Page 52 of Light Fae's Love

Most of the people we see now look Roman, as if they’ve lived in this city for ages, and perhaps seen both Fae and Vampire ruling come and go. Sleek Italian Faunus, the tiny bee-buzzing people, and several Mediterranean Mer are among them, along with Rock Giants.

Though they’re far fewer than the Vampires in the city-center, other Lineages have a strong presence here in Rome, distinctly different from the Summer Fae’s ruling citadel in Florence. These other Lineages keep Rome running during the day when the Vampires sleep; and Vampires have always been far more tolerant of other species than Fae—provided those other species aren’t scared of being eaten by them. I sense the Council have strict rules to ensure the safety of Rome’s working populace, however, so that they have people to run the city besides just Vampires.

The Council has ruled with fear for generations, however, making the entire world terrified of them so none will challenge their absolute power. I feel that knowledge churn through Quinn now as we make our way up a grand set of white steps to a moderately sized building with the classic Roman colonnade in front and triangular lintel up top. The statuary high above are all Vampires rather than Roman gods and goddesses, however; as we move through an outdoor colonnade area and enter a grand foyer inside, I see we’ve come into a hall with ornate tableaux of Vampires throughout the ages inlaid into the white and black marble floor.

Inside, the round hall has Roman columns in a circle, rising to an open-air oculus high above. We don’t stop here, however, this space just an antechamber as a Vampire woman in a smart white pantsuit moves to us, touching her ear as if listening to instructions, though I see no earbud like the guards had.

She wears chic black-framed glasses that make her look even more supermodel-perfect than she already is. I see they have no lenses as she beckons for us to follow her. Our escort has long black hair done in a sleek high ponytail, cascading to her butt. Her figure is tall but classically Italian curvaceous as she trots down a wide, corkscrewing set of black and white stairs in her tall red stiletto heels.

We head deep underground; as we arrive at a short hall, there is only one entrance ahead. Massive obsidian doors bar our way, two enormous obsidian Vampire knights with winged helms and tall spears guarding the alcove before the closed doors. Diseased-looking, oilslick red Vampire Bloodsigns slither over that formidable surface. As our hostess shows us right to those doors, the runes flare. They feel like they burn and skewer me as they disassemble and slither away from the doors in a pattern of scorpions and snakes.

The doors are left before us, black as the night is long and barren of decoration. With a featherlight touch, our hostess pushes them inward.

Then steps back with a low bow—beckoning us inside.

I can see nothing ahead. All is blackness as Quinn nods genteelly at our hostess and moves me forward on his arm. I can feel his trepidation at what we’re about to face with the Council—though I also feel his relief that we are not being shown to one of the Council halls that are also killing chambers.

I did not even know the Council had killing chambers, though a thought flashes through my mind then from Quinn.

Of the infamous Coliseum of Rome, Il Colosseo.

The most famous Council killing chamber of them all, used for when a Master truly disappoints them. Quinn’s thought comes to my mind.

And then we are swallowed by the blackness within as the obsidian doors are shut behind us.

I can see nothing for a long moment. Then, as my Dark Fae vision adjusts, I pick out cowled figures seated in immense black obsidian thrones in a semicircle at the far end of the space. The space we’ve entered is a rotunda, though beyond that, the details are few. Dark like a cave, it smells ancient and musty, like someone’s basement gone to rot after a flood.

I realize now what I’m smelling; bones, as we move forward into the space. The underground rotunda smells like death, and my nose wrinkles as it overwhelms me now, making me want to gag. I don’t, but I realize that smell is coming from the cowled figures now, rather than the surrounding chamber.

All the Council dead and gone to the grave, far longer than the ages of human history recall.

As we reach the center of the space, sorcerous blue-white torches spring to life in sconces around the walls. It’s a nice piece of magic; as they cast an eerie, flickering glow across the hall, I see we’re in a somewhat small meeting rotunda with pillars surrounding the walls. There is no oculus here, however, this space meant to house the Council day or night, whenever they should meet. I wonder if it has a secret rear entrance and exit for them, since a Vampire would have to egress through the daytime oculus rotunda to leave an audience.

I get a brief mind-message from Quinn. What do you think that oculus is for, Ariana, in a society of Vampires? To enjoy the sun as it floods across the room?

I have a sudden image from him of Indiana Jones in the map room of the temple in Egypt. It’s the scene where the sun reaches the right point and the staff he’s holding blazes, discovering the location of the Ark of the Covenant. Except the sun is lighting on a Council-imprisoned Vampire in a glass coffin covered with Bloodsigns to prevent them from using their magic to get out. The sun reaches the right point, and a blaze happens.

Inside the coffin—as the punished one burns to ash, scrabbling uselessly to get out.

Horror floods me as the semi-circle of Council Masters before us pull their cowls down. As if all of them share the same thought, they do it in perfect silence, intimidating to the max as they stare at us. Quinn isn’t perturbed, though, and I get the sense the Council has Summoned him to appear before them on quite a few occasions. He is a dark horse in their society.

I feel disapproval roll all around us now, as they let their displeasure with him be felt.

“Master Quindici DaPonti of Florence and his Kissed Dark Fae Ariana Summers. Be welcome before this Council.”

The voice that issues out of the blue flickering darkness where those figures sit is one I know. A voice I’ve unfortunately been exposed to, I note Florian Delano as he rises now from far down the left side of the line. Fifteen Council members are in attendance tonight, though I don’t know if there are more. As he pins Quinn with a darkly amused gaze, I feel his vast disappointment. He was counting on his assassin being successful last night.

And this audience wouldn’t even be happening today.

I feel Florian’s vast interest in the Dark Haven of Florence, however. He doesn’t just want to punish Quinn for whatever history exists between them—he wants to take Florence for his own. Monaco just isn’t quite the jewel that having a Dark Haven in Italy, the birthplace of Vampiredom, would be. I feel Florian’s thoughts, that Florence is ripe for the taking, seeing as Quinn is weak and injured right now.

His sea-green eyes flick to me and I feel his thoughts even more clearly.

That I am ripe for his taking—and he would enjoy doing it for centuries, until he was tired of me.

Not today, bucko. I put all the focus I have into sending a thought back as I hold his gaze, not backing down to his disgustingness. Clearly, he didn’t intend for me to hear his thoughts, nor to respond, as I see him frown now, his gaze far sharper on me. I understand then that he thought I was a prize to Quinn; some pretty bauble that increased Quinn’s power somehow by being impervious to other Masters.

I stand tall now, knowing Florian’s underestimated us, particularly me.