Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Where is she?” The scrawny vampire paws at me. “He wants to see her.”
“Kita?”
“Yes. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
The vampire goes paler than pale, as if my answer frightens him. “You do not know? You will have to know. He wants to see her.”
I look over at Conroy. Neither one of us is much given to panic.
“Should we run?”
He shakes his head briefly. “I’m not leaving my port,” he says. “Not for anybody, beast, man, or vampire.”
I think it is too late to run.
A boat is coming through smoky waters, a small runabout launched from the main ship. It is being rowed by several shady figures, but none of them draw my attention as much as the man standing at the prow does. He is not a man at all. He is the butcher of the seven kingdoms, the father of a thousand daughters. He is stepping out of every single historical event I ever learned about in my historical studies.
Alexander founded over thirty cities, many of them still in existence, others of them covered by sand or water due to climate and tectonic shifts over the years. More of his great works have been covered by lava flows than I will ever achieve in this or any lifetime.
As he draws closer, I also remember he is responsible for the deaths of millions, and that he has razed many more cities than he ever created. This man—no, this creature—is as powerful a force of destruction as has ever walked on this world.
He steps onto the burning dock, and a gasp of admiration hitches in my throat. I have lost all sense in a manner of speaking. I am in a state of such intense awe and admiration I cannot entirely process the revelation that his presence here is clearly hostile.
I have seen this man’s face before. In portraits, in books, on broadcast shows. He has been represented in all kinds of media repeatedly. I did a book report on him when I was just a pup. I never imagined we would encounter a vampire so ancient and so powerful he is more akin to a god. Even when the skinny wretch of a vampire said Alexander, I did not imagine it was his name the little vampire was using.
The shadow becomes visible, the fire of the port illuminating the beautiful monster.
He is tall, though not as tall as one might think, because he was originally born at a time before humans had access to the kind of nutrition they have now. I would say he is not quite six foot in height. Conroy and I both look down on him, though I feel a pulse of impropriety doing so. It does not matter, for Alexander emanates the kind of ancient power that makes his actual stature irrelevant.
He has the light brown skin of desert dwellers and the features of an angel. Big soulful arches of brow, high cheekbones, a slight delicacy around his nose and his mouth. He is elegant, as if his creator formed him with special attention, knowing how important he would one day be. His eyes are a rich red, two rubies gleaming with uncommon brightness.
He is wearing a black suit, surprisingly modern and anachronistic at the same time. I do not think there is anything this creature could do that would seem truly contemporary. He is out of time entirely, unmoored from temporal concerns.
He brings an air of dark menace with him. Not just a sort of generally threatening demeanor, but an intensity that indicates he enjoys causing pain. I can feel it radiating from him. It is not anger, though I do think he is annoyed. I can see that in the quirk of his brow as he comes to a halt in front of Conroy and me, recognizing us as those who own this port. We need no introduction, for no others would dare stand before him this way. I look deep into his eyes with animal curiosity, and draw in a deep breath, trying to scent him. The information I receive from my senses is deeply disturbing. He has been dead for thousands more years than he was ever alive, and all that is left inside him is sadism.
“Count Alexander, your presence here is an honor,” I say, speaking first before Conroy can say something disrespectful and hostile. He will not be as impressed as I am. “I have heard of your deeds my entire life. Your exploits and conquests made up my bedtime stories more nights than I can number. To have met you is truly…” I pause. “There needs to be a word deeper than honor.”
“Veneration,” Alexander says, his voice deep and accented with a hundred different tongues. He speaks languages so lost that modern scholars probably don’t know they ever existed.