Made in Death's Image 03

"So what do we do?" he whispered.

She shook her head, "I don't know, but I'll figure something out."

"He has to be stopped!" Michael stated, throwing up his hands, "Who knows what he's going to do to Grace. We need a plan and we need one now! This is going too far, if we don't stop him soon- if we don't move!"

"I know that!" Ceil barked back furiously, "Don't you think I know that? Grace is not the only one in danger here- we all are. I know she is the love of your life. It's beautiful to have something like that, especially for our kind. It's even more astounding that she is a vampire. But every day that goes by we are sinking into the future Pavel is designing! Grace's fate is tied to all of ours now!"

He took a step back, a sudden guilt washing over him. His head hung low as he thought about what was at stake. He thought about Francesca and all the supernatural people he'd met since meeting Grace. All the people in danger in the city let alone the world. Silence fell over them, and Ceil breathed heavily, at first she thought it was rage but honestly it was fear. She was so angry at the world, and at Michael. All of this was to save them all from whatever Pavel was planning, and yet Michael was so set on just saving Grace the world be damned. She hated what this did to Michael's sanity and reasoning but she also envied what he felt.

"Look, I'm tired," she sighed, "And you look tired too. Let's sleep on it for a few hours and come back after that with a clearer head. The rooms are set up, pick whichever you'd like."

Michael nodded slowly, "Ceil, I'm sorry."

She didn't look back, "I am too."

With that, she slipped into her own space, allowing the door to slam loudly behind her. Michael just stood there, staring at the door whilst being eaten at. He wanted to make things right but also he knew pushing Ceil right now would make everything worse. And yet, he couldn't just have a nap. Not when Grace was somewhere suffering, and not when Pavel was out doing whatever the hell he pleased.

So instead, Michael headed to his motorcycle, he had seen a restaurant in passing in the neighborhood, and decided that a nice cup of coffee would do him good. So he grabbed the keys off the couch where Ceil had left them and took off. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ceil listened to the noise of his motorcycle going fainter and fainter.

She sighed softly, "Yeah, I can't sleep either."

Across Spain, Pavel's car rolled to a stop on the outskirts of Almeria. The road had long run out, and the car had been driving for less than an hour on nothing but dirt. The forest was thick around them, and when they stopped, there was no evidence of any human life in sight. The car containing Pavel's goons pulled up behind them, and their car doors were opened. Grace looked out towards her open door, two of Pavel's goons roughly pulled her from the car, her bare feet stumbling against the dirt.

"Where are we?" she asked, her gaze dancing across the trees.

Pavel said nothing, stumbling ever so slightly as he got out of the car. His men spoke in Russian Grace couldn't catch it all but got the gist of the conversation, and Pavel responded smoothly. It amazed Grace, and she wondered how many years Pavel was planning this—it must have begun not long after Codrin was killed.

"Where are we?" Grace repeated this old and bothersome question she had asked non-stop in the last 3 months.

Pavel looked over at her, "We're moving. I'd follow if I were you, you haven't fed in a long time now, it's nothing but forest for miles. The sun just rose, you wouldn't last with the amount of hostile wild life out there."

Grace lied calmly, "I wasn't—"

He laughed, "You were, but don't worry, you won't now."

She narrowed her eyes, but before she could respond, the two men on her arms were pulling her forward. With the sun continuing to rise, and the birds chirping, the vampires around her utterly silent; they began climbing up through the forest. The mud and filth had ruined the shoes Pavel had dressed her in. As they did Grace couldn't help but look up to where the sky peaked through the tops of the trees.

Michael, she thought, sending a silent prayer to the sky, please stay away.

SIX

The dinner was laid out in a lovely and quaint manner, the inside of the restaurant was in gorgeous old Spaniard wood work, the walls had photos of customers passed and grand historic moments from the last 80 years strewn across it. Michael made his way over to one of the brown faded booths and slid into it. As he did, two women dressed in white aprons gave each other a glance before one walked over. She was a younger girl, with a long black ponytail and blush dotted across her cheeks. She smiled, saying something in Spanish before putting down a paper menu.

Michael blinked slowly, a frown on his face and spoke in his best Spanish, "My Spanish isn't great."

"English?" she then said in a broken rhetorical tone, "You want coffee?"

He nodded, smiling, "Yes please."

"Si!" The girl said brightly, "I come back with coffee, si?"

Michael sat and thought back on how Francesca and Raul would feel that his Spanish had suffered so greatly over the years. Then the door opened to the restaurant, and a man stepped forward. Michael tensed as the atmosphere darkened. The man was dressed in dark clothing, and on his pant leg there was a knife openly strapped to the side. The workers avoided eye contact, and the girl quickly fled from Michael's table. The man smiled at the girl, saying something in Spanish. The man then sat down at Michael's table, before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

Michael watched him carefully.

"You speak Spanish?" The man asked.

He shook his head, "Not enough apparently."

"You're a hunter, one of the out of towners," the man hummed, "You should know Spanish."

Michael's brow rose, "How do you know that?"

The man took a long draw before smirking, "I know many things."

"You're a hunter," Michael realized, "Did you follow me?"

The man laughed, "Follow you? No. This diner has the best Turron. You should order some, it's delicious. Ah, here's your coffee."

Michael looked over as the girl had returned with a cup and a fresh pot of coffee. She smiled hesitantly at both men before hurrying away, however the need for coffee had faded in Michael. The man said something fast and sharp in Spanish, and a different woman at the counter responded just as sharp. The man sighed, standing.

"No Turron today," the man grumbled.

"Wait," Michael called, "Who are you?"

The man did a two-finger salute, "Hugo. Be careful, you're involved in a very dangerous game, in a very fragile town. Let Celia know we don't like her setting up in our home however she pleases."

Michael's eyes narrowed, "Well Hugo, if you have a problem with Ceil, you should tell her yourself. She doesn't take kindly to threats."

His grin grew, "A la araña ya la serpiente no les gustan las avispas frescas."

Before Michael could question him, the man was gone. With his leave, there was relief filling the room, and he sighed. Looking down at his coffee, Michael slowly stirred sugar cubes into his coffee. The girl returned, placing a plate of some sort of sweet onto the table.

"What is this?" Michael asked.

The girl frowned, "Turron. You asked for it, si?"

A cold chill washed over him and he nodded numbly.

SEVEN

Hours passed since Grace and Pavel's goons began their journey through the forest. With the sun out, it would be harsh on all of their constituents, however thanks to the thick covering of the treetops she could avoid the oppressive gaze of the sun. She breathed slowly, trying to put on the front that this long hike didn't bother her whatsoever, though her footing had failed her more than a few times thanks to the dense foliage and roots of trees. It didn't seem to bother Pavel much given he was wearing boots like the rest of his men. Grace had also noticed that the side effects of the drug he was taking had mostly faded. She was almost disappointed that he wasn't struggling through this hike. But was more concerning was the time frame she would have to make a move after he took the drug. A consideration she would take more carefully.

Then, through the trees Grace could smell it; the burning of wood but not normal wood, wood from very old trees. A luxury that only a vampire of stature could enjoy. She could smell the faint scent of the ocean- the mixture of the forest, the smoke, and the briny ocean was nostalgic to a memory she never had. It was beautiful, she thought for a second how beautiful it would have been for her and Michael to be in a place so serene. And yet, just like that, Pavel had proved he intended to exact every revenge he had laid out for Grace.

"Who did you take this from?" Grace asked, clearing her throat and the emotions from her mind.

Pavel glanced over at her and grinned, "Yes. It is my castle."

"Hardly a castle, castles are much larger," Grace muttered.

She could see his hand twitch but he didn't do anything. She was hoping he'd take a swing but with another second to think she wondered how she'd beat the other vampires. When her feet slowed, two goons jerked her forward. She couldn't lag behind them either. They wouldn't let any of her schemes and shit fly. Grace wondered if they were just as scared of her as she was of them. Eventually, they reached the large iron fence that circled around the front of the more than modest estate. Standing between the large open gates was a large vampire wearing a white button-up shirt and had a sword strapped to his side. The man was loud, waving his hands around dramatically as he greeted the group. As they reared closer, Grace recognized the man from long, long ago. The one of Codrin's lesser 'nephews' as he would refer to them. This vampire's name was Vero if she recalled correctly.

Grace was worried now; Vero was not only older than her but he would also be incredibly keen on killing her given how she killed Codrin. She slowed before the two goons practically threw Grace forward. She let out a grunt, falling to her knees onto the stone path that started at the gate. Vero looked down at Grace with a sneer. No doubt he did harbor hate for her. This man was from a generation where men could be pigs to women and treat them any which way, this man would absolutely hate everything about Grace. Knowing better, she said nothing, allowing this man to think she was fragile, like a trapped deer.

"Codrin's little perita bella, you have finally fallen out of the tree you little free bird. I knew how he treated you that one day you'd become insolent. A spoiled bitch always thinks she's worth something more than a set of legs," he spat in Spanish.

Grace understood the operative word in that sentence, pretending the language was lost on her. That made Vero laugh bitterly, before spitting onto Grace's face. She flinched in disgust but Vero laughed again mistaking it for fear.

"Enough," Pavel said with a surprising amount of anger in his tone, "Let them take her to her room."

Vero nodded, stepping aside, "Yes, return the bird to her cage."

Grace was hauled up to that very room, and they began walking down the long path towards the mansion. As they did, Grace noticed the bricked-up windows—there was only one that sat unsealed, which sat on the side of the large front doors. Other than that, she could see no other windows. No doubt Pavel disliked the sun as much as any vampire.

"No wait," Pavel called as they reached the front doors.

Grace looked over at him, as she did, a black blind fold was put over her eyes. Instead, she focused on the sensation of scent and listening carefully to her surroundings. She could hear them bring her through the mansion, up a set of stairs then down a hall that held an echo, finally she was pushed forward into a room and the silk was pulled from her face. She wondered if it was truly more maze-like than any normal estate. Maybe it had the old magic vampires often talked of. Ones like Dragulia's surreal and maze-like castle.

Pavel smiled, "Sorry, I can't have you thinking you have any chance of escaping. Our eidetic memories make these subtle magic spaces easier to navigate."

She narrowed her eyes but stayed silent as he took off her cuffs. Then, he tapped the side of his head and gave her a wink, closing the door shut behind him. The door clicked with a lock. Only then did Grace look around her new home, hot tears built up in her eyes and she finally allowed the emotions from within to swell.

"Damn it," she sobbed softly. The safer she played this and the longer it took the worse it got. She wanted to return home to Michael at any cost. But risking her life seemed to defeat all the purpose.

The room was completely bare except for the lights, the large bed and a mirror. In it, Grace took in her smudged face, dried spit and disheveled hair. Not to mention the rips in her dress and the dirt staining her skin. Slowly, she made her way over to the bed, and sat down. The dam inside broke, and she began to sob more loudly. It wasn't a helpless crying but more of a deep and violent frustration. She was Grace! She was one of the elder vampires in the Americas. She had money and affluence. She had love. She had loyal subjects. But here she was being brought low by the equivalent of an errant child. A vengeful violent bastard who would do anything in defiance because of what she lost. Then she looked up into the mirror. It dawned on her. She was looking at herself. Pavel was so different in many ways yet totally identical to herself. She might've not thought herself evil. Especially not now, but did Codrin think he was evil either?

Grace thought about Michael's kindness and how tenderly he'd hold her or how hungry he'd grab her waists when they made love. She had taken that humanity from Pavel as far as she knew. She cried for the evil acts that were caused by her own hands, she sealed her own fate decades ago and how furious that unwinnable choice was. Being a stuck whore in a brothel from men to use her until she died. Or be a creature of the night totally banished to the darkest spots humanity could venture. Eventually find a light only for her own actions to steal her precious moments away. In all her everlasting life she never thought she'd need more time, yet that's all she wanted with Michael: more time.

EIGHT

Time passed, and a numbness washed over Grace. She laid on her stomach upon the bed, her fingers slowly rolling over the fine linen sheet. Never had she felt so affected by time except for now. Now with time so pressed and important, she could feel every second that went by. Every second that she was locked away and every second that Pavel had in his favor.

"When do I win?" she whispered softly into the bed.

There was no answer, but none was needed. Grace knew where everything went wrong and she had known for a very long time.

A sigh passed her lips, and she looked up to the ceiling.

"We need eyes on the inside."

Her eyes flickered, then shut, and she allowed the memory to take over.

East Germany stank of poverty and oppression. KGB generals and corrupt officials had vied for Codrin's gift. Every human would become sycophantic just for the chance at immortality. The entire situation made Grace ill, but the fact that Codrin was playing all sides of the war for his own gain made her even more so repulsed. He had no ideals but a desire for power. The two of them currently, the two sat in the dimly lit living room, the fireplace their only light. Grace was draped along a couch as she propped herself up with her arms in Codrin's lap, the sheer red silk dress untied at the front, allowing her milky breasts to lay on full display. Codrin leisurely ran his fingers up and down the bare of her exposed back.

"You will turn him in tonight," Codrin ordered.

Grace tilted her head slightly to look up at him, "Tonight? But why so quickly? Are you sure this KGB agent is the one we want?"

Her master's fingers paused, digging lightly into her flesh—it was a small reminder to remember her place and yet, he answered, "He has served his to the humans and now I want his talents and proximity he will afford us. Change in the wind, it is time for him to serve a cause."

Now Grace sat up, she watched as Codrin's eyes dropped to her breasts. It was these moments he allowed her questions, and she knew it. His tongue flickered from his lips and he titled his head.

"What is the cause? There is no cause you have. It's a chase for power." she asked.

He smirked, his hand moving down her side and slipping under the skirt of her dress, "My goals are a cause. My desires are beyond anything that can be understood by humans. He will be my mole within. He will ascend and become a truly great spy."

"What cause," Grace scoffed cruelly.

"Enough," he snarled, pulling her onto his lap closer and making her gasp, "I allow you to speak too much at times."

She moaned, Codrin's lips latching onto the soft crock of her neck.

Grace opened her eyes, pushing the thought from her mind and looking up to the ceiling.

This time, she didn't wait for the reply of silence, and instead she rolled onto her side, allowing more terrible memories to haunt her aged mind. The darkness lurking in the back of her mind swirled like poison fog, and slowly, she couldn't even bring herself to think of Michael.

********

"And you didn't think to make me one?" Michael questioned incredulously.

Ceil frowned, sipping at her freshly made cup of coffee. It was morning now, the sun bright as ever and the two had gotten up a few hours ago, packing and unpacking for their next series of moves. However, when they stopped for a short break, Ceil moved to make a nice cup of coffee for herself, and left Michael to his own entertainment.

It was a moment that was entirely unnecessary, and they were both making a bigger issue out of it than needed—but it was a nice break. It was nice to break through all the horrific moments with a silly one.

"You know where the kitchen is," she replied.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Well move I'll make myself one."

"See," she said, stepping out of his way, "you're a big boy."

As his eyes rolled and his mouth opened to reply, there was a loud knock on the warehouse side door. They both paused, their eyes meeting in confusion. Ceil placed a finger on her lips, then slowly placed her cup on the counter. She moved from the room gracefully and deadly, grabbing her knife from the couch as she went, and moved to the door.

"Ah, the pizza we ordered must have arrived," Ceil then said loudly.

Michael instantly caught on, moving to grab his own weapon. He knew Ceil must have sensed danger, and so he moved to stand against the wall near the door. Once in position, he nodded to her.

Then Ceil threw open the door, lunging forward. Her knife was sharp and ready, pressed firmly against an old vampire's throat. There was a younger vampire, who took a step forward towards Ceil, but before he had the chance to move, Michael stepped into the doorway, aiming his gun at the young vampire's head.

"Don't move," Michael said slowly in a low growl.

Ceil then looked at the two vampires, curious as to why they'd come so openly in the middle of the day? She narrowed her eyes, recognizing the first man as Gusfov Vegenii. Who didn't seem to be bothered about the blade pressed against his throat.

"Why're you here," she hissed.

Michael looked nervously at Ceil.

Gusfov hummed, "Yes, I know this is unusual. I have come to tell you that I am going to be heading to Ukraine to speak with the other clans. I have lost so much since my rebirth as Gusfov and I have decided to return to my roots as Marius Vegenii. This is my son, Lorenzo Vengenii. He was the first vampire I had ever turned, and now I offer him to you."