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There are going to be questions. Harsh questions. I don’t want another wolf purge happening.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Why not? It can’t get any more destroyed.”
“Because you have the tact and diplomatic sense of a Tasmanian Devil. Because your subjects are going to be horrified at the loss of history. There were books here that didn’t exist anywhere else in the world, and now…”
“Yes. Well. Very sad. You know, historically, the thing all great libraries do is burn down. It's just what happens when you collect a lot of paper.”
“Lorien!” Henry growled.
“Listen, please go back to the house. Please. If they find you here, they’re going to blame you. It was one thing to have you make a show of power last night. I won’t be able to stop what happens next if they come in great enough numbers.”
“I don’t think you’re safe to leave unattended.”
“Stop patronizing me and go.”
Henry left, though not without saying that they were going to have to talk about this later, which probably meant Lorien was going to have to endure a great many obvious statements about it being important to be more careful, etc., etc., etc.
Once Henry was in a car and on his way home, Lorien had time to take stock. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it had seemed at first…
It was worse.
The building was basically gone. Maybe some of the books could be retrieved from beneath rubble. Did books care if they got a bit buried? Probably not.
"This is fine,” he said to himself.
“This is not fine.”
He heard another voice. One he didn’t recognize. A vampire, obviously. Probably some asshole with an opinion. Worst fucking timing ever. Lorien did not have long before the sun started cooking him from the inside out. If one of the older day walkers was able to poke around, cause trouble…
“Listen, buddy, we’re doing some reconstruction here. If you'd like to come back…”
He turned to find himself looking into an expression of absolute domination. The bearer of the expression was tall and broad shouldered, powerfully built with almond-caramel skin and dark lashes ringing eyes of near pure blackness, each of which boasted a ring of bright gold around the cornea. High cheekbones and perfectly formed features contained a patient but dangerous spirit. He had to be at least six foot six, possibly taller. He was wearing a loin cloth, which on anybody else would have made him look like he just stepped out of a frat party, but on him looked correct. He had a thick, lustrous mane of hair and an air of ancient authority.
Lorien was not the sort to respect another vampire on sight, but finding himself before this creature, he was fighting the very odd urge to kneel, or at least, bow.
“Who are you?”
“I am your maker.” The vampire spoke in rich, deep tones, and an accent Lorien had never heard before. Something Middle Eastern, perhaps?
“I’m pretty sure you’re not,” Lorien said. “I’d remember you.”
The creature smiled, white teeth flashing in a way that made Lorien draw back. This thing had two sets of upper fangs. One next to the other, both flashing with unseemly sharpness. Lorien caught a glimpse of sharp lower teeth too. He felt his stomach sort of freeze, as if he were being slowly turned to stone just by being near the creature. Most vampires, no, all vampires were made. But there were stories, stories that had once been contained in the Library before it was exploded, that had told of predecessors, a species of creature that was not human and had never been human. A very old, very rare, and in the view of most, very mythical species of creatures who had passed on their gift of immortality to a few fortunate humans a very long time ago.
“Your ancestor, then.”
In an instant, Lorien knew that all the stories, the legends, rumors, whatever, were true. He was coming face to face with the origin of his species, and he was not entirely sure what the protocol was.
“What, er, what should I call you?”
“You may call me Gideon. Where is Maddox?”
“You know Maddox?”
Gideon’s smile flared. “More intimately than you could imagine, fledgling.”
Lorien let the slight go.
