Saffron bit her lip and ducked her head, her long silver blonde hair falling in front of her stunning face. “I wanted to be on home ground for such a declaration.”
Kirios struggled not to laugh at her logic. “Of course. How silly of me.”
She shrugged off his teasing and looked up at him with wide pleading eyes. “Why did he tell me to find you, Kirios?”
He sighed heavily. “Because he once visited me too.”
With that he told her all he could, about the Prophet, about his visions, of what he thought Kirios’ help would do. And now Saffron too,
“So.” She frowned in thought. “What does that mean for us?”
“I think it means that you and I are stuck with one another for a very long time.”
St. Petersburg, Russia, 1725
Kirios waited impatiently for Petrovsky, burrowing into his fur coat. He wasn’t cold. He was never cold. But the city was charged with apprehension. Peter, the Emperor of Russia, had died the night before, and with no heir apparent a sense of foreboding hung above St. Petersburg like an omen of what was to come.
His ears perked up and he spun around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Petrovsky.
“Reuben,” he whispered, coming towards him. Kirios had caused a lot of suspicion over the years, legends of a vampyre who couldn’t be hurt by magik had begun to circulate. He had found it necessary to change his name and stay out of the magiks’ way so the legend could die. For some reason his instincts told him he should remain a shadow until the time was right.
“What took you?”
“Anna’s father. He thought we should properly mourn the emperor.”
Kirios frowned. “I forgot he’s quite involved in human affairs.”
Petrovsky nodded. Theirs was a strange and unexpected friendship. A few years back, when Kirios had been on a hunt in St. Petersburg, he had come across this young Midnight trying to help a Daylight. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing so… he stalked him for a while. Petrovksy was of lower class descent among the Midnights and seemed to go out of his way to find Daylights - spending his nights searching the underworld of St. Petersburg with the determination of a bloodhound. Finally, Kirios actually concerned for the over eager young magik who was most certainly going to be killed by the supernaturals who intrigued him merely for being a Midnight, had enough and revealed himself to the boy.
Petrovsky was fascinated by other supernaturals, had no ill-feeling towards them whatsoever. And for some reason, Kirios believed him. Petrovsky hated the mindless prejudice of the Midnights who had never treated him well anyway, and like a young soldier desperate to join the war, accepted Kirios’ command. After all, a Midnight working for the Daylights was an unimaginable gift. First Kirios had masked Petrovsky’s trace so that the Head of the Midnight Coven would never know his true intentions, and then he had set about making the boy wealthy. Kirios spread rumors that Petrovksy had killed many Daylights and that, alongside the boy’s quirky charm, made him a great favorite with the Head of the Midnight Coven. Certain sacrifices had to be made in order to prove himself. Petrovsky had to kill some Daylights but Kirios compartmentalized that issue as a necessity of war, and was proven right when Petrovsky was given a position on the Council. It was not long after he married Anna, the daughter of a prominent Midnight and a member of a very old, influential family within the Coven.
“I came here because you said you had urgent news,” Kirios snapped.
“I am sorry. I could not get away.”
“Fine. What is the problem, Alex?”
Alex grinned. “Anna. She is with child.”
The vampyre’s heart picked up speed. Yes. This was it. This would help change everything.
“Then we must work out a plan.”
The young man smiled cheekily. “I thought that was what you would say. You want to teach him, don’t you?”
Kirios nodded. “We have to. Your children must know the truth of this war, Alex.”
Petrovsky suddenly grew very serious. “Of course, Reuben. No child of mine will be contaminated with Midnight insanity.”
New Jersey, U.S.A 1950s
“Holy!- ”Kirios yelped, his glass of blood going everywhere as he jumped. His gang of Rogue Vampyre Hunters were all out and about in New York, prowling the night for its varied predators. He was taking a moment for sustenance when a familiar magik had popped up before him, inches in fact from his face.
The Prophet smiled sheepishly and took a few steps back. “Sorry, I’ve never quite got the hang of a communication spell.”
Kirios shook his head. “What… how?”
The Prophet looked like a sixty year old man now but his bright blue eyes convinced Kirios that the magik in front of him was definitely the seer he hadn’t seen in almost two thousand years.