect better living conditions for a Dacian than the spit of a cabin these vampires are living in."

"You have found them?"

"Castile desires I make sure you know he is the one who found their automobile. He found their location through the means of a tracking device placed on their vehicle. However, something about their style troubles me."

"Go ahead."

"They do not even try to cover their kills. Bodies are literally left in stairwells and apartments with doors gaping open."

"Are they taunting us?"

"If it is the Dacians, then likely, but they may not know any better. I find it hard to believe such ignorance exists; not since the South American Rebellion have I seen such recklessness."

"How many strong are they?"

"From their eating habits, I estimate at least six. For this reason I am requesting the Premier Detachment."

"A wise decision. I shall have Lucius dispatch them directly. Sabine has asked after you. Shall I send her as well?"

His phrasing makes me laugh. "Sabine knows very well she is always welcome and does not need an invitation."

"Anything else to add?"

"Not as of right now. I shall inform you as to the criminals when I know something more. You may need more room in the entombed vaults with how defiant these ones are."

Priam's voice loses all humor. "If it is the Dacians, do not try to engage them and inform me immediately."

"I will report back to you either way."

"Very good."

The connection drops. To think the Dacians are so active on this continent is something I never considered. One cannot have too much information about an enemy, and with this coven hiding in the wilderness, the Socious killers may be building another army in the new world.

Twelve hours later, Castile and I board a private jet on the JFK tarmac. As the cabin door closes, the engines engage, pushing us immediately to the runway. I have never been on this jet before. It must be a recent acquisition of Priam's.

Four men of the Premier Detachment and their servants rise and bow when I walk in.

Edson says, "Prefect, how may we be of service?"

"First let us get in the air. Then I will brief you."

He dips his head. "Of course, prefect."

Castile secures my briefcase and one of the servants gets clearance from the control tower for us to take off. While the aircraft moves onto the runway, a wadded-up piece of paper bounces off my head and onto my lap. Turning toward the culprit, I see that Ismet is chuckling and rubbing his temple. Alton looks toward the ceiling innocently and whistles.

It is good to see the brothers have not changed.

Flattening out the paper exposes Ismet's handwriting. "Bridget asked the Queen if you were still without a Socious."

This is not the first time the South American prefect has inquired to Sabine about me. Unfortunately, my polite rebuff of Bridget did not have the intended effect. If I ever were to take a Socious, it would be one who did not pine for royal approval. Bridget was appointed as prefect after the South American Rebellion for that very reason. The Quorum knows her greatest motivation is to be esteemed by royalty.

She is as sycophantic as they come.

Alton is the younger of the two brothers and quite the gossip, but only within the administration. To vampire society, he is a feared warrior. Ismet can exchange sight with anyone in the world once he has seen them. Alton is similar but with blindness instead of exchange. When they work together, we are able to acquire massive amounts of intelligence with no risk to us before ever launching an assault. Their abilities are also useful in combat.

Edson is not so jovial, which is why he is their captain. His conversion is somewhat of a mystery. It took far longer than normal, was more painful, and, at the end, left him with a frightening ability. It is nearly the mirror of Prince Verus's ability. While Verus can experience the memories he absorbs from another, Edson can make others relive his memories. You suddenly find yourself in a different place, feeling everything as if you were there. When he forces you to relive his conversion, the pain is paralyzing.

Francisco's ability is similar to Verus's but no more than a shadow of its potency. He can see the last visual impression from the dead. It is useful to provide undeniable proof of illegally feeding vampires. His gift is more helpful in investigation than in combat, but he has completed special combat training from Lucius. No one is foolish enough to claim he is unqualified for a position on the Premier Detachment.

When we level off at cruising altitude, Castile fetches the papers from my briefcase.

I say, "This assignment has a possibility you have never faced before."

Alton smiles. "Your Socious announcement party?"

"A possibility of Dacian involvement."

The humor leaves his face.

Ismet asks, "How are the Socious killers involved?"

"We are not sure if they are culpable."

Edson says, "Prince Lucius said you expect at least six and have a location. Will we need to request additional support to facilitate transport back to Boulogne?"

"Before we start talking entombment, let us see if it is indeed the Dacians we are dealing with. In any case, the vampires in question are staying in a remote cabin in a large forest north of Toronto. We will stop at the morgue before heading to their nest."

Ismet studies the satellite picture. "We should approach on foot. If we come near this location in a noisy automobile, it gives them ample time to flee."

Pointing to the path, I reply, "We will rent a car for most of the journey, but a stealth approach is preferred even if they are not Dacian."

Francisco asks, "Do we know of any additional aptitudes?"

I reply, "Between all of you, the possibility of any abilities we cannot handle is extremely remote."

Alton chuckles to himself. "If a vampire dies in the woods, does it make a sound?" He then jerks. "Edson, I do not need to experience that."

Edson scowls. "Then take this assignment seriously, or you will be smelling whale rot for the rest of the flight. This is possibly Cothelas the tyrant, not a disorganized band of rabble."

The name of Priam's mortal enemy forces a silence in the cabin.

Alton shakes his head and Edson releases him. It is no secret where Edson got this particular memory. One of the ships used to transport troops for the South American Rebellion was a whaling vessel. Edson was one of their passengers and has complained about it for years.

A minute later, Alton breaks the silence. "Shopping mall collapse in China. Real or fake?"

Francisco says, "I am not taking that bet. The fire afterwards has Prefect Lushan written all over it."

Alton says, "Did you hear about Iran?"

"What happened?" I reply.

"Ruth questioned a coven about excessive feedings. They tried to pass off a forged Asian endorsement."

"I did not think anyone would be foolish enough to try something like that. What happened to them?"

Ismet says, "Verus read them. They conspired to sell forged endorsements. We now have four new entombed ones. I put one there myself."

It has been a busy year in Boulogne.

-X-

The threat of Dacian aggression is unnerving for everyone. Hopefully we can arrest the errant coven and be done with it. The long-term implications of Noricum governance in North America are enormous.

We leave the jet with the Detachment servants and depart from Downsview Airport in a large vehicle. Castile forged all the necessary paperwork, granting us smooth passage into the morgue. The latest kills are six in total. They were an entire film crew found drained in a derelict house. An anonymous call to emergency services alerted the police, but thousands of dollars of film equipment and computers were left at the scene.

What brought this event to Noricum attention were several children used for making pornography locked in a bedroom closet, safely away from the bodies.

Evidence like this is why I never suspected Dacian involvement. If it were the Socious killers, the children would have been eaten and the adults left, enabling them to bring in another crop of underage food. The only commonality the feedings share is an offensive pattern toward criminals. Each batch of deaths has overwhelming proof of crimes against children at the scene. Over and over again, the weakest humans are spared.

They eat like vampires, but are unlike any I know.

Castile opens one of the refrigerator doors. The drained body of a white male looking to be in his early forties jerks when the slab locks into place. There is only one jagged bite mark on the neck, a messy kill. This is the work of a new vampire, not well practiced in feeding. Whichever vampire did this tried to cover their bite with a knife wound. These are not the first illegally feeding vampires to try to cover their teeth marks with blades, but the cut was poorly made.

"Francisco," I call, and back away from the body.

He steps forward and places his hands over the eyes of the corpse. A few seconds later, he steps back, and Castile opens another door. They repeat the process until all six yield their dying vision.

I ask, "Did you get everything you need?"

He nods.

Only a few strange looks from morgue personnel mark our departure.

Once we are driving away in our rented sport utility vehicle, I ask, "How many?"

Francisco answers from the backseat. "Four women, none of whom I have seen before."

Four is lower than I thought. Perhaps they did not hunt together in this case.

From the driver's seat, Castile says, "If it is only women, they should be easy to subdue."

The Detachment holds their breath, and for good reason. Even though Castile was born and raised in Latin America, he should know better by now. I reply, "Would you say to High Queen Sabine's face she is easy to subdue because she is a woman?"

He tenses, as he should.

"Then do not say it to me, either."

-X-

At the Mattawa Golf and Ski Resort along the Trans-Canada Highway, we leave the vehicle by a small grocery store to complete our approach on foot. The GPS marks our target a couple dozen miles from our position. This forest is so remote, they would never have been found without the tracking device. Just ahead, the car rests at the end of a small trail. Ismet tucks away the GPS display and we proceed toward the cabin. Several meters ahead, a grass-filled clearing exposes a dilapidated cabin with four women standing in front of it. Without words, the Detachment falls into formation. Before we do anything, I must ascertain the women's origins.

Very quickly, it becomes apparent that something is wrong. Our approach was silent. How did they know we were coming?

The first thing that strikes me is the red hair they all share. The second is the condition of the clearing. On every side there are large trees torn out by their roots. What kind of battle was fought here?

They do not even recognize us. The tallest has red hair that looks like a lion's mane. Although very beautiful, she looks bored, not fearful of our approach. I glance at Edson and he nods in return. She appears to be the most arrogant of the group, which means she is probably the strongest. That makes her Edson's responsibility.

There is a small one in back with short red hair. She looks more curious than afraid, but the way she stands behind the others makes me think she is the weakest. She will be the one interrogated. The one in front has long, straight red hair and stands in front of the other three like an animal protecting her young. Perhaps she is the group's captain.

Closer and closer we get, and still the women stand their ground without fear. Perhaps they are Dacian.

The fourth woman, with a braid in her hair, waves at us. Her chipper voice says, "Hi."

Their captain in front glares at her.

There should be more, at least six. They ate so many. If they are not Dacian, it is hard to believe this is the cause of all the trouble in Toronto.

"Is this all of them, Francisco?"

"Yes, prefect."

The one with the curly mane rubs her hands together with an eerie smile. "Is this all of you?"

This audacity is unheard of. If she is not Dacian, she will soon learn to behave otherwise. With Edson, she will rue the day she defied the Noricum.

Training my thoughts on the small one, I ask, "Who is your sire?"

She glances at the woman in front of her and says, "Taralie."

I have never heard of a Taralie, and these vampires are far too ignorant and casual to be Dacian. Cothelas and Draco do not feast on the dregs of human civilization, nor do they preserve the defenseless. These are not the Socious killers. These are vampires who must learn to respect the rule of law, by any means necessary.

I look to the leader. "In the name of the Noricum, you are under arrest."

-X-

This takes place in chapter nine of The Golden Apple of Discord - Coralia of the Milunfran Vampires

Aggie and Ruben are in the backseat of a sleek, sexy Audi. Alex is in the driver's seat, waiting for me while I lift the slashed tire, jack, and wrench into the trunk.

We all won't fit into one car so Ann and Thomas wait with Tara in the Yukon for me to finish changing the tire I slashed on the hot guy's car. The glare she's shooting toward Alex's backseat would crush the sporty car if she were channeling my telekinesis.

I give her the thumbs-up, and she flips me off. With Tara's temper out in full force, I'll have to thank Ann later. She took one for the team today. If Thomas knows what's good for him, he'll sit back and shut up. Maybe Tara will only sniff him and move on.

Supple leather wraps around me as the car door to the Audi closes. The passenger's seat fits like a glove, and a quick look around tells me the guy cleaning this car must be obsessive-compulsive. There's not a single French fry or bloodstain in sight.

The freshly changed tire is put to the test when Alex lurches into freeway traffic. Aggie is a chatterbox, asking Ruben about his job. He has a bad-blind-date cringe on his face like Tara does when I bring home another boy-toy.

Alex himself isn't bad-looking, but there's a good chance he's the OCD car freak. Speaking of which...

"Isn't this car kind of impractical? I mean, you can fit, like, two bodies in the trunk, tops. Unless you're eating Asians; then you can fit three."

Alex's eyes don't leave the road. "Not that you would know about hiding bodies. You leave them all over town like a calling card."

"I know, right? I wanted to get T-shirts made up for them saying something like 'Lucky Charms—A vampire thought this molester was magically delicious.' Tara said we didn't have the money."

Ruben chokes out from the backseat, "T-shirts!"

"I almost made one for myself that said 'Carpe diem. Today, I killed a child pornographer. What will you do tomorrow?' I got the idea when we killed this rapist that owned a T-shirt shop. I wanted to make a few before we left but didn't want to steal from the dead guy's family."

Alex replies, "You don't steal. You kill humans, but you don't steal."

"Not from innocent people," I reply. "His family needs something to live on. Aggie doesn't single people out based on life insurance policies... Very few people have Old Glory Vampire Insurance, because the undead are coming for you."

Alex's head snaps away from the road. His mouth silently opens and closes a couple of times.

Aggie adds, "Think of it as a public service. Do you know how many human traffickers there are in Toronto alone?"

Ruben cringes and Alex nods, turning his attention back to the road, shifting gears, and looking sexy doing it. His whole body screams hot date. Maybe I could scoot a little closer and graze his arm. Instantly, he discreetly pulls his arm closer to his side. Tara called him a telepath; he's probably listening to me. I would if I were him.

Alex's voice speaks in my mind without his lips moving. "Yes, Cora."

"Dude, turn it off! You don't need to be in my head."

"It doesn't work that way. It's always on and vast as Tara's range."

"Can you hear more than one at a time? Hey, wait a minute. How do you know what Tara's range is?"

"Aggie told me, and yes, I can hear everyone in my range."

"I think that'd get irritating real fast. Hey, Alex, wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?" The worst screech I can remember echoes in my head. Jim Carrey in the movie Dumb and Dumber would be proud.

Alex tightens his grip on the wheel. "Cora, please stop."

My laughter pauses all conversation in the car. "Sure. Dude, that mind-reading trick has to suck. Aggie says the future in her head isn't great either."

Aggie replies, "True story. See, Alex?"

She must be thinking about something to show Alex. After a couple of minutes, the awkward silence isn't going anywhere, so I press the power button on the music console.

Ruben jerks. "No, wait!"

Noise blasts through the car at a horrendous volume, but what's worse is the song that's playing.

Twisting dials and pressing buttons does nothing for the noise. Alex knocks my hands out of the way, tears out the console, and throws it back toward Ruben, plunging the car into silence.

The road noise is broken only by everyone breathing and staring at the bare wires protruding from the gaping hole in the dashboard.

Aggie laughs. "NSYNC? Really?"

Ruben cringes. "It was supposed to be a prank on Thomas. I had it rigged so you couldn't turn it off once it turned on. Alex knew not to touch it."

Aggie asks, "What did he do to deserve that?"

"I was working a job at a demolition site. Thomas had flowers delivered thanking me for an awesome night and asking for his boxer briefs back!"

"That is epic!" I say between laughs. "One time in college this jock spread a rumor that he slept with me. That was the last time the student body thought he got any. He was on the football team, so I snuck into the locker room and messed with his gear, then convinced a player from the other team to yank his pants down on the field. Let's just say the ladies saw the lack of goods, and he still couldn't get laid last time I checked."

Ruben laughs and Alex cringes. The image in my head is the sports field, naked guy and all.

"Wait, so you can see pictures in my mind? I thought a telepath would just be able to hear, not see."

Alex is silent.

Aggie says, "Alex, both you and Tara will get your answers when you realize we're not your enemy. When you see Tara at the cabin, tell her to stay out of your head."

Clearly he's waging some mental battle, and I wonder if Aggie is showing him something she's seen. After a few seconds his rigid posture relaxes a bit.

"Cora, to answer your question, thoughts are a mixture of internal monologue, pictures, memories, and imagination. I can see all of these, but they don't overtake my sight the way Aggie's sudden visions do."

"But you can also speak inside my head. I heard it."

Alex relaxes a bit more and glances toward me. "I can place in your mind anything I receive from my ability."

He can put pictures in my mind just like he did his voice. Does that mean he can show me other people's thoughts?

"Yes, Cora. It does."

Wow, he's good-looking and capable. My shirt has to have some buttons I can undo.

Wait, he just heard me think that.

"Yes, Cora. I did."

Well, this is going to be all sorts of embarrassing if I let it. The best defense is a good offense.

"I still think you're cute."

Ruben asks, "What? What did Cora think?"

Alex shoots a glare at Aggie and exhales sharply. Aggie says, "Hey, it's your future, I'm just seeing it. If you wanna glare at something, Cora will show you how her telekinesis works."

Really, I will? While bouncing in my seat, I rub my hands together mad-scientist style. This time Tara isn't here to stop me.

Ruben looks at Alex but doesn't say a word. I'm onto their game now. "Hey, Alex, what is Ruben thinking at you?"

Alex merges onto another, more remote freeway, headed toward our cabin. "It doesn't concern you, and understand this. There's no way we can live together peacefully if I announce the private thoughts of anyone."

Live together?

"Alex, I know we've been dating for about one minute, but don't you think you're moving kind of fast?"

Alex actually chokes.

I turn around and high-five Aggie.

Alex says, "Aggie has seen you and your sisters in my home temporarily, and all of us successfully staying hidden from the Noricum."

I hope the sexy Audi is an indicator of their house. I don't think I can share a one-room cabin with three dudes and my sisters.

Alex says, "Aggie, can you please focus on the future you just showed me. I wish to relay it to Cora. It seems she has questions about our...circumstances."

I should be offended. He said what I was thinking out loud, but to see Aggie's thoughts is worth it.

Suddenly a huge web of golden threads stretching out from a bright light appears in my mind. The threads look like crooked warps on a Navajo loom with the bright light at the bottom, anchoring the threads. Pulses of light move along the strings, changing their direction with each pulse. Then, zooming into one particular thread, a house appears that is the opposite of a one-room cabin.

They live in a palace.

A sexy car is just one of the things this telepath has going for him.

Their house has a swimming pool, landscaped yard, and fairytale brick driveway. There's even a fish tank in a ginormous living room.

The picture fades from my mind. "That is super cool."

A driver zooms up behind us, doing well over the speed limit that we broke long ago. It whips around, passing us in the oncoming lane. For a second the thought of breaking off one of their tires is appealing, but I would never hear the end of it from Tara. If they were a proven scumbag, it'd be a different outcome and I'd be getting a snack on the way to the cabin.

I flip them off instead.

Alex slaps his hand to his forehead before shifting his attention back to the road. The awkward pause returns full force, but this time there's no music to break the silence. After a kilometer of dark highway, Ruben leans forward.

"So you're telekinetic? That probably comes in handy more often than not. How does it work?"

Looks like I get to play after all.

"Okay, look ahead. See that car that passed us? See the exit ramp they're getting off on?"

"Yeah."

"See the exit sign?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can feel the weight of it and the weight of everything around us."

Aggie cuts in. "Everything with mass."

"Right," I reply. "The weight of everything around us wants to move; I just help it."

Aggie interrupts again, "It has mass and therefore potential energy. Cora flips that potential energy into kinetic energy."

"If you say so, Aggie," I reply. "She's making it sound more complex than it really is. To me, everything wants to move. I just use the energy in my mind to connect with the object and boom, instant movement. Watch."

With a flick of my wrist, the freeway sign pulls itself up from its cement base. I hold the sign mid-air until we pass it, and then I toss it into the top of a large tree.

Ruben's mouth hangs open. Alex grips the steering wheel. Alex asks, "How is it you've remained undetected by the authorities when you so flagrantly display your telekinetic abilities for no reason whatsoever?"

I answer, "Sheer awesomeness?"

Alex just rolls his eyes.

I say, "It's not necessary to use my hands to direct it, but I have better aim that way. I've been working on it for months at the cabin with full-grown trees. When we get there you'll see what I'm talking about."

Alex snips, "We will not go anywhere near your cabin. The walls have eyes. Even the trees around here are dangerous."

Yeah, that doesn't sound paranoid. I start humming the Twilight Zone music inside my head.

Ruben turns a bit towards Aggie. "You can see the future? I always thought we wrote our own futures, but if you can see it, is everything just fate?"

She smiles. "I can see people's futures, but only until a specific point. The more an event is preset, the further out I can see it. But futures change depending on the actions of the present. The future can change because of actions but not until then. Does that make sense?"

Ruben shifts a little. "Not really."

Before he's even done answering, Aggie says, "Cora, there's a maintenance log in the glove box and a pen in the center console. Pass me both of them."

I pop open the glove box and, sure enough, there's a spiral-bound pocket-sized notebook. The center console has a really nice pen I think I'll borrow when Aggie is done with it.

Alex says, "You don't steal, Cora."

"Borrow, I thought I'd borrow it!"

Aggie starts drawing on paper what Alex showed me.

"Length is time. But if the person in this thread does a different action and pushes the direction of their future to interact with another thread, then that thread interacts with another thread. Actions change the direction of the future. I look for patterns with people I know, and for people we're gonna eat, I look for a future where they're abusing innocent humans."

Ruben says, "They can't be guilty if they haven't done the crime yet."

"When I see a woman cowering in the corner when her guy comes home in a 'mood,' I can promise it's a repeat performance. If not, how would she know to cower? When I see children in front of cameras and forced to undress, there's not a whole lot of doubt the pornographers have done this before. Show me a first-time pedophile and I'll show you a person who has never been caught. There are lots of mechanisms in the human brain one has to overcome in order to harm their own species. The first time, they normally freak out. I look for visions where the rapist picks the lock efficiently, where the child cringes around the molester. I look for evidence that shows this isn't their first rodeo abusing another human."

Wow, even I didn't know she put that much effort into it. Killing creeps just got way better.

Alex asks, "What about offenders who will change if given the opportunity?"

"Not our problem," I reply. "Those are the benefits of a civilized society that they forfeited when they themselves were not civilized."

He replies, "What about due process?"

I say, "They were due to be processed."

"Who are you to be judge, jury, and executioner?"

"There will always be someone willing to judge and execute. If they wanted a jury in the equation, they should've turned themselves in. Fiat justitia, ruat caelum."

He says, "Do justice though the heavens fall."

This guy just got even sexier. "You know Latin?"

He shakes his head like an old lady not liking how much of my cleavage she can see. "That's hardly the point. The heavens may be falling and you wouldn't know until it's too late."

Aggie clears her throat. "Ahem."

Alex glances at her and lets half of a smile escape the corner of his mouth before he gets his glare back on. "You may have some warning time before the heavens fall."

Alex downshifts and takes a corner way faster than I can in the Yukon. I miss driving Tara's Jetta. I wonder if he'd let me drive the rest of the way. I mean, it's not like he knows where the cabin is.

"No, Cora. You will never drive my car."

"Of course, Mr. I-never-tell-other-people's-thoughts."

Aggie laughs but then covers her mouth. It doesn't matter, though; her shoulders are still shaking from it. I should just slash another tire on his precious car. I know Tara is behind us and will catch up eventually. Although, judging by the look on her face when we drove away, she would run over the sexy Audi sooner than she would stop to help. Not only that, but it would also make it harder to get to the nice mansion. I wonder where Tara is.

Alex's voice pierces my mind again. "She has left my range, so she is at least five miles behind us."

Miles, how very American. I glance at the speedometer but cringe. We haven't covered unit conversion yet in algebra.

"Eight kilometers is roughly five miles. No one needs to know how bad at math you are." He speaks into my mind again.

I laugh out loud before I can help it. "You think Aggie doesn't know how bad at math I am? When I pay the tab at a restaurant, I write the letters M A T H in the tip line, and then write whatever the total should be below."

Ruben rubs his temples. "What are you talking about? It's exhausting trying to keep up with you. You know that?"

Alex says, "If you knew how many things she thinks about doing but decides against, you'd give her some credit."

There have never been truer words spoken.

Alex swerves around some roadkill; he really is the guy who rubs his car with a diaper.

Aggie taps me on the shoulder. "Tara will get to the cabin about twenty-two minutes after we do. When we get there, we need to pack as fast as we can. I want to be ready to go when she gets there."

Ruben laughs under his breath. "About twenty-two? That's kind of broad. Can you narrow it down some?"

I flip down the visor and open the vanity mirror to look at her without craning my neck. "Why?"

"Because Tara and Alex are going to quibble for a while and she won't want to go with him. Also, it will be mostly her fault."

Ruben says, "Wait, just like that you take Alex's side?"

Aggie replies, "It's not about who is on what side. It's about what side is right."

Alex exhales but remains silent. Perhaps Tara knows something we don't, but honestly, liking Alex is easy. Be that as it may, Tara looks out for us pretty well, and as such, I'll hear what she has to say before I cast my vote.

-X-

It doesn't take long to get to the cabin, not with how fast Alex drives. After sitting in that luxurious leather seat for so long, I don't even want to go into the cabin, much less pack up all my crap. It's dark and dank, and that one lightbulb just doesn't cut it anymore.

Packing isn't a big chore. We keep everything pretty tidy. Well, Aggie keeps everything pretty tidy. I don't care if I live out of laundry baskets, and after washing my clothes on a rock in a frozen lake for months, does folding them really make that big of a difference?

Tara arrives and wastes no time trading barbs with Alex. That's my cue to hurry up and close the last suitcase. If nothing else, it's gonna be entertaining watching Alex deal with Tara when he can't hear her thoughts. Squishy footsteps in the mud approach. Tara stomps through the trees with Ann trailing behind.

"Aggie," my oldest sister hisses.

Aggie picks up the last of the suitcases and walks out of Daddy's cabin. "Don't be mad."

I turn the light and generator off, then shut the door.

"Why would I be mad, Aggie? I find out from Captain Arrogant we're going to a strange man's house, and all I get from you are vague don't-worry-about-it answers. So tell me, Aggie, why would I be mad?"

Aggie just carries two suitcases right past her, ignoring her condescending tone. "You said we needed answers. This is a way to get them from someone who doesn't want to kill us. If you have a better suggestion, I'm all ears. These guys can give us answers, more than the Noricum could or ever would. I'm giving you what you asked for."

Finally, Tara looks sheepish. "So...err...why are we going to their house? They can tell us here."

Luckily, Alex gave me a plausible answer that will appease Tara. "Yeah, Alex said the walls have eyes and he wouldn't come near the house. He was even nervous being around the trees."

Tara now follows Aggie, trying to keep up. I look at Ann and point to Tara, rolling my eyes. She's always been so overprotective. There's no reason to freak out like she is; if they become a threat... Well, let's just say the Noricum had better odds.

Tara asks, "We couldn't do this at a Starbucks or something? Where is their house and why are we moving there?"

Aggie answers before I can. "Three words, ladies. Hot. Running. Water."

I can almost feel the detachable showerhead.

-X-
This takes place during chapter eight in The Golden Apple of Discord - Prince Lucius of the Noricum Vampires

Edson calls from the jet after wheels-up in Toronto with news I never expected to get.

Alton is dead.

An allectus is no more, and that, from what little information is available, is not the most pressing problem. Four criminals have escaped apprehension and the North American prefect barely escaped with his life. Edson has no idea how they were defeated to the point of taking casualties. I have instructed them to report to the Quorum as soon as they arrive in Boulogne.

Priam, Sabine, and Verus and I wait in the east turret sunroom for the Detachment to arrive. How did a group merely four strong defeat my Premier Detachment? If Priam is correct about Dacian involvement, the implications are vast. Not since the Dacian armistices have the Socious killers dared raise a hand against us. Why now?

The creak of old heavy door hinges pulls everyone's attention. Edson; Francisco; Ismet; the North American prefect, Duncan; and his assistant, Castile, all enter single-file through the old wooden door, still wearing their field cloaks. Ismet's face does not betray his sorrow.

They form a line, then bow.

Priam says, "Duncan, while it is good to see you, I wish it were under better circumstances."

The prefect steps forward. "As do I, High King."

Priam nods, then looks to Edson. "Captain, I understand you have unpleasant tidings."

Duncan steps back and Edson takes his place in front of the group. His face is a mask of decorum. I know he takes the responsibility of successful missions to heart; this will not be easy for him.

"Your Majesty, we were dispatched to assess possible Dacian involvement regarding errant vampires in Toronto, Canada. We pursued and confronted a group of four women in a very remote area, based on intelligence provided by the North American prefect and Francisco. Our orders were to do nothing until the prefect determined if this coven was of Dacian affiliation. After questioning one in the group, Duncan issued the order to seize what appeared to be the group's leader."

I ask, "How did you ascertain which one was the leader?"

Edson glances at Duncan, and the prefect answers me. "She was protective over the others, and they deferred to her in subtle ways."

Sabine says, "A female leader? That is not Dacian at all."

Duncan answers, "I do not think they are Dacian."

"Clearly, since you issued the order to attack," I reply.

Edson says, "We advanced toward the criminal but were physically barred from apprehending her."

Priam leans forward. "How?"

"I, along with Francisco, Ismet, and the prefect's assistant, were physically repelled. We do not understand how, but one moment we were standing together, and the next we were flying over the trees. We crashed into the forest several kilometers away."

"Flying?" Priam repeats.

That does not seem possible. Is this some trick of the mind? Verus says, "If you would permit me, Priam, I believe we may better understand the events should I read him."

Edson flinches. Such an invasion into one's life is hardly desirable, and under any other circumstances, I would object. But the fact remains that these are not normal circumstances. Then an idea occurs to me.

I say, "Verus need not invade anyone's privacy, not when the Queen is present."

Visible signs of Edson's relief are only detectable to one who has trained him.

Sabine asks, "Duncan, may I?"

"Of course, Majesty."

Verus is not pleased.

With one touch of Edson's ring, Sabine closes her eyes, taking in the visual history his ring has seen. "Two of them caused the flight. They move their arms and most of the Detachment is launched skyward. But that is not all, is it, Duncan?"

"No. The smallest one wields a terrible power."

Verus grows impatient. "I want to see."

Duncan's jaw drops as he gasps.

Priam asks, "What is it, old friend?"

Duncan stares at Verus. "The one with a braid in her hair, she said the same thing. She forced me to watch Alton's execution, saying he wants to see."

Verus is almost out of his seat. "Priam, I think—"

Duncan cuts him off. "I agree Verus reading me is in the best interest of the investigation."

I have not had many dealings with the North American prefect, but he just gained my respect. Not many would offer their memories up to Verus for the greater good.

Priam stands and approaches the Detachment. "Thank you for your report. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed. Ismet, I shall grieve the loss of your brother."

Ismet is stoic. "Thank you, High King."

The Detachment leaves, and then Priam motions for our bodyguards to depart as well. When the door scrapes shut, Priam says to Duncan, "Thank you for your care in this matter."

Duncan approaches my fellow prince. Verus greedily touches his outstretched hand, closes his eyes, and processes the memories of an entire lifetime. While Verus sorts, the prefect says, "They sent me with a message; I was spared to carry it. The group's leader says that they are beyond the power of the Noricum and that I was to leave and never return."

Verus scoffs. "You think them a rogue clan? They know of my ability and awaited your arrival. Their supposed ignorance is a charade. There is no corner of the earth where the name of Noricum is unknown. They deceived you, nothing more."

Duncan steps back. "I respectfully disagree. Dacians would never protect women and children, yet that is the only pattern I could decipher from their feeding habits."

Priam says to Duncan, "Thank you for your insight," then is quiet like he always is when weighing out options. "Verus, what say ye?"

"In addition to the two repellants, one only touches you and paralysis ensues immediately."

Sabine adds, "It is more than paralysis."

Verus says, "It is hard to describe. The smallest one touched him and his body was struck comatose. Then, a translucent replica of himself stood next to his body. If there is such a thing as ghosts, Duncan was one."

How can so few possess so many abilities? It took centuries to gather the most powerful among our kind into one place. I have never heard of a vampire moving people with their minds, and what is this terrible new ghost-making ability? If these are the Dacians, where are Cothelas and Draco?

Verus continues, "Only the Dacians would openly flout our laws. The protection of women and children Duncan mentions can be merely a diversion to hide their signatures."

Priam asks Verus, "What would you have us do?"

He answers, "We have the capabilities. Bring them to heel."

Verus overlooks some crucial items. I say, "If I may?" Priam waves me on. "I agree with Duncan and do not believe they are Dacian. From the information offered, it seems they possess two mind movers and one ghost-maker. With such powerful gifts, where is Cothelas? It would be an amateur mistake to leave such powerful vampires outside of his control, and the Dacians are not unpracticed. You and I both know, with weapons of that magnitude, Cothelas would not let them out of his spell, not for an instant."

Priam looks to Sabine. She says, "In my opinion, they are not Dacian, even though I believe they are related. I saw what looks to be a female leader, which is decidedly not Dacian. The situation warrants further inquiry. I would be happy to go and investigate if My Lord deems it prudent."

Priam says, "Thank you all for your counsel. The possibility of these rebels being Dacian is high, and that gives me reason enough for pause. If we are to seek them out again, it must be with more information about the current state of Dacian affairs than we have now. We have taken a casualty. This will not happen again."

I am glad he is showing restraint, despite Verus's wishes.

Priam looks toward my fellow prince. "Verus, take some human women; wipe their memory clean. Place them in the path of the Romanian sex slave trade to see if the Dacians are selling to vampires. Make sure Ismet sees them before they depart so we can track them."

Verus replies, "As you command."

"Duncan," Priam calls.

"Majesty?"

"Return to Toronto and create a public health emergency like you did in New Mexico with the hantavirus in the early nineteen-nineties. Pick something communicable through the population, but tailor it to the human food profile of this Dacian coven. It will account publically for the unauthorized deaths. We do not want the Dacians to risk exposure, and this grants us time to investigate without them becoming suspicious, if they are not involved."

Duncan says, "I will use meningitis outbreaks in liquor establishments known to be frequented by those who seek to purchase women. It grows rapidly yet is hard for epidemiologists to quantify."

Priam says, "Very good, Duncan. Lucius?"

"Yes?"

"Have Verus and Sabine brief you at length concerning the abilities of this new threat. I want tactical attack and defense plans before we pursue contact."

"You will have preliminary battle simulations within the day."

He nods. "Sabine, if you would be so—"

She interrupts, "I will go speak with Ismet. It will mean more coming from me."

A small smile graces his face, one reserved for his Socious. Sabine rises and kisses Duncan on the cheek. "See me before you leave." Then she heads for the door. I quickly follow her; the death of Ismet's brother will be difficult, and with this new threat, we will need him. Sabine speaks without breaking her stride down the hall. "If they are not Dacian, where they have come from and what do they want?"

"I would leave that speculation to vampires with talents, such as Verus and yourself. His experience with the general population will provide answers much more quickly than I could produce theories."

"And that is one of many reasons your opinion is valued. Although you will not speculate on their agenda, I will speculate on their ancestry."

Sabine is just as much a pragmatist as I am but with a more skilled tongue. Her theories are of more interest than my own.

Opening a bulky castle door for my Queen, we continue the long walk to console the grieving. "What about their ancestry?"

She waits for me to close the door behind us before descending a stone staircase. "They all have the same red hair."

"Which means what?"

"Red hair is a recessive genetic trait. They must have ancestors without mixed heritage to have it manifest in all four women. They were found at an isolated cabin with no others but have been excessively reckless. For such noticeable women to hide for long would be impossible. Neither I nor anyone Verus has read has ever seen them before."

Her theory raises more questions than answers. "That would make me think they are more likely Dacians than not. The Socious killers are the only group of vampires on earth we do not govern and would have no contact with. I tend to agree with you but feel we need more facts. Verus has seen this new rebellion in a way we cannot."

"But Duncan has. I will ask him more on this."

Her mentioning the North American prefect reminds me of a question I meant to ask earlier. "How long have there been out-of-control feedings in Toronto?"

"Duncan said only a few months."

A few months does not make sense. No one is only a vampire for a few months and capable of defeating the Premier Detachment. "That means they are either new to this life or have been sheltered by those who know how to avoid us. Still, I do not understand why the Dacians would rekindle a conflict now. We are missing crucial information."

After we round the last turn, Ismet's door is several meters away, at the end of the hall.

"Agreed," she replies softly. "But we have one of our own to console first." She truly cares for those who serve and support her as High Queen. Those who remember Priam's first Socious, Ides, did not always love our Sabine, but her warm disposition quickly won them over and mended rifts.

I open Ismet's door to find Francisco sitting across the room. He stands and bows. Sabine discreetly puts her hand up and shakes her head. I nod and glance toward the door. He understands, departing quickly and quietly. Ismet sits and stares at a chessboard with a game in progress...one that will never be finished.

The Queen kneels before him and gently holds his hands. "May I see what you have seen?"

She takes his barely perceptible head movements as acquiescence and lightly brushes her thumb over his ring.

"Losing one as close to you as Alton is the hardest trial you will ever encounter," she says. "You and he shared a special bond not many of our kind enjoy. He was your brother not only in life, but also in adoption into this life. While it does not bring him back, know he died a soldier's death and we are forever proud of him."

He whispers while staring at the chessboard, "I want her blood on my hands. I want all their blood on my hands."

Ismet was always the more serious of the brothers. Special care must be taken to prevent his grief from festering into wild rage. I say, "Ismet, know this. We live by a code. Peace to the victor, mercy to the meek, and death in rebellion. It will not happen overnight, but I promise you this rebellion will be sealed in their blood."

Sabine cradles his face with her hand. "Will you help us find them when the time is right?"

His eyes flash to mine. "I have seen them and want their blood now!"

It is Sabine's role to comfort, mine to command. She says, "You will have it when we are sure it will be their blood spilt, not our own. Mourn your brother; do not create more empty chairs in haste."

He stares at her but doesn't accede.

I ask, "Did you use your ability on them?"

His lip quivers before he answers. "No, I did not get the opportunity."

I say, "Until we know if this tragedy is of Dacian making, you will not trade sight with any of them. Sun Tzu once said, 'In making tactical dispositions, the highest pitch you can attain is to conceal them.' If they are not Dacian, and even if they are, there is no reason to believe they know of your ability yet. They will find out seconds before they die."

He finally nods.

"Verus will send for you soon. You are to assist him with an intelligence mission."

"When?" He is eager, too eager. Captain Edson will need to carefully watch his soldier.

"Verus must prepare the spies. Francisco will stay with you until then."

Sabine pats his hands, then rises. "I will send one of my ladies along for anything you may need."

Ismet rises and bows to us both. "Thank you, Majesties."

Sabine and I walk down the hall; Francisco is waiting at the end. I say, "Send word for Edson to find me, then stay with Ismet and make sure he feeds." Francisco bows and turns to find his commander.

Next, I must visit Verus and try to understand this new threat.

I say to Sabine, "I must let Verus speak freely but do not want him to assume Dacian involvement. It will shape what he tells me about them, and I do not think his perception of their origin will be helpful in this instance."

She nods. "Although understandable given his experience, Verus jumps too quickly to see Dacians. From Duncan's perspective, they looked defiant and casual in their demeanor. Those submissive to Cothelas do not act with power."

"But," I reply, "he and Priam have experience with the Dacians we do not."

"Current events appear different when viewed through a looking glass of the past," she replies. "Do you not notice how we, who have only heard stories of the Dacians, both believe this coven to be simply rogue?"

Sabine is wise as she is beautiful. She, like I, comes from Roman ancestry. What a Caesar she would have made. Still, there is history here that cannot be ignored completely.

Sabine says, "Do you disagree?"

"No, I agree with you."

She stops walking and turns toward me. "You have something else to add. Everything you say and do has a purpose. Pray tell, what thoughts have you on the matter?"

Sabine's silver tongue could make a tree stump talk.

Lowering my voice, I reply. "I agree that the opinion on Dacian involvement is split between those who have experience with them and those who do not. It is not my wish to offend Verus or Priam. They suffered horribly at the command of the Socious killers. I do not wish to offend you, my Queen, by mentioning Priam's first Socious."

She waves dismissively. "I made my peace with Priam's love for Ides centuries ago. Do not fear to bring her up, as she still shapes the rulers of our world. Would you cut out one eye before going into battle for the sake of perceived compassion?"

"That would be foolish."

"Of course you would not. You were a soldier of Rome. You are our General now. You assess issues from a tactical point of view. Because of that, you see things not even Verus and I can see. Never hesitate to use that and we will all be stronger for it."

"Thank you, Majesty."

I chuckle at the memory of when Sabine joined us. Created a century after the end of the Dacian Wars, she came in with a Roman coven on a routine census. Because she was new, Verus read her, then singled her out because of her talent. I remember assessing which Detachment to assign her to.

She was a tracker, placed on an investigative Detachment. But life in Boulogne suited her well. She made acquaintances out of strangers and friends out of acquaintances. Whenever she walked into a room, vampires stopped what they were doing, eager to hear what she had to say.

Priam was no exception.

Not long after Sabine completed her Detachment training, Priam came to me in confidence and asked what effect his taking a new Socious would have on our people. They had lost many friends in a war fought over his first Socious. I told him it depended on the woman, for anyone he married would be High Queen.

When Priam said she was well liked, I knew who it was.

Sabine has been our High Queen ever since. Although I will never admit it to anyone but Melise, I think Verus resents Sabine. Not only is she an alternative to his invasive ability, but she is also his sister's replacement.

Verus sits at the table in the east turret room with his bodyguard, Marian. He sketches a scene from Duncan's memories.

Sabine glances at the scene he draws of Alton on his knees, then takes a seat at the other end of the table. My bodyguard, Aleric, and Sabine's guard, Novak, enter the room as well. They keep their distance unless they are needed.

Aleric's ability to negate talents within a few meters of himself gives him, and, in turn, me, a comfort many in Boulogne do not have. With him, Verus is powerless.

I say, "You saw four through Duncan's memories?"

He rouses from his drawing.

"This one"—he points to a woman wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans—"Duncan identified as Taralie, the group's sire. Although he assumes she is the leader, this one"—he points to one standing farther back from the front line—"gave the order to execute Alton."

The Queen says, "The one who issued the order has a crown braid in her hair, an old-world style."

Perhaps she and I are wrong. Sabine wears a similar hairstyle in her golden brown tresses. Has Cothelas successfully hidden such power from us, waiting to strike at will?

I examine the drawing more closely. "Which one is the ghost-maker?"

Verus points to the smallest of the four. "This one right here, holding the slack wrist of the unconscious prefect."

I ask, "What of the wild-haired woman with her hands around Alton's throat?"

Verus says, "The others called her Coralia. She is one of the pushers and took pleasure in killing Alton. The other one is the sire, Taralie."

"The one who knew of your power, she told the prefect you wanted to see. Is she the one with a braid in her hair?"

He nods. I look to Sabine. Our case of this being a rogue clan is getting weaker by the second. Perhaps Cothelas trusts these women enough to leave them alone.

I ask Verus, "Do you know the range of the ghost-maker or pushers?"

"I suspect the pushers are like Marian and need a direct line of sight. The ghost-maker touched Duncan before he went slack. You see here?" he points to the small one holding the prefect's wrist. "She continued to hold his arm, which leads me to believe she needs to maintain contact."

Pointing to what looks like debris along the tree line, I ask, "What is all this?"

He replies, "Some sort of battle was fought here before the Detachment arrived. There are fully grown trees littering the area, and Duncan saw signs that they were ripped out by their roots."

Pointing to the primitive cabin he has drawn, I ask, "Do they live here?"

"Yes. They return to this place after feasting on humans in Toronto."

People do not live on battlefields. It is more like a training range.

"Do they fight in any kind of formation?"

Both Verus and Sabine shake their heads. Verus says, "They look disorganized."

Sabine adds, "Casual, not chaotic. If the Detachment had held their ground, I would say they were disorganized, but perhaps they are so familiar with each other they do not need a structured formation."

I say to Sabine, "Common ancestry from an isolated population."

She nods.

"Cothelas was known for turning even distant relations," Verus gloats. He has a good point, but his suppositions will not defeat them next time, and, as such, he should keep them to himself.

"During the engagement, did they stay within a few meters of each other like in your sketch?"

"There was some confusing movement from the one they call Coralia. Alton blinded her but then stopped for some reason I was not able to discern."

Strategies start filtering through my mind. First, we need ways to negate all of these abilities at once. Marian's time perception ability will be a necessity, and Aleric will be vital, particularly for the ghost-maker. If these are Dacians, Marian is our best defense against Draco. Between Ismet and Edson, we can disable the mind movers. At that point Verus could read them at his leisure and we could get all the answers we need. If we keep them all alive and they are Dacian, this will not violate the armistices. If they are not, I hope Ismet will be content with Verus wiping them. What a Detachment they would make.

-X-

Sabine leaves me to work with Verus so she can speak with Duncan before he returns to North America. I ask him to sketch the Detachment's approach, to tell me what the criminals physically did when repelling them, to repeat everything that was spoken...everything.

After three hours, Sabine returns bearing satellite photos of the criminals' cabin. If we are to take them at the cabin, there are multiple points of egress, but that is using trees as cover. Clearly they have no problem with clearing forest.

They have the entrenchment advantage. But what about an ambush?

This has possibilities. Could we obtain a law enforcement vehicle and wait for them to feed, tracking them like the prefect did before? We could put Aleric in a constable uniform and have him walk right up to their car. There would be no way for them to know until they are rendered helpless.

Priam, like myself, prefers options, and it is my job to provide them.

After leaving Verus, I return to my apartment in an upper floor of our castle in Boulogne Su Mer. Melise is playing the piano, a requiem. She is as beautiful now as she was when she was human. Her slender fingers glide over the keys, her eyes closed in delight. Her long raven hair spills over her shoulders, decorating her bust line. Priam brought me into this life; I brought her. As a childless couple, it was easy for a General to claim that he and his wife were moving to conquered lands.

Though she is Sabine's assistant in European prefect duties, she stays out of Quorum business, claiming she doesn't have the heart for the monotony. The truth is that she does not like to see our kind suffer, and sometimes, to keep order, pain is exactly what we inflict.

My collapse into my favorite chair catches her attention and she ceases playing. After looking to me for a few seconds, she closes the piano lid, saying, "You look utterly lost in thought."

"It was a very trying day."

She glides over to me and starts removing my shoes. "Does it have to do with the North American prefect being here?"

Her sweet disposition, it always soothes me. A soldier needs a place to lay his head and forget about the troubles of the battlefield. She is that place for me.

"The Premier Detachment was dispatched to North America. In trying to apprehend a criminal, Alton was killed."

She gasps and freezes. "How is Ismet?"

"Physically unharmed. Francisco is with him now."

"Who could have done such a thing?"

"That is what Sabine, Verus, and I are investigating."

She removes my remaining shoe and massages my feet. "Something troubles you, an unanswered question. Your eyes are stormy this evening."

I run my hands down her hair. She knows me better than anyone. "Verus and Priam think this coven Dacian."

"But you do not."

"Sabine and I think it a low probability."

"But that is not what troubles you."

I take a folded sketch of the criminals from my breast pocket and show it to her. "I cannot be sure they are not Dacian. No single theory makes sense. The sire is not the leader and does not give the orders, yet is protective of her creations. The one who gave the order to execute Alton is not the sire yet appears ancient like I would expect the sire to be. We are missing vital information. Nothing makes sense, and with their considerable abilities, I need to find the missing puzzle pieces before we bring their rebellion down."

She rises from her knees and pulls me up from my chair. "Come, let us drink. Clear your mind. You will find the solution, you always do."

Her faith in me is not misplaced. I will find how to subdue them, but it will not be in haste.

We travel an hour northwest to Dunkirk and drink a family in an upper-city flat. Their blood slides down my throat, washing my troubled mind away. The parents we eat first, telling them their offspring will live if they comply. Their fear overrules what they must know in their hearts, and they do not even attempt to flee.

Before leaving, Melise has one of her ladies place a cyanide poison in the water cooler. The simple-minded humans will assume the poison was to blame.

All too soon, Melise, her ladies-in-waiting, Aleric, and I return to the castle. I have a battle briefing to prepare for Priam. It is crucial to convey the need for patience. Verus will be impulsive, but if we truly wish to bring the criminals to heel, Priam will need as much pre-attack intelligence as we can get.

One misstep here will cost us more soldiers, or worse, reignite the Dacian Wars.

-X-
Takes place during chapter fourteen in The Golden Apple of Discord - Ann of the Milunfran Vampires

Ruben, Thomas, and Aggie wait in the sitting room. I stand behind Aggie so Thomas can't see me ogle him. He and Ruben rib each other about who is going to drive. Tonight we're going out to an actual movie theater, in the city. I haven't been to one in months. This house is big enough to have its own home theater, but I miss doing normal things.

Cora slides down the banister. "Tara's not coming."

I ask, "Why?"

Cora shrugs, "She says she just wants to read. Alex would know better than me. Oh wait, he wouldn't, would he?"

Alex looks up from the book he's reading on the couch and chuckles. "Correct as usual, Miss Severin."

Alex's formality forces a snort out of me. I'd think it over the top if he wasn't grinning. Cora's verbal teasing can be irritating; her mental taunting must be unbearable.

Why isn't Alex coming with us? Does he not trust Tara here by herself? Does he just want to corner Tara without the rest of us around? Maybe he wants to avoid Cora's historical inquisition. Does Alex even go to movies? He seems too mature for that.

Cora whines, "Alex, come on. You gotta tell me the rest of Europe's reaction to the defeat of the Spanish Armada."

"Another time." His gaze returns to the pages. The cover is so worn I can't even see a title, and with vampire vision, that's one really old book.

I see Cora's finger twitch and that smile come across her face. I know that smile. It usually ends up with a really good time and a lecture from Tara. Aggie kicks Cora's foot and shakes her head. Cora pouts a little but smiles when she looks at Thomas.

He twirls the keys to the Land Rover in his hand. "Are we going, or what?"

There has to be a way to sit in the front next to him. He's so good-looking, confident, well spoken, but he was so perceptive during the ride from Toronto. There's no way I can watch him without getting caught. However, it wouldn't look out of place for me to be close to him while he drives; that's exciting enough to squeal about.

Cora's reply silences my squeak. "It'll be a tight fit with five of us in the Rover. Should we take the Yukon and I'll drive?"

Aggie laughs, "We want to see a disaster movie, not make one."

Everyone laughs at Cora's pout.

Thomas says, "No disrespect to your vehicle, but an SUV with a busted-out window and mud all over it won't exactly blend in with the Barrington Hills vehicular stereotype. Unless you want to be detained by law enforcement, I'd advise against it."

Cora asks, "Will it be good-looking law enforcement?"

Aggie starts pushing us out the door. "Let's go, already."

Tara's reading upstairs by herself makes me sad; she's usually eager for sister time. But if Cora couldn't get her to come, I sure can't. I hope she and Alex don't fight while we're gone. They seem to be getting along better, but they've both shown how fast things can get ugly. I can't get Thomas off my mind and wish I could ask her what to do, but she has enough on her plate. It probably wouldn't go well; she's not big on dating or romance.

Thomas pulls the Land Rover out from the garage, then hops out and opens the front passenger door. Cora bolts for the invitation and gets shotgun. Maybe I can sit next to him during the movie.

As everyone else files into the backseat, Thomas won't take his eyes off me. He can't possibly know I like him; I've barely said hello.

Aggie goes ahead of me. That puts her in the middle of the backseat, while Ruben goes around to the other side and sits behind the driver's seat. That leaves me sitting right behind Cora. Aggie just wants to be able to reach the radio, but at least I can still watch Thomas without anyone noticing.

Thomas closes my door for me. Does he know how much women dig this kind of treatment? Especially when it's obvious this is just how he is. We're staying with him. He doesn't need to put on a show.

This neighborhood is so exclusive it takes us over six hundred meters till we get to an actual public road. Thomas turns left onto Remington Drive. I pay attention to road signs so if I ever stekie here, I'll have a better idea of how to get around.

Thomas puts on some music. I don't know who the composer is, but I'm sure they're dead now. The guys are all so formal. Thomas more than Ruben. Sometimes I half-expect Alex to say something like, "Excuse me, have you seen my monocle?"

Cora asks, "So, what movie are we gonna see? How about a retarded comedy?"

Ruben says, "There is no way I'm seeing a chick flick."

Cora replies, "I'd hardly call the Hangover trilogy a chick flick."

Aggie says, "Those movies should have been rated PG-13: pretty good for thirteen-year-old humor. Those guys are one click beneath Adam Sandler bathroom humor. Who cares about a bunch of guys wishing they were still twenty-something frat boys? What about a literary adaptation? Something like The Help."

Cringing at both of those options, I take comfort in the fact that I can just stekie into another theater if that's what is chosen. No one will notice a ghost sitting in the back or me sleeping through The Help or The Hangover. There's no amount of sitting next to Thomas that'll make me want to watch either of those.

I suggest, "What about a horror flick? There's always some sort of possession or ghost movie out."

Ruben laughs out loud. "Ann, we are a horror movie."

Now I feel stupid.

Thomas says, "I agree with Ann, I'd like a horror movie."

I see Thomas won't make my infatuation with him any easier this evening. Why can't he be mean like Alex was to Tara? It'd make my life so much easier.

Cora says, "Remember when Tara and I went all MST3K on The Fog?"

Aggie says, "You mean The Flop?"

Thomas turns right onto Algonquin Road, then suggests, "Why don't we look over the showtime kiosk and see what's playing?"

Cora nods eagerly. "We don't all have to see the same movie."

Thomas replies, "It'll be easier for me and Ruben to suppress your appetite if we're closer in proximity than spread out over the multiplex."

Sweet! Thomas just gave me an excuse to be around him, and I can make it look like I'm just worried I'll kill a tasty human.

Cora chokes and laughs really hard. I ask, "What?"

Through her laughs, she replies, "I was...just imagining Thomas's face...on a box of Dexatrim or a...Weight Watchers shake."

Without missing a beat, Thomas says in a low narrator voice, "Give us a week, we'll take off the weight."

I, along with everyone else in the car, laugh so hard I'm wiping tears from my eyes.

After a few more minutes, Ruben looks over Thomas's shoulder. "Now that we're over five miles away from the house, I want to ask you ladies about the whole witch thing."

I ask, "Why would you have to wait till we're out of Tara's range?"

Thomas replies, "Because it also means we're out of Alex's range, and he wanted us to make you feel welcome. That included not prying into your past."

I say, "But we don't mind answering questions."

Thomas shrugs. "Given our new living arrangement, Alex didn't want you to feel we tolerate you for your abilities. He's sensitive about that and it's a way of being polite."

When he glances back at me I can feel my face getting hot. I wonder if he can tell.

Ruben cuts in, "But I like you guys, and it's not my way of being polite, so I have questions."

Thomas interrupts, "You don't have a way of being polite, Ruben."

Aggie answers him quickly. "What do you want to know?"

"How do vampires not know about witches? If the Noricum knew, then Alex would know, but he was just as surprised as I was."

She says, "Vampires are too powerful for banishments. If witches don't hunt or protect your kind, you don't know about us. We're good at keeping secrets."

"When you say 'we,' you mean witches, right? Is it something you're born into? Is there a school like in Harry Potter?"

Cora waves her arm. "Wingardium leviosa!" A bush we're driving past flies across the road in front of the car, disappearing into the trees lining the road.

Aggie rolls her eyes. "Pay no attention to the embarrassment in the front seat. Yes, we're born into it, and to my knowledge, there's not an academy for it. Witches are homeschooled."

Ruben turns a little more toward Aggie, and his face looks like Cora's when she asks Alex about Queen Elizabeth.

"So what do you, err, banish?"

"Really, anything supernatural that causes humans problems. Demons, plane shifters, berserkers, gamayuns, kishis, warlocks, sorcerers... You know, stuff like that."

Aggie is smiling a lot, around Ruben in particular. Does he even notice?

I think Ruben looks cute asking questions that would normally put you in a loony bin. But he's a vampire, so he doesn't get to play the "you're insane" card like human men could do if we ever told them about witches.

Aaaand now she's discreetly stroking his arm.

Oh. My. Gosh... She really likes him!

I didn't think Aggie would ever like anyone. She never went out on more than one date with a guy, always too deep in her schoolwork to notice men around her. And she doesn't have to hide the fact that she was a witch, because he's a vampire. Wait, that means I can do the same with Thomas. I've wanted that ever since I was given my power back. Maybe, just maybe, I could go on a date with a man and not feel like I have to hide everything about me.

Ruben's mouth hangs open. Thomas watches him through the mirror.

Aggie continues, "We banished a grendle right before Tara was turned and a sorcerer's students right after."

Cora grumbles, "The sorcerer himself got away through a portal puddle."

Ruben finally snaps out of it. "Portal puddle? What else? Are faeries real?"

Aggie says, "Yes, but a weaker, newer coven of witches would protect them if needed. We get the harder banishments."

"What's the hardest thing you've ever banished?"

Aggie racks her brain. "It's a toss-up between seven harpies at the same time and the power-stealing demons."

Cora says, "Tara really saved us on that last one."

Thomas hits the gas and merges onto Interstate 90. "Aggie, am I clear to speed? Will we get pulled over?"

Aggie takes a deep breath in and closes her eyes. "You're clear all the way into the city."

Thomas really floors the pedal. Looks like this drive won't take an hour after all. "How did Tara really save you with the...power-stealing demons?"

I know how this story goes. I thought for sure when they got both mine and Cora's powers we were gonna die.

Cora says, "It was only three of them, but they managed to pull my telekinesis out of me. They got Ann too. Tara mimicked their abilities and not only pulled our powers back out of them, but pulled all of theirs too."

Ruben's mouth hangs open. "So, are you guys just really cool or are all witches like you?"

Cora offers Thomas a high-five, which he takes. "We're so cool the Oracles named us the Taeleoni and told the Twelve to instate and train us as full-ranking member witches, even though we're only half-bloods."

Ruben asks, "When you say 'training'—what exactly did you learn?"

"How to focus our blood powers, write spells, make elixirs, and do different types of banishments. Elemental balance. Tara knows Judo. I'm the best at elixirs." Cora blows on her nails and rubs them on her boob.

"When you say banishment, what does that mean?" Ruben asks. "You kill weird things?"

Aggie takes one of his hands in each of hers. "Okay, think of this hand"—she holds one up—"as your soul, and this hand"—she holds up the other—"as your body."

"Ooookay."

"Now, if I cut one hand off, you can still do your normal daily tasks, but it takes longer and you have to find different ways to do it. Right?"

He nods. I see Thomas glance back in the rearview mirror and imagine myself holding his hand the way Aggie is holding Ruben's.

Aggie continues, "So if I don't want you to be able to function at all, I'd cut off both your hands, but souls are tricky things. They're sentient energy that can reincarnate when released from mortal bodies or possess other living things."

"So how do you kill both?"

She puts his hands together. "That's what a banishment is. We use specialized elixirs and elemental casting power to arrest the ability of the soul to move on when the body is destroyed. Sometimes the energy of a soul is tethered to their species or coven, or it has some sort of magical fail-safe. Therefore, if you kill only the body, the soul can reincarnate or return another way. With banishment, we trap the energy of a soul and any tethers it may have into something that can be destroyed—a body. If something is deemed a threat to humans, the Twelve issue an order and the Samanos deliver it to the covens they represent."

Cora says, "And bad guys typically explode when we do that."

I say, "Thomas might know something about that."

He glances back at me with a curious look on his face. "What would I know about it?"

"You know about biochemicals, right?"

Cora switches the music off and turns to face me, giving the conversation her whole attention. She's always had a gift of making things awkward.

"Well," I reply, "there are lots of chemical bonds in the human body. If you force too much energy into a chemical bond, that bond can break. If the reaction is exothermic, those bonds release more energy than it took to break the bond. Souls, or life forces, have lots of energy in them. When you force the soul into the body, the surge in energy breaks the bonds, releases the energy contained inside. The effect is tissue converting into its molecular or atomic forms, and then compressed pure energy. But energy is like air. It expands to fit its container. That's why it blows outward. It wants to equalize."

Everyone is quiet and staring at me, even Thomas. "What? That's how Tara explained it to me, and she has a degree in biology, so don't look at me like that."

Cora says, "Hey, I'm just glad there wasn't math involved."

Thomas clears his throat. "Speaking of Tara, is everyone else relieved she stopped antagonizing Alex?"

Aggie lightly smacks Thomas's arm. "When Ann teleported Ruben to Dad's house, Alex went after Tara with the intent to kill, not wound. He got everything he deserved."

Ugh, am I ever gonna live that down?

Ruben says, "Tara dented the ceiling with him your first night here, and you guys were keeping secrets."

Cora teams up with Aggie against Ruben. "Hey, if you'd been kidnapped from your house naked and turned, you'd keep that a secret too."

I say, "I'm just glad they're getting along now."

The car gets quiet again.

Ruben says, "Wanna place bets on which one of them takes a swing at the other first?"

Thomas slows down and takes the Ohio Street exit. "He's not normally like that."

Cora says, "Neither is Tara."

Ruben asks, "Do you think it's because they were both changed by Cothelas that they had problems with each other?"

Cora laughs. "They aren't Beta fish."

Aggie says, "He was vicious and precise. I've never seen someone that proficient at martial arts, and he slammed her head into that wall so hard, I thought for sure he was going to kill her."

Thomas says, "The Dacians trained him well."

Aggie scratches her head a little. Then I see her shift a little bit toward Ruben. She totally likes him. "I still think it's weird a Dacian king turned both Tara and Alex. I forced a vision of Tara when she was taken and saw him in the van with her. I didn't realize he was that powerful. He looked wounded when I saw him."

Thomas asks, "Wounded?"

Cora says, "When Tara changed us, she said we were painful to drink. She had to puke up the blood of one of us before she could drink another."

Thomas turns right onto State Street. "I find it hard to imagine Cothelas wounded by anything."

I ask, "Have you ever had dealings with them or the Noricum?" He shivers a bit. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

He shakes his head. "It's just not a story that lends itself to a good time, and I was rather enjoying poking fun at our two Dacian-changed friends."

Cora snorts. "They're lucky Tara was more afraid than pissed and ran away. If she stuck around, she'd have killed the whole bouquet, not just the rose."

Thomas turns left onto Illinois Street. The buildings here aren't any bigger than Toronto, but they're way more spread out. I can see the sign for the theater down this road and can't wait to see some movie previews on the big screen.

Even though it's in the wee hours of the morning, there are still enough people out and about the city to cause traffic. That's probably why there's a twenty-four hour movie theater to begin with. Ruben points out some drag queens and Cora causes some...wardrobe malfunctions. By the time we've gotten parked in an underground garage and are standing in front of the box office, I'm surprised any of the pedestrians are still clothed.

While everyone scans the movie posters, Cora suddenly says, "Oh man, how did I not realize that before?"

Right as I open my mouth to ask what she's talking about, Aggie says, "You're totally right."

Thomas asks, "Am I missing something?"

Cora opens her wallet wide and shows it to Thomas. "I don't have any money."

Thomas looks baffled but glances at me, then answers Cora. "It's quite the privilege to take a pretty lady to a show."

I can feel my cheeks get hotter, but can't contain my smile. He's so smooth, but I don't know if he's hitting on me or Cora.

He glances at me again. What is he thinking? Cora breaks the bubble Thomas and I are in. "You don't understand. That's why Tara wouldn't come with us. We're low on money and Tara didn't want to draw attention to that fact."

Ruben says, "But we have lots of money, it's really, really not a problem."

Aggie replies, "You don't realize how big a deal it is for her."

Then Cora gets that look on her face again that she gets when whatever she's imagining will result in a good time and a lecture from Tara.

Thomas asks Cora, "What are you thinking about to cause such a spike in endorphins?"

Cora pulls the Noricum ring out of her wallet. "I'm wondering if there's more silver where this ring came from."

Ruben chokes. "You want to steal from the Noricum?"

I ask, "You keep that with you?"

She beams while petting the ring. Of course she keeps the Precious with her.

A couple of people walk by and glance at us suspiciously. Chicago crime stats are way higher than Toronto's even on its best day.

Cora grins and turns back towards the parking garage. "Screw watching a movie. Let's go make Ocean's Fourteen."

Wait, what?

Tara isn't here to put the brakes on this impending train wreck, so it falls to me. I scurry to catch up to Cora. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I thought we don't steal. How would we even do this?"

Cora calls over her shoulder, "They're the Noricum, not a small business owner that has a family and stuff. Aggie, you see anything going wrong?"

Everyone else scrambles to catch up as well. Aggie giggles. "This is gonna be so much fun."

Well she's not going to be any help.

Ruben and Thomas exchange glances. Thomas says, "We're supposed to be in hiding from the Noricum. I don't think Alex will approve of this."

I don't think Tara would, either, but Aggie looks out for us, too. If she, with all her prescience, thinks this a good idea, who am I to object? Tara is so worried about money she wouldn't even come to a movie.

Aggie says, "There are ways we can do this and not get caught."

"How?" Ruben asks.

Thomas jabs Ruben with his elbow. "Don't encourage them."

Ruben shrugs. "I wanna see if we can actually do this. Aren't you curious about the Noricum's antique collection? Think what it'd sell at Christie's for. If we can do this completely undetected, I'm in."

Thomas tries to hide the light of excitement in his eyes, but I see it.

Aggie hooks her arm in Ruben's and continues to walk practically plastered to his side. "I see Ann asleep, so I'm assuming we get her to stekie throughout the castle until she finds something of value we can jump in and take."

This is a way I can help. When we first arrived in Chicago, Alex showed me the Noricum castle in France. It's huge.

"I can stekie there, but I'll need a place to lie down and lots of time. This castle isn't small by any means."

All of our shoes click against the concrete of the parking garage. Thomas deactivates the alarm. The beeps echo through the garage. "If we need you to wake up, how are we supposed to alert you?"

Cora opens the hatchback trunk door and climbs in. "Take me with you. If something happens on this end, Aggie can take your hand off my wrist and sever my stekie. If I suddenly disappear, come back."

It's as good a system as any.

I crawl into the back while Ruben puts the seat down, giving me and Cora more legroom. Aggie sits cross-legged between Cora and me while Thomas and Ruben take the front seats. Taking a few deep breaths, I grab Cora's wrist and picture the Noricum Castle.

Suddenly Cora and I are standing in a street, looking at the front of the huge six-sided castle. Although it's the middle of the night in Chicago, it looks to be morning in France.

"Come on, before people see right through us," I say, then hop over a hip-high wall and down into some water surrounding the castle. It's murky and green but provides perfect cover; stekies don't make splashes. Cora follows me as I walk through the wall. It's dark when we're in the middle of the stone, and when we get through, it takes a second for my eyes to recognize the surroundings.

The castle hallway is dimly lit and there's a strange groaning sound. It's so faint, I can't tell where it's coming from.

Cora whispers, "Dude, catacombs? I expected better digs than this."

Alex's garage looks more opulent than this hallway. I hope for the Noricum's sake their interior decorator did a better job in other parts of the castle.

I whisper, "Are you sure these people have money?"

Cora leans past me to look down the hall. "If they have a vault, it's probably on the lower levels."

I point to the right. "This way is as good as any. If you hear people, move into a wall until you hear them pass."

We don't have feet here, so footstep sounds aren't an issue as we explore the hallway. Finding the way through this maze is. When we go up a level, the creepy groaning sound disappears completely. Maybe Alex will know what it was.

After listening outside doors, we stick our faces through them to see if there are any obvious items of value. I don't suppose we'll be lucky enough to find a stack of cash lying on a table in an unoccupied room. We've been here for a while, but it's hard to tell time. I haven't seen any windows and there aren't clocks hanging on the walls. How do these people function?

Cora and I gesture to each other, keeping our search silent. Every now and then we hear voices or footsteps approach and hide inside a wall. This place is far larger than it looked from the outside. I don't need hours to search this entire castle, I need days.

I'm about to give up and ask if we should just go home when Cora pulls her face out of an old wooden door. "Dude, pay dirt!" she whispers.

After walking through a door that looks like all the others, I see that the contents are anything but plain. Crowns, silks, ropes of pearls, bouillon, clothing on mannequins, statues—Cora found an actual treasure room.

I don't see any surveillance or security systems around the door. There is what looks like a fire suppression system. Makes sense. Our kind doesn't fear humans, just fire.

Cora makes a beeline for a light-blue Renaissance-type dress in the corner. She runs her translucent fingers along the lacy white collar. "Is this... It can't be."

"What?" I ask.

She looks at the back side; puts her hand over her mouth, muffling a squeal; and points to the dress and does a little happy dance. "I'm pretty sure this dress belonged to Queen Elizabeth."

"Err, how can you tell?"

"The bodice has a particular style. She wasn't just a queen; she actually designed better-fitting corsets. This dress looks like it was made to fit them."

"Didn't you say once she had lots of dresses?"

"Yes, over three thousand when she died."

"Then why is this one so special?"

Cora physically jolts and rips her gaze away from the dress. "Special? None are known to have survived. This is the only one of its kind. It's not just special or priceless. This is like finding a lost Da Vinci painting!"

She goes back to petting it, just like the Precious. I know that look on her face. I say, "Then it would stand to reason they would miss it if you took it."

Her face falls. Yeah, I knew what she was thinking.

I move my way through the treasure toward the back of the room. We need something they have lots of, something that won't be missed. Crowns would be cool, but we don't know if they're actually worth something or if they're just symbols of conquered kings from ancient lands no one cares about anymore.

They have plenty of assorted wooden chests, like I'd expect to see on a pirate ship. They're more likely to have money in them. If they had something else, it'd be displayed like all the other trophies in here.

"Cora, tear your eyes off the dress and come help me pick a chest."

She whispers, "Later, baby," then finally comes to do the job she signed up for.

I find an area near the back by the trunks with enough space for Ruben, Cora, and me to jump into without breaking anything. Satisfied I have enough information to do a jump safely, I withdraw from my stekie, finding myself back in my body, and let go of Cora's wrist.

The first thing I notice is that the car moving. We're no longer in the city. "We're on the road already?"

Thomas replies from the driver's seat, "Already? You've been gone for hours."

"The place is massive."

Cora sits up quickly. "And you can't even begin to imagine the things they have there. A scrap from Queen Elizabeth's wardrobe would be fabulous, but an entire dress intact?!"

Aggie says, "Pull over." We're on a country road. I'm not sure where. The car bumps and lurches as he downshifts and drives on the unpaved shoulder. Ruben gets out and opens the trunk door. Cora and I scoot out.

"Is it getting light?" I ask.

Aggie pulls me over to Ruben. "Yes, and you should get going."

Cora whimpers, "I have to go."

Aggie shakes her finger at Cora. "Only if you don't dally. Get in and get out, no delays. Understand?"

I take a few deep breaths and let the pressure Ruben puts on my mind settle. I imagine my ability is like a balloon blowing up. The air is forced in while the latex fights to retain its shape. Then, when the pressure gets too much, the balloon expands. When I feel that release of pressure, my new expanded power—the ability to relocate my body, not just my mind—is created.

"Ready?" I ask.

"You're so good at this, Ann," Ruben says, and I smile. We practice enough; I really should be by now.

I picture the treasure room in the castle, grab Ruben's and Cora's hands, and then imagine looking down at the chest. In the blink of an eye, a surge of energy jolts through us, leaving as fast as it came.

Cora doesn't waste any time rushing over to the dress. She touches it so tenderly I feel bad tearing her away from it.

"Cora!" Ruben whispers.

"Just give her a couple minutes."

"But Aggie said don't dally."

I laugh. "Aggie's idea of a quick jaunt to the store consists of at least a half an hour of clearance racks. Not dallying is a term dependent on a perspective."

Cora gently inspects the fabric on the back side of the dress. Near happy tears, she says, "It really was hers. She wore this."

It's sweet to see Cora love something as simple as a dress, but I can tell Ruben is getting antsy.

"Cora, we can come back another time, but we should go now."

She nods, then lightly kisses the cuff on the wrist and backs away.

Ruben asks Cora, "Do you know what you want to take?"

She and I both point to different chests. Me to the smaller one I scoped out earlier, her to the larger one right next to it. It's not the largest in here, but it's not small either.

Without moving her feet, Cora rearranges the chests. She floats the larger of the two chests over to us and moves the other ones to cover where it was. We can't very well leave one clean spot on the dusty floor, so we leave lots.

"Ready?" I ask.

Cora rubs her hands together fiendishly. "To the Batcave!"

I bend over and put my hands on the trunk. Ruben and Cora put their hands on my shoulders. In another blink, we're back on the side of the road...but there's no one here.

Ruben asks, "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Just then, Cora's phone beeps with a text from Aggie. It reads, "It's easier to take the trunk home."

Why didn't I think of that? With another jump, we arrive in the living room and startle Alex.

He jumps up and looks at Ruben, who smiles, then frowns.

Alex yells, "Tara, get down here!"

Uh-oh. He's not taking this well. We took every precaution and didn't get caught. There's no reason for him to be upset. I open my mouth to tell him why he doesn't need to worry, but then Tara lands hard at the bottom of the stairs.

It doesn't take her but a second to ask. "What is this?"

Cora beats me to the answer. "It's going to solve our money problems!"

Tara doesn't look happy...not even a little.

-X-

Continue reading The Discord Trilogy

 Book I Book II Book III

Lauren Hodge is the oldest of seven children and an identical twin. She has three children and lives in Richland, Washington. Not only does she dislike author biographies immensely, she plays piano decently, cello poorly, likes to cook fattening foods, and shoot anything if gun powder is involved. Besides her obsession with writing, she has a degree in general science...not that you couldn't tell.

