Knowledge Aforethought, page 6
I winced. I had become so accustomed to dealing with the supernatural in the last year or so that I had forgotten what it was like to be normal. What it was to conceal your identity and have to worry about people burning you or stabbing you with pitchforks because you were running around screaming “magic!” I had to remember that while I was nearly five hundred years in the past, I was also dealing with people who had no idea what was going on. And some who did. The trouble was differentiating between the two.
I was standing with a half-giantess at my side, flanked by a time traveling journalist with a massive ego. I was about to walk into a den of vampires. And I was bringing a normal, mortal, probably important historical figure. This was going to end really badly.
"Let's just say that I’ve dealt with similar situations in the past," I said, giving the best, vaguest explanation I could. Machiavelli opened his mouth to question me about such situations and the door opened, revealing not the guard but a person I assumed was a servant. I assumed this because there were two tiny puncture marks on his neck just above his collar. I wouldn't have seen them if I hadn’t been looking for them, but I was about to walk into a den of beings that lived off the life-force of others. It made sense that those who worked in the household of a vampire probably were more food than servant. So I was paying attention to the details.
"My lords will meet with you now," the man said, sniffing and glaring down his nose at us. He stepped aside and let us walk past. Charlotte was large enough that she took up the entire doorway. By comparison, I felt very small. Especially when the door closed behind us with a heavy thunk of wood and I got a glimpse of the grandeur of the inside.
Besides being made from seriously well-crafted stone, the building was decorated with the finest Renaissance art and objects that I had ever seen. The splendour was obvious, ridiculous, and really, really splendid. I wanted to pull out my phone and snap some pictures, just to have proof that I had stood in a room with all these masterpieces. I almost did, until I remembered where we were.
These people, even if they were hiding behind a human name, were powerful with a very, very wealthy base. And they didn't need weapons to kill us.
The servant led us through an outer entrance hall and into a large dining area. The table was made of solid wood, with chairs in dazzling upholstery. The table was set with plates and plates of food, with some sort of primitive fork and a really sharp knife taking the primary place of the cutlery. All of the people sitting around the table were dressed in the style of the time, only with the nicest velvet fabrics and silk embroidered with fantastic designs. The clothes were obviously well made, and perfectly tailored. But, as I had expected, everything was just ever so slightly off.
The colours clashed with their skin. Their hairstyles were well done, but with strands sticking straight out or in the wrong spot. They were wearing the best, but with that lack of perfect style that all vampires seemed to have. It was a result of their inability to look at themselves in the mirror. I imagine that most of these vampires were dressed by other people, which accounted for the fact that they were slightly better put together than the modern counterparts. Vampires were also petty enough to not tell each other when they looked a little funny. It was some sort of weird power play that I didn't quite understand.
An older gentleman—gentlevamp?—sat at the head of the table, looking to be about his mid forties, though I knew that age was more or less irrelevant to these creatures. To his left sat a beautiful matriarch, whom I recognised as Thaddeus's mother, Alsatia. At his right, Thaddeus himself. He gestured to our group, beckoning us to come a little bit forwards into the room. We were not offered a seat at the table.
"You said you had business dealings to discuss. Discrete business dealings. Tell me why I should listen to what you have to say when you so rudely interrupted our evening meal," the patriarch said. I looked around and saw no evidence of human presence except for the servant who now stood off to one side. Nor did it appear that they were actually eating anything.
Charlotte looked at me, waiting for me to say something, eyebrows raised. I shrugged and shook my head. "You're the one who wanted a meeting," I whispered.
Charlotte huffed. She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward. "I am Charlotte the Unkillable. I have come seeking the Eye of Carteria. My resources have informed me that it is in your possession."
Wow. Charlotte really needed to work on her business strategy. These people would never respond like that. And, moments later, I was proven right. The patriarch exchanged a glance with Thaddeus, then threw back his head and laughed. "Even if we did have this Eye that you seek, why in the world would we give it to you? Even if you were to purchase it, the price would be beyond your means."
Then, Charlotte did something incredibly stupid. She drew the massive sword from its sheath across her back and levelled it in two hands, the tip directly pointing at the vampire patriarch. In an instant, the vampires were on their feet. I, perhaps being as stupid as Charlotte, leapt in front of her sword and held my hands up. "Are you crazy?!" I demanded.
Machiavelli, who was now pressed against a wall, his eyes wide, nodded. "I would say yes," he said. Mary just shrugged.
"Actually, I'm used to this. She's being fairly restrained. There was this one time that we were trying to get into some caves in Tibet, only they were being guarded and I didn’t have any shoes and—“
Charlotte hissed at her companion, though her eyes were fixed straight ahead. Her sword did not waver. Mary sighed dramatically, but kept quiet.
I glared at Charlotte and Mary, holding out my hands to try and prevent Charlotte from killing anybody or them killing her. "Do you know, this isn't very helpful," I said. Risking my back, I turned and faced the vampires who were all staring at us, hissing low in their throats. "Honestly, she just said she wanted some sort of artefact. I didn't know that it would involve massive pointy swords. Just for the sake of our lives, would you terribly mind if we asked what it would cost to get this I thing?"
Thaddeus pointed at me, and I swore I could see a claw growing as he did. "Your insolence will cost you your life."
I shrugged. “Meh. I've been threatened with that before, by other vampires. It didn't stick."
You'd think I had just killed someone's cat by the way the entire room stared at me. No one said a word, and I swear I heard every heartbeat as loud as drums inside my head. The patriarch hissed at me, fangs gleaming in the candlelight. "You dare reveal us. You know what we are."
I looked around and saw Machiavelli staring with his jaw hanging open. Honestly I had no idea if the word vampire even meant anything to him, but given the look of shock on his face, I had to imagine that it did. Or that the translation that was being provided explained things very clearly. I would have to explain things to him later and hope that I hadn’t broken history. There were other pressing matters just then, though.
I turned back to the vampires. "Well, yes. You’re rather easy to spot. There is a certain je ne c'est quoi that all vampires possess. Something to do with image and style?”
Charlotte coughed behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. She was trying to keep a straight face, but her sword was bobbing in time with the tremors in her shoulders. I realised a moment later that she was laughing. I scowled. I turned back to the vampires and saw Thaddeus take a single step forwards.
"You have forfeit your lives, human. You will all die."
"Yeah, you know what. People have done that to me too, it didn't stick then either," I said. Then, I reached into the pocket on my coat and pulled out the supplies that I had stolen from Machiavelli's house. There weren't a lot of things that could take down a fully grown, well-fed vampire. Sunlight was good if you could get it, but as long as they were well covered, most vampires weren't bothered by it. Wooden stakes were nice, but it required special wood. Garlic though…garlic was something else entirely. I held a large bulb in either hand, showing them off to my vampire friends.
Thaddeus coughed and retreated that single step. The vampire patriarch hissed, this time more audibly. The woman, Alsatia, whose name had too many doggy connotations for me to not snigger, held her hands at her side and closed fists. "You dare," she said.
"Yes. I dare," I said. "Now, if you don't want me breaking this apart and lobbing it at you, I would suggest that you tell us what it is this Eye thingy would cost. Then we will be out of your hair until we have gathered the funds and can return. No harm, no foul. Capice?”
All three of the vampires narrowed their eyes. I waited. I could feel Charlotte shifting behind me, that sword slipping through the air like a hot knife through butter. Mary and Machiavelli, thank goodness, were silent. After what felt like an eternity, the patriarch spat on the ground. "The Eye will cost one blood debt. If you want it, you will have to kill somebody for us. Savonarola.”
None of us reacted except Machiavelli, who coughed. I looked at Charlotte, who nodded. "It is time to leave now," she said, neither accepting nor refusing the demand. I had sort of hoped she would just immediately say no; I didn’t really want to have to assassinate someone. I worked for Death. That didn’t mean I killed people.
We retreated, me holding out the garlic until we were well clear of the maze of buildings. Charlotte kept her sword unsheathed until we were even farther down the street. We both put our respective weapons away, then turned to each other. Machiavelli shook his head, trembling slightly.
"This is bad," he said. At least he wasn’t catatonic on the ground. One human I’d accidentally revealed things to had done just that. Another had tried to get my boss to take his memories. Machiavelli, except for the tremble in his hands, seemed to be relatively okay.
"Oddly enough, I've had worse," I said. Mary and Charlotte exchanged a glance.
Charlotte opened her mouth to say something when the world shifted. Excepting the four of us, everything became hazy. And not just the sort of hazy that came with not wearing my glasses. This was a true fog, ash dark and insidious. The world seemed to stop around us, every slight movement fading into nothingness, every sound becoming muted and dull. Everyone except me looked around as though the world had fallen from beneath their feet. I think Mary was going to scream, but she held it in. For me, I had experienced this before. So I just pulled out my glasses, perched them on my nose, and looked around for the person that I knew was coming our direction.
He appeared, tall and lean, darker than the blackest night, wearing the finest clothing that this time had to offer. His steps were calm and measured. "I felt the world shift as I wandered it, and I had to find out precisely who or what was the cause. Instead I found you four."
"Hello Death," I said with a smile.
Death tilted his head, looking at me with those empty eyes. "Do we know each other?"
"Oh yeah," I said. "We know each other."
Lost Time
A thought occurred to me before I could make the introductions and clear up a whole lot of confusion. I held up one hand and pushed up my glasses with the other. “Hold on. None of us has been seriously injured or, well, are close to dying. So what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be able to pull us from the real world like that.”
Death quirked his brow. “If you must know, you walked away from what should have been certain death. I don’t like it when people do that.”
I blinked. Actually, that made perfect sense. I shouldn’t have been surprised that my terrifying boss had more tricks up his sleeve than I knew, but he always managed to do that. I didn’t even want to know what tricks Life had up her sleeve.
“Okay,” I said with a shrug. Charlotte and Machiavelli turned on me. Charlotte was glaring and Machiavelli was staring, open-mouthed like a fish. Mary had managed to fish out her scroll and was scribbling again, not actually looking at us but paying far too much attention. Death watched her with mild interest, which was a bad thing.
“Okay?” Charlotte demanded. “Okay?! We were pulled from the world by Death and you just shrug it off?”
I pointed at Death. “Well, he is my boss, remember?”
Charlotte growled. Death looked surprised. Machiavelli broke out spluttering.
“He is?”
“I am?”
I sighed. This was going to require more than a few minutes’ worth of explanation. I looked around for some place to maybe sit and discuss this, like Death had done for me on a park bench in the middle of the city park, after I’d been shot. He had pulled me from the world in the Instant of Death and offered me a job. I still remembered the blind panic that had nearly overtaken me. Actually, much of the first week was spent in a blind panic. So frankly, Charlotte’s reaction didn’t surprise me. Nor did Machiavelli’s. Mary’s, though, seemed to be a little weird. What did I know about writers or journalists, though? Maybe that was her way of coping.
I didn’t spot a place to sit so instead I tried to put my hands into my pockets, only to discover that I wasn’t wearing pockets. I rested my hands on my belt instead.
“So, here’s how everything works. About a year ago, you—” I pointed to Death, “found me in a park and offered me a job as your public relations manager. Only, you don’t know that you did this because that was, ah, will be, several hundred years from now. Anyways, I got pulled back through time by Time and ended up here, where I came upon you—” I pointed to Machiavelli, whose fish impression had improved, “who helped me figure out what the heck is going on. Then you two—” Charlotte and Mary exchanged a glance, “showed up and we struck a bargain to fetch some ridiculous artefact from a den of vampires. Now here we are, rehashing things that haven’t happened yet. Have I left anything out?”
Death tilted his head and examined me top to bottom, like I was an interesting specimen. Frankly, it was a little unnerving. “Really? I offered you a job? As my public…relations manager?”
“Yep,” I said. Then I paused. “Wait. No. Relations doesn’t mean what you think it means. I mean, it does, just…You know what? Never mind.”
“No, no, this is all very interesting,” Death said, smiling. It was a familiar smile, one that I had seen several times before. The only problem was, I had only ever seen that particular manic smile on his wife, Life. She was the one who seemed to enjoy crazy situations and making trouble for people. She was the one who revelled in the chaotic and smiled at people like that, as if they were there for her amusement and entertainment. “I am fascinated. It seems so implausible, and yet somehow makes sense. Luckily for you, there is a way to prove your story correct. If I have truly offered you a job in the future, then I would have done this.”
Before I could react, Death reached out and touched me on the forehead. Now, for a normal human, this would have been bad. Death would have killed them immediately. I’d seen it done, on Justice, an air elemental gone rogue. For me? Well, the first time Death had done that, he made a mistake that had made me impossible to kill. The second time, he had supposedly fixed that mistake. Not that I’d bothered to test that theory, mind you. I had no idea what would happen when he touched me a third time.
In any case, it didn’t really matter. I was too busy screaming with pain that overwhelmed the senses to worry too much about it. Like it had twice before, the world around me vanished into nothing but overwhelming agony. My vision blanked out, my ears rang, my fingers curled. I could tell, faintly, that my heart was beating rapidly, but I did not know if that was a good thing. Someone could have been hacking my limbs off and I would not have noticed it, so all encompassing was the pain.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
I gasped for air, my lungs heaving as I tried to fill them. My muscles weakened and I fell to my knees. Gradually, I became aware of my surroundings again. I saw Charlotte standing between Mary and Death, her hand on her sword. She looked murderous, but I saw a sheen of sweat on her brow. Machiavelli was off to one side, vomiting into the street. And Death was watching me curiously, looking a little shocked.
I reached up and touched the spot where Death had touched me. The skin was smouldering a little, and my fingers came away hot. I touched the spot again and the wound had apparently healed. I groaned and sat back against a stone wall opposite the Medici palazzi. “Do you know, I really, really wish you wouldn’t do that. You or Life. It sucks more than you can imagine.”
“Ah,” Death said, voice flat and far more like the Death I was used to. The sensible, think-things-through Death. “This could be a problem.”
“A problem?” I snapped. “I would say so. That hurt!”
“I imagine it did,” Death said. He crouched before me and examined me with those empty pits that served as eyes. I fancied I saw a flicker of light somewhere in the depths, but I did not want to look too closely. “Your soul has been severed.”
“Again?” I sighed. Really, this was getting frustrating.
“Again? Ah, I see…It is different this time,” Death said. “Why did you not tell me that you had received my touch twice before?”
“I would have, if you’d let me explain things before going all ‘oh, let’s touch Cal and see what happens’ on me. Sheesh! I did not sign up for this. When I get back to the future, I’m going to renegotiate my contract.” I rubbed my forehead again. Charlotte had gone to help Machiavelli, but was still watching me with interest. Mary had not once ceased scribbling on her scroll, her eyes darting between the scene before her and the paper, as though trying to capture every detail. I reminded myself to burn those scrolls before this was done.
“If you had told me,” Death said as though I hadn’t said anything, “then perhaps I would have changed my approach. As it is, your soul has been severed.”
“Yeah, you said that. Been there, done that. You fixed it before, you can do it again,” I said, holding out my hand to Death and preparing for more pain. What I was not prepared for was Death to shake his head.
