Chapter One: Family Heirlooms
It was close to midnight when the ringing phone stirred Aracelle from her slumber. She had fallen asleep on the sofa while she had watched the news, but now the TV had flipped to rolling headlines in silent. Today there were only two headlines.
The King is dead.
Prince Henry accused of murdering King Edward IX.
Aracelle grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV. With the press of a button the screen turned black and she started looking for her phone amongst the piles of paper and books on her coffee table. As she lifted the second pile of paper the phone started again. Aracelle felt her eyebrows quirk before she lifted her case file up and found it.
The name on the screen did not surprise her. Larissa had taken today’s second headline with difficulty; she was good friends with the Prince. Aracelle had met him on occasion and she had never thought him to be the power hungry murderous type. Still how could anyone really be sure of the people around them?
She pressed the accept button. ‘Sorry, you woke me,’ she said to her boss.
‘Sorry,’ replied Larissa, ‘but it’s urgent.’
Aracelle suppressed a yawn. ‘Okay?’
‘You’re the only person I trust with this,’ continued Larissa, her voice low and shaky, ‘can you meet me at my house?’
‘Now?’
‘As soon as possible, yes.’
Aracelle pressed her lips together. She didn’t like the sound of this, but she wouldn’t let Larissa down. She had seen the woman in a foul mood and had quickly learnt not to cross the Caster. ‘Do I need anything?’
‘Your tablet and phone,’ she replied. ‘I just want you to look at something. Bring anything you know about Il Principe della Notte.’
‘Il Principe della Notte?’ Aracelle repeated in a hushed voice. ‘Why him?’
‘Because I asked you too,’ replied Larissa shortly. ‘Now hurry up.’
The phone went dead and Aracelle pulled it away from her ear to stare at it. For a second her thumb hovered over the screen before she pocketed it in her jeans. Then picked her tablet up; the one that contained electronic copies of key text relating to her work and stuffed it in her oversized handbag before deciding that her eReader would be useful too.
She like this technological age; no more hauling heavy text around and automatic searches on the device for what she wanted. It was far better than the days when she had trained. Although she still had her fair share of ancient text that could never fully be translated to digital format.
Aracelle glanced around her flat one more time tapping her hand against her thigh. ‘Il Principe della Notte,’ she muttered, ‘why does Larissa want to know more about you?’
She clicked her tongue; whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. The witch hated vampires and if she had her eyes set on Notte it could only lead Larissa into danger.
Armed with a stake and dagger, Aracelle had walked to Larissa’s house. She had drunk some wine earlier in the evening and it was too late to call a taxi. Besides, by the time it would have taken to arrive she could have walked it anyway.
Although, in part, she wished she hadn’t walked. The city, even in the dead of night, was still heavy with grief from the day’s news. It was suffocating to feel so much sadness all of the time on such a great level. Edward had been a popular monarch but his daughter was far from popular. Although she had gone through the motions today, addressing the people with sincerity about the nations loss. The new Queen’s critics had been quick to accuse her of being trite and uncaring. Aracelle didn’t really know what to think.
She arrived at the house twenty minutes after leaving her own and pressed the buzzer.
‘Hello?’ came Larissa’s voice.
‘It’s me,’ she said and without a further exchange of conversation the door open and Aracelle slipped into the building.
She was faced with a slightly wild faced, red haired Larissa a moment later. ‘You took your time.’
‘I had to walk,’ she said stepping over the threshold. ‘No taxi’s this late.’
‘Been at the wine?’
‘I assume I am allowed to do as I wish in my down time,’ replied Aracelle heading down to the living room as Larissa closed the door. ‘What’s this about, anyway?’
‘I need you to look at something and it isn’t very pretty.’
Aracelle grimaced. ‘When is it ever?’
‘I also need you to swear secrecy and not to repeat anything you see or hear tonight unless I say otherwise.’
‘This is getting very cloak and dagger,’ Aracelle remarked.
‘Well, the secrecy is necessary,’ said a new, deep voice.
Aracelle looked around toward the kitchen. ‘Your Royal Highness,’ she said, bobbing a small curtsey.
She threw a look towards her boss and back that the Prince; he was not as well groomed as she was used to seeing him. Understandably he looked tired and very strained, very much like an innocent man accused of a terrible crime. His innocence radiated off him and Aracelle felt sadness for the man.
‘Please, just Henry,’ he said holding out his hand to her which she took without hesitation. ‘I’m glad you could come, Aracelle. I need you to take a look at something; Larissa assures me you are one of the finest demonologists she has ever met.’
‘Really?’ Aracelle replied looking back at Larissa who promptly turned her back to finish locking the door. ‘I’ll have to remember that next time she is yelling at me for a minor mistranslation.’
Henry smiled warmly at her. ‘Larissa is just a hard taskmaster,’ he said. ‘Come on, let us take a look at these pictures and see what you make of them. Larissa could only tell me she thought they were ritualistic.’
Aracelle let Henry lead the way to the living room and it allowed her to take in his appearance. He was dishevelled; his suit crumbled as if he had worn it for days rather than a few hours. In the living room she spotted his sober black tie thrown over an armchair. He headed straight for the dining table where she saw several spread pictures out.
‘I warn you, Aracelle,’ said Henry solemnly, ‘that this is not for the faint hearted.’
She felt herself swallow. ‘It’s okay,’ she said as she stepped up to the table but even she gasped in horror and her hand flew to her mouth.
‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’ said Larissa from behind as she held out a glass of red wine for her.
Aracelle took the glass and a large sig. ‘Is this?’ she questioned looking from Henry to Larissa.
Larissa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said.
Then Aracelle looked back at Henry who was looking drawn once more. ‘Did you find him, Sir?’
Henry nodded as he pushed away from the table and sank into one of the armchairs. Aracelle turned back to the pictures. She had seen some pretty horrific crime scene pictures in her so far short career with the Demon Tracking Unit, but this was something else. She swallowed hard as her eyes went to the first shot in the corner of the table.
‘Bloody hell,’ she heard herself mutter as she picked it up. ‘The splatter radius,’ she looked at Larissa, ‘that can’t be human. The strength required to perform such an injury.’
Larissa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Could a vampire be strong enough?’
‘Il Principe della Notte?’ questioned Aracelle turning away and back to the pictures of the crime scene.
‘That is who Queen Louise accused Henry of teaming up with,’ said Larissa.
Aracelle frowned as she looked at the markings on the body. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Does His Royal Highness have a connection to Il Principe della Notte?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Henry from his chair. ‘I’d never even heard the name before today.’
‘Strange,’ she said picking up another picture and focusing on the markings that had been painted on the wall in blood. They looked vaguely familiar and once again she frowned. ‘An odd accusation to make; I can understand your cousin’s desire to be ride of you, but why Niccoló?’
‘Niccoló?’ repeated Larissa with venom in her voice.
Aracelle winced and looked over at her superior. ‘Sorry, when I was writing my thesis, I built up this picture in my mind,’ she explained, ‘he was human. Once. It also beats saying Il Principe della Notte over and over again.’
‘So you don’t think this vampire is the one involved with my uncle’s murder?’ asked Henry standing up.
She shrugged. ‘From my research, I would say no. This bloody attack is not his style but a few hundred years can change a perspective on how one might live their afterlife not to mention, he might just have a price, like everyone else.’
Larissa nodded. ‘There is only one way to get an answer, we’ll have to find him.’
‘And how do you propose we do that?’ asked Aracelle. ‘The guy is a loner. Why do you think it took me so long to write my thesis? Tracking down information on Niccoló is near impossible.’
‘He’s in the city,’ said Henry quietly.
Aracelle spun around at the same time as Larissa. ‘How do you know that?’ the demonologist enquired.
‘Let us just say I have my ways and means,’ said Henry.
‘Stupid move,’ muttered Aracelle shaking her head with a tragic expression.
‘Excuse me?’ demanded Henry, suddenly every inch the prince he was.
‘Stupid move, Your Royal Highness,’ replied Aracelle boldly. ‘You are accused of a horrific murder and the first thing you do is seek out your accomplice?’
‘Yes, your point?’
‘Is that it makes you look guilty,’ said Aracelle she shook her head before biting her lip. She gave Henry a sad look. ‘You’ve sealed the verdict, Henry, in the eyes of Louise anyway.’
‘In your eyes, you mean,’ replied Henry darkly.
‘No,’ said Aracelle, ‘I believe you, but your enemies will use this against you.’
Larissa looked between Aracelle and Henry. ‘She’s right. Whoever is doing this will use it against you,’ she fixated her gaze on Henry. ‘You should have come straight to me.’
Henry pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘I thought about it,’ he said, ‘but my desire to prove my innocence overtook.’
‘And now you look guilty,’ remarked Aracelle. She glanced over at Larissa. ‘We have to do what we can. With Niccoló in the city, perhaps we can track him down. He won’t have the faintest clue what is coming for him.’
Larissa shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ said Aracelle. ‘It’s the only way to prove Henry’s innocence.’
‘I don’t make deals with vampires,’ she hissed back.
Aracelle nodded. ‘I know,’ she said solemnly before she clenched her fist and threw back her hand. ‘Larissa, I’m sorry,’ she muttered as her fist came around and collided against Larissa’s cheek. For a second Larissa looked utterly dazed before collapsing to the floor.
‘I want you to know that in this instance,’ said Henry from behind her, ‘I have no problem with making deals with a vampire.’
Aracelle glanced over her shoulder and smiled. ‘I didn’t think you would.’
Niccoló di Notte had been draining the last of his whisky when the doors to the bar flew open however, instead of the night he felt sunny warmth there. He looked at the clock; it was barely two in the morning. Then he became aware of the silence that had fallen. The crowd wasn’t particularly chatty at the best of times but there was usually a mummer in the background.
He twisted in his seat to see two people walk in; a female and male. He raised his eyebrow as he took in the man and recognised him. If he was honest, he hadn’t expected Prince Henry to actually seek him out after the enquires he had made earlier in the day.
Then he glanced at the woman and he frowned; she was something else entirely. Violet eyes flickered over the room before settling on Tom, the bar owner. Niccoló twisted so he was facing Tom.
‘You know her?’ asked Niccoló quietly.
‘Old university friend,’ Tom admitted before moving to the left where he greeted her. ‘Aracelle.’
‘Tom,’ came her reply. ‘How are you?’
There was a moment of silence and Niccoló glanced to his right but was met with a curtain of red gold hair that seemed to shine unnaturally.
‘Do you realise the danger you’re in being seen with him?’ asked Tom nodding in the direction of the Prince. ‘You know who he’s been looking for?’
Aracelle nodded. ‘Of course I do,’ she replied with a tilt to her head.
‘Well, now, that’s very interesting,’ replied Tom as his eyes flicked to him.
Again there was a beat of silence. ‘Isn’t it just,’ came the reply as she as she flicked her hair over her shoulder revealing her profile and letting her eyes flash at him.
Well, she didn’t miss a trick, Niccoló thought to himself, or else Tom was deliberately outing him to this strange but beautiful creature before him. He’d have to have words with him about that.
‘So what can you tell me?’ asked Aracelle softly.
‘Nothing.’
A carefully manicured eyebrow lifted. ‘Liar,’ she replied, ‘I always know when you are lying.’
Tom clicked his tongue and turned his back on Aracelle while she jumped up on a stool. Niccoló looked away from her back at Tom who was now searching in a file just behind the bar. He glared at the man, wishing looks could kill at this very moment; at least the drinks would be free for the rest of the night. However, any thought of that was cut off by the sound of fingernails rapping on the wood.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Niccoló looked back at Aracelle who’s gaze was on Tom as her nails crashed down onto the bar one at a time in quick succession. His eyes snagged on a glint of silver on her fourth finger; the intricate design was unique. Quick as a flash his hand flew out and caught her wrist.
Aracelle screamed as she was tugged over and her hand became the object of his curiosity.
‘Where did you get that?’ he enquired meeting her violet eyes.
For one so slight, she burned with fire and the sun. All the things that were deadly to his demonic body but he felt a comfort in the warmth she excluded, and danger. She was definitely dangerous. Aracelle pulled her wrist from his hand and rubbed it, her eyes shooting daggers at him before she glanced up and shook her head.
Henry backed off against the wall again as Aracelle looked at him again. ‘Family heirloom,’ she said now looking at the ring herself before twisting it on her finger.
‘Must have a very interesting history,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Aracelle was giving him a hard look. ‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ she said as she turned her attention back to Tom who held out a photo.
‘I thought this might be of interest to you,’ he said handing it to her.
Niccoló watched as she took the photo before turning it around to look at the image and he saw everything drain out of her face as her eyes widened. She looked at Tom. ‘How long have you had this?’ she asked.
‘Arrived today,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I was going to drop it over to you this when I closed.’
Aracelle nodded and Niccoló glanced over her shoulder. ‘Is that Kaleed?’ he asked his voice low and dangerous.
That was when Aracelle really looked at him. ‘What do you know about this man?’ she asked tapping the face of the man he identified as Kaleed.
‘Vampire,’ he replied, ‘one of the eldest.’
‘Out in the daylight?’ she asked holding the picture out to him.
As he took it, she caught the eye of the Prince and signalled him over. Niccoló was barely aware of him walking over as he took in the picture of the man who was clearly basking in the sunlight with the new Queen. Niccoló frowned as the Prince Henry reached them. Aracelle whipped the picture out of his hand and turned to Henry.
‘Who is this man?’ she asked, pointing at him.
‘Louise’s boyfriend, Fredrick,’ said Henry taking the picture and examining it. ‘Why?’
Aracelle felt her whole body go numb as she looked at Henry. ‘How long have they been together?’
‘Not long, a month maybe two, why?’ replied Henry.
‘His name isn’t Fredrick, his name is Kaleed,’ she said.
‘A vampire,’ put in Niccoló.
Henry shook his head. ‘We run checks, the onsite DTU would have picked up if he was a demon on any sort,’ he pointed out forcibly. ‘Who is this guy anyway.’
‘Niccoló di Notte or Il Principe della Notte,’ she said, ‘as you were so interested in finding him.’
Niccoló’s eyebrows rose before turning to give Tom a killer look. ‘I will eat you for that.’
‘You’ll not eat anyone, please,’ she said in a dark tone. ‘Of course, this does make a little more sense,’ she mused turning to look at Niccoló, ‘he does have an all-encompassing desire to see you dead.’
‘I am dead,’ he said drily.
‘Deader,’ she amended. ‘Right, so, five hundred year war between immortals and a cousin trying to off one another.’
‘I’m not looking to kill anyone,’ said Henry crossing his arms. ‘What I do want to know is why he has been fingered as my accomplice.’
Niccoló crossed his arms and looked Henry up and down. ‘So do I,’ he said, ‘because really, Your Royal Highness, you’re not my type and I work alone.’
Aracelle frowned at the almost leering tone in his voice and she turned on him. ‘Do you understand what it is you have been accused of doing?’ asked Aracelle. ‘Every member of the DTU will not stop until they have hunted you down and killed you.’
‘Sounds like a fun challenge to me,’ said Niccoló leaning back against the bar. ‘Things have been slow of late.’
‘So you have no interest in helping us?’ asked Henry.
Niccoló shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he said popping the word with a smile. ‘None whatsoever.’
‘Even if we could help you bring down Kaleed?’
Niccoló pushed off against the bar before bringing his hands down on Aracelle’s shoulders. She met his strange amber eyes and held them with her own. ‘A late twenty something isn’t going to bring down the oldest, wiliest demon in the history of the three realms. Thousands have tried, none have succeeded.’
‘Because he rarely shows himself in public,’ said Aracelle, ‘but here he is, out in the flesh for the first time since the fifteenth century.’
‘Be that as it may, little girl, what skills do you think you have that will bring him to his knees?’ he asked.
‘He has a point,’ said Henry, ‘you are a demonologist, not a Caster or a Warrior.’
Niccoló laughed a bark of amusement. ‘So you are the book girl?’ he asked, ‘what are you going to do, throw ancient volumes at his head?’ He leant in close to her ear. ‘Won’t work,’ he teased with a sing song voice.
Aracelle lifted her head. ‘I’m well aware of that,’ she said, ‘but I unlike you, clearly have a respect for the volumes of history available. Kaleed has been cast into the pits of hell before and I will find a way to do it again.’
‘Let me know when you do,’ he said.
A smile curved on Aracelle’s lips. ‘Well, for that to happen, di Notte, you might want to reconsider helping me,’ she said as she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a card and handed it to him.
‘You are DTU?’ he asked, ‘you just said they will hunt me until I’m dead.’
‘Well, everyone apart from me,’ she said. ‘Call me, my number is at the bottom.’
With a final smile, Aracelle nodded her goodbye to Tom and indicated to Henry with a gesture to the door that they were leaving.
Aracelle took a deep breath as they reached the cool outdoor air. The stale air of the bar had nearly choked her as she inhaled the fumes of alcohol, cigarette smoke and the general odour of unknown origins.
‘You okay?’ she asked Henry as she started walking down the alleyway. ‘Sorry about that.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, ‘I wanted to meet di Notte. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. Are you okay?’
Aracelle shrugged. ‘Not really,’ she said, ‘a big hole has just opened in this case. I’ve knocked my boss out and I’m breaking all the rules by helping you out.’
‘Which I appreciate,’ said Henry softly. ‘Is that the first time you’ve met di Notte?’
‘In the flesh,’ she replied. ‘He’s nothing like I expected, but then, I didn’t know what to expect.’
Henry nodded. ‘Of course, your thesis, perhaps you could find out if some of your speculative thoughts are fact or fiction now. Part of you must be dying to know who he was in life, whether or not you’ve just sparred words with a real medieval Venetian Prince.’
‘You’ve read my work?’ asked Aracelle, ‘properly?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I have a passing interest in demonology and Larissa said your work on di Notte was fascinating.’
Aracelle laughed and shook her head. ‘That is not what she said to my face on my first day,’ she said. ‘She told me it was overly sympathetic.’
Henry shrugged and chuckled. ‘She hates vampires above all creatures,’ he said. ‘It’s probably for the best that you knocked her out for his little outing.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ll talk to her, get her to see sense tell her she needs to just have a little give on her beliefs.’
‘Rather you than me,’ she remarked then she felt a chill wash over her and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. She grabbed Henry’s arm. ‘We’re being followed.’
Her other hand went for her concealed dagger as the sound of a bin being knocked over reached them from ahead of them. Aracelle’s gaze travelled down the alleyway but she couldn’t see anything in the gloom. She glanced at Henry who was searching the gloom ahead but there was no way of exploring further without leaving him open to attack and her in position where she could be revealed.
‘Someone up ahead as well,’ Henry remarked. ‘I’m not armed.’
Aracelle unsheathed her stiletto dagger and held it by the handle. ‘It’s all I got,’ she admitted as she squinted into the darkness. ‘Damn it.’
‘Problem, Library Girl?’ said a voice from behind.
Niccoló.
Had she not heard the sound up ahead she would have relaxed but she pressed her finger to her lips with a pointed look at Niccoló before concentrating on listening. She closed her eyes and focussed sending her sense out into the night until she heard footsteps; too light to be human but they were familiar. Then a whooshing sound over her head and she opened her eyes just in time to see the vampire land in front of them.
‘You, Library Girl, are too interesting to die right this second, I am not done with you,’ said Niccoló from his position now in front of her and Henry. ‘When I give the word, run and I will catch up with you when I’m done.’
Aracelle twisted her dagger in her hand and held it in position so she could attack with it. She watched as Niccoló looked over the object with a raised eyebrow. ‘Another family heirloom?’ he drawled.
‘Something like that,’ Aracelle confirmed as she moved her body into an attack stance.
‘That so,’ replied Niccoló, ‘then I think you and I need to be having a little, no doubt, enlightening conversation when this is over.’
Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V
Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V
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