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“He is under my protection.” Maddox made the statement calmly, but all present knew that these were words with great significance. “This has been made clear previously.”
“You do not moderate his behavior, so we were forced to take action,” Ernie said. “He’s a… how do they say it now?”
“Pain in the ass,” Bertram replied.
“There is nothing in our code which says a man may not be mouthy. There is much written and said about the importance of respecting protection. We are all confronted with the vulnerability of those we love,” Maddox said.
“Is that a threat, Maddox?” Bertram asked the question. Ernest roared with laughter. Their many minions and progeny laughed with them, a baying crowd of cackling jackals. Maddox smiled quietly to himself. There had been a time when he and these two had been friends.
The question was a joke and intended to be one. The notion of Maddox threatening the twins of New York was unthinkable because the notion of anybody threatening them was unthinkable.
Ancients were supposed to be more sophisticated and evolved, but as time went inexorably, inevitably on, some of them simply became arrogant and foolish. They believed they were too big, too old, too powerful to fail or fall.
“Are you going to have us arrested, Maddox? Is that it?”
More cackling. More jackal howling. More quiet, contained smiling from Mads.
His position was not well-respected here in the coven of the twins. It had never been a popular move to liaise with humans and endeavor to moderate relations between vampires and humans on a more formal basis. Vampires like these two imagined themselves above all law and social constructs. After all, they had lived through an almost endless series of variants to the point laws now seemed petty and pointless. Mad understood their perspective well enough, but the world was changing. The presence of vampires was becoming a harder and harder secret to keep from the public at large, and more importantly, human population was at an all time high, which in turn meant vampire populations were booming. It was not like the old days where a few hundred undead might make themselves the kings of their chosen territory. Many historical human kings had in fact been vampires. Arthur, among them. Zenobia of Palmyra, quite notably, and many other kings and kingdoms lost to history. Bert and Ernie did not understand how much times had changed, and that was to their detriment.
These two believed themselves to be above all all laws and conventions — human, vampire, and those of basic decency. But by the same token, no vampire present dared lay a finger on him. Maddox was no ninety-year-old fledgling. He was an ancient, and he was still due some respect as well as some caution.
“Don’t ever touch one of mine again,” he warned.
“Shouldn’t be hard. You have so few. I’ve never known anyone as against creation as you,” Ernest laughed. “Keep your mouthy ward away from us, and we’ll have no quarrels.”
“Well, perhaps a few quarrels, baby killer.”
Bertram spoke the phrase Maddox most loathed.
“Excuse me?” Maddox’s voice was dangerously soft.
“Let’s call the ferals what they truly are: abandoned children. You’ve been slaughtering babes who never had a chance to come into their power.”
“Let’s call ferals what they are: monsters who would destroy humanity if we let them. We need people. We need a healthy, thriving human population not only to provide sustenance, but to engineer and create the world in which we live. We are apex predators. That means we sit at the top of the food chain, and we need many, many happy individuals beneath us. A well-raised vampire understands that. A feral understands not, and cares not. They must be eradicated.”
“Agree to disagree,” Ernie attempted to end things on a more positive note.
“Don’t ever touch Lorien again," Maddox repeated. “If so much as a hair on his head is put out of place due to the orders of this court…”
“What?” Bert and Ernie leaned forward, their handsome, hallowed faces like two marble sculptures of vicious interest.
“I will have yours,” Maddox finished the threat.
Bert and Ernie looked at one another. There was a tension in the room that had not been there before, a breaking point of violence hanging between them all. The onlookers unleashed their fangs, not out of choice, simply responding to the energy of the conflict.
It was Ernie who laughed, Bertram who followed, and even Maddox allowed himself a smile.
“Take our heads!” Ernie cackled. “The idea! You are a jester, Maddox.”
“Indeed. Good evening, gentlemen," Maddox said, taking his leave before he was tempted to act on the threat any further.
The following evening Maddox called Lorien into his office shortly after sunset. Lorien came in his usual suave and jovial way. There was something about this vampire. Young as he was, he had a certain compelling energy Maddox had always been cautious of and similarly entranced by. A human might have described it as potential.
Lorien had tied his dark hair back and was wearing a black v-neck sweater. The scar on his neck had healed, leaving him perfect once more. He truly was a vision. His maker would have been proud of him.
“I’ve spoken with Bert and Ernie. You should be safe on the streets of New York now. But Lorien… if you tempt fate with them again. If you do anything to bring their ire down upon you, it will be me you will reckon with. Do you understand?”
“Yes, absolutely. And thank you for your hospitality and for your protection.”
