A Pale Shade of Night

A Pale Shade of Night

Chapter 15: Alexandria Part 3 -- Vampiric Attentions, Spies, and the Birth of Winter

Arcana landed off balance, and Xerusk's grasp tightened to hold her upright. Enraged, she tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. She shaped her magic, and a small flame burst to life between them. Xerusk swore, quickly let her go, and jumped back.

"You mad fool!" she exclaimed. "Apparating in front of Muggles? Are you trying to get us both killed?" Arcana looked at the wards Xerusk had set and cursed when she felt the anti-Apparition ward that was keyed to him alone. They were inside his old, fortified home, and she was stuck with no way out. Perhaps this had been a very bad idea.

"They didn't see or hear a thing," Xerusk said airily. "I can't do the same trick on wizards yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"Is that so?" Arcana inquired suspiciously. She could not sense if he was being truthful. "Even then, you know I don't like side-along Apparition," she growled. One of these days not knowing where she was going and how she was going to get out again would lead to a dagger through her heart.

Xerusk drew his wand nonchalantly and looked down at Arcana. He had been born a wizard before becoming a vampire. The fear of betrayal flared for a moment before she dismissed it as simple paranoia. Arcana narrowed her eyes and felt her nerves prickle as her instincts prepared to fight.

"Xerusk, put the wand away. I'm in no mood to duel."

"Not until I know you won't try to immolate me again, Arcana."

"I was doing nothing of the sort, and you know it. I don't like to be restrained like that. Don't do it again." She should never have come. He was still angry about the last time, and nothing pleasurable would come of this night.

"Oh, really?" Xerusk asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow. His wand remained steady, pointed at the hollow of Arcana's throat, and she felt magic instinctively pooling in her hands in response to the threat. "When did that change, my fae?"

"Don't call me that," Arcana said vehemently. Magic sparked between her fingers, and Xerusk's expression darkened. The last thing she wanted tonight was a reminder of the Dark Lord and his cruel games. Picturing him in Xerusk's stead would kill every last ounce of her desire.

"Don't do this, don't do that." Xerusk paced back and forth in front of Arcana, wand trained on the fae. "You are in a mood tonight! Did I just catch you at the wrong time of the century? Again? And to think, I even fed well before meeting you. Didn't want to accidentally drain you too much. Wanted to savor the taste." He grinned, purposefully displaying his sharp canines.

Arcana glared up at Xerusk, stretching her fingers to relieve the tingling and forcing her magic to calm. He did have a right to be angry, she supposed, given their last meeting. She did not think she had been betrayed - she didn't sense any duplicity - but she was still ready to spring back should he attack. One never knew with vampires.

"All the blood in my body wouldn't be enough to sate you for a single night, Xerusk. Talking only serves to make you less and less attractive."

"Then stop playing human," Xerusk said, gesturing to Arcana with his wand, "so I can see what you offer me tonight."

Arcana sneered, but dropped the glamours, cringing at the sensation of her magic resettling and her second skin fading away. She shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over the back on a chair. Her clothes no longer fit quite as well since her real frame was smaller than the one she used as Muirgheal, and Xerusk frowned at the frumpy image before him. Arcana crossed her arms and glared back. Some of her braids had started unraveling and the soft wisps of hair near her face were sticking out at strange angles.

"Spending time at the Library was never good for your looks, but your blood smells the same as always." Xerusk's eyes gleamed, and Arcana mused that this night might be redeemable after all.

"Again with the talking, Xerusk," Arcana said, more amused than annoyed this time. Arcana pulled off her outer robes, thinking the sooner she disrobed, the sooner Xerusk would finally shut up, but upon feeling the fabric brush against her Dark Mark, she froze, recalling just how possessive he got when hungry. A chill settled in her stomach as she wondered what the Dark Lord would say when she returned. The bite marks would not heal that fast.

"What? Lost your nerve, fae?" Xerusk stepped closer to Arcana and she retreated to keep space between them, feeling the predator awaken fully in him. "What are you hiding?"

Arcana pulled the robes off, laid them over her coat, and let her arms fall loosely to her sides. Her short sleeves did not hide the brand, and Xerusk was at her side in a flash of vampiric speed. Arcana slipped away from his grasping hands, but he flicked his wand toward Arcana's feet and she tripped. She controlled the fall and rolled into a crouch, quickly casting a Shielding Charm to block the next spell, which ricocheted and hit the wall with a flash, chipping the plaster to reveal a patch of beige stone.

"You never were a very good wizard, Xerusk." Arcana bared her arm so he got a good look at the Dark Mark. "Yes, it is his Mark, and no, I did not take it willingly. I am not loyal to him. That is all that should concern you."

Xerusk's hand twitched, and sparks flew out of his wand. "Don't lie, fae. Even I know that the Dark Mark must be received willingly. It is part of the magic. You shouldn't be here now that you're Voldemort's whore," he spit out, disgusted.

Arcana stood, fury burning away all reason. Her wand was in her hand without conscious thought and she cast so fast not even the vampire could dodge. "Crucio!"

Xerusk crumpled to the ground, pain contorting his face. He groaned and twitched on the floor. Arcana twisted the curse with her rage until Xerusk cracked and his agonized screams echoed off the walls. Satisfied, she lifted the curse and glowered down at him.

"One instant of weakness, vampire! That was it. One single instant." Xerusk twitched on the floor in the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse, but she knew he was listening. She had not held the curse that long. "They took me down on his land. They bound me in iron. A Death Eater held me down while the Dark Lord clutched my wrist in his cold hand and put his wand to my arm. With what I endured, he would have had your undying pledge of loyalty, but he only managed to leash me to him. He does not command me. My will is my own. I am still Arcana."

Arcana's Dark Mark tingled, and she shuddered. The Dark Lord had felt her use the curse. Sensing her distraction, Xerusk leapt up and pinned Arcana against him. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head to the side, and sank his fangs into her neck, livid and mad with bloodlust. Arcana gasped, and her wand fell from her limp fingers.

Xerusk raised his head, an expression of ecstasy on his face. Stunned, Arcana gazed up into his oddly hypnotizing eyes. His arm was all that kept her standing.

"Furious fae, oh that is glorious," Xerusk exclaimed and licked his bloodstained lips. "Sweat nectar of the forgotten gods." His breath hushed against Arcana's neck. "I may not be a powerful wizard, but don't forget that I am a very old vampire. I will mark you myself tonight, let your Dark Lord think what he will."

Arcana tried to protest, but all that came out was an unintelligible groan. Xerusk licked at the blood seeping from the shallow wounds, and Arcana gasped.

"Time to come to my bed, little fae. You'll be glad of it in the morning."

*** *** *** ***

Arcana awoke relaxed, sated, and sore. Xerusk had only bitten into small veins, but the bites had bruised painfully. She rolled over and stretched languorously, thinking that the bruises and bites were a small price to pay in the end. She was only slightly lightheaded, meaning that Xerusk had thankfully shown restraint. He was sitting in the bed at her side, sipping from a glass of blood, his gaze resting on her throat. Arcana saw his stare shift to the Dark Mark that leered up from her bare arm, ever laughing at her attempts to escape the Dark Lord's bonds. Uncomfortable, Arcana pulled the sheets over her arm to hide the brand.

"No, Arcana," Xerusk said softly and drew the sheets away. "It is a mark of shame only to the Dark Lord. A Wild beast should never be kept in chains, at least not for more than a night." He smiled wickedly, and Arcana pondered the sincerity of his words.

Xerusk recognized Arcana's questioning expression. "Yes, I can utter a considerate phrase or two when so well sated. Besides, I locked up your wand - both your wands. Not so easy to curse me now." Smugly, he drank from his goblet and watched Arcana try to Summon either of her wands. The spell failed, and, exasperated, Arcana let her head fall to the pillows. "You are such a heavy sleeper when with me."

Arcana ignored the insinuation, refusing to be baited into fury again for Xerusk's delight. "I don't need a wand," Arcana grumbled, "and I can always set you on fire instead the next time you insult me."

"But you won't," Xerusk said. Arcana sneered halfheartedly. "At least now I know why you were obsessed with studying magical bonds at the Library for nearly a decade." Arcana looked up at him quizzically. "Yes, I was out of the country then, traveling--" meaning evading his wizard watchers so he could hunt humans as ruthlessly as he pleased "--without my retinue, but they kept me informed of the goings on in the city. Failed, I suppose," he said, nodding toward the brand.

Arcana gritted her teeth and picked at the dried blood underneath her claws. "Obviously," she muttered. Xerusk finished the goblet of blood and began eyeing Arcana's bruised skin with earnest interest. "Still hungry?" she asked in amazement. Xerusk grinned and ran his tongue over his sharp canines.

"I always take advantage of a rare vintage while it deigns to visit." He gripped her shoulder firmly and bent down to her neck, gently reopening the wounds. Arcana cringed and then gasped as the master vampire slowly drank.

He pulled away a few minutes later and licked the bite to get the last of the blood. Arcana felt his magic weaving through her, holding her in a delicious thrall that she could break, but never did.

"He has mellowed you, Arcana," Xerusk said, and sat up to look at her. "Is that where you learned that Unforgivable Curses were good conversation starters?"

"Do you want to watch me age your skin to dust?" Arcana muttered viciously and started tracing runes in the air.

"No," Xerusk said quickly, grasping her hand to break the casting. "I've had more than my share of bad sunburns." Arcana sneered, but settled against Xerusk's side and quieted as he ran his fingers along her spine. "You say you don't belong to him . . ."

"Again with the talking, Xerusk." Arcana listened to his throaty laugh and closed her eyes again, reveling in the sensations of her contented body. It was impossible to know when, or really if, she corrected herself, she would get another night like this again.

The company of someone closer to her age, no matter how aggravating, was comforting in its own way. His soul, though corrupted, was somehow more human than the Dark Lord's, and while she could still smell the slight tang of death on him, it was mild compared to all other vampires she had met. Gorging on the blood of ten virgins a night for several hundred years had to have some benefits, she supposed.

"Don't disappear on me for another century and a half without a goodbye again, Arcana. I might start worrying this time." Arcana fidgeted and scowled, irritated with the rare note of concern in Xerusk's voice. She hated the entanglements that developed from emotional attachment. "Come back to me when he finally dies."

"Only after I crush the bones of his wand hand beneath my boot." Arcana nipped at Xerusk's arm, her sharp teeth just breaking his skin. He growled and pinned her to the bed. Arcana craned her head back to offer him her throat, and he accepted heartily.

*** *** *** ***

The sun was high when Arcana left Xerusk's desert home. Her skin was properly clean again, thanks to a long bath, and hidden under the glamour of Muirgheal. A rose hip derivative, a potion of her own devising, was helping her body replenish the lost blood. It was much weaker than the Wizarding Blood Replenishing Draft, but that had to be brewed in a tainted iron cauldron and thus was as good as poison to her. Xerusk was not very happy to let her go, but he gave her back her wands and clothes all the same. The desert held stark beauty of its own but, looking at it, Arcana only longed for the deep green and moist earth of her forests. She would return to both the wondrous green and the Dark Lord tomorrow, but it was still today and there was just enough time left to look over a couple interesting books at the Library before leaving for Britain.

Alexandria was bustling as usual. Arcana bought a Daily Prophet on the way back to the Library and was relieved to see that there was no mention of her or any other new Dark activities. The Dark Lord was being quiet, or at least secretive. Husaline caught up with her before she reached the sanctity of her rooms. He had been worried about her absence, which she emphatically assured him had put her in no danger. Somewhat mollified, Husaline wrangled a promise out of Arcana to join him in the courtyard again for one last evening. The end of her reprieve in sight, time passed far too quickly for Arcana and all too soon she had packed away her things to return to the Dark Lord.

A knock sounded on Arcana's door and she slipped her normal wand into a hidden pocket, reaching out with her magic and sensing Husaline. She opened the door and beckoned him inside with a nod and a smile. His shoulders were tense and the lines in his face had deepened with worry.

"I'm glad you haven't left quite yet, Muirgheal. I wanted to walk you out." Husaline looked down at her with sad eyes and continued before Arcana could ask why. "You won't reconsider, will you? You would be safer here."

"I can't stay here, Husaline. It would be more dangerous for both of us, not to mention the entire Library. He will not find me, and if he can't find me, he can't take me. I'm afraid I may be out of touch for some time."

"Just keep yourself safe, Muirgheal." There was an odd flicker behind Husaline's eyes, that same sparkle that appeared whenever he drew a rare book down from the shelf. It was rather disconcerting. "If you are ready, I will walk you to a safe Apparition point."

"You don't have to, Husaline. I'll be fine." Arcana understood. It was like the last puzzle pieces had snapped in place to reveal the whole picture. The offer of sanctuary was not completely magnanimous. He wanted to add her to the Library, just as he was trying to add Xerusk. She could not really fault him since that was his calling, but it made her want to get away.

"I have word that there are Death Eaters waiting for you outside. There are probably British Ministry Aurors outside by now as well. There is an Apparition point in front of the Library, but I must be there to keep things legal and to prevent any bloodshed."

Arcana frowned, surprised that they would attack in such an open place. She could not fathom why Muirgheal would attract that much attention, and briefly wondered whether the British Ministry had officially contacted the Library regarding their desire to question her. Either Husaline had turned them down, or they were following leads from Britain, maybe even from a traitor in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Why the Dark Lord was so interested in Muirgheal was another question entirely. Perhaps his spies had been spinning wild rumors about Muirgheal as part of some mad scheme to climb the ranks. She had seen similar plans fail spectacularly before. If it were some plot, maybe the Dark Lord would let her kill the offending parties. It would be fitting for them to suffer her wrath given how much trouble they had caused her.

Arcana doubted the Dark Lord's spies would know what Muirgheal had been doing within the walls of the Library. Husaline was very careful to ensure that the place's renowned secrecy remained intact. There were even spells, curses really, to prevent patrons from revealing information about the Library or what went on inside it. If the Dark Lord's spies had somehow gotten around the secrecy curses and learned that Muirgheal had been researching demon magic, Arcana would have thought he'd make the connection immediately and realize there was no need to send Death Eaters after her. The Demon Archives did not get many visitors, after all.

Arcana would worry about the implications later. Right now she had to get past both groups of wizards in one piece.

"They, if they are actually here, want to follow, not fight, at least not in the middle of Wizarding Alexandria," Arcana muttered. She would need to make several sequential Apparitions as fast as possible. The dogs would lose the scent after the second or third, no matter what magical gadgets or charms they were employing. It would be tiring, but it would be better than dueling.

If the Death Eaters found her, the Aurors would not be far behind, and it would be unlikely that Arcana would have enough time partially remove the glamour - a tricky bit of magic - and show them her Dark Mark before the curses started flying. If the Aurors found her first, it would just be ugly. The Dark Lord was not going to like this no matter what she did, but she could minimize the damage by fleeing outright. She had no choice now but to tell him about Murigheal, however much she despised the idea. This was getting far too complicated.

"You're going to wear out those spinning gears in your head, Muirgheal," Husaline chided Arcana with a smile. She started, realizing that she had lost herself momentarily.

"I'm ready. Let's get this over with."

In front of the Library Arcana and Husaline shook hands one last time, and then she Apparated. She sensed a half dozen wizards follow the first time, several the second, and none the third. She Apparated twice more before stopping in a damp wood in Eastern Europe, far from civilization. She stood perfectly still, watching, listening, feeling the pulse of the magic around her, waiting for any sign of a follower, but none came.

Arcana let out a slow breath and sat down on the ground, exhausted. Apparating that many times in succession after holding a glamour for a week was too draining for her dwindling magic. She leaned back against a large rock and dropped the glamour. Again came the uncomfortable sensation of her magic slipping back into place. Wisps of white hair danced around her face in the breeze, unrestrained by the normal charms, which she could not use while under a glamour.

The hair was too fine to stay put on its own. When she was young she had worn it short so it floated about her head. That feral, innocent creature had not understood why the forest elves had wanted to clothe her and keep her troublesome hair long, but Arcana understood them now. They had known that she had to learn how her people lived so that she could join them. That had been so long ago the memories felt more like myth than reality, despite the striking clarity they still possessed.

A gust of chill air and the smell of singed grass brought the black unicorn to Arcana. He lowered his proud head and snuffled at her raised hand. She feared him not. His dagger sharp teeth, wicked silver horn, earth singing hooves, and Wild eyes would never harm her. Satisfied that she was unharmed, the black unicorn folded his leathery wings against his flanks and settled down next to Arcana. She affectionately rubbed his neck and curled into his side. He had promised to remain with her until she was free, until he could carry her home for a brief, secretive visit before returning her to this exile.

Without the black unicorn Arcana would have died long ago. Being a creature of magic, this world could not support her indefinitely. No fae could live in the mortal world for more than a few years without returning to the realms to drink of the magic in which the lands were saturated. Through strict discipline and eight centuries of hard experience, Arcana had been able to lengthen the time she could tolerate remaining here without fading away. For her, going home was always risky, as she had been exiled just before the wizards had crafted the Barrier between this world and the realms. Her people thought that she was long dead, and she doubted that they would be pleased to find that their belief was mistaken.

Two decades ago, right before Arcana had first met the Dark Lord, she had begun to feel the warning tingle in her magic that the time was near for her to slip back to the realms, but then he had branded her, binding her to him and to this magically barren world. Even with the black unicorn to take her across the Barrier, the Dark Mark's chains held her to the mortal world too strongly for her to make the crossing. The Dark Mark was most permanent, as a bitter Arcana had discovered when the Dark Lord had been all but dead, and the only way to break the binding magic was for him to die - for him to die properly.

After Arcana had spent nearly a century in the mortal world the black unicorn had sensed her weakness and had finally come to her. He always knew when it was time, and with his presence, Arcana's need to restore her magic, and her life, was growing. It was always there now, in the back of her mind, like an off key tune that would not stop playing.

The black unicorn lifted one of his wings and laid it over Arcana to keep her warm while she rested. He would take her back to Britain so she would not have to stretch her magic to Apparate again. In the crisp air, their breath condensed into white mist, and the chill crept through Arcana's light clothes. All about them, red-gold autumn was dying and icy winter was awakening from its long slumber.

In that quiet place Arcana felt clear headed, yet muddled at the same time. With Muirgheal's character swept away to a little corner of her mind to gather dust, her nagging worries about the demon were now free to fester. That faded fiery writing was still etched somewhere behind her eyes and refused to be ignored, as if the very name of the Iddimu was whispering in her head, tempting her to do foolish things.

The Dark Lord had to listen to her warnings. There had to be another path she could find to sate his obsession. Had he been any other wizard she would just try to invent something, but with him that would be dangerous, as he would likely see through her falsehoods. He knew magic too well for her to trick him easily.

No matter the magic he invoked, all of his work would be for naught in the end. He would never achieve the immortality he sought. He was human, and humans were mortal, and though he had wrought terrible magic on himself, attempting to destroy that humanity, the fundamental nature of the soul could not be changed. He would die one day, just like every other wizard, setting Arcana's heart aflame with joy - assuming she still lived. That day would also bring the Dark Lord's crushed wand hand beneath her boot. She imagined the sound of snapping bones and the sight of blood slowly seeping outward from the mangled flesh. The black unicorn snorted. His vicious agreement and the violent images that accompanied it made Arcana smile coldly.