If he’d been angry before, the mere sight of these two brought his feelings to a fever pitch. Old, simmering hatred welled up inside. Alex had never seen them before, couldn’t know them from Adam, and yet his hands balled into fists and began to tremble. It was all he could do to keep control of it.
The Englishman sighed for effect and turned his attention back to Alex. “I am the Lord Mayor George Wentworth of New York. Like my friend and ally, Lord Cornelius,” he said, emphasizing the words-though several behind him smirked at the sound of it-he continued, “I am a longstanding ally of the Lady Anastacia of this city. I believe you may have met her?”
“I might’ve heard that name,” Alex growled, “but I don’t remember.”
“You would remember the Lady’s grace and majesty,” assured Wentworth.
“That’s not how I’d describe you guys,” Alex shook his head.
“Mr. Carlisle, we know you were the subject of a search by her court and by the Brotherhood of Apollo. We know of the involvement of demons from the Pit. You will find no salvation in being either evasive or insolent.”
“What do you want?”
“Closure,” Wentworth said, his calm returning once more. “We seek to resolve this issue and move on. It must be conducted in front of many witnesses so that no accusations of skullduggery or treachery live on after the fact.” His arms spread wide to indicate the assembly of vampires around him. “Your opinions and motives are irrelevant… though we would like to hear whom you serve. The Lady also sought out someone named Lorelei. Lord Cornelius knows of a certain demon by that name. Is she your mistress?”
“I don’t serve anybody,” Alex replied, still holding his anger in check. His thoughts bent further and further toward violence, but he had friends here. He had to think of them first. Stalling offered the best bet for their survival.
“There was a party hosted by the Lady,” Wentworth went on, “and now the home that held it is nothing but ashes and ruin. Do you know what happened there?”
“Your lady friend and her buddies kidnapped me. They wanted to hand me over to bad people. It didn’t go so well for them.”
Hisses and murmurs swept the crowd. Wentworth looked to Cornelius before speaking again. “Mr. Carlisle, is the Lady dead?”
“I don’t know,” Alex answered honestly. His eyes stayed mostly on the pair of long-haired vampires. He knew they were deadly raiders. He knew they were liars and scum. They’d ruined his life… when?
“You don’t know?”
“Like I said, they were working for other people,” Alex shrugged. “They got in the way. All I did was defend myself. I had no beef with them.”
“Ah. Beef. How appropriate. Tell me, would your mortal courts recognize the self-defense plea of a cow after it had gored its butcher? I think not.”
“…what?”
“You are mortal,” Wentworth said. “You exist as servants and food. Chattel. If the Lady sought to give you to another, it was your place to be given. To be clear,” Wentworth added with a shrug, “I explain more for the benefit of my associates than for you or your friends. Mortals are entitled to no explanations.”
Alex let that process. His scowl remained. “Well, fuck you, clown.”
“The wit of modern youth,” spat Cornelius.
“Step up, Cornholio. I’ll give you some modern wit right up your ass.”
The remark caused an obvious stir among the vampires. “You challenge me?” Cornelius laughed.
“It is no formal challenge, my lord,” Wentworth noted.
“His meaning is plain!”
“He is mortal. We should no sooner honor a challenge laid by a pig.”
“It seems clear to me, Lord Wentworth,” said the blond Nordic vampire. “Do not complicate the matter. We are here to see Lady Anastacia avenged, one way or another.”
“But we should do so properly, Bjorn,” pressed Wentworth, “and without dignifying this mortal trash with a trial by combat or a duel.”
“Oh, just look at him, Wentworth!” snarled Cornelius. “What skill in combat do you think him to have?”
“We could ask those who were with Lady Anastacia,” spoke up a short, pale Japanese woman in old, formal silks. “Perhaps a séance to speak with the dead? We might learn how many the boy has struck down.”
“Other supernaturals were involved,” Wentworth replied with a dismissive wave. “We know Lady Anastacia had trouble with mongrels in the area, and we know of her entanglements with sorcerers. Let’s not jump to conclusions about this boy’s relevance.” Others murmured in agreement.
“No, no, no, I’m game.” Alex piped up. He didn’t understand vampire politics, but he recognized the opportunity. “I challenge. Sure. Whatever you call it. Me and Cornholio-“
“Stop saying that!” Cornelius seethed.
“-one on one. I take him out, you let us go.”
“Alex,” hissed Amber, “what the hell are you doing?”
“Fuck if I know,” he grunted, lowering his voice. “Stalling mostly.”
“For what?”
“The cavalry,” Jason murmured. Amber turned to him with a questioning look. “It’ll come,” he assured her. “Just gotta hang in there.”
Wentworth’s brow furrowed and a sneer curled up on his lip. “You are here to be executed, Mr. Carlisle,” he explained. “There is no trial. You have no rights. You will die tonight.”
“Lord Mayor Wentworth,” said Cornelius, “you have acted as our voice tonight, but as the eldest here, I claim the right to act as our society’s hand. I need no proper challenge to justify myself in silencing this brat.”
The Nordic vampires grunted in agreement. So did many of the others. No one seemed able to come up with a viable objection. Wentworth stiffened. “Very well, Lord Cornelius,” he said. “As you say, he has no right to challenge, but no right to mercy or his impudence, either.”
“Excellent,” Cornelius growled. He stepped forward with his blade drawn.
Alex rose to his feet. Neither of the vampires at his side stopped him. Instead, they withdrew. “Wait, I don’t get a weapon?” Alex asked. “What kinda crap is this?”
“It is your death, brat,” answered Cornelius.
“You have no rights in our society,” shrugged Wentworth.
“I call bullshit,” Alex argued.
“Tell it to your carpenter god,” Cornelius sneered, “after I’ve taken your head and drained your corpse of your blood.”
Amber and Jason looked on as Alex began to shake. His hands remained balled up into fists, with his knuckles now running white. Neither knew how to stop this or how to interrupt. Jason thought to go down fighting with his friend if he could get up quickly enough.
“Oh, you fucking wuss,” Alex snarled. “You’re that afraid of a stand-up fight?”
Bjorn’s bearded companion spat in disgust. “Would you cower from this mortal boy?” he asked Cornelius.
“No vampire has dared challenged me in centuries,” Cornelius countered, his eyes narrowing. “I fear no one. You know this well.”
“Then show us why,” Unferth nodded, gesturing to Alex. “He has challenged.”
“He has no rights-“ Wentworth repeated.
Unferth held up his hand to cut Wentworth off. “We will not be called cowards by anyone, vampire or even mortal. It is not about him.” Unferth jerked his broadsword from his belt and tossed it to Alex’s feet. He looked at Cornelius. “It is about you. We would see you fight, Lord Cornelius. Even if only against a mortal stripling.”
Debate ceased as Alex leaned over to take up the blade. He struck a ridiculous image, clad in pajamas and a bathrobe and holding a broadsword.
“Do you even know how to hold a blade?” Cornelius taunted.
“I played Dungeons amp; Dragons a few times,” Alex deadpanned.
“You always played the wizard,” muttered Jason.
“Whatever.” Alex hefted the sword, swung it around, and gave no particular impression of having any real skill. It was balanced like a real blade, unlike the shiny pieces of crap offered in knife shops in the mall. The grip felt familiar, even if the metal seemed different. It felt like modern steel in an old, trustworthy shape. They’d given him a real weapon, not a showpiece.