Turned By Him

Chapter 7

“Mirana,” the voice boomed over the loud speakers. “Mirana, where are you my dear?” The slender man was immaculately dressed in black and red. He was flanked on either side by men and women in black. Eliza’s mind began to race; she could sense the tension rising around the cemetery. “The man behind the microphone clicked his tongue in his mouth making a condescending disapproving sound.

The crowd of dancers spread apart. Some made for their cars which were parked along the winding asphalt road which navigated the cemetery. Other guests kept their eyes fixed on the man speaking. “Who is that?” Eliza asked Tom.

He didn’t turn to speak to her. “His Name is Randal Rothschild. He is the first made of the head of Manhattan’s leading vampire coven. Randal is in charge of security. He’s a cut throat.”

“You have brought a threat to our shared secret,” Randal said through the speakers. “This means you are a threat to our kind.” His voice was humorless yet carried a whimsical air about it.

Eliza only knew a little about the Vampire covens of New York City. She knew that there were 6 major covens and that hers, the NuBlood Coven, was subservient to the Rothschild family coven which had been the overlords of Manhattan Island since 1812. Eliza had found the vampire families influence in the British invasion of 1812 fascinating and brilliant while a bit concerning. Harper had once told Eliza that the Rothschild family favored their coven over the other, smaller, collectives of magic-folk in the city. Eliza was unsure why their event had been crashed but could tell from those who attended, that the Rothschilds were not welcome.

“What is the meaning of this?” a voice boomed from the crowd beneath Eliza. It was Mirana, her face shifting from the beautiful disguise she was wearing to her normal face and complexion. The crowd parted for their matriarch. Eliza didn’t bother counting but a quick glance would confirm that all the members of the NuBlood coven were standing. All seemed prepared to take flight or stand and fight. Eliza felt intoxicated from her recent feast. She was still hungry but understood that one could only bear so much before becoming a victim. Still the interruption perturbed her. She was hungry and, while she felt strong, knew she would be stronger – they all would be stronger – should they be allowed to feed. Her instincts were aggravated. Still, deep within her, a fear leapt into her throat.

The thin man with a pointed nose, now identified as Randal, sent his condemnations echoing through the cemetery. “You have broken the laws of our kind,” Randal accused. “You have made yourselves slaves to what should be your food. You have let loose the secret of our existence and threatened that existence with your juvenile idealism.”

Mirana bore her teeth. “You would accuse me of breaking your laws here!? You are the rulers of Manhattan, not Queens.” Mirana sounded fiercer than Eliza had ever heard. She could tell that Mirana’s maternal instincts had kicked in. There was a real threat in the dozen or so Rothschild vampires.

Again Randal clicked his tongue to tisk Mirana. “Your indignant contravening is a threat to us all.” Eliza’s eyes fell on Mathew’s motionless body. His clothes disheveled and stained with blood, Mathew was sprawled across the ground, his head and neck unnaturally far from his torso. Eliza realized that she was in serious danger and the fear which had been growing inside her turned to pulse raising panic. Her thoughts were still clouded with the intense longing to feed and the recent satisfaction of feeding. She took a step backward; she could feel her heels digging into the soil. The fear which gripped her was consuming. Blood, death, life and all other things which had change for her over the past four days became a blurred stain glass window framed in primal urge.

“Now,” Tom snarled over his shoulder. His attention no longer fixed upon the scene before them, Tom had turned to plead that Eliza leave. His emerald green eyes alight with genuine terror, Tom kept his posture defensive. “Eliza, you must go.”

“We have done nothing wrong and you killed one of my children!” Mirana’s outrage needed no microphone.

Randal Rothschild was the first sired of an old coven, the vampire equivalent of a first born. Mirana however, had been somewhat of an adopted child to the Rothschild coven. Mirana was also the leader of a coven, which gave her somewhat more authority- in an objective sense- than Randal. The Rothschild coven had known Mirana and met with her hundreds of times over the past 170 years. Mirana had been a ward in their coven before, with their consent, founding a small coven on the island.

Mirana’s indignant rage could be felt in the tension of the air. It seemed to arouse anger among the coven and those others who had stayed. “We do not hold our gatherings in you territory and there are no secrets here from Damien, your lord and sire.” Mirana’s sharp tone conveyed no inkling of fear. Her coven seemed to adopt the attitude. Even Tom snarled his lips to reveal pearl white canines, his hands stretched outward as if to swipe at the air.

“No one has the authority to jeopardize our collective secret,” Randal began but Mirana interrupted loudly.

“No one has. Yet you have committed murder here.”

Randal seemed to be amused with Mirana’s resistance. An arrogant smirk smeared across his pale face. “You NuBlood mutts think you’ve got it all figured out. You, their mother and leader, aren’t even old enough to remember a time before the new world. You self-righteously claim to have found security in a civilization others built!” His smirk broadened. “No one escapes.” From either side of Randal, three vampires leapt and swept over the gathering. The NuBlood members braced to fight and were surprised to find the Rothschild vampires moving past them.