The allies began to arrive two days later. The hours passed at a glacial pace, barring the stolen, heated moments when Johnathan or Vic pulled the other aside for distraction. More often, they were separated while Vic contended with the older vampires. Despite their illuminating stairwell conversation, Johnathan stayed away from Tamara, though for a very practical reason.
The Hound was close to the surface. After his encounter with Hesper, he paid careful attention to his reactions. Though he hadn’t managed to successfully turn at will, there was a climbing tension in the Estate, and the hovering possibility of attack left Johnathan a hair’s breadth from bursting out of his skin. A persistent muscle twitch took up residence between his shoulders, while a rumbling growl hovered in his throat. Occasionally, smoke curled from his nostrils. Vic ordered him to keep well away from the other vampires in his current state. Johnathan couldn’t help but agree, though he now found himself at loose ends. With the Society camped outside and the arrival of their allies imminent, Merry and Katherine made themselves scarce, wrapped up in preparations and planning.
Johnathan began a careful exploration of the grounds and the interior of the Estate, peeking into the previously closed off rooms. None of them held a candle to the beauty of the indoor garden, but there was a well-kept ballroom, the marble floor polished to a luminous sheen, and a chandelier larger than the one in the foyer, waiting to be lit.
When he wasn’t exploring, he tried to meditate. Control over his dark impulses was more important than ever; he wondered how long their secret would last when the Estate filled with creatures.
During their stolen moments, Vic revealed many of their allies weren’t vampires. The Society often concentrated their efforts on vampires due to their cunning nature and dangerous strength, but they hunted whatever creatures sought to feed on humans. Johnathan hadn’t encountered many during his time in the Boston chapter, because most either stayed out of the densely populated cities or kept a far lower profile than more arrogant predators. The anticipation of meeting so many dangerous creatures piled on his inward tension.
Meditation wasn’t happening right now. His nerves were too frayed to sit for any length of time. He’d been on edge since morning.
Keeping away from Alazar and Tamara’s critical eye, Johnathan exited the house, strolling along the exterior perimeter of the Estate. To his relief, or chagrin, Hesper had managed to slip back through the barrier. She’d been gone for at least a day, her sex and honey scent nearly gone. He lifted his nose to scent the air, seeing if he could pick up foe and friend alike through the barrier, though he couldn’t determine much other than a faint, charred scent, like the air after a lightning storm.
Since the barrier masked their scents, it meant the first allies caught him by surprise, appearing in a sudden ripple of air. Johnathan froze when the wolves approached, their movements far more deliberate and bolder than any wild animal.
They were also enormous, nearly twice the size of actual wolves. The lead wolf paused, body shuddering in the beginning of stages of transformation. Johnathan watched, fascinated by the gray fur receding to pale skin. The muscles thickened and filled as the wolf’s thinner legs shifted to human. There was no gut-wrenching crack of bone or tearing flesh, the transition from animal to human so smooth Johnathan immediately envied them. The shift was over in seconds.
A naked woman crouched in the wolf’s stead. Johnathan glimpsed her light amber eyes, a richer, more natural color than his own, and her claw tipped hands, when his sense of propriety smacked him between the eyes. His gaze shot upward.
“Terribly sorry, miss, that was incredibly bad manners,” he sputtered. Despite his embarrassment, understanding finally clicked into place. Johnathan never understood why Alazar and Tamara accepted his inhuman appearance so easily, until he saw the werewolves. He jumped when a cold nose pressed against his throat, the unmistakable brush of a female and very naked body against him. He looked down into those puzzled amber eyes, set above a slightly crooked nose, likely broken more than once. A disarming sprinkle of freckles dusted her cheeks.
“You don’t smell like a wolf,” she said in a throaty whisper. Alarm shot through his mind. He’d remembered to smear on the salve before he left the room. Was her sense of smell that much stronger than the vampires? What did he smell like to her? He was on the verge of a full-blown panic when her eyebrows rose in speculation. “But you do smell like Victor.”
Johnathan blushed harder.
The man in question cleared his throat somewhere behind him, likely informed of the arrival of their guests by Merry or Katherine. “Welcome, Beatrice, I see you’ve met Johnathan.”
He caught Vic’s bemused expression. The naked woman gave him a final sniff before settling back on her heels. She accepted the robe Vic held out for her, though her pack stayed in wolf form as they headed inside.
“Do you know everyone?” Johnathan blurted.
Vic gave a hapless shrug. “The older you are, the smaller the immortal community, my love. You’ll see.”
There was such certainty in his words, Johnathan couldn’t help but grin. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around concepts of forever and immortality, but Vic would be there to guide him through the turbulent period of acceptance. Because Johnathan would not let the Society have him.
More allies began to trickle in over the next few days. Several vampires, most as old as Vic or older. Werewolves weren’t the only creatures. A gray skinned gentleman in a suit and stove pipe hat arrived late at night. His skin was cool to the touch when Johnathan shook his hand, fingernails ragged and torn, but the most unsettling aspect of his nature was the smile.
Johnathan leaned to Vic when the smiling gentleman was well out of ear shot. “You invited a ghoul?”
“Not in a position to be choosy, John,” Vic muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
The halls of the Estate soon brimmed with all manner of creatures. He had no idea how Merry and Katherine managed to slip so many through the Society’s forces unseen, but he admired their skill. His suspicions seemed laughable now. He wished he could find their hosts so he could apologize for doubting them. Unfortunately, the flood of guests meant their hosts were constantly engaged. Most of them were barely civil at the best of times
Johnathan spent more time outside or wandering the more remote spaces of the Estate, trying to avoid the constant spats. He was engaged in that exact activity when Vic found him, wandering the basement.
“Why does a sanctuary need holding cells?” Johnathan squinted at the thick bars. Vic slid to a stop beside him.
“A number of unsavory reasons,” said Vic. He slipped his hand in Johnathan’s. No matter how stressed or busy, Vic found moments for contact. Johnathan clung to those small touches to make it through the long hours, eager for the moment they came together at the end of the day, in locked lips and intertwined limbs. “Our gracious host informs me there will a gathering tonight in the ballroom. I know you haven’t been one to socialize, but I would like to introduce you to a few old friends.”
Johnathan chewed the inside of his lip. The idea of being around so many keen noses left him more than a little uneasy. “I am certain that is a terrible idea. The salve didn’t work on the werewolves.”
“I may have a solution for that,” said Vic with a grin, retrieving a small vial of bath oil from his pocket. Memories of what they used the variety of oils for were enough to elicit a faint blush, but Johnathan took a step back.
“You are not dumping that on my head,” he protested. He could pick up the heady scent of peppermint through the stopper. The entire vial would be overpowering to him and every immortal in the Estate.
Vic laughed. “We won’t go that extreme. However, it should confuse your scent enough without trying to hide it like the salve.” He uncorked the vial, dabbing a healthy amount on his own wrist. “And you won’t be the only one wearing it.” The peppermint would confuse both their scents, a rather devious method of ensuring no one tried too hard to discern Johnathan’s unique origins.
Hesitation continued to spin in his gut. The slow crawl of tension he’d experienced since dawn felt like it was coming to a head. Apprehension clouded his head, making it difficult to think. He didn’t believe in ill omens, but there was a strange flavor to the air, the ozone taste of storms. “Is it important to you that I attend?”
Vic went quiet, rubbing the oil into the skin of his wrists. “You are important to me. I would love the opportunity to show you off,” he said. “If you think it’s a bad idea, I won’t force you, John.”
The words were more than enough to sway him, though there was another practical excuse to attend. Merry would be there. Johnathan itched to talk to them about the draught and what herbs they used. He wondered if Merry would tell him the origins of the book.
“I’ll go,” said Johnathan. Though Vic’s answering smile made the heat pool deep in his belly, his dread continued to build.
* * *
When Johnathan last saw the ballroom, the massive chandelier sported a thin layer of dust. Well kept, but rarely used, the fixtures were polished mirror bright. The chandelier had been cleaned for the occasion, boasting close to a thousand individual globes of light. Johnathan couldn’t imagine how long it took to light the monstrosity. More lit fixtures lined the walls. The massive room was lit up bright as a summer day. On the far wall, a long table held lines of empty wine glasses, enough for everyone in the room.
The attending creatures matched the luminous interior, equally colorful in vibrant silk dresses and brilliantly colored vests. The werewolf Beatrice wore a deep orange gown that complimented her curvy frame, surrounded by a contingent of hirsute men in perfectly tailored suits. This was the first time Johnathan saw her pack in human form. He’d gotten used to them wandering the halls and grounds as wolves. Even Alazar wore something other than his robes, dressed in form fitting slacks and a creamy dress shirt, the loose material billowing around his muscular frame.
Tamara was resplendent in a creation fit for a feral goddess. Gauzy silk streamers twined around her thighs like living serpents, while numerous copper chains covered her breasts, leaving her back bare. Copper cuffs covered her wrists and ankles, the outfit completed by her bare feet, toenails painted to match the color of her cuffs.
The one who held Johnathan’s attention, though, was the man beside him. Their wardrobes had provided evening wear for both. The sight of Vic made him want to drag him to bed to mess up that sinfully neat cravat. Judging by the heat in Vic’s gaze, Johnathan cleaned up well enough.
He was grateful for the distraction of a splendid partner. The ballroom was massive, but it seemed stuffed to the rafters by the sizable personalities and powers in attendance. Vic’s hand remained at the small of his back, as if he sensed Johnathan’s urge to bolt. He steered them through a dozen immortals until they stopped beside a familiar dainty looking female.
“Hello, Katherine.” Victor grinned.
Her outfit was the same she wore every day, but her translucent smile was dazzling. She held out her hand with a flourish, which Johnathan took without hesitation. Her icy skin was wonderful in the overly warm room. He brushed his lips over her knuckles. The contact stung, but her giggle made it worth it.
“Can you believe how many answered the summons? Even Wardlow crawled out of his burrow,” said Katherine, nodding to the ghoul in the grey suit.
“It’s been some time since we sent out a call,” said Vic. “You know they enjoy the chance to dress up and socialize without needing to hide.”
“Speaking of, you both look so handsome.” She flicked her fingers along Johnathan’s suit. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you properly dressed, John. Clothes suit you.”
“That they do,” Vic agreed, pinching his chin. “Though, no clothes also suit him.”
“Very true,” said Katherine, sagely. “Very true.”
“You’re both incorrigible,” muttered Johnathan.
Vic snickered, threading Katherine’s arm through the crook of his elbow. “Picked up anything interesting?”
Katherine’s good humor dimmed. “Bits and pieces. We knew the Society had been busy, but there have been a few surprises.” Her soulful eyes flashed. “Your name came up a few times, Victor. Word spreads fast when you tangle with a demon.”
Johnathan failed to hide his flinch. Katherine patted his shoulder.
“One we successfully thwarted,” said Vic, his mouth a grim line.
The Geist shook her head. “You know how they are, worse than gossiping housewives.” She leaned in, mouthing the words rather than risk speaking to them out loud. “The werewolves said he smells like fire.”
Vic gave her a tight smile. “They’ve been discreet this far. Could you keep an ear out for any other rumors in case we need to make a swift exit?”
“Of course,” said Katherine. She carefully laid her hand over Vic’s clothed arm. “Did you really spill your status to Alazar?”
“I’m afraid so,” Vic murmured. Johnathan remained silent. They had danced around this subject and the wisdom of staying put within the Estate since that night. Despite the constant strain on his nerves, Johnathan argued in favor of staying from a vantage point of known terrain. He’d spent the last few days exploring the hallways and walkways of the acreage. If Merry’s barrier fell, he would lure and incapacitate the Sister’s invasion force in the maze of the Estate. Vic, however, continued to lean toward self-sacrifice. Without Johnathan’s protest, he wondered if his companion would have forged ahead on his own.
Their host made their entrance at last, carrying two bottles of wine. “Good evening, my charming guests. Grab a glass to prepare for the toast.”
Johnathan frowned, leaning in closer to Vic’s ear. “Do they mean everyone to partake?” He wasn’t certain all the guests could imbibe wine.
It was Katherine who answered him. “Yes, this isn’t a toast but a ceremony,” she said. “A share of power to strengthen the barriers of our sanctuary against those who threaten us.” She handed Johnathan an empty glass, chilled by her touch.
“Pomegranate wine,” said Vic. “Masks the taste of the herbs. Even the finickiest of appetites can stomach a small glass.”
“I still find mine a little bitter,” muttered Katherine. He was shocked the Geist could imbibe at all.
“How do you drink? Half the time you’re incorporeal,” he said.
Katherine sniffed. “I just need to maintain it long enough for the herbs to take effect.”
Merry waltzed through the room in a dove gray silk shirt that accented their curves. Their slacks hugged the rounded shape of their thighs, drawing many appreciative gazes to the sway of their hips. Their wild curls were tamed in a tight knot at the back of their head, giving their face an almost severe appearance. They stopped throughout the room, welcoming their allies, taking each glass in hand to add a mix of wine and herbs. Merry greeted Tamara with cool politeness, Alazar with barely a word, before they moved on to Johnathan and his companions.
“Good evening, Katherine,” said Merry, not quite brushing their lips across her cheek.
“Hello, Merry. You look radiant tonight.” Katherine took a glass, her portion of wine much smaller than most since she needed to maintain a body to savor it.
“Flattery and praise are my great weaknesses, as you know.” Merry winked. They filled Vic’s glass next. “You look rather ravishing yourself, Victor.”
“A good suit is its own armor,” said Vic.
Merry rolled their eyes. “Honestly, who taught you to put such stock in fashion?”
Johnathan’s lips twitched, glancing sidelong at his companion. Merry took his glass, fiddling with the herbs before adding a healthy swig of pomegranate wine. Taking the glass back, he paused, keenly aware of Katherine’s astute hearing.
“Are there any side effects I should know?” He whispered the question, hoping it sounded like first time nerves rather than anything suspicious.
Their host patted his arm. “It’s a simple ceremony, Johnathan. A quick gulp and done. I promise, you’ll feel nothing you haven’t felt before.” Merry smiled and moved onto the next cluster of guests.
A frisson threaded through Johnathan’s nerves. He stared down at the glass of wine, thicker than the usual reds, deep and dark as fresh blood.
“What’s wrong?” Vic murmured.
He wasn’t sure. Johnathan was saved from trying to answer as Merry stepped to the center of the room.
“It has been long since we have gathered in our sacred places,” said Merry. “Many of you have come from a great distance to meet the rising threat before us.” The audience remained quiet while they spoke. “Tonight, we gather against the coming storm. The oldest of foes stirs once again; their influence over man increases every day. And now the Society, once dismissed as a human nuisance, seeks to give the Nether and the Benign a foot hold in this world.”
“Do we know why that is?” Beatrice asked, her blunt tone cut through the room. “What is their goal?”
“We have not been able to attain that information yet,” said Alazar.
“Feels like we’ve been concentrating more on preventing their plans than their endgame,” Johnathan whispered to her.
Katherine glanced at him. “Seems fair backward, doesn’t it? How can we stop them without knowing what they’re about?”
She had a point. Merry, however, would not be derailed. “We may not know their end goals, but we do know the danger they pose. There will be time to uncover the full extent of their schemes once we solve our current dilemma.” They raised their glass of wine above their heads. “Tonight, you’ll share your strength with this sanctuary, so that we may keep our enemies at bay. Tonight, we gather to act against those who would hunt us. Drink.”
Their host drained their glass. The others followed suit. Vic and Katherine drank their portions down. Johnathan lifted the glass to his lips. An errant thought occurring to him as the thick, sweet wine hit his tongue.
Merry’s smile hadn’t reached their eyes.
Pain lanced through him. The glass fell from his hand, shattering on the polished floor. Johnathan clutched his stomach, the faint taste of ash at the back of his throat. He met Katherine and Vic’s horrified gaze before his legs buckled out from under him. His body crashed down, broken glass cutting into his hands and knees. A negligible pain when his spine tore upright through his skin, a crack loud enough to shiver the chandelier. The reactions of the others were muddled, bursts of screams, outrage, and scattering footsteps, fleeing the Hound that burst from the man. The strained beat of his heart overrode everything else, thundering between his ears until the transformation ran its course.
He hadn’t taken the draught in days. The change was faster than last time, possibly under a minute, and his body experienced every agonizing second. This transformation didn’t devastate his body, healed from previous administrations. Johnathan rose, his hind legs watery but firm. His mind was frightfully clear, but it still took him a moment too long to register the incoming threat. Lithe arms wrapped around his neck.
In his human form, Tamara might have snapped his neck. But this form, weak from the change and the poison in the draught, still bore a terrible strength. And unlike his previous transformations in the conservatory, there was a present threat. Johnathan twisted, sinking his teeth into the ancient vampire’s arm. He jerked his head, pulling her off his back where he pinned her to the floor, a paw on her chest, claws digging into her skin. Instinct overrode his human judgement as his jaw closed over her throat. She was a threat to be eliminated. He bit down.
“John, no!” He froze at Vic’s shout. Awareness of his surroundings snapped to the fore. The guests had scrambled away from him, their expressions an almost comical tableau of shock, fear, and hatred. Many were crouched in defensive positions. The werewolf Beatrice stalked at the edge of the crowd, gnashing her teeth.
Vic strained to reach him, pinned to the floor by Alazar and another vampire. Alazar gripped him by the hair and pulled his head back.
“You brought a demon to our sanctuary?” Alazar hissed. Vic bared his teeth. A snarl ripped from Johnathan’s throat. Smoke curled from his nostrils. The vampire in his jaws tensed, limbs quivering with barely leashed violence. The moment Johnathan released her, she would retaliate.
Katherine was caught between helping Vic or Johnathan, holding up her hands. “Alazar, stop this.”
“Please, you don’t understand,” Vic pleaded. His knees skidded on the floor as he tried to gain leverage. He pried at Alazar’s hold, but the other vampire was much older, and Vic was not at peak strength. “Let me talk to him. Please.”
There wasn’t an ounce of mercy on Alazar’s severe face. Fear splintered the need to destroy the female in his jaws, the older vampire looked ready to tear Vic’s head off.
Alazar released Vic with a gasp, his body seizing. Katherine stood behind him, her semi corporeal hand inside the vampire’s chest. “I said stop this. Let him explain,” she said, her calm voice seeped in ice. Alazar’s lips were already tinged blue. Katherine looked to Vic, her gaze tinged by sadness. “Can you talk Johnathan down?”
He didn’t need to. Johnathan was aware of the precarity of their current situation. He also knew Tamara would kill them both if he released her. Could he risk it? He looked at the other guests, gauging how many would attack him should he kill the vampiress. His gaze settled on Merry. Their jaw clenched, a flash of regret in their green eyes, gone in an instant. Their host had exposed him, though he didn’t know why.
His attention tore away from their treacherous host when Vic crawled toward him. The fear in his eyes tore at Johnathan’s heart. Not fear of him, but for him. Both knew this would not end well.
“You have to let her go, John,” said Vic. There was no denying that voice.
Johnathan dropped her and braced himself. Tamara scrambled to her feet with a sibilant hiss. Her face twisted in a mask of disgust. “A demon, Victor? Really?” She bared her pointed teeth. “You’ve betrayed us all.” She seethed, hands curled against her sides.
“Tamara, wait—” Vic reached for her, but she was already moving. Her fist drove up toward Johnathan’s jaw, and he let it. The impact made him skid back a step, a blossom of fiery pain that numbed and faded in seconds. She might have made a second attack if Vic hadn’t put himself between them.
“He is not our enemy,” Vic roared. He’d dropped into a defensive position, ready to fight for Johnathan with his life. “Merry, why—”
“You brought the Society to our door,” another vampire interrupted. “A demon into our sanctuary.”
The werewolf’s patience snapped. Beatrice transformed, shredding her brilliant orange gown. A single barking call signaled the rest of her pack to follow suit, the ballroom littered with strips of finery. The wolves circled Vic. Johnathan stepped to his side, smoke pouring from his mouth. In the sharp relief of the lit room, he looked every inch the hell spawn.
“Beatrice, this does not have to end in violence,” Katherine begged, resignation in her voice.
“Yes, it does,” sneered Tamara. The vampiress flanked the wolves, but there was a pause, as if waiting for permission. Johnathan glanced at their host, standing passive amid the immortals.
“Take them down,” said Merry. Their voice rolled through the room like the slam of a judge’s gavel. Vic flinched.
“Try not to kill anyone. Believe it or not, these are our allies,” Vic muttered to him. Johnathan wanted to call him mad, since the others clearly intended to snuff them out, but he didn’t want to kill them either.
Chaos erupted, a flurry of furred bodies and snarling vampires. Johnathan slammed into Beatrice before she could tackle Vic. She staggered, attempting to shake off the blow. The rest of her pack closed in. A rumble rose in his chest. The demonic sound startled a couple of wolves. Johnathan became a whirling dervish, using his size and strength to drive some back or knock them away. He tried to avoid the use of his teeth, his instincts singing for split blood. But the man was in control and despite his lethal form, he managed to keep bloodshed to a minimum.
Katherine helped them where she could, driving several foes to the ground with an aura of ice. Her aid might have given them an upper hand when she gasped and vanished. Johnathan didn’t have time to wonder what happened to her with the werewolves piling on him.
Vic engaged Tamara. Though the other vampire was older he appeared to be holding his own. A situation that was about to shift when Alazar flanked him. Johnathan downed the last wolf and charged Alazar. Bloodlust rode him hard. The vampire spun to meet him at the last moment, clawing at Johnathan’s sides, attempting to gain purchase in the sleek fur. Alazar hit the floor with a shout, his usual sneer replaced by a touch of fear.
Johnathan wanted to tear his throat out. He balanced on the edge, his control frayed to breaking. Vic told him not to kill anyone. They were still under threat, surrounded by danger, but he knew if he tore Alazar’s head from his body, it would be the end for Vic. Johnathan backed off the vampire’s chest.
Alazar’s dark eyes flashed with disbelief. There wasn’t time to congratulate himself on not murdering the arrogant bastard. The pack swarmed Johnathan, finally catching on to the fact he’d abstained from killing them. Their teeth nipped at his flank, at his shoulder, tore at the muscles. Another vampire rushed in. They were about to be overwhelmed. Johnathan looked over to find Vic on his knees, hands restrained behind his back by the smiling ghoul. Blood smeared his face from where Tamara slashed him, the wounds already closed. She appeared in front of Johnathan, the vengeful goddess. The wolves corralled him. There was nowhere for Johnathan to go to avoid the hammer of her fists but down. His paws lost purchase on the polished floor.
His apparent collapse emboldened the other guests. Blows assaulted him, but they weren’t enough to knock him out. Katherine reappeared at the edge of the group, her expression immeasurably sad. Her body flickered forward, closer in a blink. The other creatures fell back at her approach. She leaned over his prone form; her hand extended to him.
Johnathan didn’t want her to touch him. He desperately needed her to touch him. A soft whine escaped him. He needed her to knock him out. Her gaze snapped to his face, conflicted. It was a mercy when she finally drove her hand through his chest. The cold sapped his strength. The brush of her fingers sent him tumbling into darkness.