Eternal Night

(II) Chapter 38: A Declaration of War

"Dracula hasn't been seen or heard from in over a year," he reminded her, even as she took on a look of pure boredom, pretending to study her cuticle situation. "Neither hair nor hide. Knowing him, he's probably crawled off to that absurd fortress of ice and stone in the mountains to live out the rest of his days licking his wounds."

"A pity he proved to be so disappointing," she said, ignoring the sidelong glance Marcus was now sending her. "I would have expected more from the dragon."

"Never underestimate the power of a blood-bond," was all he said.

"But the brats still live. You should have killed them when you had the chance."

"A rare act of mercy on my part, I'll admit, but the suffering it caused to all parties involved was too good to pass up. Of course, if they keep popping up in my city after I told them to stay away, they won't be living for much longer," he grumbled, reaching down for his shirt, though he didn't put it on right away.

"I still think you should have destroyed them and been done with it," Sonya continued, sitting up. "I mean – Krisztian offed Hal with very little effort."

Something that looked very much like remorse ghosted over Marcus' face for just an instant before vanishing a half-second later. Fortunately for him, the woman missed it entirely.

"I promised Vladislaus he would pay for what he did – and I've delivered that ten times over. As irritating as his little blood-bound pets are, my fight was never with them. Only with him," and he started to pull his shirt on when the door to Sonya's apartments flew open unexpectedly.

The woman managed to lift the blood-stained sheets up to cover herself just as Basilio entered the bedroom, clearly in a rage. Councilman Ildar was close behind, an apologetic look on his face.

"You fool!" the Spider was shouting. "You fucking incompetent fool!"

"Get out!" Augustine barked, but the man was still moving, headed straight for the television set on the wall facing the bed. Marcus sent Ildar a venomous look and was ready to bite off his head for letting Basilio even get this far into the palace, but he stopped when he noticed how pale the man was.

Ildar opened his mouth, clearly attempting to explain, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Any noise was lost in his throat before his shoulders fell in resignation.

Augustine was about to demand an explanation, when Basilio turned on the TV, using the remote to turn up the volume a little louder than was probably necessary.

What was playing stole Marcus' breath.

His lifeless heart plummeted to the floor as his stomach churned. It took every ounce of self-mastery he possessed to keep his face neutral – but even to the untrained eye, the disbelief in his gaze could be seen.

On the screen, secretly recorded footage of the night he had ordered the release of the virus into the city was playing – complete with subtitles, and a bloody timestamp no less.

But how?

"It's on every fucking channel in the entire city," Basilio snarled. "And it's been playing for over an hour – the greatest hits of your bloody inept regime. The virus, the dhampir disappearances, the ordered attacks on the wolves... every meeting, every deal, even the fucking conversations you and I were supposed to be having in private," and he jammed his fingers against the screen for effect. "Years of footage, Marcus! Fucking decades of it! It's like someone has been dedicating the last forty years to compiling your greatest hits!" and he chucked the remote against the nearest wall, not caring that it shattered on impact.