Thea Harrison: Serpent's Kiss

“Oh good,” said Rune. “All the fun from the Vampyre movies just came back.”

Spanned by its famous bridge, the Golden Gate is actually the name of the strait that was discovered in 1769 by Spanish explorers. In 1846, the American military officer John C. Fremont named the passageway “Chrysopylae,” or “Golden Gate,” before the Californian gold rush. The strait had been compared to ancient Byzantium’s Golden Horn.

As Rune looked out, the Golden Gate Bridge towered shining over the darkened waters of the strait. The symbolism of standing before a gateway was not lost on him. He dropped his duffle on the floor near a black Italian leather chair in front of a spotless glass desk that had some serious acreage. He hooked his thumbs into the empty belt loops on his faded jeans and stood at his ease as he regarded the Vampyre.

Duncan did not sit behind the desk, nor did he invite Rune to sit. Instead he moved to the window and looked toward the west. He put his hands in the pockets of his twenty-five-hundred-dollar suit and, for a moment, he went completely still as only Vampyres could. He looked like the airbrushed front cover of a GQ magazine.

Here it comes, Rune thought. Mow the lawn for the next thousand years. One single favor, stated in quite a simple sentence. Yeah Dragos, I know quite fucking well what I gave away.

“It’s disappeared again,” Duncan murmured.

“What?” Rune said.

“The island. It’s disappeared again.”

Rune looked out the window as well. The residual blood-red sunset glow was all but gone, but his sharp predator’s eyes could pick out the details in the night as well as the Vampyre’s could. The island had indeed faded from sight.

He shrugged and said, “Okay.”

“That is where you are supposed to go,” Duncan said.

Rune sighed. “When I got your email, I thought you would be giving me the instructions for this favor.”

Duncan turned away from the window to face him. “From what little I understand, any instructions I might give you would not release you from your magical obligation. Your contract is with Carling, and she must order you in person. She is currently at her home on the Other island, and of course time flows differently there. I am merely supposed to verify you made it here by the stated deadline, and to give you directions on how to get there.”

“So Carling lives on Blood Alley, huh?” Rune shook his head. Way to build an all-over fearsome reputation, Carling. Much like the feudal Wyr society, in the Nightkind demesne, might often equaled right, and Carling had ruled as Queen for a long time before she gave the crown to Julian. She had abdicated to take advantage of a loophole that had then existed in inter-demesne law, which allowed her to become the Nightkind Councillor for the Elder tribunal. The legal loophole had since been closed. Former demesne rulers were now barred from sitting on the tribunal, but Carling maintained her unique position. She was not just a Councillor on the Elder tribunal. Since Julian was Carling’s progeny, he might rule the demesne, but Carling ruled Julian.

Duncan shook his head. “Blood Alley is a very unfortunate label and not at all accurate. The crossover passage and the island were discovered around 1836, and as soon as she had become aware of its existence, Carling laid claim to it. There were a few times when she was Queen that she had to take action against warring Vampyre families. Her response had to be severe enough to quell the upsurge in violence.”

“Oh-kay,” he muttered. “Been there, done that. I’m sure I’ve got a T-shirt somewhere to prove it. Why don’t you hit me with those directions?”

“You must fly westward for a mile or so and circle around to fly back. As you return toward the Bay, keep the Golden Gate ahead of you, to your right about ten degrees, and fly low over the water. At that point you should feel the crossover passage down below. It follows a fissure in the ocean bed, so you’ll have to dive and swim it. For those of us who no longer need to breathe, the swim is not an uncomfortable one. I have an oxygen tank ready for you to use should you need it. The technology is passive enough that it works.”

What Duncan referred to was how the concentrated magic in Other lands suppressed certain technologies, especially those that acted on some principle of combustion. Among other things, electricity, guns and other modern weaponry did not work in Other lands, or if they worked, they did so only briefly and with chaotic and destructive consequences, which was why Niniane’s friend Cameron had died when she shot Naida Riordan.

Passive technologies, like composting toilets, hypocaust systems, Melitta coffee filters, modern crossbow and compound bow designs, or designs that utilized solar heat worked just fine in Other lands. An oxygen tank was simply a vessel of compressed air that was released through a tube in a slow, controlled fashion. Filling an oxygen tank required a compressor, which would not work in an Other land, but the tank itself would be safe to use throughout the passage until it ran out of its supply.

Rune considered. “How long is the underwater passageway?”

Duncan told him, “I can swim it in just over ten minutes.”

“I don’t need the tank,” said Rune. “I’ll be fine.” He bent to pick up his duffle. “I could use something watertight to put this in, though. It isn’t much, a couple of changes of clothes, toothbrush and razor, Stephen King novel, yadda yadda.” Along with an iPod, iPhone, a few more PowerBars, Glock and ammo, knives, a garotte, some throwing stars. Yadda yadda. The Glock, phone and iPod would travel fine as long as he didn’t try to use them until he got back.

“We’ve got something you can use,” Duncan said.

Rune took a half turn toward the door and regarded the Vampyre with an expectant expression. Moving along, here. Next phase. Gotta show up for my first day of work on time. I’ll be trimming the lawn with a pair of manicure scissors. Trimming the whole island with a pair of manicure scissors? That’s a thousand years right there, baby.

Duncan was staring at the tips of his polished shoes and frowning.

Perhaps a human might have seen a man deep in thought. Rune was a predator and far older than the human race. His focus narrowed. He watched how the Vampyre took a deep breath in an old habit he had not needed in over a hundred and twenty years. He noted the miniscule tightening around Duncan’s pleasant, dark eyes, and the shift in the near invisible sheen on Duncan’s silk tie as he swallowed.

Rune had earned his place as Dragos’s First many centuries ago for a host of Powerful reasons. But there were other reasons why Rune was Dragos’s First, and they had nothing to do with Power. Rune said in a quiet voice, “You got something you want to tell me, son?”

Duncan’s gaze lifted quickly. “I have many things I want to tell you. I find that, for one reason or another, I am constrained.”

“Attorney-client privilege?” Rune asked.

“That, and also there are constraints from my maker.”

“Who is your maker?” Rune asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Carling.” Duncan gave him a self-conscious lopsided smile that was unexpectedly endearing. “I am her youngest.”

Seriously, awww.

“Well, Duncan,” Rune said. “Is there anything you want to tell me that you actually can tell me?”

Duncan’s smile faded, and in that moment he didn’t look young at all. He looked old, grieving, and more than a little frightened.

“Please be careful,” Duncan said.

Carling unfolded a well-worn piece of paper and laid it on the polished granite countertop near the stove. She consulted the handwritten instructions that had been prepared for her by a human attendant.