Pandora's Box: Book 3 of the Crystal Raven Series

Messengers reached the old fortress. Every day there were always a few who slipped over the walls and found their masters, but tonight, by midnight, almost three scores had reached the no longer secret conclave of the Vampyre High Lords. Don Sao frowned as another two or three shadows slipped over the wall. It was difficult to remain so cut off from the world when so much was happening. The High Lords were currently sitting in council, but the number of men and women anxious to see them could only mean bad news. Judging by the colours of their liveries, something had stirred up all the vampyre nations, and that could only be the Brotherhood – or demons.

He stopped one he recognized, Carlos, his lady’s man. “What is going on?”

“We don’t know,” Carlos muttered, his voice a mere whisper. “The Eaters of the Dead are leaving the conclaves.”

“They do that,” Don Sao offered, shrugging, “ahead of a flood or an earthquake. They are closer to animals and sense these things.”

“All of them, from every conclave that I visited,” Carlos hissed.

The European messengers were the first to come, having less distance to travel. The Middle Eastern and the Africans were the next, but before long, they were coming from every corner of the world, all waiting in anxious clumps to speak with their particular High Lord. The council was sitting, and tradition said they could not be disturbed. Don Sao considered. He and his lady were not the hosts here, although the region was technically within their sphere of control. Turkey was one of those funny places, where the borders of two Vampyre nations met in the middle of a mortal country. Finally, he moved to speak to the tipstaff.

“Let one messenger go to each High Lord,” he suggested. “This is something that should not wait.”

The tipstaff considered. On principle, he did not want to concede a point to this Youngling, who had no place dictating to one from the most Ancient clans, but the upstart was right. If the Eaters of the Dead were leaving the conclaves, something was happening, and since they had left all the conclaves, this could only impact the Vampyre people as a whole. The Egyptian nodded.

Inside the council chamber, Jiro stood behind High Lord Yoshio Kagawa, waiting patiently to give his report to the council. At the moment, the Brotherhood document was making its rounds of the table, scoffed at by some, minutely inspected by others. When it came to Delph, he waved it away with a bored hand, and Angelique raised a questioning eyebrow. He nodded subtly to her. Not everything that he had learned, nor all his plans needed to be shared. Everything in its season and some things were best never to be spoken. And if spoken, not where anyone could overhear in a world where knowledge was power.

“Speak,” Kagawa barked.

“Hai.” Jiro bowed. “Honoured Ones. My Hand made it’s way to New York City as ordered. The city crawls with the Brotherhood. Maybe two full Choirs. We contacted the Black Lotus as ordered. She managed to pass on this parchment before we were discovered, and the Brotherhood killed her.”

“Are you sure she is dead?” The Egyptian questioned sharply.

“A specialist I have never seen or heard of before attacked us during the meeting,” Jiro’s voice grew shaky, and his eyes became round with remembered fear. “He caught up the Black Lotus in a stream of white-hot fire. Like the breath of a dragon.”

Delph snapped his fingers. The cloaked figure at his side lowered his hood, the torchlight flickering off his bald pate and casting lurid shadows on his ruined face. An Inquisitionist.

“The girl did not expect the attack any more than the rest of us,” he chanted. “I could no longer sense her presence in this life. But the document is a fake. The Brotherhood will not go to the Valley of the Kings, but to Mount Arafat.”

The tipstaff opened the door, and eleven men and women ghosted into the room. Each stopped before one of the High Lords, bending to whisper urgently in their ears. The Inquisitionist turned. “My Lord?”

Delph raised an indolent eyebrow.

“They tell their lords that the Eaters of the Dead have left the conclaves,” he paused, “but you know that already.”

“They come here,” Delph replied, speaking so everyone could hear him.

“How would you know?” the Indian vampyre demanded.

“Because I have summoned them,” Delph laughed. “We Younglings all have our little talents. My bloodline has always been able to command the Eaters of the Dead – a little gift from my mother. Armageddon is coming, and our people will be ready.”