22.5

Magnus slipped into his house in Lyr, enjoying its feel. He had only recently moved back into it. The crypt in the Old Temple's cemetery had been too small, too dirty and too uncivilized. He had missed the luxury of his fashionable villa. Graveyard life as a refugee from the world of the living had been insufferable. He needed his clothes, his bed, his social calendar and his money. He wanted the privacy of high walls and thorn-covered hedges, and the softness of silken sheets. Most of all, he wanted to reclaim what was left of life in Lyr.

When he could stand the boredom of his undead seclusion no more, he had retaken possession of his home, ripping down the "for sale" sign, summoning carpenters to shutter the windows from the sun. He had even hired a new interior decorator to replace all the furniture that had mysteriously vanished following his death. Twenty-four hours and countless plats later, his house felt like home again.

Magnus had then set about weeding out the upstarts who were vying to replace him as Assassin Guildmaster. Many of his guild's members were pleased he was back - he had always been well loved by his underlings, after all. But there were a few who thought this was the perfect opportunity to wrest control of the guild from Magnus. His task now was to draw them out, find their followers and then make examples of them.

No one in Lyr could feel safe as long as there was instability in the Assassin Guild. For weeks, renegade killers had murdered freely. The carefully controlled, intricate rules governing the settlement of disputes through murder contracts had given way into a free-for-all of unchecked violence in the streets. Gangs of thugs even dared to claim city blocks as territorial possessions from which to extort "protection money."

The opportunistic excesses infuriated Magnus. His guild had exclusively run the justice and murder business in the city since the liberation from the Crusaders. No one had ever dared to challenge its power openly like this.

Magnus' only comfort was that the problems facing the Magic Guild dwarfed those in his own house. However bad things were at the Assassin Guild, things were far worse in the city's Dark Quarter where the Magic Guild was located. Fortunately, no one had yet figured out that he had himself played a role in causing those problems.

Several weeks ago, Klex, the mage who had brought Magnus back from the dead, had succeeded in forcing the fledgling vampire to kill Balthus, the head of the Magic Guild. Zyrdicia had been far too slow in dealing with Klex. She had eventually killed the man, but not before Balthus was already dead. Now the Magic Guild with without a leader. Zyrdicia, of course, had not even considered potential repercussions of Klex's death; she had only been interested in freeing Magnus from his control.

A full-fledged intra-guild war had been unleashed among Lyr's sorcerers as everyone vied for the position of Magic Guildmaster. Every spell caster was choosing sides with someone, switching to another when it was convenient and trying desperately to jockey for any conceivable advantage. Bodies were already piling up. Street battles among magic rivals were now common place, and bystanders were fair game when the spells started to fly.

Even the city's Governing Council was in utter disarray. Paralyzed by the absence of a third of its members, the Council had been unable to correct the chaos in the city. With struggles for power taking place in both the Assassin Guild and the Magic Guild, and the city's patron demi-goddess conspicuously absent, the Council could not take action. It lacked a quorum to even convene. The remaining six members had taken to in-fighting and shoring up personal financial interests in the event of civil unrest. The Merchant Guildmaster even dared to launch an insurance venture offering outrageously expensive policies specifically covering riot, local warfare, or general mob violence. He hoped to profit from the chaos.

Magnus now spent most nights securing his position in the Assassin Guild. What little time he had before dawn was spent conversing with every possible contender to replace Balthus as the head of the Magic Guild. It was too soon to tell who would win the fight there. But it worried him. There were powerful parties at play whom he disliked and distrusted.

In the past, Zyrdicia would have decided how to handle it all. Magnus had been a mere teenager when Balthus had taken power. He remembered the brutal magical deathtraps exploding in public places at all hours of the day and night back then. It had been common knowledge that it was insanely dangerous to lurk too near a high-ranking Magic Guild member. And now it was all happening again.

Soon the Days of Darkness during the Winter Solstice Festival would force the fights to end for a few weeks. Then the city would shut down for the thirteen days of holidays. Even the magic practitioners would stay home to observe the old rite.

Tonight he tried not to think about it. He was trying to enjoy a pleasant meal. He had taken an hour to indulge in a short visit to the clubs and taverns in the Red Zone. Beautiful woman there still swooned over the handsome assassin. He could seduce a suitable dinner companion for the evening and then dine on her at his leisure at home. Ideally, she would die in the throws of pleasure. The blood simply tasted sweeter to him that way. He hoped there was enough alcohol in this one's bloodstream to give him a bit of a buzz before he headed back to work at the guild headquarters.

The young woman on his arm now giggled drunkenly, throwing her hands around his neck. He struggled to remember her name, then gave up. He leaned down and kissed her neck playfully before nibbling at it.

She whispered, "Oh, Magnus! I can't wait for you to make me a vampire too. I'll be young and pretty forever!"

Magnus flashed a charming, boyish grin. The popular belief that every vampire had the power to make fledglings was a timeless Lyrian urban legend. It was, of course, nonsense. Only very powerful sorcerers could accomplish the task of summoning enough magical energy to create undead. But the misinformation was good for Magnus' dining options. Ever since word had spread throughout the city that he had returned as a vampire, vain women had thrown themselves at him, hoping that he could give them the gift of eternal youth.

He listened to the sound of young woman's pulse. His stomach growled. He was ready to fling his dinner on his bed when he finally noticed the second heartbeat in the room. One quick sniff was enough to permit him to identify the identity of the owner of the blood that pumped by that heartbeat.

Zyrdicia sat curled up atop his bed, her back against a pile of pillows. She wore his bathrobe. Her hair was still wet, as she had just bathed. Her brow was set in a forlorn scowl. Her arms were tightly crossed across her body.

Magnus reached down, draping one arm around the shoulders of the young woman still at his side. She beamed up at him with adoring, bleary eyes. With a fluid, effortless motion, his arm snaked around her head. He snapped her neck. Her body slumped to the floor like a discarded toy.

He moved to the bed, crawling atop it to enfold Zyrdicia in his arms. She melted against him. He squeezed her tightly, and kissed her forehead.

The moment her cheek settled on his shoulder, she sighed unhappily. She ran her fingertips along his lips, distracted by their pallor. He could not disguise the fact that he had not yet fed tonight.

She said solemnly, "Take my blood. I need the distraction tonight."

His smile faded abruptly. He shook his head, "No."

Imitating the dead girl, Zyrdicia mocked mirthlessly, "Oh, Magnus! I'll be young and pretty forever!"

"Tell me something I don't already know. Is that the only reason you came to see me?"

She shook her head, pressing her lips into a frown. "Everything has come unraveled. The blood loss would make me feel better. Please?"

Magnus inhaled the scent of her, savoring the temptation. He wanted to do it desperately. He stared into her eyes and saw the pain lurking in their depths. She was upset and wanted a way out of whatever was weighing upon her psyche. To her, bloodlessness was an anaesthetic. Coming to him for this was really no different to her than coming to him to cuddle when she was lonely.

The last time he had fed from her, the blood had been like a drug to him. The magic in it had a high that carried him for days. After she left, he had wept alone in his crypt in the Old Temple graveyard, yearning for more of it. He often still dreamt of its divine taste and the power it imbued.

"Please," she prodded, tugging gently at the collar of the leather coat he still wore. "For me?"

He shook his head reluctantly, finding it agonizing to refuse her. The imploring expression in her eyes was nearly enough to shatter every bit of self-restraint he possessed. Trying to distract her, he said, "First, tell me what's the matter!"

"Dirk and I are finished."

Magnus resisted his urge to roll his eyes at her. He had lost count of the number of times she claimed she was never going back to Karteia. As far as he could tell, she liked the power she had by walking out after a fight and making Dirk swallow his pride to come after her. It was narcissistic drama. Each time, she acted like their problems were the end of the world. He found it much easier to fall for the emotional ploy with her when he was mortal. "So what are you two fighting about this week?"

"We--He-" she frowned, frustrated by her own inability to even say the words. She grimaced, then buried her face in Magnus' shoulder. "I don't know what to do."

"Sweetie, whatever it is, you know I'm here for you. What happened?"

"He said he loved me!" she groaned miserably.

"That bastard!" Magnus mocked sarcastically. "So did you kill him?"

Zyrdicia was too distressed to notice that he was making fun of her. She said gravely, "No, but I hurt him badly, I think. I should have killed him, I suppose."

Magnus sighed in exasperation. Realizing he would have no luck getting her to see the absurdity of her reaction, he said simply, "Um, you probably would have regretted it later."

She looked up at Magnus, the purple pools of her eyes filled with baffled doubt. She tugged gently at the collar of his shirt again, her teeth resting upon her lower lip gently as her mind struggled vainly to find some elusive answer to an unspoken question. After a minute passed, she looked up at him and confessed, "After he said it, somehow the Edict went away. We had sex."

Magnus jaw dropped, leaving him speechless for a long moment. Too stunned to think of anything else to say, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her expression still troubled. She mumbled uncertainly, "It was amazing."

"But?"

"But I don't understand how the Edict could just stop! I don't understand why Dirk said what he did. Our relationship without love was wonderful. This ruins it!"

"Zyrdicia, does this really change anything?"

"Yes! Love is weakness, slavish devotion--"

"-That's horse shit," Magnus interrupted. "You're parroting crap Azriok told you years ago before you knew any better. He lied to you about everything."

Zyrdicia's scowl deepened. It had not occurred to her that Azriok could have lied about this, too. She suddenly feared that there might be some secret knowledge about love's meaning to which every living person was privy except her. Perhaps Azriok had hidden it from her. Disturbed by the possibility, she asked suspiciously, "Then what is it really?"

"You want me to define love?" he frowned.

"You said once that you loved me. What did you mean?"

Magnus frowned. Slavish devotion really was not so far off target in his case. Zyrdicia owned his soul, and he had no desire to ever be free of her. He bravely accepted that she would never love him in return. But their unshakably close friendship was his consolation. That, and his new immortality. Mortal infatuations were temporary. Men were destined to grow old and whither, which he knew she would never forgive. But he would still be here waiting for her, young, handsome and eternal.

Magnus stared at the wall across the room, searching futilely for some words that might dispel her confusion. He kissed her cheek idly as he searched for something to say. "Zyrdicia, those words are not like an incantation that suddenly makes it so. They just name what already is. You see?"

"No."

"You told me once that you rummaged through Dirk's brain whenever he kissed you."

"Always," she nodded, her confusion deepening. "So?"

"So you already experienced whatever he felt for you. Think about what you already knew. There's your definition of it."

She fell into a stunned silence. Her mind raced over every remembered sensation of Dirk's mind's secrets. She lingered on the profound emotional current that had so recently flowed between them. "That is what love is?" she murmured, pondering the covetous blend of closeness, desire, ambition, obsession and intimacy she remembered experiencing so often.

Having no way of knowing what she exactly she might be referring to, Magnus shrugged helplessly and nodded.

She grew quiet for a long time. It had simply never dawned her that the emotion she remembered in Dirk's psyche might be called 'love.' It seemed now that love was not at all what she had believed it to be. She remembered what she had once felt for Azriok, and it was different in a thousand ways.

"You know what I think?" Magnus asked tenderly.

"Not without working to get at it. Now that you're a vamp, you're brain shields it automatically--"

Magnus put his hand over her mouth to stop the tangent. "I think that you love him, and that scares you. That's why you are reacting like this. You didn't care at all when I said it because you don't love me. But for reasons I will never understand, you do love him. And that's why it terrifies you to hear him say it."

"I do not!" Zyrdicia glared, feeling suddenly ashamed. "Just drain my damned blood," she said darkly.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, caressing the back of her head softly.

She stared silently at him, shocked by the question. "Is it supposed to?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Anguish crept into her eyes. In a barely audible voice, she confessed, "One moment it's as though I could not possibly be any happier. The next it's as though my heart is being ripped out."

"I have a distraction in mind for you tonight."

"What?"

"I'm going to convene a Council meeting."