Bloodlines
The Masquerade

Viggo joined them on the walk down to the ballroom. “My eyes and ears are everywhere,” the viking began to Ridley out of the blue. “I’ve noticed that you behave an awful lot like a real hunter,” he stated casually. “I thought you might enjoy a run through of the security.” Ridley nodded to calm herself. “I thought as much. Well, apart from my sons covering the ballroom, I have my best men covering the perimeter; fifty across every floor of the castle; and additional ten around the parking area. This castle is now a Wolfensøn fortress.”

“That’s actually very comforting,” Ridley admitted. “Thank you.”

“Only my pleasure, Ms du Luq.”

At the doors of the ballroom, the huntress took a moment to take in the efforts for the ball. The grand chandeliers were flickering their lit candles, despite the lights that were on. The stringed quartet was paired with dormant electronic drums, a keyboard and two guitars.

The gantry railings were lined with black drapes and gargantuan bouquets of peonies and white roses. Ambient music was in the air from the stringed quartet with silence coming from the drums, keyboard and guitars. Servants were aligned to the pillars with flutes of blood, dressed in maroon coloured suits and plain black masks, the same as the musicians.

Ridley’s heart accelerated upon entering, feeling the dreadful atmosphere sink in ahead of time. The hand on her pronounced shoulder pad was no help because of the fright she got. In place of Sebastian, who was behind her, the halfritch came face-to-face with none other than the Source.

Looking around, she quickly dragged him out of the ballroom and into a corner, shared with a gilded candelabra. “What are you doing,” she jeered softly, noticing he was wearing the same maroon uniform. “If someone...”

“I am here to help,” Earnest cut in. His softly glowing gold eyes were filled with worry. “Like it or not, these are my people,” he whispered then sighed. “I’m breaking the Rules of Source here, Ridley, but it is for the greater good.”

He dug in his pocket for another infamous vial of his blood. “Who’s this for,” she replied defeatedly while taking it.

“You. Drink it and it will accelerate everything about you for the next few hours,” Earnest stated. “I heard your private briefing in the parlour. It sounds like you’re going to need all the help you can replace.”

“Goldblood blood has the same effects as crystal meth and is twice as addictive to other bloods. I’m not taking it.”

Earnest sighed then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You still don’t get it, do you?” She flared her eyebrows at him. “This is the ultimate; it exceeds the gold race.” Ridley still wasn’t convinced. “Let me try a different way. You’ve been in dozens of international archery competitions. Nine out ten times you’ve placed first with exceptional results. You won dozens of gold medals but you’ve also won higher than gold. What’s higher than gold?”

“Platinum.”

“Exactly,” he yelled softly. “The Bloodline is platinumblood. It’s got all the best traits of every blood, without the side effects. It’s pure and perfect. That’s what makes the Bloodline so precious. It’s sacred and it’s unmatched.” He took the lid off the vial for her. “If anyone had the faintest clue of what a platinumblood can do, so many more people would be looking for the Bloodline. Platinumblood is where the stories about my kind came from: insomnia, heightened senses, accelerated healing, the eldritch, the strength, all of it.”

Ridley swallowed hard then looked at the vial. “I-I drink this and I get all of that?”

“It’s a small amount so it will be small scale but in comparison to what an eldritch can do... it’s potent, to say the least.”

She sighed then pursed her lips. “Only because we’re at a disadvantage, tonight.” Earnest nodded. “Promise me that after I drink this, you’ll go somewhere away from the ball and away from any danger.”

“I promise.” The huntress downed the shot of blood. “Thank you, Ridley. For everyone’s sake, I hope you won’t have any need for that.”

The huntress looked down at the remnants of blood left in the vial. The blood was no longer a glistening gold; it was transformed pure platinum. “Is that what they saw, when you gave me the vial the first time?”

“Yes. Only the ones closest to the Bloodline can see it. Dominique and Aimée are second generation. You may be third generation on your mother’s side but your father’s bloodline is wholly human. That’s why you saw gold. In a sense, the Bloodline hides itself.”

Ridley nodded then looked passed Earnest at the ballroom doors. “Go. Now.”

The Source took her armoured hand and kissed her knuckles before obeying. The huntress tightened the quiver at her hip. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself as she returned to the ballroom. There, Viggo and his sons were admiring the portraits along the halls under the gantry.

“Line up,” Dominique ordered as she took her stance at the top of the stairs inside the ballroom. “First me, than Rosetta, Aimée and Tomás.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, give me strength. My name is Ridley.”

“And I said ‘line up’!” The battle angel, annoyed and angsty, obeyed her ostentatious aunt. “Mask, everyone,” the peacock queen ordered. “For our rouse begins...” she looked out the doors to where servants stood by the main doors. They opened the doors “... now!” She held the black stick mask over her face.

Aimée let out a shaky breath then lowered her full face gold and black mask. She laced her hands together, nervously and Ridley - through the platinumblood - could hear the wallflower’s erratic beating. On the other side of Aimée, Tomás was calm on the inside and outside. His plum froak coat was the only colour he wore with his black and white suit.

Guests were heard in the foyer and their murmurs grew more lively as they got closer to the ballroom. They greeted their Mesopotamian host in peacock feathers, who introduced her family beside. Finally getting Ridley’s names correct. From the gantry, Sebastian was keeping a steady eye on their guests below. Viggo among them.

The smell of perfume grew powerful on the battle angel’s nostrils. Only when the wearer - a greying woman dressed in a fiery red and orange ball gown with a mask shaped like flames - greeted Dominique could pin down where it came from. Dominique greeted the woman as Meryl Streep. Only when the woman spoke, did Ridley hear that it was in fact the ‘Devil Wears Prada’ actress.

Plenty of public figures kept their blood to themselves but some figures were making it unintentionally obvious, like Morgan Freeman. Among the plethora of goldblood guests were: Sol Delrio, the Spanish guitarist; Monroe Yi, a Chinese-American fashion designer based in New York; Middle Eastern millionaires; Ancient Chinese counsellors; Ancient Egypt scribes; Aztecs; Amazonians; Vikings; Bollywood actors; even a Trojan couple. All following the theme ‘come as you are’. They were dressed as themselves.

For every one of them, Dominique greeted them, in the same overly dramatic tone. “Good evening and welcome to Chateau du Luq!” Thereafter she would shake their hands with a curtsey, unless the gentleman preferred to kiss knuckles. “I am Lady Dominique du Luq of Rouen.” Then the guests would introduce themselves unless Dominique already knew them. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Ridley du Luq of Nice; my sister, Lady Aimée of Rouen and our nephew, Tomás du Luq of Nice.” Then the guest who shake hands - or kiss the knuckles of - Ridley, Aimée and Tomás before descending the stairs.

Aimée’s heart had regulated over the course of greetings but there was still a fluster to her. Tomás too. So many people had already arrived and none of them were giving the names of the Straight Six. It made replaceing the mercenaries more difficult and the masks made simplifying the search more unrealistic.

The ambient music went on while guests grew more acquainted. A servant coolly came in to whisper to the peacock hostess. Dominique shrivelled, something Ridley assumed vain and hard headed people like Dominique couldn’t do. She spun towards the stringed quartet across the ballroom and stretched her hands towards them.

Their song faded to silence. “The king has arrived,” Dominique stated fearfully. “You have perfect thus far,” she directed to Ridley. “Now you must be stupendous. Yes?”

“Okay,” she asked more than said.

Dominique took a deep breath then held her stick mask back over her face. The guests turned to face the stairs as the Great Sun King and his ex-wife, Françoise d’Aubigné appeared in the doorway. Louis XIV was dressed in gold and white with a powdered wig while his former spouse was dressed in blue velvet.

The peacock hostess inhaled then gave her best grin. “Good evening, your majesty, and welcome to Chateau du Luq.” Instead of offering her hand to shake or kiss, she only gave a curtsey. “I am Lady Dominique du Luq of Rouen.” The king and Françoise only gave nods. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Ridley du Luq of Nice; my sister, Lady Aimée of Rouen and our nephew, Tomás du Luq of Nice.”

“Ridley,” the king echoed when the huntress gave a curtsey. “What a peculiar name. Whose idea was that?”

Ridley glances to Dominique who side eyed her warningly. “My father, your majesty. It was his brother’s name.”

“I see,” Louis purred. He stepped back to take her in. “My, my, you look appetizing.” On the end, Tomás clenched a fist. Ridley quickly glanced at him while the former French king to her armoured hand in his white gloved one. “I hope you will save me a dance. I would like to get better acquainted.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Dominique exhaled her relief when the king moved on to Aimée. Once Louis and Françoise were downstairs, the peacock hostess waved the stringed quartet to pick up again. “Well done, girl,” Dominique breathed. “Now,” she went on suddenly serious. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Me?”

“You never badmouth the king,” Aimée whispered to her niece. “Whenever something happens, it’s not his fault.”

“You realise he doesn’t have any power at all?”

“Do you want to tell him that,” the wallflower countered. Ridley huffed and rolled her eyes. “Just remember the plan.” Tomás offered his sister his arm and she raised her eyebrow at him. “My God, your generation’s norms are dim! A woman never walks unescorted. Never.”

Ridley snaked her arm into Tomás before they went down. “It looks like Rahal is a no-show,” Tomás voiced. “I do hope that means that nothing happened.” Ridley nodded while scanning the partygoers. “Sister, I-I’ve been thinking... well, since you mentioned your father I’ve had a thought. A realisation, really. Are you... alone, here?” She looked up at him quizzically. “What I mean is, I’ve been so overjoyed that I found you that I never gave any thought as to whom you were in France with.”

“Oh,” was her only reply.

“Whom did you come with?”

Ridley sighed then pursed her lips. “I sort of ran away from home,” she began at the bottom of the stairs and Tomás said nothing. The black mask he wore also gave nothing of his reaction. “Everywhere I looked, I just saw Ryan. I saw what I did to her. I thought I’d replace peace here but all I found was a distraction.”

“I see. What of your other family? Do you, at least, keep up to date with their concern?”

“No. I pretty much ignore all their messages and calls.”

“Sister! Don’t push them away,” he jeered then led her in a soft glide across the dancing space. “I can only imagine the sleepless nights and stresses they endure for you. If you want, I could tell them of all this.”

“No!” She cleared her throat softly when a few guests looked their way. “What I mean is that I... I just...” she exhaled heavily. “I don’t think I’m ready to face them. I feel guilty. I come from a hunting family that’s relatively emotionally distant. I don’t call my father ‘dad’ or ‘papa’,” she began tearing up. “I call him by his last name. I call my mom ‘Mrs Axel’ and here...” she sobbed lightly. “Here, it’s ‘sister’ a-and ‘dearest’ and concern for each other and love everywhere and I killed my sister and you just accepted it and you love me and you...”

Tomás pressed her into his chest, resting his arms around her. “I apologise. I have... overwhelmed you,” he whispered. “Why did you not tell me?”

She sniffed into his chest. “Because Ankh was right,” she admitted. “I’m selfish and I want to keep people distant but I want you... close. I hate crying.”

Tomás let out a soff chuckle while soft bass joined the music. “Oh, sister,” he kissed her crown then took her hands in his. “I’m here. Always here. You hear me? Always. But you must talk your other family.”

Viggo slid up to them, rolling his shoulder in his wolf skin hood. “du Luq, would you wind if I cut?”

“I would,” Tomás hissed then cupped the small of his sister’s back. “I told you to steer clear of-”

“I do believe I was not talking to you, little boy.” Viggo turned to Ridley and gave a tender smirk. “Might I steal your brother for a moment? There’s something we must discuss.”

Ridley looked up at Tomás who slid his hand off of her. “Will you be all right?” She sniffled then nodded as he walked her off the dancing space. “This best be important, Wolfensøn,” the French lord warned.

The two walked away and Ridley shied near a pillar. “Ankh,” she whispered. She could sense the wolf’s psionic pawprint in her mind but otherwise, the battle angel was talking to herself. “Will you come back if I tell them?”

Aimée, by the pillar across the grand room, took notice of her niece. Though her face was wholly covered by her black and gold mask, she gave a wry twinch at the corner of her lips. Bravely the wallflower crossed the room, collecting to flutes of deep red blood. Mutely the brainy du Luq aunt handed her niece a flute.

“Thank you,” was all Ridley said.

“This isn’t my forte either,” Aimée voiced with a shaky voice. “During feudal times, Dominique and your mother were always the ones making sparkling conversations, dancing with the handsome lords. Of course, back then, ‘handsome’ meant ‘fat with rotted teeth’.”

Ridley nodded in agreement. “Overweight as a sign of gluttony and tooth decay as a sign that they could afford sugar and honey.” Aimée nodded mutely. “The more rotten the teeth, the wealthier. Did you ever meet someone... that... you never wanted to lose?”

“God, no,” Aimée replied then slid up her mask up to drink her blood. “Marriage and such things never interested me. Dominique was too self-obsessed to look for someone and your mother... well, she was free-spirited. We called it the du Luq curse. We thought everyone who bore the name du Luq would be cursed because our parents come from a time before last names. Then Tomás.”

“Tomás?”

Aimée nodded then took a long sip of her blood. “He met a lovely human girl. They were married just shy of her fourteenth birthday. A sweet girl she was. At the time integrated marriages were despicable but Clarisse found a way to melt my heart. Oh, and Adrienne so beautiful! She was the splitting image of her father. When Robespierre’s men had the aristocrats rounded up... this house has never fully recovered from losing them. Tomás burnt every portrait of them, too hurt by the memories.”

Ridley followed the Master of the House to the top of the stairs with her eyes. “He blames himself?”

Aimée nodded sadly. “Heartbreaking, isn’t it,” she asked. Ridley said nothing while watching Tomás shake his head at Viggo. “Best not to bring it up,” the wallflower advised then slid her mask back down. “Back to faking.”

The quite du Luq ventured back into the parading party. Her gown was as toned down as she was. It was a simple black skirt with a gold top. Her black hair was lightly curled and pinned aside, heavily contrasting the elderly librarian fashion style. Ridley inhaled deeply then exhaled as Aimée vanished. The huntress downed her blood then scanned the floor before mixing into it. She kept her eyes on everyone around her. A couple dressed as red parrots were laughing to her right while a man dressed as a lion was swaying with a woman dressed as a gargoyle. The huntress hummed then looked between the four people around her.

Her nose was replaceing fault with all four of them. The platinumblood boost told her that those four weren’t goldbloods. Four of the six Straight Six had her surrounded. The gargoyle woman looked at Ridley and the huntress forced a smile. “Enjoying the evening, madam,” the huntress asked.

“Yes, thank you,” the gargoyle replied. “Although, my friend and I have a proposition for the king. I noticed you were speaking to him. Would you mind introducing us?”

Ridley had to fold her arms tightly to stop from reaching for her bow. “His majesty does not talk business on such occasions.” Ridley shifted uncomfortably, seeing the hazel-green eyes behind the grey mask. Margeaux Gauthier. “I will be sure to mention your name, Miss...?”

“... Margaret. Just Margaret.”

“Margaret,” Ridley echoed with a nod.

“That’s quite a bow, there Ms du Luq,” the lion stated. “What model is it?”

Ridley smirked inwardly at seeing the game Tom Ziegler was playing. “I don’t know. I’m not into archery,” she lied. “My stylist thought it matched my costume.”

“Lools like a Hoyt,” Margeaux stated then reached for the bow, unhooking it from Ridley’s tasset. “Hm. This is cool. What do you think? Satori, maybe?”

“With a riser like that; easily a 17. Although it’s been altered here,” Tom gestured along the limbs. “Customised. Medium drawback, I’d say.”

Ridley shot a glance up at the gantry, where Sebastian was watching closely. There was a crossbow at his side nobody saw because of the draping. “Well when the night is over, you can have it,” she offered then carefully pried it out of Margeaux’s hands. “Lord above knows how much I can’t stand these things. I’ve seen my fair share of archery during the Scourges,” she lied on then fastened the bow back on. “I will ensure the king hears your name, Margaret.”

“Thank you,” Margeaux stated falsely.

The huntress crammed through the four members of Straight Six, carefully not to look back at them. “That was convincing,” the familiar distorted voice whispered in Ridley’s head.

“Ankh? Thank God! I-”

“Don’t even start! I’m only here for the du Luqs and Sun King.” Ridley nodded wordlessly. “She continued through the masquerade carefully as the music encapsulated the hall. “I did a perimeter sweep. Whatever huff buff Viggo told about a siege was garbage.”

“So he’s lying to us?”

“I didn’t say that,” the wolf replied. “I think someone’s on to him. I picked up a scent on him that’s also in the hall with you. That boost of Earnest blood only concentrated my senses.”

“And?”

“Edwyn Grey.” Ridley sighed then pursed her lips while taking in the construct decoration before her. “He’s in there with you. I picked him up on the Straight Six too.”

“Then it is him.” The wolf didn’t reply. “Where exactly are you?”

“The library. Further down the hall from the ballroom. I’m guarding Earnest.”

“What,” Ridley hissed softly then looked around to ensure nobody was listening. “Why isn’t he with the others?”

“It’s not like I can ask him.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No!” Ridley froze with a huff. “The du Luqs are counting on you to defend Louis. Even if he isn’t the Source or even a real king, they’re not letting the Consortium get to anyone of their guests. In order to do that, they are going to need you.” Ridley sighed then looked down at her clenched fists then back at the white and black construct. There was a brief silence between the two. “Why are you looking at arrows?”

“Sister,” Tomás called with his hand on Ridley’s shoulder.

“Arrows,” Ridley blurted out as she turned to face his crestfallen demeanour. “Are you okay?”

“I received some rather... turning news. Nothing that can’t wait until after all this,” the Master of the House replied. In his blue eyes, Ridley saw the hurt. “What’s this about arrows?”

Ridley gestured to the construct behind her, then noticed that there were matching ones throughout the ballroom. Some were on round tables splat in the middle of the floor. “These,” she pointed out. Carefully she removed one from its place. “These are Easton Axis Traditional arrows. Give or take, seventy-eight centimetres. These are the ones Specialists use.”

As if on cue, the resident event planner glided up to them with her peacock feathers wavering about. “I see you finally caught on,” she sang as she did a grand spin. “I had them bulk ordered just for tonight! That’s why you have so few in there,” Dominique pointed out to the white and silver bow-mounted quiver. “All in a variety of heads. No need to thank me.”

“Intuitively creative,” Tomás pointed out.

Dominique rolled her eyes. “Remind me again, what’s the speed of a 400-spine arrow on a Satori?”

Ridley looked down at her bow then up at her aunt. “That’s fifty-five meters per second,” the huntress stated and Dominique did a curtsey, praising her own vanity. “You’re not as lackluster as I thought.”

“I never am,” Dominique sang. “Ooh, ooh! Time for your dance with his majesty! I’ll go get our guest violinist!”

Before the peacock queen could go running off, her niece grabbed her. “Wait,” she jeered. “I found four of the Straight Six. The two red parrots, a lion and a gargoyle. They’re definitely after the king; they asked for an introduction.”

“That’s your line of responsibility,” Dominique clarified unbothered then continued to the raised platform where the band was a playing a Baroque French ballroom symphony. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.”

“I take back what I said about her,” the battle angel spat.

Tomás shook his head then cupped her shoulders. “I will warn Sebastian to keep an eye out. We have four of them. That means one is still on the loose.”

“Tonight marks five hundred years since the discovery of the dedications from Monsieur le Masque aboard Le Grand St Antoine voyager ship,” Dominique went on. “While we may never know who le Masque really is, every year on this hallowed occasion, we come together to honour his legacy and his bravery. On this auspicious evening...”

“There’s an underground battle going on and she wants to dance? I swear Dominique is the biggest...” Ridley paused then slowly filled with realisation. “She’s a genius!”

“I beg a pardon?”

Ridley turned to Tomás. “Louis XIV invented the dance style that’s danced at this masquerade right?” Tomás nodded, still confused. “A dance that’s done every single year. That’s it! That’s when they’ll strike. Nobody watches this stupid dance because it’s the same thing every year.”

“In family we trust.”

“Warn the other others. I’ll cover the king.”

“D’you know this dance, sister?”

“Yeah, yeah. Step, hop. Step, hop. We’ve all seen the ‘Sound of Music’. Go!”

“... and to celebrate this evening’s theme ‘come as you are’, please welcome our honoured musician, a violinist who has mastered the hymns of history and blends them with the electric essence of today. For we are of the then but we are also of the now. Ladies and gentlemen, leading the traditional Baroque dance of canarie, Lindsey Stirling,” Dominique concluded while an applause filled the ballroom.

The battle angel squirmed through the crowd for the only white powdered wig in the room that was paired with an overwhelming amount of gold attire while the American violinist took her position at the front of the platform. There, by the pillar out of Sebastian’s sight, King Louis XIV and his ex-wife Françoise d’Aubigné, were ignoring each other and watching the happenings of the evening.

Ridley shoved people aside to get to him only to breath a sigh of relief when she reached him. “Your majesty,” she curtsied. “I do believe I was promised a dance?”

The black hair underneath the powdered wig was faintly visible. Underneath the gold Apollo mask a wrinkled grin crossed his face. “Dancing with angels,” he voiced with a chuckle as he led Ridley to the dance floor. “Has my time come already?”

Ridley forced a chuckle as she lined up in their circle. With them was Margeaux and the two parrots - Carlos Felipe and Marie Dumont. Under their masks Ridley could see they were older veterans. With age came deficiency in muscles and bones. The battle angel could only hope that was enough to give her an edge.

Under their costumes, some of their gradus stuck out. The League series; the Soloist series; the Warrior series; Margeaux’s Duchess from the Heir series was also faintly visible under the sheer neckline of her grey dress.

The music that played was a blend of Baroque and electronic music. Ridley stiffened a little but continued to hop on time with the music. She rushed to pair off with the king before either Marie or Margeaux could. She exhaled lightly then continued to hop and step with a former French king before her.

Out of her peripheral, she saw Marie pull a tranquilliser from a sheath in her dress. Still the huntress gave a king a small grin then circled him, as choreographed. When he couldn’t see her, she drew a knife from her wings. When it came to slid to the next partner, she stabbed Marie in the heart then shoved her off the dancefloor.

The angel spun and came face-to-face with Carlos, who saw it all. “Who are you,” he hissed.

“The king’s guard,” he replied. “But you can call me Axel.”

“Axel,” he echoed as they circled each other and Ridley drew another knife. “Clarke’s kid. Heh. I knew your uncle, Ridley. He was a friend.” Carlos also drew a dagger and smirked at her. “He was badass.”

“He was crazy.”

“Must be genetic.” Carlos arched the dagger at her barely exposed wrist as they joined hands. “The difference is that he wasn’t a traitor.”

“Oh. Bite you.”

“It’s ‘bite me’, kid.”

“Exactly.” She leaned into him then tore out his neck. She spun him around then flung him into a pillar, where one of Viggo’s sons collected the dying Six.

Ridley wiped her mouth then intercepted Margeaux and cut back to the king. “Am I so interesting you feel you must cut in,” he asked with a chuckle. His humour vanished at the sight of the red around her mouth and the droplets on her face. “Messy feeder, ay?”

“I’m sorry, your-” Margeaux stabbed her in her back. Centimetres shy of her spine.

The Six woman shoved Ridley into the arms of Tom - dressed as a lion. “Sh,” he whispered sweetly while pressing her deeper into his chest. “We just want Louis. No need to get wrapped up in all this. Just be a good girl,” he whispered on. “Walk away. Hm?”

Ridley sniffed from the agony but nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? Good girl,” Tom Ziegler replied. “No need to get your hands dirty.”

He took her arm and spun her into the corner of the musician’s platform. Ridley moaned then reached for the dagger in her back. It was perfectly positioned with the wings taken into account. Gold and black seeped into the dress along the back yet Ridley could feel her body healing around the blade. She unsheathed an arrow and took a deep breath. Using the razor tip of the arrow, she fished out the dagger, swallowing a frigid scream. She took a few calming breaths while the wound healed itself up completely. A wallflower dressed in a shimmering grey gown was watching it all and Ridley sighed defeatedly.

Around the wallflower’s waist was a silk belt that matched the off-white gown the angel wore. Ridley scoffed as an idea came to her. Ridley took the damning dagger and cut the belt off. “Please don’t kill me. I can keep my mouth shut!”

“I believe you,” was all Ridley said as she put away the arrow.

She knotted the belt around one of her powdered white knives then rejoined the king’s circle. She stuffed the knife up Tom’s back as she circled him. She shamelessly shoved Margeaux aside then pulled out the lined knife. She spun it over head and threw it passed the king at a fifth Six that held a second tranquiliser at the king.

Shamelessly a brawl broke out. Margeaux and the fifth came at Ridley, who drew another knife. The king took off to the side while other guests cheered on. The band briefly fell silent before playing to the intensity of the fight. Ridley was outnumbered two to one. The fifth Straight Six member tore off her mask, revealing Isabella Gonzalez. The last member of the Straight Six. They were never renamed after Alexei Romanov was caught in a crossfire.

The knife only grazed Isabella’s cheek from her instinctive duck. The Spanish Rogue upholstered a gun while Margeaux did the same. At the sight of the weapons, the goldblood partygoers realised the brawl was not entertainment. They whispered fearfully while rushing to get out of the ballroom.

“You’re out numbered, girl,” Margeaux pointed out. “You can’t take us.”

“Not even a hunter can take us.”

Ridley sighed then dropped both knives. “What are you doing,” Ankh roared. “I’ve seen you take out more men at worse odds!”

She ignored the wolf and raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not just a hunter,” Ridley began. “I’m a du Luq!”

White fire spewed from her hands and singed Margeaux’s dress. She and Isabella started firing at the inferno. Ridley inhumanly fast ran to Tom’s body. She pulled out his gun and fired at them. “Get Louis,” Isabella roared, covering fire for her accomplice.

Ridley shielded herself with the wings. True to Coco’s word, they were better than kevlar. The huntress tore the skirt of her gown and the material came clean off, also how Coco explained. Isabella seized fire to reload her gun while Ridley prepared her bow.

A brief peer over the wings showed Isabella was running for the doors. “Get her,” she yelled. Men in black suits, armed with handguns filed into the hall.

Ridley gasped then ducked behind a pillar. Also cowering there was the wallflower in the grey gown “Terrific,” the hunter commented. “Stay calm, okay? I’ll get you out.” The girl nodded fearfully. Ridley carefully crossed to the construct of arrows and grabbed a handful, laying them on the table next to her. “What’s your name?”

“Eleanor Beauvais.”

“The playwright? Huge fan.” Eleanor gave a fearful smile. “I loved ‘Miracles for Spring’,” Ridley stated as she notched a two-blade arrow. “It’s my favourite aria in Time of Birds.” She fired into the melee of Consortium guards. They fired then came charging at her. “Now that we have their attention, we can make like Gorge and ‘play, fight and out’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Ridley exhaled then sent a burst of her white fore at the men. It was more intense than usual thanks to the boost of Source blood. The smell of charred skin overpowered the ballroom while shrieks of death filled the air. Some of the drapes caught fire, Ridley noticed when she seized literal fire. She beckoned Eleanor to follow her across the rear of the pillars. The famous playwright carried the pile of arrows Ridley had taken.

Of the guards that that survived, Ridley grabbed arrows from Eleanor at record speed and fired at them. The returned fire! She was shot! Eleanor screamed! Ridley dropped to the floor. She grunted then crawled behind the pillar. The bullet was too deep to dig out. It perforated her right in the exposed part of her shoulder, narrowly missing her collar bone. She grunted, forcing herself not to scream.

Inhaling sharply, Ridley grabbed the draping on the pillar to use as a holster. The gunfire persisted. Eleanor squealed then ducked underneath the table. “I can’t use my bow,” Ridley told her ward. “Ms Beauvais, I need you to grab the feathers on my wings.” The playwright squealed from the gunfire. “Trust me. The pillar’s protecting you. Move!”

With a face red and wet, Eleanor scampered from underneath the table. The spewing bullets had her trembling. Her quaking hands were tedious on the feathers. Ridley bundled them in her holster as they came. Ridley gripped one of the serrated white daggers in her left hand - her weaker hand but also her only able hand - then looked to the playwright.

“On three. Stay right behind me. Ready?” Eleanor shook her head. “Three!”

She lunged into the gunfire! Eleanor screamed but sloppily followed after her. Ridley slashed through bullets then threw a dagger at one man. She grabbed another! She threw it. It wasn’t enough. Ridley kicked over the pedestal with the arrow construct. In the heat of the gunfire, She spun around to shield herself. Behind her, bleeding from the clean bullet in her head, laid Eleanor. Ridley sighed then took another dagger. She spun and threw it! A bullet hit her in the chest.

She hit the ground, grunting. The two men came up to her wheezing form. She sliced a foot off at the ankles! A second bullet his her when she rolled away, in the calf. A flesh wound. Ridley threw her last dagger. One fell to the ground and one was amputated. It was her only chance of escape. At the top of the stairs, she glanced back to Eleanor Beauvais. Another death on her hands.

Ridley chased to the library, where Earnest was, and most of the guests that chose hiding over fleeing. Her pile of arrows was firmly tucked into the back of her dress. She peered into the library to replace Isabella with a gun at a hostage’s head, demanding answers on the Source. Out of all the men in the library, she had Earnest at gunpoint.

Ridley drew a single a more damaging arrow with a huff. A three-bladed broadhead arrow. That particular arrow makes a hole before it starts cutting into its victim. As opposed to the conventional two-blade that just starts cutting. The huntress aimed the white arrow into Isabella’s, like a javelin, when she heard a round being loaded next to her.

Quickly she threw it at Margeaux, who shot it down. Isabella was distracted and Ridley took a shot at her leg. Margeaux groaned from the arrow in her leg but fired another shot at Ridley. The huntress took the blow to her chest only stammering in reply. She drew another three-blade and fired at Margeaux’s leg again. Wounded, the Archangel dropped her gun. Ridley huffed dismissively. “I used to look up to you,” was all she said before plunging a feather-knife into the veteran’s throat.

She rushed back into the library, taking the gun, to replace Isabella aiming her gun at Earnest, still. This time with her left hand while her right was at her chest, bleeding profusely. “Drop it,” Isabella ordered. “Or else.”

This time Ridley obeyed with no tricks planned; Isabella was too far away for her fire to reach in time and Ankh was too close to sneak up on her. She slid the bow and the gun aside with her foot then set the arrows down away from both her and the bow. “Let him go and I’ll tell you about the Source.”

“Ha! You really don’t think I know it’s you,” Isabella replied. “Eldritch was First and Second Generation shit. There are people paying me millions for you.”

“You want me, here I am. Let them go.”

“I want to be sure it’s you,” Isabella stated then shoved Earnest at her feet. “Give him your blood.”

Ridley slowly knelt down to ensure the Source was unharmed. Her dark eyes darted up at Isabella. “You’ll kill him,” she realised.

Isabella shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t need anymore heroics tonight. Now give it to him! Or I’ll shoot everyone in here.”

Ridley’s eyes scanned over the people hiding behind tables and shelves. All the du Luqs, Viggo and Sebastian among them. Ridley sighed the unchained her armoured choker. The Source only leaned into her neck with a heavy sigh. He kissed her collarbone then straightened up. He looked back at Isabella who watched him tentatively.

Behind her, Sebastian slowly stood up with his crossbow aimed at her. Ridley’s eyes went wide at him but quickly looked back at Isabella. The Source straightened up then looked at Isabella, who still had her gun pointed at him. Earnest looked back at Ridley with a reassuring nod. Tears filled her eyes as her breathing became heavy.

He held up his hand a small orange flame sprouted out. The instant it flared from his palm, Isabella fired a shot into his chest. Sebastian fired a shot into her back. The Archangel spun around and fired rapidly while Ridley threw a powdered knife into her gun arm. She threw a second into the Six’s head while the goldblood horde scrambled out of the estate.

The huntress hurried to the Source’s side. “Ridley...” he called.

“I’m here,” she stated as she reached for an arrow. “Don’t worry, I’ll cut it out.”

“There’s no time. I have to pass it on or...” he groaned while Ridley ignored him and tore through his shirt. “Look around,” he ordered, stopping her from impaling him. “Look!” She obeyed though her own vision grew black around the edges. “You feel it too. You’re dying. You’re all dying.”

She looked back at him desperately. “Aimée’s hit,” Ankh roared.

“Every vampire around the world, right now, is dying. I need you... to...”

Ridley shook her head knowing what he was asking. “I can’t. I’m a hunter; I-I-I’m expendable.”

“I must warn you; everything will be amplified. Everything.” Ridley shook her head weakly as she sobbed. “Do it,” he ordered urgently.

She whimpered after a shaky exhale. Her teeth pierced deep into his neck. His blood was sweeter in a greater volume. It made it more poignant. She could feel his life force fading and in the same breath, she could feel the Bloodline traveling.

“It’s alright,” the Source replied weakly. He leaned his head into her neck. “There’s a letter in my room for Marcus. Make sure he gets it.”

He breathed his last breath.

Ridley straightened up with tears in her eyes. “Get down,” Sebastian roared. He open fired on a swarm of Consortium guards than came charging in.

The huntress weakly reached for the gun nearby and started firing repetitively. Ankh bark then leaped onto one that snapped her spine and cast her aside. Ridley roared angrily feel an overwhelming white-hot rage cloud her. She took a knife from the floor and went into a blood frenzy.

She slashed everything that came at her, even slicing a dart from Sebastian’s crossbow in clean half. With her bare hands, she tore a man’s head off his shoulders. Her eyes burnt a raging gold while inhuman snarl escaped her. She tore limbs off. Her arm still holstered! She bit through bone. Most damningly, she didn’t care.

She slowed when she felt Ankh’s severed spine seep into her mind. She clutched her hand around a guard’s neck so tightly, the man’s head blew up. The new Source could feel Ankh wince while her spine realigned itself. The wolf winced but rose to her paws as her spine healed.

Ankh snarled angrily then stood on her hind legs that shaped more humanly, like the rest of her body. The wolf roared monstrously loud before diving into the melee with Ridley. The huntress almost hardly noticed her trusted wolf until the goldbloods in black were all dead. Even then, her mind was on Aimée.

Ridley sprung over a table and knelt by Aimée side. “Aimée?” The eldritch was panting with gold pouring out of her heart, diaphragm and abdomen. Dominique was crying by her side while squeezing her hand tightly. “We have to get help.”

“This is France,” Sebastian stated coldly. “Nobody will send an ambulance for a vampire.” Ridley clenched her teeth then grabbed the crossbow from him. “What’re you doing!”

“I’m cutting the bullets out.”

“No,” Aimée wheezed. “This is my time,” she whispered.

“Aimée...” Dominique sobbed “... no. No, little sister, you will not leave me. We lost mama. We lost papa to the Plague. We lost Clotilde to her ambition. I will not lose you too. Let her help.”

Aimée only cupped her sister’s cheek while crying with her. “This is my time.” The wallflower brought her sister down to kiss her lips. “Take care of our niece and our nephew.” Dominique nodded with a sniffle then turned into Tomás’ shoulder to sob. “Take care of her. Cherish every moment with our family. All of you,” she added then looked to Sebastian and Ridley. “I love all of you. Very very dearly...”

Ridley clenched her fist tighter then let out a pent-up roar. Her scratchy shriek was drowned out by a deafening howl. The huntress turned her gold eyes to the humanoid grey wolf.

“Impossible,” Dominique commented in bewilderment. “Kill it!”

Tomás gasped then picked up the crossbow and aimed it at the monstrous creature. “No,” Ridley roared then crossed over to the grey wolf. “If you pull that trigger, it will be the last thing you do.”

“Listen to her,” Viggo ordered then crossed to join Ridley’s side. “They are not vicious.”

“‘Not vicious’,” Tomás echoed not lowering the crossbow. The grey beast only went docile with Ridley and Viggo in front of her. “It tore men to shreds!”

“What did I just do?”

“You’re my sister!”

“And this is Ankh!”

Sebastian’s eyes hit his hairline. “Ankh?” He looked at Tomás then joined Ridley and Viggo. “I don’t know how this happened but...”

Ridley slowly looked at Ankh and pressed her palm into the furry chest that towered above her. “I did this to you,” she whispered. “Earnest said everything would be amplified.”

“You did nothing,” Viggo stated. He too face Ankh to kneel before her. “Friend, I am kin,” he stated then showed a wolf pawprint tattoo on his chest.

The most bizarre outcome followed. “... That Wolfensøn,” Ankh stated in realisation. Unlike the previous times when it was her thoughts in Ridley’s head, this time, her snout opened and its movements matched the words.

“It speaks,” Dominique pointed out in terror, clutching her sister’s corpse to her chest. “That fowl beast speaks!”

A paw with razor talons cupped Ridley’s cheek and the Source swallowed hard. “You did nothing,” Ankh stated. The wolf exhaled heavily then took a step back. She shrivelled down while the furry fell off her skin and disintegrated. In her wake, stood Sayeed’s sister, Na’ailah Badr. Naked.

“I said kill it,” Dominique roared but Tomás dropped the crossbow in astonishment. “You have no idea what that thing is!”

“Na’ailah,” Ridley asked. “You’re... what!”

“Allow me,” Viggo stated taking off his wolf fur cloak and draping it around the naked woman. “This is a wolfen. The more commonly known term being ‘werewolf’, however...”

“She is an abomination,” Dominique roared. “These fowl demons were irradiated centuries ago!”

“It is true,” Viggo replied. “It only makes me wonder, how is this possible? Are there more of you?”

Na’ailah shook her head. “I am the last one.”

There was silence in the library until Dominique sobbed deeper into Aimée’s chest. “Yet...” a voice boomed from the doorway. There stood a man in a formal suit and a blue mask with a moustache “... you exist. I knew you did.”

The man took off his mask, revealing his face that had a mixture of Morien Grey’s and Tomás’. “Papa,” Tomás called. “No, no. It cannot be.”

“I told you,” Viggo stated.

“The ancient race lives,” Edwyn Grey stated as be backed out of the room. “Once again, the goldbloods will rule this world!”

“Papa,” Tomás called then hurried after him.

Ridley drew a knife and followed calling to her brother, “Tomás, no!” Viggo drew his battle axes and followed them.

In the hallway, father and son squared off. “Papa... i-it can’t be you. You are the secret member of the Consortium?”

“Dear boy, I started the Consortium of Ancients. All those centuries of being a god among man, gone! Because some weakling human thought that they were the superior race. Now? Now, I’ve found a way to become much more superior. By combining the blood of the Source and the blood of a wolfen, I will create the truest superior race.” Viggo lightened his stance at what he heard. “Join me! We will be gods!”

“You have to replace the Source, first,” Ridley pointed out coldly. “And you’re not getting anywhere near Na'ailah!”

“Don’t think I don’t know the Source when I look at it.” Ridley gasped inwardly then drew a knife aimed for his head. Edwyn caught it, as if it were nothing. Ridley scowled hard at him while Tomás looked to his sister stunned. “You can’t kill me,” Edwyn stated then tossed the white knife aside. “You won’t let that happen, will you, Tomás?”

“There’s no love in his heart for you,” Viggo stated. “Let us do it.”

“Tell your men to stand down,” Tomás ordered. “Do it.”

Viggo sighed defeatedly then looked over his shoulder. ”Træde tilbage.”

Though the hallways looked empty, Viggo’s sons and men echoed his orders. “Son,” Edwyn greeted. “Viking. Huntress.”

Viggo shoved Tomás before punching him. Ridley shoved Viggo back and punched him harder. “Thank you, sis-”

“Shut up!” Her eyes flared gold at him. “Only because I understand,” she stated firmly. “I couldn’t do it at first either,” she whispered. “You don’t need that burden on your shoulders. Next time we see Edwyn, I’ll do it.”

“I cannot let you. He’s my...”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

The battle angel headed back into the library to help pry Dominique off Aimée. Sebastian also aided the peacock queen. “I’ve got her,” Sebastian stated then cradled the sobbing goldblood out of the library.

Na'ailah stood aside, clutching Viggo’s cloak tighter with a rued pout on her lips. Ridley took in the chaos around them before looking at Na'ailah. “We need to talk,” the wolfen asked.

“We need to talk,” Ridley confirmed with a nod then sighed. “A lot of masks came off tonight,” she commented. “A lot.”