Brothers to the Death

“It’s time we had a chat,” Arra said, then brushed ahead and waited for him at the door to his suite.

Arra cast a scornful eye around the room when she entered, unimpressed by the florid furniture and antiques. “Do you sleep in the bed?” she asked.

“Where else?” Larten replied.

“I laid hands on a coffin when I came here,” she said. “I’ve had it shipped from one hotel to another. Beds are for humans.”

Larten smiled. “You sound like Vancha March.”

“A most noble vampire,” Arra nodded, then sat on the least comfortable-looking chair and studied Larten seriously. She hadn’t changed much since he had first met her. By no means beautiful, but pretty in her own way. She’d picked up scars in battle since she’d become a vampire, and was leaner than when she’d served as Evanna’s apprentice. But she wore the same brown clothes, and in the dim light she could have passed for a teenager.

“You spoke passionately tonight,” Arra noted.

“I said what was in my heart.”

“The Nazis didn’t like being called monsters.”

Larten shrugged. “Perhaps that was uncalled for. But their smug smiles sicken me. I wished to wipe the grins from their faces.”

“You certainly did that.” Like Mika, Arra gave no sign whether she felt Larten had been right to speak the way he had. Before he could ask, she said, “Why don’t you like me any more?”

Larten blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You craved me before. You tried to sweet talk me into taking you as a mate on many occasions. Even when you weren’t openly flattering me, your gaze trailed me everywhere I went. But now you look away when I’m around. Why?”

Larten laughed. “Evanna herself could not have put the question in more direct a fashion!”

“Never mind that barmy old witch,” Arra huffed. “Tell me why I repulse you.”

“You do not repulse me,” Larten said softly. “On the contrary, I think you are as striking as ever. But circumstances have changed. There is another woman…”

“You’ve mated?” Arra snapped.

“No. She is human.”

“Then you’ve married?”

“No.”

“You’re engaged?” Arra pressed.

“Not exactly.”

Arra’s dark brown eyes hardened. “Are you even partners?”

Larten cleared his throat. “We were in the past, but now we are just friends.”

“You wish to be more,” Arra guessed, “but she won’t have you.”

“She thinks she is too old for me.” Larten thought that Arra would laugh, but she didn’t. Instead she stunned him with her next sentence.

“I have a mate. I mated five years ago with Darvin Allegra. You don’t know him. He’s a fine General, a fierce fighter, though not as passionate in the coffin as I had hoped he’d be.”

“Arra!” Larten gasped. “You cannot say things like that!”

“I can if it’s true,” she retorted.

“What about Mika? I always thought…”

She shook her head. “I rejected his advances in the past, and I doubt if he will ever choose a mate now. He has no time for love these nights. He takes his duties as a Prince very seriously.”

“Why did Darvin not come here with you?” Larten asked.

“He wasn’t invited,” Arra said. “Business is business. Besides, he knows I plan to take you as a mate in the future and he’s jealous. I don’t think he–”

“Stop!” Larten roared, blushing furiously. “How can you say such things when you already have a partner?”

“I’ll be free in two years,” Arra said. “It was a seven-year agreement and I have no intention of signing up for another spell. I’ll be faithful to Darvin for the next twenty-four months, but after that…”

Larten gawped at the dark-haired vampiress. “You were never this frank in the past,” he mumbled. “You teased me and kept me at arm’s length.”

“That’s what young women do to their admirers,” Arra sniffed. “But I’m older. I’m not interested in games now. We would be good together, so it’s time we stopped fooling around.”

“Do I have any say in the matter?” Larten growled.

“Not much,” Arra said.

Larten could do nothing but laugh. When he’d finished chuckling, he sat close to Arra and took her hand. Her nails were sharp and jagged, and he was reminded of Evanna’s nails when she’d scarred his face. He thought he might get scarred again tonight, but he didn’t shy away from Arra as he spoke.

“I am fond of you, and once I was much more than fond. But I will not divide my loyalties. I love Alicia – the woman of whom I spoke – and I can think of no other while she has my heart.”

“Have you been reading poetry?” Arra frowned.

“I never learnt to read,” Larten said.

“But others have read poems to you?”

“On occasion,” he admitted.

“Damn poets,” Arra snarled. “They complicate everything.” She squinted at the orange-haired vampire. “How old is your woman?”

“It would not be polite to state her age,” Larten murmured.

“Is she in good health?” Arra asked. “Does she have twenty years left? Thirty? I don’t mind waiting a few decades until she dies, but if it’s more than that I might get restless.”

“Be careful,” Larten growled. “I will not have you speak so lightly of such grave matters.”

“Nonsense,” Arra huffed. “Humans lead short lives. That’s the way it is. Don’t tell me you plan to mourn for the next few centuries after she dies and remain true to her memory?”

Larten reared back and prepared a stinging insult. But before he could deliver it, somebody knocked on his door. As he stood, glaring at Arra, the door opened and Mika Ver Leth entered.

“Am I interrupting?” the Prince asked, sensing tension in the air.

Larten almost told Mika that he was, but then he smiled tightly. “No, Sire. Arra was just leaving.”

“No, stay,” Mika said as Arra rose. “You should hear this too.” He closed the door and stepped closer to Larten. His expression was as guarded as ever. “You said a lot with few words tonight.”

“I spoke honestly, Sire, as you bid,” Larten responded.

Mika nodded. “I was aware of your dislike of our German suitors – you haven’t learnt to hide your emotions as artfully as I have – but I didn’t know you felt so strongly about them. Do you stand by everything that you said?”

“Aye,” Larten said evenly.

“Good,” Mika grunted. “The Nazis disgust me. I’m pleased you feel the same way. They’re creatures of destruction and hatred. I had to be diplomatic and give them every opportunity to present their case. But I’ve been drawing closer to my decision all the time, and tonight settled matters for me.

“I’m sorry I asked you to speak your mind in front of such vile animals,” Mika went on, “but I needed to bait them, to give them one last chance to deny such foul accusations. If they weren’t monsters, they would have argued when you criticised them. But since they are, they could only threaten violence. I couldn’t be the one to enrage them, so I used you. Again, my apologies.”

Larten smiled. “You have nothing to apologise for, Sire. It was a pleasure to tell them what I thought. If I had known of your intentions, I would have treated them to even more of my mind.”

“No, that was enough,” Mika said. Then he sighed. “Franz was truthful about one thing — a storm is coming. But it’s a storm of their making. Humanity is in for a rough ride, I fear. They are heading towards another Great War, and this one could be even worse than the last.

“We must play no part in the atrocities. We cannot even afford to observe, in case the Nazis capture and manipulate us into doing their bidding.”

“No human can catch a vampire,” Arra snorted.

“These might,” Mika disagreed. “They’re cunning. It will be best if we don’t give them the chance. I’m leaving tonight to spread the word — I want every vampire out of Europe. If some are determined to stay, I’ll urge them to keep deeper to the shadows than ever. We probably have a few years before war erupts, but the sooner we slip free of this spreading net of fascism, the better.

“I need you and Gavner to distract them,” he said to Larten. “When you meet with Franz tomorrow, tell him I’ve left to discuss the matter with the other Princes. Make it seem as if you think I’m angry with you, that I plan to pledge our forces to the Nazi cause. String him along. When he realises he’s been played for a fool, flee. Take to the hills, but don’t flit. Let them track you. I think the Nazis will trail you in the hope that you’ll lead them to Vampire Mountain. Keep that hope alive for as long as you can. Stretch it out for months… years if possible. The longer they focus their attention on you and Gavner, the more time the rest of us will have to evacuate.”

“We will lead them on the mother of all wild goose chases,” Larten promised, eyes alight. He would drag them through the harshest, most uncomfortable corners of the world. He doubted that Franz would smile so much then!

Mika clasped Larten’s shoulder and squeezed. “Stay alert,” he warned. “These men are dangerous. They might try to trap you if they suspect that they’re being led astray. If that happens and they block all avenues of escape, you’ll better serve the clan dead than alive. Understand?”

“We will do whatever we have to,” Larten said steadily.

“I trust you completely,” Mika said, “but Gavner is young. Maybe I should send Arra with you instead.”

“No!” Larten yelped. When Mika looked at him strangely, Larten forced a weak chuckle. “I have faith in Gavner Purl. This will be a good test for him. If I think that he is struggling, I will send him back to Vampire Mountain. But I believe he will prove himself.”

“Very well,” Mika said and covered his face with his right hand, placing the tip of his middle finger to his forehead and spreading the adjoining fingers. “Even in death may you be triumphant.”

Mika departed. Arra followed, but paused at the door and glanced back with a veiled smile. “This isn’t over,” she purred. “We’ll discuss our relationship in more depth later.”

Before Larten could protest, she slipped out, leaving him alone in the large, ornate suite, to marvel at the fact that he was more worried by Arra than he was by the army of Nazis which would soon be hot on his and Gavner’s trail.

Larten was ready to strangle Gavner. He had endured more than three months of his assistant’s snoring and it was driving him mad. He’d tried herbal medicines, pegs on Gavner’s nose, even a gag, but nothing worked. He rarely got more than a couple of hours’ sleep most days. He was tired and irritated, and he blamed it all on Gavner Purl.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gavner yawned, sitting up and stretching. They had spent another day in a coffin in a crypt. Gavner had enjoyed a perfect day’s sleep, but Larten had been up for the past hour and looked as sour as a pinched baby.

“Three guesses,” Larten snapped, shooting Gavner a dark look.

Gavner laughed. “Don’t tell me I was snoring again.”

“I think you do it just to annoy me,” Larten growled.

“You should move to another coffin if it’s that bad.”

Larten’s expression darkened and he muttered foul curses beneath his breath. It had been his idea to share a coffin. They holed up in graveyards most days, although sometimes they slept in barns or old ruins. They could easily have slept apart, but Larten thought it would be safer if they stayed together. He worried that the Nazis might divide and capture one of them otherwise.

The Germans had been pursuing them for the past three months, ever since Franz realised Mika wasn’t returning. Negotiations had broken down and the officer was replaced by one who never smiled and who demanded Larten agree to his terms immediately — or else. Sensing that he had pushed them as far as he could, Larten stole away that night and he and Gavner had been on the run since.

Larten was enjoying the game of cat and mouse. He and Gavner kept one step ahead of the Nazis, moving swiftly every night, but never so fast that they couldn’t be tracked. The Nazis had almost trapped them a few times, surrounded graveyards where they were sleeping and moved in for the kill. If Larten had been human, he and Gavner would have been caught, but his sharp sense of hearing had alerted him to the threat each time and they’d managed to break free.

On one occasion the Nazis outsmarted them and sent their forces ahead of the vampires to stake out a number of graveyards in advance. That had almost been the end — they’d faced a desperate dash at dawn to find somewhere safe to rest, ending up beneath the roots of an ancient tree. Ants and other insects had made it a long, uncomfortable day. Since then Larten had varied their route, following no set pattern, deciding each day at dusk which direction to take.

Larten wasn’t sure how long the Nazis would dog their trail. Mika thought they would hound him for years. Larten doubted they were patient enough to follow him for that long, but so far they’d shown no sign of quitting. They had doubled their numbers, then doubled them again, even following the pair when they crossed the border into lands where Germans were far from welcome. Larten could have revealed the Nazis’ presence to the local authorities, but his task was to lead them on, not have them locked up.

The only real downside was Gavner’s snoring. It truly was as bad as Larten claimed. Some days he made more noise than one of the polar bears which Larten had wrestled with years earlier during their trek across the plains of Greenland.

“Perhaps if I cut off your nose…” Larten muttered, only half-joking.

“You go anywhere near my nose and I’ll slice off your ears,” Gavner retorted.

“You were not this bad when you were a child.”

“How do you know? You never checked on me when I was asleep.”

“Yes I did,” Larten protested.

“Don’t lie,” Gavner tutted. “Alicia always tucked me in and looked after me if I stirred in the night. She told me I was a terrible snorer from the start.”

“Then you admit it!” Larten pounced.

“Maybe I snore a little,” Gavner grinned.

The younger vampire moved to the mouth of the crypt and stared at the rows of headstones and crosses. It was almost dusk, but the light still hurt his eyes and he had to shield them with a hand.

“How come you don’t mind the sun so much?” he asked Larten.

“Your eyes adjust after fifty or sixty years,” Larten told him.

Gavner grimaced. “I hate the way you make the decades sound so casual. Fifty years is a long time.”

“I thought so too once,” Larten said, although honestly he couldn’t remember when fifty years had seemed like an age. Like most vampires who had been around for more than a century, he had the impression that he’d always been off-hand about the passage of time. He had forgotten the impatience of his youth, the way years had dragged. He no longer regarded the future with unease, wondering how he’d fill so many long nights. As a General of good standing, he had more things to worry about than killing time.

“You must get bored,” Gavner said. “There must be nights when you feel like you’ve been alive forever, and the thought of enduring more drives you insane.”

Larten cocked an eyebrow at Gavner. “You sound like a Cub. Perhaps you need to spend some time with vampires your own age.”

“That lot of losers?” Gavner snorted. “No chance!”

They had run into a pack of Cubs several years earlier. There weren’t as many as there had been in Larten’s youth. Vampires only rarely blooded children now, and new recruits were given more time to adjust to the ways of the clan before being asked to commit themselves. As a result, few felt as restless as Larten once had. Most were not inclined to break away from the clan for a decade or two.

But some young vampires still gathered in different parts of the globe every so often, to mix with humans and lead a free and easy life before giving themselves over completely to the vampire cause. When Gavner had been introduced to a pack, he reacted with scorn. The high-living, dandyish members reminded him of Tanish Eul and he felt nothing but contempt for them. His response delighted Larten, although he did feel a pang of shame when he considered how low an opinion Gavner would have had of him if they had met back when he went by the name of Quicksilver.

“Are there any exercises I can do to make my eyes stronger?” Gavner asked.

“Try focusing on far-off objects,” Larten said. “Fix on something in the distance and hold on it with your eyes almost shut. Slowly widen them. When the pain goes away, take a break, then focus on something else and repeat.”

“That will help?” Gavner asked dubiously.

“You will start to notice a difference fairly soon,” Larten said.

“How soon exactly?”

“Ten or fifteen years,” Larten said with a straight face.

Gavner glared, not sure if the older vampire was joking or not. Muttering to himself – much as Larten had moments earlier – he settled against the wall of the crypt near the door and commenced the exercise. Hiding a smile, Larten set about preparing their first meal of the night. He cooked a couple of rabbits which Gavner had caught earlier, using collapsible pans which Evanna had given him.

“Any rumblings from the Nazis during the day?” Gavner asked after a while.

“How could I hear anything over the sound of your snoring?” Larten replied.

“Stuffy old bat,” Gavner grunted. “You should loosen up and pull your head out of your…” He stopped. Larten thought it was because he didn’t want to complete the insult, but seconds later Gavner said, “Someone’s there.”

“Where?” Larten darted to Gavner’s side.

Gavner pointed. “On the outskirts of the graveyard. Under that tree. I can’t see anyone now, but there was a man a moment ago.”

“A Nazi?” Larten asked.

“I don’t think so. He was small, white hair, dressed in yellow.”

“With green boots?” Larten said quickly.

“Yes. You know him?”

“Aye.” Larten’s face was dark.

“Is he a vampire?”

Larten shook his head. “If your eyes were sharper, you would have seen a heart-shaped watch sticking out of his breast pocket.”

Gavner drew a sharp breath. “Mr Tiny?”

“I suspect so.”

Larten had told Gavner much about the mysterious meddler, the man of ancient years who claimed to be an agent of destiny. For a long time he had said nothing of their meeting in Greenland, when Desmond Tiny pulled him back from the brink of a deadly fall, sparing both their lives for dark, unknowable reasons of his own. But finally, since Gavner kept asking, he told the full story even though it troubled the young vampire.

“Why is he here?” Gavner asked, searching with his gaze for the strange, short man. “Doesn’t he only turn up when terrible things are about to happen?”

“He is never far from disaster,” Larten said, “but he sometimes pays visits for other reasons.” He hesitated, then decided this was as good an occasion as any to tell Gavner another of his secrets. “This is not the first time he has trailed us.”

Gavner looked around, his eyes narrowing, but not from the sunlight.

“I have caught glimpses of him several times over the decades,” Larten said. “He circles us occasionally, keeping his distance, watching.”

“Why?” Gavner snapped.

Larten shrugged.

“Maybe we should go after him,” Gavner suggested. “Face up to him. Make him explain why he follows us.”

“There is no point,” Larten sighed. “He never comes close enough to catch. The nearest he came to me was when I visited my old home last year.”

Larten had been back to the city of his birth a few times with Gavner. He liked to keep an eye on the place. Relatives of his still lived there, and although he had not tracked down any of them, he felt connected. Whenever he was within easy travelling distance, he made time to swing by and make sure that all was well with the people who had been his before he was accepted into the clan.

“I was on the roof of the house where my parents used to live,” Larten went on. “You were asleep — snoring, it goes without saying. Mr Tiny appeared on the roof next to mine. I thought he was going to say something – he stood there for ages, looking at me directly – but then he turned and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gavner asked.

“I saw no reason to trouble you.”

Gavner scowled. “I’m not a child. I don’t need to be protected.”

“It had nothing to do with protection,” Larten said. “I simply did not wish to burden you with information which would have been of no use to you.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t have been useful?” Gavner grumbled. “I could have watched out for him. I might have been able to trap him.”

“No one can trap Desmond Tiny,” Larten said. “When he does not want to be approached, it is impossible to get close to him. While he obviously finds the pair of us fascinating for some reason, it is equally clear that he has no interest in speaking with us. We would only waste our time if we–”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” somebody said brightly, and both vampires reeled away from the entrance to the crypt.

As they recovered, they saw someone squatting outside the mouth of their den. He was blocking most of the light, but as he ducked forward, their eyes focused on a chubby, rosy, beaming face.

“Well,” Mr Tiny chuckled, rocking back and forth on his heels, shattering a small bone underfoot as he did so, “isn’t anyone going to invite me in?”

Larten offered Mr Tiny one of the rabbits, but he turned it down. “I prefer my meat raw,” he said scoldingly. “Where’s the pleasure in eating if you can’t feel the juices streaming down your chin as you bite in?”

The short man was perched on one of the coffins. He had kicked off his left boot and was scratching the flesh of his foot with a bone he’d picked up from the ground. Larten was intrigued to see that Mr Tiny’s toes were webbed.

“You’ve grown a lot since our paths first crossed,” Mr Tiny said to Gavner.

“That was a long time ago,” Gavner said softly.

“Hardly,” Mr Tiny snorted, then eyed Gavner critically. “You were an ugly baby. At least that much hasn’t changed.”

Gavner bristled, but Mr Tiny only laughed and turned his attention to Larten. “I assume you’re aware of the dozens of stout-hearted Germans dogging your every move?”

“Yes,” Larten said.

Mr Tiny flicked the bone he’d been scratching his foot with up into the air. He let it spin a couple of times, then caught it and proceeded to pick his teeth with it. Larten raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. There was a long silence. Gavner felt uneasy, but Larten and Mr Tiny both looked at ease.

Mr Tiny broke the silence. “You’ve matured since I saved you in that palace of ice. You remind me of Seba Nile now, serious and boring.”

“I am not a jester,” Larten said calmly. “It is not my job to amuse you.”

Mr Tiny scowled. “I preferred you when you were suicidal.” He cast a cat-like glance at Gavner. “Has he told you about the time he nearly leapt to his death?”

“Yes,” Gavner said.

Mr Tiny rolled his eyes. “You two are about as much fun as…” He grumbled his way into silence again.

Larten cleared his throat. “Have you travelled far?”

“I’m always travelling,” Mr Tiny replied. “I never stop in one place for long. There’s always some new tragedy to enjoy, a fresh disaster which merits an audience. I don’t get home often.”

“You have a home?” Gavner asked.

“Of course,” Mr Tiny said. “Every man needs a place to put his feet up and call his castle. I might take you there one day, Master Purl. You could tell me tall tales and admire my collection.”

“What do you collect?” Gavner asked, but Mr Tiny waved the question away and cocked his head. “Ah. Here they come. Better late than never.”