NIGHTWORLD

20: Honoured Guests

“Very good. Lord Zakhar was most hopeful you would accept his invitation," said Zakhar's herald, bowing deeply once again before turning to leave. “Follow me, honoured guests, if you please." 

“Sure this is a good idea, mate?" Frankie asked Kadir as she made to follow. “Honoured guest to a bloodsucker?"

“Best one I've got, unless you want this whole place coming down on our heads," Kadir grunted back. The caracal sounded confident in the decision, as always, but Jaro could tell it ate at him. He was squeezing the grip of his gun so tight the knuckles had gone white, a muscle in his jaw bulging plainly through the tan fur on his head. Did he do it for me? To get the cure? That didn't sound like something Kadir would do. But neither did agreeing to be a vampire's 'honoured guest'. 

“I'm in favour of this plan, but I still can't help feeling that we're serving ourselves up on a silver platter," Kristian whispered, falling into step besides Jaro. “But I also don't see any way we could get the cure without it."

Jaro grunted his reply. “The herald was right… If all Zakhar wanted was to capture and kill us, he could have done it already. He must know we want the cure, but at what price? Chevron said he doesn't operate like the other Lords. That makes him unpredictable."

“No other choice now than to see where this path leads, I suppose." 

Jaro nodded, slinging his gun back beneath his poncho, but keeping his paws ready to grab it if the need arose. 

He was surprised when the herald and his honour guard led the team right past the spiral staircase they'd come up initially, instead heading deeper in the branching floor. 

“Is Zakhar here? On this floor?" Ioana asked, looking back at the staircase behind them. 

“Oh my, no," the herald replied, ushering them through a small alcove into a side room. “This is merely one of his spare workspaces, the Dreamless spends precious little time down here these days. I fear his mind is drawn to other things…" He stood back from a doorway, offering a paw for them to walk through. “If you please." 

Jaro was taken aback as they stepped through into yet another large, spacious stone room. The doorway led them out onto a stone balcony set into the wall, shallow and wide like a subway platform. At the far side stood a fence with a locked black gate, through which Jaro saw a wide open square made of shiny dark wood. The honour guard took up position by the gates to the square, allowing the herald to come through and unlock it, leading the team through. 

Jaro was astonished as they passed through the gate, boots clicking on the polished surface, necks craned as they all stared up at a dizzyingly tall shaft. Chains thicker than Jaro's shoulders were wide rose up from each corner of the platform, while a small boxed chamber waited off to one side. Staring up, Jaro could see more of the fenced platforms waiting above them, set into the wall. It was surprisingly well-lit for a massive shaft inside a windowless tower. He wondered how many servants Zakhar had dedicated to lighting the dozens of oil laps set within the walls.

“Goes almost all the way to the very top of the keep," the herald bristled, his tightly-buttoned chest swelling with pride.

“Do you mean to say this is what I think it is?" Noah asked, peering cautiously at one of the huge chains. The square itself was maybe five by five metres in size, easily enough space for the team to spread out across it.

“More infernal vampire machinery," Ioana spat. “Give me a good set of stairs and a ladder, I will get where I need to go the way the Martyrs did." 

“You sure about that?" Noah asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She seemed to reconsider the statement, glancing down to where her left arm used to be. “Well. Perhaps not a ladder, these days."

If the herald heard them he chose to ignore the comments, hurrying around to get inside the little box and taking up position behind a podium bursting with levers. “All please brace!" he cried, pushing a lever as far as it would go. 

The constant low-level grind of the tower internals suddenly shot up in volume, each of the chains shuddering to life as tension was yanked into them, the metallic ring of newfound tautness echoing all the way up the shaft. Beneath Jaro's feet the wood growled, briefly screaming in protest as the entire platform began to slowly rise, achingly slow at first but quickly building to a smooth and constant speed. 

“He's got a bloody freight elevator," Noah mused, laughing to himself. “This place will never cease to surprise, it would seem."

Kristian only blinked, turning about in place as the walls sunk down around them. “This power comes from the windmill? That isn't… how? Is it wound up, or does he have his own steam engines, like Belisarius did?" 

The herald only smiled at their wonder.

Jaro swallowed the lump in his throat as the elevator rose methodically, clicking deeply beneath them, the constant whir of machinery only growing the further up the tower they travelled. As the lift carried them past the countless different floors, he was allowed a brief glimpse inside. Many were locked off, but some had open entranceways, allowing a view into Zakhar's designs. 

Long-reaching halls and corridors filled plenty, with stairways and doors reaching in hundreds of directions. Some were filled with people, occasionally dressed like the herald's honour guard, sometimes dressed more like surgical patients. Jaro saw cages and rudimentary operating tables. He heard echoing screams. There was one floor filled with strange beasts, oddly-shaped birds and massive reptiles crammed into tiny cells. One level had rows of bubbling vats, filled with hot rainbow-coloured liquids that shimmered like oil. Figures floated within, tubes and mechanical limbs reaching into their flesh. The less of a floor Jaro caught sight of, the worse it was, his mind drawing up all kinds of strange additions, filling in the blanks with horrors he could hardly imagine. 

He smelled the worst floor before they passed it. The stench wafted out through the open gate, reaching down the shaft so they rose up into it, like slipping into a reverse bath. Jaro saw in for only a few seconds, less than a moment, but it was enough to nauseate him. There was a workstation, much like the spare lab below, but this one was overgrown with something alive. The being was wet, and pink like the meat of internal organs. There were tube-like limbs reaching around, undulating and squeezing as some unknown vileness was pumped through. Jaro saw bloodstained eye-growths, huge pupils larger than his entire head staring in lidless agony, rows of mismatched teeth jutting in odd places. Something further within beat like a heart, larger than a car and glistening with fluids. The whole floor was a petri dish. 

One blink later and it was gone, along with the stink of it. 

“Did you see that?" Jaro asked Noah, nudging the large bear, who was still lost staring up through the elevator shaft. 

“See what?" 

“I… I don't know." Zakhar's growing something down there. Some creature. But for what? Whatever it was, Jaro only hoped he never had to see it again. 

As they drew closer to the top, the herald changed another lever on his panel, the chains rattling as they began to slow, the entire platform finally grinding to a slow halt and clicking into place at one of the uppermost floors.

The herald made for the platform gate, where another retinue of honour guards waited stiffly. 

“This is where I leave you," the herald said, unlocking the gate and stepping back. “If you'd all only continue forward down this hall, you'll find the dining room awaiting you at the end." 

Shivering, Jaro shifted his weight, following the others through.

It felt like a hotel to Jaro, or maybe a casino. As they left the freight elevator behind, the team found themselves standing in a wide semi-circular room. The floor was impeccably-polished white marble, while a black variant coated the walls, hints of gold vein rippling through it. Jaro only dreamed of how difficult it must have been to get that much stone up this high. Suppose that's why he built himself a giant lift. Pillars threaded with gold stood firm throughout, with a wide butterfly staircase leading up to the higher floors. Artwork adorned the walls, most of it classical-style oil paintings, mostly of skulls and rib cages.

“Oh for fuck's sake, it never bloody ends does it?" Frankie whined, deliberately smearing the mud on her boot across a strip of white marble. 

The decor seemed to sneer at them, as if unimpressed. But Jaro wondered what good luxury items like this were, for a Lord without money? Zakhar hadn't bought these things, he hadn't made them either. It was simply ordered, and done. Did the room care? No. It knew it was better than the filthy, unwashed, frostbitten guests dirtying up its floor. 

“Frankie's right," Jaro mumbled, watching his own reflection in the marble floor. “Fuck this room." 

“Who is this for?" Noah wondered, staring around. 

“Their obsession and gluttony knows no limits, it would seem," Ioana said. “To build such a place, to impress who?" 

“He built it for himself," Kristian replied, sniffing. “Why else? But I never knew a vampire to care about aesthetics that way. From what I've seen, their only use for decoration is to terrify and oppress. This… is new. It says something about him."

Frankie snorted. “Ripper. Now we know Zakhar has terrible taste. I'm sure that'll just eat him right up when we submit a scathing review to fucked-up vampire lair digest." She stared at a vase balanced atop a narrow podium, and after a moment of consideration, pushed it. The vase toppled, smashing to pieces on the hard flooring with an echoing crash. “We're all gonna die here, and if we do y'each owe me fifty bucks." 

“Frankie, cut it out," Kadir hissed. The dingo shrugged, kicking at a lone fragment of the vase and sending it spinning off into the dark.

“Zakhar isn't like the others," Jaro whispered. 

He flinched as Devna crept up behind him, replying right into his ear; “but he is still one of them." 

“I know." He pulled away, stepping between the staircase and into the passageway. The others followed suit, guns held at the ready, but otherwise relaxed. They weren't expecting an attack, and curiosity had finally gotten the better of them all. 

As they reached the next room Jaro saw a long dining table awaiting them, carved from some impossibly dark wood, a single piece of tree carved out like a slab. It would easily seat sixty people arm-to-arm. The sounds of a grand piano echoed through the halls, a piece he didn't recognise. Nightworld original. 

“Anyone know classical?" Kristian asked, looking back at the group. “Is that any good?"

Noah shrugged. “I've dabbled, to my ear it sounds like nothing complicated… but it is pleasant, can't be denied." 

“Sounds like shit to me," Frankie said, face twisted up in a scowl. “This whole place in fact, fucking tawdry garbage. Oi Kadir, I love ya mate, but this… this is a bloody mistake. We're chickens walking into the fox's den."

“It's the decision I made," Kadir said. “Better to do it than turn back now. If we all die, you can go happy knowing you were right, fifty dollars richer."

“I fuckin' will too, don't you think otherwise. I'm the only sane one here it seems, in this group of stupid bloody arseholes." 

“Can you stop already?" Jaro hissed back. “We should sound united." 

“He's probably already heard us," Kristian muttered. 

“All the more reason to shut-up sooner rather than later." 

They drew closer still, leaving the passageway behind, and Jaro realised that the table was smothered in food. Not horrible rations, or stew, or some kind of blood-soaked vampire meal, but actual proper food. Roasted chickens, steamed buttery corn, piles of crisp carrots and hot potatoes. There was gravy, and wine, and ale, and bowls filled with peas and fruit and nuts. A feast. The smell touched his nose, and while he recognised it as smelling delicious… his body didn't want that. Didn't need that. His mouth ran dry, thinking of the blood he'd taken back in the courtyard. Poor bastards. 

The piano was on a raised platform to the left, a winding staircase of smooth black marble curving up towards it, accented with a gold-plated railing. A figure sat with their back to the team, scaled claws dancing as they continued to play the tune. The player was a snake, his dark muscled neck shimmering in the dancing oil-lamplight. His scales were patterned midnight-black, broken up only by short waves of gold spread throughout. He wore a porcelain-white tailcoat which draped over his seat, body swaying in time with the rising tune. 

“There he is," Jaro whispered, staring up at the snake.

“How do you know?" Kadir asked. 

Jaro shook his head. “I just know, that's him right there." 

Lord Zakhar came to a final halt in the song, the last note hanging in the air as he froze, utterly still on the instrument. Finally he raised his head, glancing back to show them one red slit of an eye. He moved like the fog, slicing through the air as he stood, up and up until he peaked at what must have been at least seven feet tall. As he turned to face them from his perch, Jaro saw the black and gold patterns continued down his face and across his neck. 

“Welcome, honoured guests," he said, in strangely accented English. Jaro's jaw fell, and the vampire began to descend towards them. He was a cobra, and as he moved, his frills pushed out from his neck, two hypnotically large swirling patterns set within. It would have been beautiful, on anyone else. Despite his own nature, despite his own exposure and preparation, Jaro felt the Prey Dynamic dragging him in. A natural magic, a predator's aura. The lull tried to take over his body, a distant blur settling into his vision. He blinked, tensing his muscles and fighting against it. Surely I'm immune to that now. 

“No one is immune to charm like this," Zakhar said, his voice dripping with luxury. It sounded as if he were reciting an old poem, somewhat rhythmic in nature, like humming to a tune no one else could hear. “Think such loud thoughts, and one can't be surprised to find others listening in. How pleasant it is to finally see my fellow Lords' obsession, realised in the flesh." 

There was something off about the way he spoke, however. Jaro couldn't quite pick it, but it felt wrong, it itched at him. Too familiar and yet so utterly alien. A voice from the uncanny valley.

“What is he saying?" Ioana asked, in Wallachian. “What language is that? Your own?"

The cobra matched her Wallachian, forked tongue tasting the air. “I am sorry child, but I have more to say to them than to you. I pray thee would understand." He returned to the oddly intonated English, red slits settling on Kadir and Frankie. “You come to a place you do not know, where you cannot speak the language, and yet you hope to free these people from themselves. Curious. Is it stubbornness, or stupidity? Which would be worse?" 

“How?" Kadir finally spat, shaking his head. “How?!" 

Zakhar reached the base of his steps, stopping in place. He was colossal, towering over them all. “Emperor Dracul has tasked me with learning all there is to know. And so I do. It must be a welcome sound, no? Finally, Kadir, someone for you to argue with in your lavish tongue. I so enjoy your language, and I am thrilled to engage in it with you all. Our own is so ruthlessly efficient, one can't help admire how practical it is but… true control means a life of luxury, and one of decadence. And this language… how it savours decadence." 

“We should kill him right now," Frankie said, stepping back, one paw on her gun, already half-raised. “We should fucking shoot him right now, before he gets into our heads." 

“You can try it, Francesca." The snake moved forward, practically dancing, swimming through the air with so little effort Jaro wondered if he was just gliding over the floor. “See where it gets you. You might find it a little harder to trick me into the light, I'm not so pig-headed as my late Belisarius." 

“What do you want?" Kadir asked, watching like a hawk as the vampire circled them. 

Zakhar waved a claw towards the food. “To invite you in. To speak, see what you might want and what you could give. If only to finally have a true use for my chefs. They spend all their time making meals nobody will eat, such a waste. But alas… that's what power is." 

“And you want power," Jaro replied. 

“Don't we all? To hold power means to hold control. Over everything. That is one thing Dracula has taught me." 

“I'm not eating a fucking thing you've touched," Kadir growled.

“Fine, fine," Zakhar said. “But I haven't touched any of it, I have people for that."

“Slaves." 

“Never. There are no slaves in Orobos, at least, no involuntary ones." 

Over at the table, Noah was eyeing up the feast. “What do you mean, no involuntary ones?" He asked, picking up a small cookie and studying it suspiciously. 

“He's lying," Jaro said. “You just said you want power and control. I know you experiment on the people here. And I saw your victims back in Barda. They said they were a gift for Belisarius." 

“Oh… that," Zakhar shrugged. “Pray tell, what does control mean to you? I'll tell you. Real control means you do not need to force anyone to do anything. Your will simply becomes manifest, surely as day becomes night."

“Call it what you want," Jaro scoffed. “But they suffered. They were frightened, because of you." 

Zakhar's frills rippled, like a mirage. “Do you realise how difficult it is for our kind to place any sort of value on a mortal life? How unnaturally that comes to me? Please, how often does your kind consider the pains or desires of an ant? A portion of my test subjects are unwilling, it is true. This is payment for the life I allow in Orobos – all I ask is one from each family generation." He held up a single finger. “But they are compensated afterwards, they are set free. Those gifts to my dearly departed fellow Lord… those people allowed themselves to be there. They sold themselves to me." 

“Lies," Frankie spat. “No one would agree to that. Jaro told us what you did to them, it's fucked." 

“What I did was learn, and more than you could imagine," Zakhar said, sounding almost offended. He strode further along the length of the dining table, while the team kept pace with him on the opposite side. “But Orobos is a city of trade. Everything is for sale. Their families will live in safety and luxury for two generations because of that. Before me, they had nothing. It might be cruel, but it is not entirely unjust."

“I don't care what you say," Kadir replied. “It's evil." 

“This is a tiresome conversation. Please, won't you sit? Allow us to move onto grander matters." Zakhar gestured to the chairs before them. Reluctantly, they each slid into a seat, settling down. 

The snake sat in his own – much larger – seat, studiously regarding the group of mortals at his table. “I've been itching to meet you all since you burnt down my Chateau. The interlopers. Burglars of the Godhead's Lament. Killers of Belisarius and his pet Iconoclast. Destroyers of Steambreather. Not to forget the Lady at the Big House, quashing her dreams of joining our ranks. And one of you an almost-vampire. Truly. You are an increasing thorn in Dracula's side, and a burning curiosity to me." 

“Do you have a cure?" Jaro blurted, slamming his fists down on the table. It took a moment for him to realise he was shaking. Zakhar stared back at him. “Just tell me, for fuck's sake, enough of these stupid games. Do you have a cure or not?"

The cobra leaned back slowly, bemused. His tongue stabbed out the air, darted back behind his thin lips. “I do." 

“Holy shit," Kadir said, practically falling out of his seat.

“It's real then?" Noah added.

“What does he want for it?" Kristian asked.

“You are practical people then," Zakhar continued. “Straight down to business, no messing about. You know what you want and you're willing to demand it and yet… you have apparently spared no thought for what I might want and demand." 

“He's not gonna give it to us," Kadir said, shaking his head. 

“Oh I shall, I am rather curious to see if it will actually work. After all… theory can only take you so far, as they say." Zakhar waved a claw through the air. Even in the seat he looked massive. He leaned towards them, hood curling inwards. “Very well. If you want to skip all pretence of pleasantry, I will be more direct. You have come here to kill vampires, to eradicate my kind. I only wish to help you in this endeavour, provided your ship is one that might turn to suit my tides." 

“What the fuck does that even mean?" Frankie growled. 

Despite not needing to breathe, Zakhar sighed. “The Impaler. I want you to kill the Father of Night. Dracula must die." 

A stunned silence befell the table, each member of Team Two staring at the vampire. Dracula was practically a god to the vampire lords. They lived in constant fear and reverence to him. Jaro knew the vampires bickered, played at politics, but to assassinate their Emperor… he hadn't seen it coming.

“Why?" Jaro finally managed to croak out. “You wanna take his place?" 

“Oh, stars, no." Zakhar shook his head. “I tried to be rid of him once, I sent him away. To your world. Turns out he quite liked it, returned a conqueror with all these grand ideas…"

“I thought you brought him back?" Jaro asked. 

“That is the version I prefer my Emperor and his Cortège believes, yes. The Lords do not care for me, and if I don't have their fear I'll have their fangs. So I must remain a mystery, a power. Everything they do not understand is at my whim. I created the Source, but that is one thing even I can scarcely hope to control.

“The truth is Dracula is old even by our standards. In days past, he saw the world as I did. As a puzzle waiting to be solved. Together we took over Wallachia, we butchered the mortal kingdoms and we crushed every fledgling vampire fiefdom we could find. To me it was a necessary way forward, a path out of this hellish existence. That is, immortality, but the kind that toys at you like a sick joke. You must know, or you soon will," he gestured to Jaro. 

“The thirst. The sun. The symbols and the rituals and the constant urges always gnawing at you, determined to turn you into a feral beast. I will not allow myself to fall to such base urges, I will not be controlled by them. I will conquer this sickness and master my own fate… not the other way around!" He paused, lowering a shaking claw, calming himself. 

“But the worms… They are clever, they know it, and mindless as they are together they scheme against me. Dracula and I built the Vermilion Cortège, and I thought I could control it. But… over the years… it unravelled. Ashani and Romulus are always at one another, teasing and bickering, fighting for small patches of land. Belisarius built himself into his factory, draining the countryside white for his fear of never being fed. The worms stoked those fears. Eventually, his little whispers got into the Emperor's head. They wondered what would happen when we ran out of people to eat, you saw the factory, you know it would only be a matter of time. I shared these concerns and I told the Father as much, yet he listened only to the problem but not my solution. We never needed that much blood. The worms wrung desperation out of us, they pushed us to indulge more and more, to lose control, swimming in death to soothe our own fears."

“We saw Steambreather," Kristian said. “We saw where these fears took you."

“And then you buried it," Zakhar replied, clapping his claws together. “My applause, you've sent Dracula into a whirlwind of panic. He's been sending Ashani all across his dying empire. Belisarius had a unique mind of that kind of letting, we won't find another butcher quite so easily." 

“Tell us why you want to kill Dracula," Kadir insisted. “This is a great story, but it explains nothing. I don't give a shit about your worms or your fears." 

Zakhar fell back in his seat. “Such impatience. Very well. Even before the loss of Steambreather, the Emperor looked to other worlds. He remembers your own, your Europe. In his fantasies it is a factory unto itself. He would see we never run out of warm bodies even if we ate ten times more, skipping from world to world, eating our way through them again and again, expanding this empire forever. The worms can think of nothing better."

“And you expect us to believe you don't want that?" Kadir asked. “That out of the kindness of your heart, you want to let the poor mortals live, is that right, huh?"

“Wallachia is a shadow of its former self. The nature of the universe is ennui, you understand?" Zakhar's eyes were wide now, he was excited, his hood trembling with anticipation. “Everything decays, given time. To continue what we have into other worlds would only compound this fact, like inbreeding cattle. We would grow fatter, slower, weaker. Two centuries ago you could never have stood against Belisarius. Now, he was complacent. He deserved to burn. Your world is meticulous, full of wonder and interest, and of great tragedy. I've studied it at length, for unlike the rest of my brethren I am capable of stepping through that gateway without losing all sense of self-control.

“To destroy that world without learning its secrets… foolish. Wasteful. Feeding like that would have us want only more. No, finally, I say enough. To bleed Europe as the Emperor wishes would set us on a spiralling path that leads us to the end of reality itself, to the ends of our own minds, eating the dirt and begging for death. I would not see that happen. Dracul Reign must end, something new might grow. Dracula must die."

Jaro didn't know what to say. Judging from the quiet, neither did anyone else. It felt so unbelievable, to imagine a vampire on their side. A trick? A betrayal? But why bother with so much backstory? Here they were after all, Zakhar had them. 

“Why can't you kill him, then?" Frankie asked, leaning back in her seat and kicking her boots up on the table, crossing them. A silver stake bounced between her two paws, glimmering. “Why send us, weak and pathetic mortals, ants by your own admission, to him? I don't see it, when you could just stab him in the back?" 

“I am stabbing him in the back," Zakhar replied icily. “It is only that you are my knife. You have met Romulus, the Teardrinker. Dracula's lapdog, his hunter. Romulus's psychic ability pales next to the Father of Night, he would rape every thought of my entire life before he'd allow me a moment to speak. I have kept my distance since the decision was made. I always half knew it had to be done, but when word reached me of Belisarius I knew… this is the only way."

“We got this far on our own," Frankie said, sniffing. “What help are you even going to offer us, huh?" 

“Dear Francesca, tell me how you planned to kill the true Icon of Sin? He is over one thousand years old. He is a legend even in your world, and an all-powerful tyrant in mine. The Godhead's Lament is Dracula's will manifest. Would you simply shoot at him from the gate? Sneak in around his thousands of thralls, his army of the undead, not to mention his retinue of vampire guardsmen? Or would you rather a passageway through the mountain behind? A place you could slip through silently, and be upon his throne room before anyone was the wiser?"

“That…" Frankie grunted, looking away. “When you put it like that..."

“Not to mention," Zakhar said. “The Homunculus, which I will release upon the castle. Might be nice not to have all the attention on yourselves, correct?

“So you do have a weapon," Noah said, leaning forward in his seat. Jaro frowned, surprised by the bear's eagerness. “What is it? How can we use it?" 

“It's that thing I saw growing down below, isn't it?" Jaro asked, and Zakhar met his eyes with the sharpness of a knife. 

“Indeed. A soulless creature built like every other piece of my workshop. A new monster bred fit for purpose – the culmination of every alchemical secret I have ever known, grown here for one thing. That is my masterpiece." 

“But what is it?" Noah asked. Zakhar only stared back at him, apparently satisfied he'd said enough.

Jaro stared down at his empty plate, the words echoing through him. Finally, they had answers. But should we help him? Clearly Zakhar's plan was to free himself of his weakness to sunlight, and his thirst. Was that worth it? A vampire without any weakness, in exchange for killing Dracula? We could always come back for him later. 

“Can you close the Source?" Kristian asked, his voice low but serious. “You opened it, didn't you?" 

“I did," Zakhar seemed to consider the request. “The Source… yes. But I am afraid it is not so simple, Kristian. That is not like a door I opened to be shut again, it took decades of work to achieve, a first that no other has ever accomplished. A bridge between your world and mine. Think of all we might learn…" 

“No," Kadir interrupted. “Kristian is right. Can it be closed?" 

“I… am not sure, my studies took me elsewhere. The Source is an open wound carved into the flesh of reality. It bleeds and haemorrhages, hence why its location is often random."

“Wounds can be patched," Kadir said. “Isla's team managed to stabilise it, keep it open, so obviously something can be done. We don't want any of your kind ever coming through to our world again. Fuck your learning."

“It is simply not that–"

Jaro slammed his fist down on the table, shattering his plate beneath it. All eyes turned on him, even Zakhar seemed surprised. “It. Closes." He breathed. “You cure me. We kill Dracula. And leave you. That's it." 

Like smoke, Zakhar drew up from his seat, turning away to consider. The rest of the team simply waited, watching close. Jaro was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, he half-expected the doors to fly open as a pack of drooling thralls fell upon them. 

But nothing came, instead Zakhar turned back, nodding slowly.

“I will try to do what I can." 

The team let out a slow breath. Kadir wrapped his knuckles on the table. “Everyone okay with this?" One by one, each of them nodded, until the attention settled on Frankie, still with her boots on the table. “How about you?"

She shrugged. “I thought you said this wasn't a fucking democracy, oi mate?"  

“Something like this?" Kadir said. “It's all or nothing." 

Sighing deep, Frankie swung her boots from the table, stabbing her silver stake into the tabletop so that it stood on its own. “I fuckin' hate it." Her eyes shot daggers at Zakhar. “You are a fucking monstrous cunt. I don't care nothin' about no bartering system you have to buy babies or whatever it is the fuck you do. I hate you, and one day, I'll come back m'self and cut your bloody head off, got that?" 

“I look forward to seeing you try," Zakhar said, slightly amused. 

“But fine," Frankie said, batting her stake and knocking it over. “I'm in too. Dracula dies first. Source closes. Job done." 

“Her?" Kadir asked, pointing to Ioana. Kristian had been translating some of it, and he gave her the last bit.

Zakhar watched her carefully, head cocked. 

Finally Ioana shrugged. “We do what we must," she said eventually. “Trust the vampire? Who expected that?" 

“There you have it," Jaro said to the snake. “Your anti-vampire task force. Hope you're happy." 

“I'll be happy when it is done," Zakhar said. He snapped his fingers, and up by the piano more servants appeared from some hidden doorway, the sounds of the harp joining in with the return of the piano keys. “I will ask that the rest of you enjoy your meals here. When you have finished, Cedric will show you to your rooms, where you might bathe and rest."

“And me?" Jaro asked. The vampire hadn't said it, but he could tell 'the rest of you' meant everyone but him.

“Come, and we will talk about the cure." 

Zakhar led Jaro away from the dining room, turning through the halls and leading him up several more flights of stairs. The rooms down here were slightly less opulent than the dining hall, but still clearly decorated with the same gaudy taste. Mannequins stood guarding doors in strange and quizzical armour. Jaro squinted at one in particular which seemed to be adorned in feathers, a deep cloak flowing around the waist like a kilt. 

“Warriors of a bygone age," Zakhar said. “No one is left to remember them, except me." 

“Poor thing," Jaro snorted. 

“You jest," the snake said, leading him deeper still. “But it is lonely, to feel yourself the only one with any thoughts left. I knew Dracula when he was only Vladimir, when he was once my closest friend. A brilliant creature then, yet he has lost himself to cruelty and fear, and no longer tolerates my advice. Belisarius has always detested me, because I saw right through him. Romulus and Ashani think I'm weak, because I don't hunt my prey as they do. Beasts, the lot of them."

Jaro stifled the feeling in his chest. Damn it, he would not allow himself to feel sympathy for a fucking vampire. He tried to remind himself that Zakhar had helped build this entire place. Hundreds of thousands – even millions – of deaths had come because of what he did. Jaro's father, his own sickness, all that was made possible by him. 

He's a monster, don't forget that. Even this business of killing Dracula. Zakhar pretended at some modicum of altruism, but Jaro knew better. Said it himself, Dracula doesn't listen anymore. This is just another power play. 

“Why do they call you the Dreamless?" Jaro asked, as they entered into a wide laboratory. It was a hugely spacious room, circular in design and filled with dozens of different work stations. Medical equipment, tubing, copper pipes, everything flowed in and out. Staring up, Jaro saw a great glass dome overhead, a single metal rod reaching down through the centre. Must be the same anti-UV glass we saw back in Chateau De Vaune… that was one of the tests he conducted. Just another thing to control. 

“It is true that no vampire sleeps. So we are all, in a way, dreamless," Zakhar replied. His tone was slightly less flowery now, more conversational. After how dramatically most of them had spoken since Jaro arrived in Nightworld, it sat oddly on the creature. Without that accent, it would almost sound like he's a real person. “Many of the ancient Lords have their talents, you've seen it. Ashani is a brute even by our standards… Dracula and Romulus can drag any mind after themselves like a dog on a leash. Belisarius was a moron, but I'm told his pet had some talents; pity you destroyed him. I walk through the dreams of your mortals." He turned to a wide window set into the wall, staring down at Orobos through the twisting snow. “It is a gift that extends beyond this world and into others. I have seen things even you people wouldn't believe… it is how I came to first begin study of what you call the Source."

“Right." Jaro walked towards the centre of the room. The lightning rod from the top of the dome stretched down, feeding in an electrical mess of nodes and metal circuitry. Jaro was no engineer, but this looked more magic than science to him. Between the circuits and himself was an operating table cocked at an angle, shiny smooth and adorned with leather straps. Machines rested around it, some of the tools more obvious in their use, many not so. 

“This is where it will be done," Zakhar said distantly. “On this table I will open you apart, and sedate the creature. Removing it."

“Is it dangerous?" Jaro asked. 

“Oh, incredibly," Zakhar said, laughing. “Never before has it been done. Things will grow difficult when your dark passenger realises what is happening. I suspect the worm would rather kill you than let you go. But I have… preparations for that." He waved to one side, where Jaro saw more of those hideous jars lined up, floating severed organs bobbing in each one. Three hearts, some lungs, what might be bits of a nervous system. 

“Come, I need to examine you," the vampire ordered. 

“Wait, you're gonna do it now?" Jaro asked, panic flooding his system. He'd expected time to prepare, to wait, to… to what? Feeling like you'll miss it? Scared of being weak again?

“No," Zakhar said, thankfully. “But I'd like to prepare my instruments and dosages, based on your condition. The substances we are dealing with walk a fine line between lethal and useful. One milligram wrong, you might live in agony forever. Now, unless you'd like me to guess how much poison I should inject, strip." 

Jaro tensed up. “You're joking." Not again. 

“I know the kinds of things Romulus likes to do with those he catches. This won't be like that, but still." 

He thought about resisting, but what was the point? Finally, Jaro tugged his poncho off, dropping it to one side as he slowly stripped down to his underwear, dumping his clothes in a pile to one side. 

Zakhar stepped up before him, massive in size. The cobra looked down, forked tongue darting this way and that. “Very good." 

He raised a scaled claw, touching it beneath Jaro's chin and slowly letting it trail down, stopping over his heart. Jaro felt his face flush as the vampire continued to grope his chest, focusing intently on his body, listening to his heart. His sickened, infected heart. Jaro closed his eyes, sighing. Damn it, he was terrified, but he couldn't wait to be free of the fucking thing.

“You injured it," Zakhar said. “Never seen that before. It's weakened…" 

“The doctor on our team, he…" Jaro swallowed, hating how similar to Romulus this felt. An unwanted pressure was already building in his crotch. Really? Please. “He had a serum, lots of metals… to try and slow the infection." 

“I am impressed, it worked tremendously well." Zakhar knelt before him, his head almost still at eye level due to his stature. His second claw prodded at Jaro's stomach, as if feeling the organs beneath his fat. “Damage has been done, though, I can see that much even without instrumentation." 

Before Jaro could protest, the snake had pulled his underwear down, leaving him stood fully nude in the chilly room. The shame burned at his face, and the memories weren't helping. 

“Romulus must have enjoyed you…" Zakhar tutted, gently prodding at Jaro's half-hard cock, the pink upper tip just beginning to stretch out of his sheath. 

“This is not necessary." 

“Unfortunately, it is," Zakhar said. His first claw trailed down, cupping Jaro's balls, squeezing them. “I do not know the extent of damage to your organs, the worm lives around our hearts but it infects every inch of our bodies. This is uncharted territory, a vampire has never been separated like this and lived. You can remain calm, I've plenty of willing servants to sate my bodily urges…" His claw, squeezing on Jaro's erection, ran a thumb over his tip, sending a shiver of pleasure through the wolf's body. “That is… unless?"

“I…" Why couldn't he say no? He tried to remember Chevron's runes, but they were useless, this wasn't mind control, it was just sex. 

“I'd ask you something, you know," Zakhar whispered. His free claw slowly worked at Jaro's shaft, feeling through it, squeezing along his length. The snake leaned in close, tongue dancing over Jaro's nipple, his snout tracing up near his underarm. “You still have the scents of a mortal, your kind tastes so delectable." The snake licked at his underarm, trying the sweat. 

“What… ah…" Jaro gasped, feeling Zakhar work his cock. “What did you… mm… want to ask?" 

“I could cure you," Zakhar suggested, his tongue moving to Jaro's neck. His other paw cupped the side of his waist, reaching around behind and pushing two fingers sharply inside Jaro's ass. The wolf mewled, hating how much his body was responding to this. “The majority of my research has been fixated on this… but not all of it. I want to understand what is possible…" Jaro could feel a pressure building inside his balls, as Zakhar slowly stroked his dick, still roughly fingering his ass. “Your worm is in a kind of coma. Struggling to break free. Given time, it will wake properly, and you'll become another baseless bloodthirsty creature. I can stop this, cure you, probably. Or, I can wake it up, continue the process that Romulus began. If I am correct, it might even free you from those darkest urges… not to mention make you far stronger than any newborn ought to be…" He continued to work Jaro's cock, the wolf's hips thrusting slightly. “A new step in conquering the worms."

“Why?" Jaro moaned, his cock tensing in the snake's grip. 

“I want to experience everything," Zakhar hissed, half moaning. “I want to know everything. Can I remove the worm? Or can I make it better? Can I control it? Both options intrigue me, the choice is yours." 

“But I'd…" Jaro grunted, his knot beginning to swell inside his sheath. “I would still be a vampire. Still need blood. Still burn in the sun." Still be a predator. 

“Yes. That would not change. I'm unsure how much would." 

“Then… I…" He hesitated, on the edge of orgasm, a dozen thoughts plaguing him at once. What if he needed the powers again? Could they even beat Dracula without them? 

“MY LORD!" The new voice boomed across the lab, shaking Jaro from his stupor. Zakhar froze, abandoning Jaro's genitals as he returned to his feet. 

“Yes, Cedric?" 

“The Lord of Avarice, Ashani the Daybreaker, is arrived for you." 

“Now?!" 

“Yes, my Lord." 

“Bah. Give it two minutes, then send her in." Cedric bowed, disappearing back down the hall. Zakhar turned back to Jaro, pulling a lever to open up a tight hatch in the floor. “Get your clothes, and get inside. Do not make a sound. Do not think, Ashani's psychic reach is weaker than most but not vanished entirely. If she knows you are here, she will kill me, you, and then tear this entire castle apart until she has the rest." 

“Fuck's sake," Jaro hissed, quickly picking up his clothes and sliding into the small hole. Zakhar closed it over him, and a moment later Jaro heard the clinking of armour. 

“And so you have come, fully dressed as always?" Zakhar said dramatically, now speaking Wallachian. “You don't feel safe in Orobos, my Lord Ashani?" 

“I am a servant of Dracul Reign," Ashani said. “I will always wear his armour with pride." 

“As we all are, my Lord." Above, Zakhar circled the room, slowly trying to draw the hyena away from Jaro's hiding place. “Pray tell, what brings the Queen of Dracula's mines back to this frozen corner of the world? Feels only a few nights since you left."

“The interlopers," Ashani replied. “Has thou gotten word of them in this city, Zakhar?"

“Ashani, would it insult you if I was to suggest that since they were not here upon your first visit, so why might they be now?" He tutted. “Romulus was right, they went right for Belisarius. Perhaps his is the advice you should be seeking."  

“Keep taunting me, Zakhar, see how it ends for you. Dracula is furious after what happened to Steambreather and Belisarius. The interlopers will go somewhere else next. He sent me to watch over thee." 

“Oh? He doesn't trust me?" 

“Should he?" 

“I am not sure I care for your tone, Ashani." 

“Shit on what you care about, foolish reptile." 

“You'd do well to remember your place, Daybreaker. I was our Emperor's advisor long before the Cortège even existed. I stood at his side before he was The Impaler, before he was Dracula. I knew him as Vladimir Tepes, as he knew me. I opened the gateway, what have you done for his grand design? Do not presume to tease me like you'd tease that bloodhound, Romulus." 

Ashani cackled with laughter, the effort shaking her armour. “This is nothing like how I might speak with the Teardrinker. Roman is a fiend. Believe what you might, but I respect thee, Zakhar." 

“Then perhaps you might act like it," the snake snapped back at her, a slight hiss in his words. “What makes you consider the interlopers would even come here? What use do they have for Orobos?" 

“How did they know to go after Steambreather? Dracula wants answers, they do not know our ways. Someone is helping them." 

“The locals, Ashani, don't be foolish yourself now." Zakhar's feet clicked as he strode. “Belisarius's eyesore was a temple of death, every child for a thousand miles is probably sick with nightmares of the place. Ask any mortal farmer, and they would curse of that place. I doubt many of them out there even know half of what goes on here. You destroyed that town, didn't you? Of course it was them that helped the interlopers, mortals are all the same, they stick together, like cattle." 

“Thou should hope so," Ashani said. Finally, she seemed to relent. “Mortals. Yes, I see it. Then that is what I'll tell Dracula. Should that change…" 

“You'd be the first to know, my Lord." 

“That's right." 

Jaro let out a shaking breath as he heard the Daybreaker clanking off. A vampire that fights in the sun, fully armoured. He remembered Ashani's attack on Cujac, in broad daylight. 

The way she'd hurled her massive sword like a missile, the way she'd leapt into the church steeple like a bullet fired from an artillery gun. How are you supposed to fight that?

They'd have to kill her to get to Dracula. And what they'd said… Is Romulus still alive? Jaro had hoped he'd been buried inside Belisarius's factory. He shuddered, thinking of the atrocities committed there. So much blood. As if you'd ever consider staying one of those things? Zakhar can say what he likes, to be a vampire is to be pure evil. It was the parasite, trying to corrupt him, trying to preserve itself. The sooner Jaro was free of it, the better.

The hatch above him shot open, Zakhar staring down. “Get up then, and get dressed." 

Jaro obeyed, tugging it all back on. “Cure me. That's the deal, I'm not a monster and I won't become one."

“Have it your way," Zakhar replied lazily, as if he'd grown bored of talking. “I learn enough either way. Go now," he waved him off. “Cedric will show you to your room. Rest. Think about what we discussed." 

“Sure," Jaro said, turning on his heel and following the pudgy fox back out. 

He was resolved. There was nothing to think about.

One more night. Maybe two. 

Then he would be cured.