“For her own reasons, I am sure,” Adrik said.
“But are you certain the Grail was destroyed?” Tian Dao Lin pressed, cutting off Adrik. “My sources believe the same thing, but I have heard that those from Area 51 brought some artifacts back from Mars on board Donnchadh’s spaceship.”
“It is slightly possible,” Nosferatu granted, “that they brought the Grail back, but I very much doubt it.”
Tian Dao Lin lapsed into silence, waiting.
Adrik spoke up. “I agree with Nosferatu, the Eldest, on one key point. I do not think we will ever be accepted by the humans. Therefore, I propose we do not ask to be accepted by the humans.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I propose we rule them.”
There were several moments of silence following Adrik’s proposal. Finally, Nosferatu voiced the objection he knew Tian Dao Lin was thinking. “Ruling would force us into the open. Even with the great power and influence we have amassed over the years, we would still be vulnerable. We have all seen great and powerful rulers over the ages who were destroyed. We have just witnessed the humans defeat the Airlia, something I would not have thought possible. We should not underestimate them. And there have been attempts by Undead, particularly Vampyr, and you”—he stared at Adrik—“to rule before and all have failed.”
“It depends on what you mean by failure,” Adrik argued. “I had magnificent successes in many places. Names I have used are in the human history books as great leaders.”
“But you could never maintain your kingdoms; nor could Vampyr,” Nosferatu noted.
“So you say we stay in the shadows still?” Adrik demanded. “Let our fortunes and fates go with the flow of mankind? At least when the Airlia ruled through their minions we had some degree of assurance that there would be a world left for us to live in. Humans, on their own”—he shook his head—“they will destroy themselves, and us with them. We are wiser, more experienced. It would be in their interest for us to dictate their course.”
“And when we feed?” Tian Dao Lin quietly asked. “If we could have partaken of the Grail and become immortal without the need to drink blood, then I would say perhaps we could rule. But without that, do you think the humans would be so obliging as to give us bodies to feed on?”
Adrik shrugged. “They could give us their worst criminals — the humans kill thousands themselves in punishment. Your own China chops off how many heads each year. And for those who feel the kill is not necessary”—he glanced disdainfully toward Nosferatu—“there is always a way to get blood without killing.”
“We are only a handful,” Tian Dao Lin said. “Even with our money and influence…” He trailed off into silence.
“Why have you brought us here then?” Adrik demanded of Nosferatu. “Surely you had a reason.”
Nosferatu nodded. “I had two reasons. I called you here to discuss what we should do first before we can accomplish anything else, including trying to rule the humans.”
Nosferatu got to his feet and walked over to an ancient armoire, opening its wooden doors to reveal a small stainless-steel door. He slid it up and removed three flasks also made of unmarked steel resting in specially made cradles that kept the contents warm. He carried them back to the table, placing one in front of each man before taking his seat with the third. He unscrewed the lid and lifted it to his lips, tilting the flask and drinking deeply for several seconds before putting it back on the table. There was a faint trace of red on his lips, which he dabbed away with a silk handkerchief. When he was done his face was flushed, his eyes glittering with increased power.
He indicated the other flasks. “It’s tested: clean, pure, relatively fresh, and kept at body temperature. Imbibe, my friends. There is much I have to talk to you about.”
The other two drank and Nosferatu waited until they were done. Then he tapped the flask. “This is our sustenance and it is our greatest weakness. We are half-breeds. We have some Airlia blood, but not enough to sustain us without constant nourishment of human blood for it. We drink human blood because we have to in order to stay alive.”
“You tell us what we have all known since the beginning,” Adrik grumbled. “You knew it from the beginning?” Nosferatu challenged him. “I was entombed for much longer than you by the Airlia Gods themselves, and knew practically nothing. I’ve known about the Grail and the promise of immortality from the beginning, but I didn’t know exactly how it gave eternal life. It is only because the science of the humans has advanced so far that we have an idea of how we have managed to live so long.”
He placed one finger against the engorged vein on his wrist. “We have a virus in our blood. An Airlia virus. It helps our cells regenerate when they should die. However, we’re half-breeds. So we don’t have enough of the virus for it to be self-sustaining. Thus, we must”—he reached forward and plinked a fingernail against the steel flask—“drink human blood to feed and sustain the Airlia virus. The Grail — if we had it — would purify our blood, injecting the Airlia virus, making the virus dominant and self-sustaining just as it is — or was — in the Airlia themselves. We would no longer need to drink human blood for sustenance.”
Nosferatu waited. As he expected, Tian Dao Lin, with his obsession for the Grail, was the first to grasp the significance of this. “If we had more of the virus…”
Nosferatu nodded. “If we could somehow — without the lost Grail — cross the threshold to where the virus is self-sustaining, we would be, in effect, immortal. We would not need to drink human blood anymore and we would have the benefits of the Airlia virus’s ability to replicate, which means even if killed, we would come back to life as it quickly regenerated us.”
“But there are no more Airlia,” Tian Dao Lin said. “You started this meeting saying that. So there is no more virus except what we already have in our veins.”
Nosferatu shook his head. “The Airlia are gone, but there are sources of Airlia virus we can recover.”
“‘We’?” Adrik repeated. “Why do you need us?”
A good question, Nosferatu thought. One he knew that Tian Dao Lin was thinking but had not voiced. “Because we would not be the only ones trying to get this blood.”
“Vampyr.” Tian Dao Lin said it as a statement, not a question.
Nosferatu pressed a button under the tabletop and the screen came alive with an image. The man pictured was similar in appearance to Nosferatu, but his hair was dyed jet-black and he wore a pair of sleek sunglasses that hid his eyes. He wore an expensive suit of black, with a black shirt and tie completing the image. He was standing on the wide stairs of some building, perhaps a symphony hall, looking out over the night crowd.
“I have known him a long time,” Nosferatu said, staring at the screen. “He was made Vampyr, also in the First Age of Egypt, the son of the Airlia Amun and a High Consort, along with his twin sister Lilith. She died most horribly at the hands of the Airlia while Vampyr and I watched. He swore revenge then against both Airlia and humans, who so blindly followed them and helped kill her.”
“He is very powerful,” Tian Dao Lin said. Nosferatu nodded. “He too has gone by many names over the years and has wielded much power from the shadows. We have met several times, even as allies long ago. But now that the Airlia are gone, I fear what he will do next.”
“You fear or you know?” Tian Dao Lin asked.
“I have had some reports,” Nosferatu acknowledged vaguely. He stared at the image on the screen. “I have known Vampyr for millennia, from the first day he swore vengeance, and his rage has not abated over the years, but rather grown. He has done many terrible things through the ages and”—Nosferatu paused, then reluctantly continued—“now that the constraint of the Airlia and their minions is gone the only real threat he has is in this room.”