Fifty-One: Firewood, Rice, Oil, and Salt

I broke free of the illusion, of that... memory. Le Gang, Michael, and I all seemed to have just awakened from the same nightmare.

I said, “That illusion was deeply wrong. The Three Sisters... the Three Sisters were not the goddess Iks. They were only... sacrifices, made to seal away some evil that had polluted the altar of Iks.”

And now the Three Sisters had vanished. But what had become of that evil? Where was it now?

Michael walked to the statue of the evil deity and gathered it in his arms. My nerves were taut; I feared some demon that devoured human souls might appear and take possession of him. If that happened, all would be lost.

Helsing held Yaochi tightly. She had grown old again, and was even more frail than before. Holding her hand, he sighed. “I should never have let you do such a reckless thing.”

Yaochi smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s good for me.”

Michael said, “Madam, about the...”

Yaochi said, “I can no longer sense any evil. Aside from the bloody history attached to it, this statue is no longer dangerous.”

Michael cried out, “This is the most important moment of my life, and one of the most dazzling treasures in the history of our bloodline. I thank every one of you! Madam Yaochi, it was you who made this collection safe! Le Gang, you supported me as a friend and helped me reach this point! Master Helsing, it was because you did not stubbornly insist on your own way, but allowed your wife to help me! Bella... where is she? Never mind! And finally, you, Fishbone Longinus, my loyal and extraordinary friend—this achievement is due in no small part to you!”

I could have seized the chance to demand another reward, but I knew it would be useless. Besides, the memory of the Three Sisters was so eerie that it put me ill at ease. I said, “Are you certain it’s truly all right? You saw that memory too...”

Michael said, “Madam Yaochi is an absolute authority. I trust her judgment completely. The Three Sisters were the final curse bound to this statue. Now this treasure is thoroughly cleansed.”

He snapped his fingers, and Jean Valen somehow popped up out of nowhere, holding a gift box in both hands. Smiling, he said, “Please accept this modest token I have prepared for you, my dear Longinus. It is another proof of our friendship.”

I was covered in corrosive acid, my skin pitted and raw. If I did not receive treatment soon, I would likely not live much longer. Yet the appearance of that box put a spark of life back into me. I tore it open at once. Inside were two keys and a property deed.

Michael said, “As you know, I am charged with the administration of the district where you reside. By chance, a tenant on the thirty-third floor fell behind on rent and was sent down to a lower level. I therefore took the liberty of assigning that dwelling to your use.”

I held the box, utterly stunned. I felt blood rush up into my head, and then my vision went dark. I knew nothing after that.

I recovered in the Ranger military hospital. The burns from the poisoned blood had been treated and were mostly healed. They said some scars would remain, but there was no scar that the magic blood of a bloodline vampire could not heal.

Michael had kept the gift box for me, and when he visited, he returned it to me.

I hugged him so hard, and thanked him with such fervor, that Michael began to suspect my orientation. What horrified me most was that he seemed to be enjoying it. I hurriedly put distance between us and sent him away.

By rights, I ought to have given that house to Salvador, but I decided to wait a little longer. Wait for what? I did not know. I simply wanted to wait.

Again and again I looked at the deed, at my name printed upon it, and the more I looked, the more pleasing it became to me. At the very least, it was far more pleasing than those three sneaky little evil idols. Ah, why should I trouble myself over this or that? Had Lamia not said it herself? The most important thing in life is to live happily.

When Old Bell and Solace came to visit me, I asked them to keep the box for me.

Strangely, I did not see Lamia. The nurse told me she had come that morning but left in a hurry. It was not until afternoon that Lamia arrived.

I asked, “Where did you go?”

Lamia looked worn and haggard, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I saw that you were fine, so I went to Salvador’s place.”

I asked, “Salvador? What happened to him now?”

Lamia said, “He tried to shoot himself.”

I was so startled I nearly leaped from the bed like a frightened fish. “Is he still alive?”

Lamia sighed. “Yes. The bullet struck his temple dead on, but his alterations, along with the mind blade he recently forged, happened to shield his head from severe injury. He barely kept his life.”

I said angrily, “What was that about? Was it only because I wouldn’t lend him money? I thought he had more backbone than that...”

Lamia said, “It has nothing to do with your not lending him money. Yesterday he saw Betty dining in the restaurant with a laboratory lieutenant colonel from the Rangers.”

I asked, “Yesterday? Last night I was still talking with Salvador...”

Lamia shook her head. “You were unconscious for two full days. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

I stared for a moment, then said, “Dining together proves nothing. I dine with Betty’s mother all the time. Should Betty’s father kill himself too?”

Lamia smiled bitterly. “Stop playing with words. They were dining alone. It was... a date.”

I fell silent.

Lamia said, “Sammy tried to pull Betty away from that lieutenant colonel. Betty broke up with Sammy on the spot. She said all sorts of cruel things, called off the engagement, and Sammy challenged that lieutenant colonel to a duel, only to be defeated by him.”

I said, “A rejected-engagement storyline?”

Lamia asked, “What’s a rejected-engagement storyline?”

I said, “Seems to be a term from the last century. Don’t mind me. I just have a feeling Betty’s going to be slapped in the face by fate someday.”

Lamia said, “In any case, he survived by the skin of his teeth. You really should talk some sense into him. I am, after all, only a woman. The person he respects most is still you.”

I said, “That’s easy enough. I’ll go beat that lieutenant colonel half to death right now, then squat on his head and take a dump on him...”

Lamia hurriedly said, “Don’t be so disgusting.”

I said, “It’s just a metaphor. I’m a civilized man, aren’t I?”

Lamia chided, “You’re always spouting nonsense. Now be serious.” After thinking it over, she added, “That lieutenant colonel is a faithful servant of one of Lady Typhon’s elders. I hear he has a bright future, so it would be unwise to inflame matters further.”

A faithful servant meant... he had drunk the blood of some vampire and become a personal ghoul. And a bright future meant that he was very likely to be elevated into the ranks of the bloodline one day. If he married Betty, would Betty also become a vampire in the future? If that were so, then what would Salvador have left to strike back with?

I forced myself upright and said, “I’ll go talk some sense into Sammy right now. And tonight, we’ll throw Betty’s family out of the rented place.”

Lamia said, “No need for me to throw them out. They already moved overnight to the fortieth floor.”

I cried, “What? Just like that? For more than ten years you paid the rent. They never paid a single cent. Shouldn’t you demand it back?” Over a decade—that was nearly ten million credits, not counting utilities.

Lamia shook her head. “Forget it. Don’t be so petty.”

I asked, “The fortieth floor... that’s the lieutenant colonel’s place?”

Lamia said, “Naturally.”

I could not make sense of it. Betty was indeed rather pretty, but not so stunning as to be called a peerless beauty. Her rank in the army was only sergeant, and she could hardly be said to possess exceptional talent. How had that lieutenant colonel become so utterly enamored of her?

Perhaps it could all be blamed on love. Love is something no one can understand. But one thing was certain: the flirting between Betty and that lieutenant colonel had likely been going on for quite some time.

Tonight I would not be able to enjoy Betty’s mother’s family dinner. What a pity. Perhaps I could sneak over to their place and take a look around...

At that moment, a neatly dressed colonel entered the ward with several men in tow. “Lieutenant Colonel Lamia, Lieutenant Colonel Longinus, pursuant to orders from above, please accompany me to attend the Council of Elders.”

I was momentarily dazed. “The... Council of Elders? It is in...”

The colonel said, “On the floors above the ninetieth.”

Lamia was thrilled as well. “B-but... what an honor. I am completely unprepared.”

The colonel said, “I was notified at the last minute as well. You need only wear your uniforms. Please hurry. The elders do not like to wait.”

The Council of Elders, apart from the three great powers, contained three others. They were the core of Black Coffin’s power, the summit of authority. Without question, they were all vampires—old, fearsome, bloodthirsty nobles. These six dukes schemed against one another, allied and betrayed in turn, while their offspring and the pawns they exploited performed, within Black Coffin, one scene of betrayal and union after another.

We took a special elevator, passed through one checkpoint after another, were searched and disinfected, and finally reached the ninetieth floor. There, five levels had been combined into one, creating a vast and soaring space. Golden lights shone down upon the entire floor. I saw green lawns, flowers of every hue, and a castle like the White House. Six red curtains hung from the roof like waterfalls, touching the floor with perfect stillness.

It inspired a sense of solemnity, yet the enormous draperies reflected a crimson glow, bathing the entire building in red and adding an air of cruelty and judgment.

As we approached the castle, a few young moose scampered toward me in a frolic. I could not help exclaiming, “So they were keeping you here all along!”

The colonel said, “Their upkeep is paid for by Marquis Le Gang.”

They clustered around me affectionately for a moment, and the colonel urged us not to offend the elders’ court. We continued onward, through corridors so luxurious they were almost frightening, and entered a conference room like the audience hall of a palace. It followed the layout of a courthouse: six rulers sat behind the raised dais, while below them were several rows of comfortable tables and chairs for the vampires and thralls the elders had summoned.

Missouri Tiaardo, Typhon, and Macyon sat in the center.

Beside those three great powers sat another bloodline vampire: a black man with long hair, handsome features, and a short beard. His bearing was that of an emperor from some ancient American empire. His name was said to be Maxwell, and he shared the same bloodline as Tiaardo and Typhon. His strength was terrifying.

To Macyon’s right sat an old man with his eyes lowered and a faint smile on his face. His hair was still half black and half white, yet he gave off an immensely ancient and uncanny impression. His name, I had heard, was Norris. He was on very good terms with Macyon and excelled in sinister arts that curdled the soul.

A bald man sat beside Typhon. He was broad of shoulder and thick of waist, plainly a man of outstanding valor. Yet in his eyes there gleamed a pious, fanatical light, like that of a monk or priest consumed by single-minded conviction. One could not help but wonder whether he often tied people to a pillar of fire and burned them alive. He was the priest Borchi, tirelessly promoting the religion he believed in throughout Black Coffin.