Пророчество Древних.

Prophecy of the Ancients

“We must follow the dictates of Astria’s prediction.”

Ruadan’s voice rang with authority. Around the crudely carved oak table, five vampires stared at their leader and their creator, their expressions varying degrees of worry and disbelief.

For four-thousand years, the seven vampire Ancients had sat at this table, deciding the fates of their Families, meting out justice, creating or repealing laws.

Now, there were only six.

Ruadan’s gaze flicked to the chair on his right, which was empty. Its former occupant, Koschei, had turned droch fola — a soulless vampire. He was an extraordinary psychic and telepathist, gifts which he now used against those he’d once called friends.

While the others ruminated about the prophecy, Ruadan studied the cavern. Protected by magic, the underground lair beneath Na Cruacha Dubhain—the mountain range in Ireland known in modern times as Macgillycuddy’s Reeks — was only accessible by those who could dematerialize. Yellow orbs bobbed in the air above them; the fairy lights offered the only illumination.

“Why should we accept this prognostication?” demanded Lia. Her real name was Hu Mu Lan, which translated to “Magnolia Blossom.” But Lia was no delicate flower. A skilled warrior with the ability to wield fire, she was always ready for a fight. In the early days, Ruadan found her temperament sexy enough to do a hundred-year binding with her—twice. Lately, he found her battle-prone attitude wearisome.

“We’ve held stead by the Vedere family’s prophecies for a millennium,” he said quietly. “To ignore Astria’s words is folly.”

“She is but a girl. And her gift is not strong like her mother’s. Besides, they’re humans.” Lia looked at him haughtily and gestured around the table. “We all know why you encouraged your sons and their little gang of dogooders to settle in Broken Heart. You’ve set up this entire situation from the beginning.”

Ruadan kept silent because she spoke the truth. Yet, whether or not he had helped things along was irrelevant. The predication would come true with or without his cooperation.

Lia rose from the table, looking magnificent in her sleeveless red dress. Its mandarin collar hid her slim pale neck, but framed her beautiful face. The almond-shape of her eyes softened the intensity of her obsidian gaze. She was in rare form this night. Energy pulsed around her. Her ankle-length frock was slit on both sides all the way up her thighs. She wore thigh-high black leather boots. He knew from experience all manner of weapons were hidden in her apparel.

She strode around the table, her long hair flowing like a black river behind her. “I say we make our own destinies! We should not bend to the will of a mere girl. What do humans know?”

“Enough!” Ruadan smacked his fist against the table.

It shuddered and creaked. “You were human once, Lia, as were we all. Despite Koschei’s beliefs to the contrary, we are not superior to mankind or parakind. Separating ourselves from others who share this planet is not a path I wish to walk.”

“Is that not the problem?” asked Velthur. As usual, he was dressed in Armani. The brown pin-stripe enhanced his olive skin and his amber eyes. He had the tall lean build of a runner even though he’d once been a farmer. He wore his curly brown hair short, which complemented his classic Italian looks. A platinum Rolex gleamed from his left wrist. The gold ring on his right pinky featured a twocarat square-cut diamond.

Despite Velthur’s enjoyment of the finer things, he was a patient and thoughtful man. He also had the talent to control water. In fact, he could manipulate any liquid. Four thousand years ago, his people lived and died on the land that became Italy; they were the ancestors of the Rasenna, more commonly known as the Etruscans.

“The problem?” repeated Lia coolly. She resumed her seat and folded her hands on top of the table. Velthur studied Lia, frowning. “The world changes and so does everyone in it. Fighting tooth and nail against the inevitable is foolish. The Verderes are never wrong.”

“I don’t agree. I believe that Lia is right on this issue,” said Durga. The cappuccino-skinned woman was barely five feet tall and looked as though a spring breeze could blow her over. However, she possessed an awesome and dark power: calling forth and dispelling demons. She always wore black robes. Her hair, which she wore in a single braid, shone like silver.

Nowadays, Durga’s people were called the Indus Valley Civilization or the Harappan Civilization. Ruadan discovered her in a smoking ruin, wounded and dying. The abilities of the priestesses had been so feared by outsiders, they had been attacked and their temple destroyed. She was the only survivor.

Ruadan sighed. “Et tu, Durga?”

“Fate is determined by free will,” she said. “We do not have to accept the reality of Astria’s foretelling.”

Foreboding settled heavily in his stomach. He had expected dissention from Lia, but not from any of the others. He looked at the two vampires across from him who had not spoken.

Zela’s statuesque beauty and graceful nature bespoke of her former life as a Nubian princess. She wore a white pant suit, which showed off her smooth, dark skin. Her hair was cropped short, mostly because she didn’t like to fuss with hairstyles. Her silver hoop earrings and matching choker she’d made herself. She had the unique ability to manipulate metals of all kinds. Her father had confined her, refusing to allow her to marry or have children, so that she could make weapons for their tribe. The night she attempted suicide, Ruadan found her and Turned her.

Khenti looked very much like his father, tall and muscular with skin like caramel. He, too, favored Armani and wore a black suit with a red tie. Two gold hoops pierced each ear. His head and face were clean shaven.

When his father Amahté had gone to ground, Khenti assumed his father’s role on the Council. Ruadan had befriended Amahté, who’d been a high priest of Anubis, days before he’d been attacked by jealous rivals. As he lay dying, Ruadan made him a vampire. He missed Amahté’s wisdom and his humor. He wondered when the Egyptian would finally rise from his three-thousand-year rest.

“I do not fear change,” said Zela softly. Her gaze flicked to Lia, who eyed her scornfully. “I abide by the prophecy.”

“And I as well,” said Khenti.

“Velthur?” Ruadan prodded. Majority ruled in their decisions. With three for and two against, Velthur could easily tie the vote.

For a long moment, Velthur said nothing as he thought over his options. Finally, he nodded. “I, too, abide by the prophecy.”

Ruadan looked at each of the Ancients. “It’s decided. Now, we must go to Broken Heart and play our parts.”