The next night’s sunset was met with dew dripping from gun barrels as the humans of Sam’s tribe ended their watch. The vampires within the busses likewise swapped guard, looking to the overcast sky with wary eyes. Illuminated by the red rays of sunset, the heavy rain clouds portended another evening of drumming raindrops for the vampires. Sulis sat in the bar, a dark expression boring into the Fulcurm’s bustling forces. Their leader had made her position quite clear. All it took now was time. Time they didn’t have. She looked up the stairs toward her wives’ rooms, her gaze softening briefly before downing the last dregs of blood she’d wrangled from the nurses. Wordlessly, she reached over to rub Ansa’s back. The witch sat slumped onto the bar, stirring once her companion roused her. Sulis wasn’t sure what they were. Only that it had nearly deafened her in the sunlit hours of the morning. Their rage was understandable, really. She could only hope their anger waned and Ansa’s reformation was genuine. Well, the beginning of a reformation.
The two women slid from the barstools, watching as Mary and Hana descended the stairs. They looked haggard, the taller of the two giving her bravest smile. It had been a hell of a year for them all. And it wasn’t over by half. Whatever others may think, Sulis wrapped her fingers through Ansa’s and squeezed encouragingly. Her leg had been twitching in her sleep.
Sigrun emerged from her RV with Gunnar in tow, looking far too pleased with herself. Mechanical issues had prevented her from moving their lines, apparently. And naturally, Sam appeared with his chieftains with suspicion in their eyes. His sister tried to give him a kind stare, only for it to be returned with a frosty look. All those who dared bear witness had assembled and began their trip to the spacious yard before the manor. The shieldmaiden was flanked by her soldiers, unarmed purely for appearances sake. Sulis didn’t doubt for a second, they’d kill with their teeth if they had to. But that was over. One way or another, the legacy of her past self and Ansa’s complicity were going up in flames.
“Called us here for another lecture about unity, sister?” Sam grunted with a scathing stare towards the Fulcrum. His chieftains and clan mothers visibly balked at the very notion. As well they might. There was no unity with people like Fulcrum. Which was why, ironically, Sulis was going to take a leaf out of their book.
“An announcement, actually” Ansa corrected with a neutral expression. She’d always been good at politics. Spirits don’t let it be the wrong call, her oldest friend thought. No, that was wrong too. “With the return of our progenitor and the creation of a new sireless from our lineage, the old world has been tossed into the fire. We must look to the future of European vampires” the witch began with an earnest look toward Sigrun. The blonde woman looked to her husband with a perplexed expression. Gunnar himself merely seemed curious as to where it was going. Sulis swallowed dry air and clasped her hands behind her. “Reform is necessary. To that end I’ve gathered you here, leaders of your respective factions,” Ansa spoke with a dangerous tone. She looked to Sam searchingly who hadn’t moved from his instinctive half-crouch. “I am disbanding the Fulcrum of History and dividing its assets among the clans its members hail from.”
The courtyard exploded with accusations, arguments and aspersions. Sam thought it was some kind of trick, a ruse by Ansa to manipulate her former love. He didn’t use nearly as kind words. Sigrun was outraged, heavy boots thudding as she took the stage in the middle of their impromptu courtyard. Gunnar merely looked stunned for a moment before his eyes reddened, a relieved smile breaking over his features as he looked at his former boss. Ansa nodded to him, curling her arm about Sulis’. Lastly, the councillor of New Orleans looked to the giantess with new eyes. She nodded, all too happy to accept this development. Couldn’t have a war if one of the belligerents just vanished.
“So this is how it ends, is it?” Sigrun demanded harshly, her eyes filled with newfound hate. “I knew you’d been slipping, Ansa. But I never thought you’d fall this far!” she ranted before spitting at those arrayed against her. “What if I refuse? I ran this army for centuries. Now I’m the one giving orders!” she shouted over her shoulder at her toadies, who shifted uncomfortably. It made a little sense. Both their leader and their queen had just declared them over. With a sigh, Sulis shrugged off the blanket Livia had likely placed on her shoulders during the day.
“That’s where I come in” the sireless grunted. She had no weapons to honour the agreement but was certainly ready to discipline her eldest daughter. It felt strangely right to call her that. Perhaps Ansa was onto something. “Not in my name, not anymore. And I’ll keep punching until you get the message.”
“So, that’s how it’ll be? I’ve knocked you down before. When I do it this time, I’m picking up the crown,” the shieldmaiden growled. Those assembled fell silent in shock, even Sam’s brows lifting. Mary wondered aloud whether she could even do that. “Any member of a clan can challenge their tribune. And you once called me friend, Sulis Godsbane” Sigrun accused with a clawed finger. The sireless flinched at the invocation of her old name. “Gunnar, get my guns” the blonde ordered over her shoulder, eyes hardened by betrayal.
Her husband took a step back, looking to his chest with a saddened expression. His eyes flicked to Sulis and Ansa then his wife, conflict etching wrinkles into his forehead. His hand came up to rest on his shirt, finger toying with a hilt as he thought. Sigrun barked her order more insistently, turning bodily to face him. As his eyes met his wife’s his gaze hardened, and his spine stiffened.
“No, Sigrun” he answered firmly. She demanded answers, claws bloodying her palms in sheer anger. “I thought our separation would have been enough! That you would leave aside this nonsense and be my wife again! But I see now you’ve chosen your crusade over me, over Sulis, over everyone in your life! So no, I will not be your enabler anymore. If you want your guns Sigrun, you will get them yourself. I am finished with you” Gunnar bellowed as if a great wave of grief were leaving him. He stood there breathing heavily, spittle clinging to his moustache before he attempted to push past his now former wife.
She didn’t let him. Angrily, she lashed out with a clawed hand and scored deep wounds into his flesh. But it wasn’t the hurt she was after. As she kicked him away with a rib-cracking boot, her fingers came up with two daggers looped around her fingers. Daggers that she swiftly righted, grinning challengingly at the bearded man.
“Looks like I scratched a liberal” Sigrun teased, pointing a dagger at Gunnar’s bleeding stomach. “Turns out, he just bleeds red. Run along, argr swine” she lifted her chin dismissively.
Her former husband bellowed with sudden rage, whipping two of his four remaining daggers from his waist and charging the shieldmaiden down. She seemed mildly surprised before sidestepping, slamming her elbow into his back. Much like Sulis, he lashed out with his dagger at her thigh. But she’d learned, catching his forearm in the crook of her knee before breaking it with a vicious turn of her hips.
Sam intervened, clearing the distance in a second and shoving Sigrun clear of the ailing councillor. She rolled with the impact, coming up to grin through bloodied teeth. A sireless was worthy prey, in her estimation.
But Gunnar was not dissuaded, reversing the dagger in his good hand before returning to the fight. Mary moved to intervene, only for Hana’s bracing hand to stop her. Sulis looked to Ansa, who merely shook her head. With any luck, they’d do the job for her. And Sam made no secret of his training, keeping Sigrun’s attention while Gunnar stalked for an opening. He appeared to catch her, only for his former bride to use Sam as a fleshy shield to catch the dagger. His purpose served, Sigrun tossed the sireless onto Gunnar. He rolled the elder vampire to the side, catching a fist to the chin from Sigrun.
“The desk has robbed you of your fight, Gunnar. When did men become so fragile?” she taunted as she turned his dagger with one hand. The other impaled his chest, missing his heart by the grace of its owner’s skill. Or mercy from the blonde, Sulis wasn’t quite sure. “I’ll put you through your paces after you’ve been humbled,” came the continuation. The Gunnar of Sulis’ memories resurfaced slightly as he spat blood at Sigrun, using his own chest as leverage to wrench the dagger out of her grasp. She looked momentarily surprised before he opened her guard. Sam’s claws dug into her throat, the elder vampire’s face a picture of hatred.
Her taunts silenced, the pair of them attempted to weaken her at least a little. Although from the ferocity of Sam’s attacks, it seemed as if he intended to kill her. Sulis felt Ansa’s power building, preparing to break up the fight. She placed a hand on the witch’s shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. An expression that told the other woman exactly how extensive the lesson was to be.
The chiefs caught their patriarch as Sigrun flung him at them, begging leave to intervene. Leave they were never given as Sam thumbed his bleeding lip, limping toward the acrobatic show the shieldmaiden was putting on. She leapt all around Gunnar, whose stationary fighting style was more suited to the frontlines against Alfred the Great. With only one arm, he’d collected nicks and cuts by the dozen. But he’d survived longer than Sulis had. He lashed out a hand, dropping his dagger to slam her into the ground and hold her still for Sam’s claws that sparked off her daggers with every strike. She kicked him hard enough to break his femur, sending him to the ground with a scream of pain. Using her momentary advantage, she rolled Gunnar onto his back and set the dagger to his throat with wild eyes. She rummaged in his jacket for a moment, removing a hip flask and guzzling it before slapping the bearded man with a clang of metal.
He bucked her off, redirecting the dagger into the stone beneath him. He locked his arms around her midriff, crumbling the side of their RV with his charge. Sigrun coughed and gritted her teeth, cracking Gunnar’s jaw with her knee and a feral look toward Sam’s recovering form. Quickly reversing their positions, Sigrun grabbed one of Gunnar’s remaining daggers and jammed it into his shoulder with the sound of shearing metal. Satisfied he was suitably hooked in place, the shieldmaiden spat blood before delivering an almighty kick to Sam. He fell limply against the gravel, bleeding profusely from a cracked skull.
Sigrun stood victorious with a healing throat and plenty of other injuries besides. But nicks and cuts were nothing to vampires. And she’d been too quick to break anything important. Sulis did catch the blooming bruises in her knuckles though. She pulled her daggers up once again, turning to the chieftains who arrayed their claws in kind.
“You challenged me, Sigrun!” Sulis reminded her with a sonorous declaration. Her student looked to her with an incredulous expression. “If my brother’s household allows it, I’ll be taking you home now.”
“Since when did you defer to these simpering so-called vampires?” Sigrun snorted with a derogatory look towards Sam’s allies. They looked all too ready for the fight, pure undiluted hatred in their eyes. She returned it in kind. “You might have convinced your brother, Gunnar and all the rest. But not me” she sneered darkly, holding a dagger towards the chieftains should they try anything. “You’re sick of listening to their provincial concerns. What’s right and wrong. Who gets the blame. All Sulis Godsbane knows is one truth. The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must.”
She didn’t take Sigrun’s bait, walking down the steps of the manor with a casual stride. She reached down, hauling Sam to his feet before pulling the dagger pinning Gunnar. She gave her insensible brother to him. He was a good man in the end and would take care of Sam. Then came the time to finally deal with Sigrun, whistling up at the second floor. A few moments later, Francheska appeared at the window with a curious expression.
“It’s their home, I was being polite” Sulis shrugged as she came within a dangerous distance. Dripping rain began to fall, driving the Fulcrum into their busses with growing unease. In their mind when the Daughter of Ashes moved against you it was best to run. “I hope they understand that you’re my problem. It’s high time I fixed it” she sighed, eyes meeting the faces of her brother’s people. The people who cared for her broken mind after Leofric’s fate was decided. The people she’d turned her back on when they needed her most. So much for Pax Vampana. With a look to Sam, a clan mother nodded.
“I don’t need fixing. I am everything a vampire is meant to be,” Sigrun snarled. She began stalking forward, daggers held at the ready. Sulis affixed her with sad eyes before looking up to her wives gathered at the window.
“Francheska! My axes please!” the sireless shouted up at them. Within the space of a few moments, the billowing black skirt of her second eldest bride fell from the window and landed next to Ansa carrying a black box. Sigrun, sensing something amiss, leapt at Sulis with an enraged scream. Her dagger came up only for Sulis to bat the blow aside in its infancy. Its brother came to Sigrun’s defence, her former teacher catching an axe thrown to her by her wife. With a heavy blow, the dagger was sent skittering from her enemy’s grasp.
The fight ignited fully then, both women trading lightning-fast strikes that sparked in the driving rain. The dagger sheared through Sulis’ shirt, forcing a grunt of pain from her lips. She repaid it in kind, choking up on the ornate axe head to use as a knuckle duster. With satisfaction, she noticed it was the one marked with Tallas’ strange designs. It had a black feather hanging from the handle. The dagger and axe met once again, binding as Sulis struggled to overpower her apprentice. Snarling, she spoke a word in her mother tongue. With a whisper of power, Nyx leapt from the head and onto Sigrun’s face. They clawed all the while, forcing the shieldmaiden to stagger back with seething anger.
“Pull as many tricks as you want! When I’m done with you, you’ll be sleeping in the English Channel with your mother!” she shouted, throwing Nyx from her with merciless strength. She charged the sireless, who sized up the attack with calm eyes. With a single deft movement, she slipped under Sigrun’s wide strike and severed her Achilles tendon.
Sigrun wailed and struggled momentarily, hopping as her body repaired itself. The momentary weakness was all Sulis needed to end it. Then to realise her mistake. As she leapt at the blonde, she grappled her mentor’s axe arm in a crushing embrace. They lay entangled on the ground, bones grinding and clicking as Sigrun used every ounce of her strength to break her opponent. Likewise, her elder used everything she had to avoid the closing vice. Her knee pressed against the other woman’s stomach, free hand hammering against a body that wouldn’t relent. Momentarily, she closed her eyes before rolling them over. It gave Sigrun the advantage and several bones began to crack. But Auset was there, flinging the second axe to her.
Sulis’ swing was diminished but it was enough to dig under Sigrun’s shoulder blade. She tried to inhale sharply as a lung collapsed, strength leaving her arms. Sensing her chance, her opponent kicked her into Gunnar’s car. With a ghastly wheeze, the shieldmaiden wiped her bleeding lips. Her eyes didn’t show surrender and so, compartmentalizing her pain, Sulis resumed the attack. With admirable resolve, Sigrun weathered the storm of steel that fell on her former husband’s dagger. Her free hand clawed whenever it could, opening red rivers on Sulis’ face.
The cheers were silenced once Sulis reared back, her companions noticing the fatal decision so many who’d fought her had made. That she’d made not so long ago. Sigrun’s clawed fingers speared toward the underside of her ribcage, dropping her dagger to do so. But like the best laid plans of her scheming politicians, the shieldmaiden’s arm failed as Sulis’ axes fell on it.
Sigrun did not relent even as she clutched at the bleeding remains of her limb. Her hateful eyes flashed with movement, fangs sinking into Sulis’ forearm. Leaning into the pain, her elder pinned Sigrun to the car with her weight and strength both. A knee crushed her other forearm, eyes swallowed by the black of a sireless. With dreadful intent, Sulis pressed the blade of her axe to Sigrun’s neck. Even so close, it wouldn’t take more than two blows to end the blonde woman’s life. And for the first time since she’d come to New Orleans, Sigrun’s eyes showed a glimmer of fear.
Her mentor hovered over her with a furious expression, appearing momentarily conflicted. As that conflict grew the other vampires began to get nervous. Even the chiefs knew what their progenitor’s sister had vowed. Faced with its consequences, Sulis found her hand shaking. Small cuts opened on Sigrun’s throat, cold black eyes filled with nothing but shame and hate. With one good strike it would all vanish.
“Yield.”
The instruction was clear, Sulis’ voice trembling with barely checked contempt. The blonde woman’s eyes searched for a moment before Sigrun swallowed. Both of them knew the order for what it was. They’d known each other too long not to. It would give Sulis the one thing she craved more than anything in that moment.
“Refuse and die. Surrender and go home in disgrace. What sort of choice is that?” Sigrun seethed from her pinned position, beginning to wriggle. A vicious bite from the sireless’ six fangs ripped free of her shoulder, forcing a scream of agony to her lips. Through whimpering, struggling breaths she looked up at Sulis defiantly. “You abandoned us. Now look at you. Lioness claiming her pride. I hear it comes before a fall,” the shieldmaiden taunted through a bloody froth building at the edges of her mouth.
“I was never your queen. But if you want orders, here’s one” Sulis began with a dreadful tone. “Go home. There’s nothing for you here,” she commanded with barely an inch of space between her and her apprentice’s face. “I’m giving you all a second chance! Spend it wisely,” Sulis bellowed to the vampires witnessing the fight. She gripped Sigrun by the shirt, practically throwing her to the ground before them. She looked back to her progenitor with a fear building in her eyes. How the tables had turned for poor Siggy. “There won’t be a third.”
The sireless turned her back on them then, prepared for any ill-conceived counterattack. If they chose that path, she’d feed them to Sam’s tribes. At that point, they’d chosen the noose and saved her the trouble. But nothing came, only Sigrun’s ragged breathing as her wounds closed. Sulis ascended the steps, kissing Francheska and Auset on their foreheads with a smile before looking expectantly at Ansa. With a cute pout, the other woman drew the dagger from her robe’s sleeve, handing the poisoned implement to her taller companion. Perhaps that was the smarter way to deal with Fulcrum. With a contented sigh, she embraced the three women with wilting strength. The thirst had already begun to build, her bloodied shirt hanging in rags from Sigrun’s strikes.
“How many Cavendishes are you going to serve us before you get the point?” Sam panted, leaning on Gunnar for support. “Sometimes you serve peace best by a single act of violence. Some people don’t deserve your mercy.”
“You told me to be better. If there’s the smallest chance Sigrun can do the same, I have to try” Sulis replied with a steady gaze. “Let’s get you seen to. Some of those look nasty,” she added with a critical eye toward Sam’s head wound. Gunnar’s eyes met hers and they shared a momentary smile. He wasn’t alright, she could see that much. But he would be.
“They feel nasty” Sam griped with a cheeky smirk. He gave a momentary, thoughtful look to his tribes before sighing. It seemed he was learning just how heavy the crown was, even if he’d only tried it on for a few days. It was good, in Sulis’ mind. The fewer sireless that fancied themselves monarchs the better. “I’m proud of you. For what it’s worth” he piped up as he was laid on the dining table. Hana began checking him over, grumbling about idiot vampire laws. “I saw how much you wanted to kill her. You should have. But hey, principles are principles” he postulated between sips of blood. “And you’ve finally got your shit together.”
Sulis snorted with laughter, wishing him good health and a mighty headache. She gave the medical folks plenty of room to deal with people with more than flesh wounds. Her bout with Leofric had really cleaned off the rust, despite how traumatizing that little encounter had been. Her words on her knees and the words of Tallas haunted her as she embraced Livia, using the happiness of her reunion to mask it. She wasn’t mighty enough to resist forever.
The four wives and Ansa made their way to Auset’s room, spreading over the chairs and bed with a solemn mood overcoming them. The kiss still hung in the air like a cold morning, wrapping itself around the women. Twelve thousand years of romance in one sitting, Sulis marvelled with a small smile.
“Well we can’t add another wife” Francheska observed, breaking the tension that had been building between them all. “Especially one that sees herself as the only real wife.” She cast an evil eye toward Ansa, who levelled a disapproving expression in response. Livia, resting her feet on Auset’s lap, scoffed at the very idea.
“Momentary indiscretion I can forgive. But monogamy? Absolutely not. I’d be a terrible Julian to even consider it,” she smirked. Auset chuckled lightly, correcting a strand of her blonde bride’s hair. “Very well, I shall test the principle,” Livia stood with a serene smile. Sulis looked at her suspiciously as she crossed the bedroom, leaning down with a hand on the back of Ansa’s head. The elder witch looked momentarily panicked before realising the Roman’s intentions. With a defiant expression, she kissed Livia almost possessively.
The two of them parted moments later, looking confused. Livia put her hands on her hips, shrugging at Auset who wore a deeply miffed expression.
“Last I checked, love is grown not spawned whole” Sulis suggested with her arms folded. Francheska had busied herself applying the beer cooling ice to the growing lividity of bruises on her bride’s face. She hissed as it passed over a particularly angry one. “I’m happy for you three to try dating her. You’ll find something you like, surely?”
In Sulis’ mind it was dreadfully simple. Ansa would fit in with the other brides, love them as they did each other. Or she wouldn’t. And that would be the end of it. The pragmatic, simplest solution that left the fewest people bitter and cut out. Which meant the heart, pernicious organ it was, was never going to agree to it. Still, Sulis crossed her fingers.
“I’m willing to try” Ansa spoke with heavy trepidation. If it sounded like lunacy, it was because it was. “Auset, would you like to go sailing when we get back to Scotland? We can bring Livia along. Give the other two a chance to catch up” she asked with a tight voice. Whether due to the awkwardness or nerves, Sulis wasn’t sure. “I hope you don’t mind but I have a daughter from a previous relationship,” she giggled. Something that brought a smile to their collective faces. An actual laugh from Sulis, who heard the footsteps in the hallway. It made it all the funnier.
“So long as you’re not going to indoctrinate me,” Auset spoke with narrowed eyes, a slight hint of frigidity to her tone. It was probably as close to a yes as they were getting.
With a knock at the door, their quorum was disturbed. As Ansa looked to see who it was, Lucy poked her head into the room with a confused expression. Ah, she’d heard the joke. She thought better of bringing it up, taking a deep breath.
“Ansa, I need you to locate Cavendish. Tallas said you’d know how.”
