Page 56 of Light Fae's Love

As if death and the Night are mingled with life and the Light.

I turn to Quinn, raising my eyebrows, but it is Arturos who answers my unspoken question.

“This is one of the oldest catacombs beneath Rome,” Arturos says, his hushed voice respectful as he motions us down the tunnel, left of a branch point. “It’s rumored to have bones from some of the oldest Vampires and Fae; not only that but from Crimson Angels and Fallen Ephilohim Archangels also, like still work for the Intercessoria. Some say a few of the Ascendents themselves are buried down here, in special walled-off areas of the catacombs, the ones who never re-ascended back to their celestial realm. I doubt it, though. Rome is full of wagging tongues, and rumors grow larger by the decade.”

“Still, the energy down here is ancient.” Quinn gazes right and left into the dark, bone-filled vaults as we meander through. “A sensation lingers here, of death so old it has forgotten time. I wouldn’t doubt if some of these vaults are ten thousand, twenty thousand, perhaps even fifty thousand years old. Dating back to the time of the Fall.”

“Wouldn’t all these remains have gone to dust by now?” I ask, some of the bones crumbling, but not nearly as old as what I imagine a fifty thousand year skeleton would look like.

“These catacombs are protected by ancient magic, and it preserves the bones.” Arturos waves at the vaults. “Worshipers and those with a casual interest in the remains are allowed down here by the magic that pervades this place. Anyone who means the remains harm, however, gets a nasty surprise—instant incineration from the ages-old magic that was laid down here. Don’t try to move anything, or disturb the remains. Though you can touch them, so long as you have respect in your heart.”

“I don’t think I will.” I recoil from getting too close to the vaults on either side of us now. “I’d rather not be incinerated today.”

“A good choice.” Quinn’s smile is amused as he glances at me; love beams in his dark eyes for just a moment, before he returns to our task. “Where has the Revenant in question been seen?”

“At the entrance. It was clamoring to get out and eat passersby two nights ago, though it wasn’t strong enough.” Arturos glances at Quinn. “I thought perhaps we would have seen it by now. There’s a chance it’s already moved on to less strongly warded gates, or places where a ward has already been destroyed so some lovers can come down here and fuck.”

“Vampires do that down here?” I blink, lifting my eyebrows as I glance at Arturos.

“All the time,” he says with a chuckle, his midnight blue gaze flicking to me before he sobers. “Any Vampire of significant strength can break the Council’s wards and get into the underground, Ariana. There is a penalty if they’re caught, but it’s so common the Council rarely enforce it. Vampires adore bones, and these catacombs are a heritage site of the city. We feel powerful down here, where death and the Night reign. Add sex and some blood-drinking to that… and it’s a tremendous aphrodisiac, to our kind.”

“Not for me.” I shake my head, wondering at how different I am as a Dark Fae from Vampires, though I do share in some of their magic. “Would that turn you on, Quinn?” I ask him. “To do it down here?”

“No.” He shakes his head as he glances around. “The smell down here is… too musty. Give me my cathedral vault beneath the midnight stars any day, with a good glass of wine with the Missa Solemnis by Beethoven playing. I am a creature of luxurious habits. Fornication down here among old, rotting bones simply isn’t my style. Though I cannot deny this place holds power.”

The topic of sex has us all falling quiet now. An awkward silence fills the air as Quinn and I reflect on the Wanderer’s outing of Arturos’ love for me—and I’m sure Arturos is thinking about the same thing. Though I can’t read his mind, I can read his aura as he blushes and his darkwater magic stirs around him. He says nothing, but his gaze flicks at me.

I feel barrenness in him now—deep like the oldest, darkest oceans.

I know he’s lonely; loneliness practically boils off Arturos as I recall he doesn’t have a Dark Haven of his own, his Vampire-Siren kind tremendously hard to Sire, and thus rare. Quinn and I returned one of Arturos’ kind the night we shattered the Bloodstone; but she’s taken off around the world now, and I don’t know if she and Arturos talked about restarting the ancient Dark Haven of the Deeps before she departed.

I’m sure the tall, handsome Arturos has lovers aplenty, though he never talks about it. What he lacks is anyone who truly understands him, as I feel him stuff all his morose energy back down now to focus on our task.

Not even his Sire the Wanderer understands him; I know this with the deepest truth-telling ability of my Dark Fae power. She made him, but she never stuck around long enough to get to know him; I feel that lonesome abandonment eat at Arturos’ heart now. Like a dark cancer, I can see it then, as it winds through his heart and body, writing nasty, red-gold Vampire Bloodsigns all through him. I blink and the vision is gone.

It stops me in my tracks, though, as I stare hard at him now.

Wondering what I’ve just seen.

“Ariana? Are you alright?” Arturos stops, turning towards me as Quinn stops as well.

“Did you see something in the tunnel?” Quinn frowns; though as he steps close, peering in my eyes, I know he feels my sudden shock.

“Your aura…” I frown at Arturos now. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What do you mean?” He comes to me, gazing into my eyes like Quinn. “What did you see in my aura just now?”

“I don’t know.” Perplexed, I try to reconnect with wherever I went when I saw it, but it’s gone. “I thought I saw… Vampire Bloodsigns written all through you. Is that possible?”

“To have one’s body be taken over by Bloodsign is a very dark and ancient method of Vampire control, Ariana, called Bloodsign Enslavement,” Quinn says, shocked now as he peers at me. “It was a way our progenitor species, Crimson Angels, would create a Dark Haven to do their bidding. Only the oldest, most ruthless Masters can do it anymore, as a way of controlling underlings in their Dark Havens. The Wanderer would never use such a thing on her progeny; they do not need it. Her progeny respect her and treat her with the deference she inspires; and she lets them do their own will, unless she needs someone to sit the Council for her for a while. She would never do such a thing to Arturos.”

“Maybe it’s just the weirdness of the magic down here, playing tricks on me,” I say now, though I feel certain about what I saw. As Quinn peers into my eyes again, I know he feels I’m telling the truth. Turning to Arturos, he lets his eyes unfocus as he slips into a slight trance.

To scour Arturos’ energy for any trace of what I just saw.

“I see nothing,” Quinn says as he comes back. He turns towards me, frowning, then taking my hand. “I believe you know what you saw. A Master as powerful as Arturos, however, has never been taken by Bloodsign Enslavement, not that I know of. Even some of the oldest members of the Council who can do it would never manage it on him. Nor would they try; to enslave a fellow Council member in any way is death.”

“I can assure you I’ve not been enslaved by a Council member, Ariana,” Arturos says, a grave tone in his voice now as he stares me down. “If someone had ever tried such a thing, I would have felt it and thrown it off. To become enslaved to someone that way is a lengthy and painful process. It takes hours, even days, to write as many Bloodsigns into a person as one needs to command them. No one takes something like that voluntarily.”