Bloodlines

All day, Ridley slept in while Ankh was buried in Aimée’s infamous belly rubs. Once Genevieve had finished wiping down Ridley’s room, her fake sleep ended. She scrambled for her laptop and the USB she tucked into the leather boot she wore. On it was a lot about the Consortium. All their levels of every aspect; and their entire operation. The most most damning file on the hard drive was labelled the ‘High Table’. Everything on the six people who were the heartbeat of the Consortium of Ancients. Ridley read through the file slowly and took in everything very carefully.

She shook her head then closed her eyes, reeling from what she read. “Shit,” she stated. Satisfied, she disconnected the USB and key-chained it to her karambit’s sheath. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”

She got dressed. Into her grey Dunon Academy hoodie and black jeans. A frenzied hurry took over her. The huntress strapped on her karambit and filed her bow into her quiver, along with a few extra knives and her studded whip.

“Ankh, we’re going for a walk,” she stated firmly then left her room.

“Seriously,” the wolf jeered while Ridley marched through the castle. “Aimée literally just came from her dress fitting! She said, and I quote, ‘I’ve been itching to play with you’. Ten minutes, pretty pretty please?”

“I’ve got your vest with me. Meet me at the front doors,” was all the halfritch said.

She passed servants that were leisurely going about their chores and Sebastian, who was sitting on a settee in a walkway. He was sharpening a sword on wet stone. “Ridley,” he called then stood up. “I-I need to talk you.”

“I’m busy, right now.”

“It’s about last night. W-when you...”

“Not. Now. Sebastian.”

She stormed off, leaving him stunned wordless. She all but bolted down the stairs, urgency in every step. Ankh sat defeated at the foot of the stairs with a pout on her snout. “I don’t like you, right now.”

“That makes one of us,” Ridley countered then aided Ankh into the bulletproof vest that had her name along her side. “I need to talk to Mr Wu.”

“Of course, you do,” the wolf sighed then caved onto her rear.

Ridley pulled the front doors open then led the way out. Her strut was faintly angry but mostly fearful. Ankh was at her side, silent as a mouse and mildly annoyed with Ridley. Promenade des Anglais was back to its usual buzz after the holiday season.

The concerning part was the crowd people further up Jean Médecin Street. “I smell death,” Ankh stated. “Ridley, what’s...”

The huntress took off sprinting. The wolf sighed defeatedly then joined her, growling loudly to clear a path. At the front were police barricades, which the duo shamelessly disregarded. When an officer came to Ridley, she flashed her gold card at him.

The officer stepped aside and allowed her to pass. Ridley paid no attention to his gesture because of the pools of gold blood. “Monsieur Wu. Où est-il?” The officer only gestured to the gruesome scene. Ridley carefully cut into the scene and hurried into the building.

The secretary was drowning in a pool of her own gold blood. The bodies that were around the scene were not Mr Wu but he wasn’t in the ambulance either. “Can you find him,” the halfritch asked.

Ankh put her nose to the pinewood floor. “There’s too much blood. Everyone who’s bleeding out is overpowering...”

Ridley took to the stairs and found the Ancient Chinese man laying motionless on the second half of the stairs. His blood was gold yet brighter than anyone else’s. “Shit!” She knelt beside him but couldn’t look at him.

“He’s alive! I can hear him breathing.”

Ridley’s eyes darted to his face. “Mr Wu?” She clasped her hand over his. “Wu!” He’s eyes weakly fluttered open. “Who did this?”

“The Consortium,” the Chinese man replied weakly.

“Get me a medic!” She turned back to him.

Wu squeezed her hand. “It’s too late for me. And they’ll come for you too.”

“I know. I read Julien Bassé’s report. They’re planning in using the Source to create more eldritches. They’re going to start a fourth Scourge. I need to know something from you.”

Wu nodded weakly as a paramedic came for him. She shoved the woman weakly. “No! It’s too late for me,” he echoed. He looked back at Ridley. “But it is true. He is the sixth man at the Consortium’s ruling table. I assumed you would piece together as much about your brother. Tomás doesn’t know. Leave this wretched country, Ridley.”

“I can’t. You’re Vanguard. The Source told me.”

“You met...?

“Wu, why’s he doing this?”

“Despite what people think about Grey, he is not a purist. He is the exact opposite. This ‘Fourth Scourge’ is a front. He wants to mesh the vampire bloodline with theirs.”

“Whose? Humans?”

“No. No, these people have been dead for centuries. An ancient bloodline, much more complex than our own,” Mr Wu squeezed Ridley’s hand tighter. “Let me die, girl.” Ridley shook her head at him then tore open his shirt to see stab wounds deep in his chest. Too many to cover and to deep to save. “Stop Grey. He... he thinks these people are alive. If they are... you... must...”

“What people?”

“... warn them...”

“Stay with me! What people!”

“... protect... the Source. You’re... you’re part of Vanguard... now.” His dying breath escaped him.

The paramedic patted Ridley’s shoulder before leaving. Ankh sniffed Mr Wu’s cheek. She winced then caved on the stairs. “Ridley,” Ankh asked without looking from the corpse next to her. “What’s going on?”

Ridley pursed her lips then shut Mr Wu’s eyes. “The Consortium has six people in charge. Earnest could only see five. Julien had information about the entire organisation. It turns out, our mystery man... is... Tomás’ father. Edwyn Grey.”

“This ‘ancient people’?”

“I don’t know. That was a first.”

“You have to tell the du Luqs.” Ridley sighed then left the private investigator’s office a final time. Ankh yapping on behind her. “Ridley, they trust you. They told you everything they knew about the Consortium and the Source. The least you could do is the same.”

“What I know is ground breaking! Earnest trusted me because I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

The grey wolf stopped in front of her and barked angrily with a growl. “You’re doing it again! You’re shutting people out.” Ridley rolled her eyes in frustration. “You’re going to listen to me,” she barked then leaped to her hind legs and pressed her paws into Ridley’s chest. “Even before he met you, Tomás wanted to protect you! Aimée enjoys talking to you! Sebastian welcomed you like family. Yes, Dominique is a little undecided right now but she still has a space reserved for you. Tell them!”

“I can’t!”

“Then we’re done here!” Ankh leaped down and walked away. “I’m trying to help you see that these people would protect you if they had to. Clearly you wouldn’t do the same!” Ridley scowled at the absconding wolf. “You’re a cruel and cold-hearted bitch!”

“Takes a bitch to know a bitch.”

“I’m a female wolf! Yes, I’m a bitch!” Still she continued leaving. “Renee was right about you. You’re exactly the same: selfish.”

Ankh left the scene and vanished beyond the crowd of people. Ridley pursed her lips then turned back to the crime scene. A familiar face squirmed passed the barricades and had officers spring on Julien, in record time. Ridley sighed then hurried over to them.

“He’s with me,” she stated, holding up her gold card. The officers dispersed while the man who created the Great Depression folded his arms distastefully. “You’re on my turf, Bassé, so choose your words carefully.”

“An old friend of mine works here,” was all he said. “And Angel is heartbroken that you took off.”

“He looks like a strong boy,” Ridley counted. “And, I’m sorry. Wu’s dead.”

“Why would I listen to a hunter?”

“You want to see his body? I was there when he died.” Resolve slowly crossed Julien’s face but Ridley’s patience had worn thin. “Look, Julien, I know what it means to lose a friend but... I know who you and Wu are.”

The trickster vampire glowered at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re First Gen. Not ordinary First Gen; you’re the Source’s vanguard.”

“I’m out of here.”

Ridley flung him into the side of an ambulance and pressed her karambit into his neck. “You’re not going anywhere! I have questions and you have answers! This is how it’s going to work, if you lie or if I suspect you’re lying, I’m going to slit your throat. Here and now. You’re a vampire so the odds are in my favour. Get it?”

“Got it,” he caved.

“Good!” She freed the USB from the sheath. “This is yours.” He huffed then grabbed it from her. “First question: How did you find out it was Edwyn Grey?”

Julien sighed then scratched his eyebrow. “Another member of this merry band of misfits wove her way inside. Someone she knew from Babylon. Before he joined the high table, they were sleeping together. Most of our intel came from her before she died.”

“Wu said he wants to merge vampires and some other ancient people. He said they’re dead but Edwyn thinks they’re alive.”

Julien shook his head. “We don’t know. I hadn’t managed to get that far in my investigation. All I have is some old papyrus art made from God alone knows when.”

“I’m going to need that papyrus.”

Julien sighed then dug in his inner jacket pocket and Ridley scoffed at him. “What? Not everything can be locked away in a secret study.”

“One more thing,” Ridley concluded as she unravelled the scroll. “Not that it matters to you, but I’m not working for The Hunt, here.”

“I suspected as much, Artemisia du Luq. If that is even your real name.”

“It’s Ridley.”

“Janus. Although I suppose you knew that.”

Ridley took in the faded papyrus of a beast on hind legs with vicious claws and fangs. “It’s Ancient Egyptian,” she stated. “This style pre-dates the age of Ancient Egyptian that people commonly refer to. You can tell by the way the papyrus was split at the edges and by the inking technique. Nine out of ten archaeologists mistaken it for the Minoan civilisation’s art.”

“Thank you, for that, Lara Croft. Anything else?”

Ridley sighed then carefully folded the scroll. “I don’t suppose you know the number to a really good family psychologist?”

“I have a PhD in psychology and two doctorates in criminal psychiatry.”

“Never mind.” Julien looked away from her and ruefully at the crime scene. “I really am sorry about Wu. Does the Vanguard have any special burial rituals?”

“Not for ourselves,” Julien replied. “Only the Source.”

“I don’t suppose the Vanguard will fight with the Order, if I asked.”

“We do not interfere with...”

“The works of the lesser bloods. I heard the oath. I just thought I’d try.” Julien turned to leave but Ridley stopped him. “Hey. I didn’t know Wu as well as you did but... I-I...”

“Thanks.”

“And I’m sorry I broke into your house. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re not bad for a hunter.”

“I just threatened to kill you and held a knife to your neck.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well, remember that when you go around screwing with economies again.”

“See you around, Monteiro.”

Ridley sighed the looked up the road where Ankh had absconded. She was long gone. “Ankh?” Nothing. She retreated back to Chateau du Luq.

The grey afternoon grew more grim at the sight of the servants suddenly scurrying urgently as opposed to their leisurely state Ridley left them in. “Mademoiselle,” a servant with a basket of curtains called. “Everyone has been looking everywhere for you! You are needed in the hall.”

The huntress trudged across the first floor of the castle and let herself into the hall. The servant with the curtains hurried passed her. Other maids also had matching curtains that were being hung over the one hall that was solely window.

Flowers were meticulously being organised by Dominique and Genevieve, along the gantry railings and between the drapes respectively. The stage was being set and candelabras were being polished. The chandelier was lowered to have its candles replaced and also to be thoroughly scrubbed with toothbrushes.

“Lady Dominique,” one of the servants replacing candles on the candelabras called, pointing to Ridley.

“Oh my Lord, finally,” Dominique hissed as she left her red and white roses and came down to her niece. “Gabrielle has been waiting all afternoon for you! You haven’t time for all this loli lagging. We have a masquerade where every respectable member of goldblood high society will be in attendance. You will not embarrass this family with your modern day sensibilities!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You best be,” Dominique roared, making flames erupt from the candles behind her. She took a breath then rested a hand on her heart. The day dress she wore was a deep purple that complemented her blue eyes. “Upstairs,” she breathed calmly. “Gabrielle is waiting.”

Dominique led the way while Ridley was all but dragged after her. The estate was really bustling with activity for a ball that two days away. Ridley didn’t notice that from how distracted she was. Pieces that she thought she had were shifting. There were, at least, distinctive lines between the four sides in this silent battle.

So distracted was she that she didn’t notice Dominique making conversation with Coco Chanel. They were in a small parlour that had been converted into a makeshift modiste. The famous French design was drinking tea with Aimée reading the newspaper beside her.

Only when Dominique roughly nudged her niece in her ribs did Ridley snap from her thoughts. “Allow me to introduce a dear friend, Gabrielle Chanel. Also called ‘Coco’. Gabrielle, Tomás’ pet hunter, Rihanna.”

“Ridley,” Ridley corrected.

“Whatever.” Aimée let out a soft chuckle in reply. “What can you do with...” Dominique gagged lightly at the black hair she briefly played with “... this?”

Coco Chanel had short black hair and dark eyes along with a regal gait. She circled Ridley while Dominique joined Aimée at the table. The designer hummed then looked to the du Luq sisters. “She is gorgeous.” She lifted the amorphous grey hoodie for a better observation. “Good waist, steady hips. Decent bosom. I can work with this.”

“Glory to Anu!”

“My, my, Mini,” Aimée voiced in surprise. “You leaped back to Mesopotamian lingo.”

“My joy overwhelms my manners.”

Coco chuckled then looked back at her friends while measuring Ridley. “I never did ask what your names were back then.”

Dominique shook her head, evidently reminiscing. “Life was just superlative, back then! No electricity, not unbearably fast innovation. No taxes! Oh, mama and papa were so joyous to be around. Hm. Call me by my real name, sister.”

“Ninlil.”

“Louder.”

“Ninlil!”

“Oh, damn you, Sin. Damn you,” Dominique replied then dramatically fainted of of the chair.

Coco let out another soft chuckle, this time at Ridley. “I think she’s having an outmoded complex.” The huntress gave a small smile. “This isn’t your forte, is it, ma ange?”

“I hate dressing up.”

“As I always say ‘elegance is refusal’. Arms out.”

Ridley obeyed. “You also say ‘simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance’.” The designer was stunned impressed. “My sister was a huge fan. Just... I don’t think she actually knew you were still alive.”

“Believe it or not, it was Dominique’s idea for me to fake my death. Ever since, I’ve made millions! Secretly running my company through Alain Wertheimer and his diliquent brother. Chanel has been privately owned by the Wertheimer family for almost a century and I’ve owned the Wertheimer family for just as long!”

Ridley smirked menacingly at her. "You blackmailed the French, English and German governments when you handed over that family to the Nazis. The only reason why you have any shares in Chanel is because of the blood on your hands."

"I am ashamed of nothing," the designer confessed. "To history, I was ahead of my time. Look what I have achieved and today women are bickering with men for equal pay. Trivial in comparison to what I've accomplished." Coco cocked her eyebrows with sass. “All done! Now, what shall we dress you in?”

Aimée cleared her throat to get the designer’s attention. “Actually, Gabrielle, we have a rather queer request.” The wallflower du Luq set aside her newspaper for a series of designs that were signed with her name. “It has come to our attention that we may be needing our niece’s capabilities. Do you think any of these would be possible?”

The fashion legend dug for her half moon glasses to take in the designs. “Hm,” she replied. “I see; ‘at first glance utterly utilitarian, at second a work of art’.”

“Hunger Games,” Aimée asked.

“Mockingjay,” Ridley and Coco corrected together. “The inspiration to my ‘Romantically Amoured’ collection,” Coco sang. “Not well received but these... these could create a comeback. I will see what I can do. Would you mind if I held onto these?”

“Please,” Aimée replied. “Anything to help make this piece as practical as possible.”

“What about you, ma ange? Is there something you picture yourself in?” Ridley shook her head wordless. “Hm. Remember, ‘adornment, what a science! Beauty, what a weapon! Modesty, what elegance!’”

“Another one of your famous quotes.”

"Oui, ma ange,” Coco concluded with courtly nod. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Ridley shook her hand firmly. “Let me know if you’re ever in Paris. I could use a lady of your talents,” she stated gesturing to the gradus, visible from the rolled up sleeve. “So many le sauvage there. Humans and vampires alike fear for our lives.”

“It’s on my bucket list.”

Coco nodded again then looked back to the sisters. “Ladies du Luq,” the designer concluded. “I’ll be back in two days.”

“I greatly appreciate your efforts, Gabrielle,” Dominique stated then walked the designer out.

Ridley exhaled heavily then pulled down her hoodie sleeves. Aimée stood up and revealed the extent of her elderly librarian-styled fashion sense. The blue and green plaid skirt, the woollen blouse, the nurse court heels and the thick stockings. The wallflower du Luq gathered her newspaper and noticed her niece was staring at her.

“Something amiss, dearest?”

The huntress furrowed her eyebrows then shrugged lightly. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, you are family.”

“You don’t know me.”

“We know you are Clotilde’s daughter and that’s all that matters.”

“Renee made me do things to my family, Aimée.”

Aimée sighed then took Ridley’s hands in her own. “There’s something bothering you, my niece. What is it?” Ridley freed her hands and stepped away from Aimée. “Ridley,” she whispered urgently, “you can trust us.” Aimée cupped her cheeks tenderly. “You never have nothing in this life. If you have family, you have something.”

“Ankh was right,” was all Ridley said. “I-I’m sorry,” she concluded then left.

“Ridley!”

The huntress rushed into her bedroom and caved into her bed. “I’m sorry, Ankh. I’m so sorry!” There was only silence. “Please help me.” Ankh wasn’t listening.