Page 65 of The Vampire King's War

There was another hum flowing out from where Daemon stood. There were words--instructions or maybe orders--in it. It took Julian a moment to realize that this was the Syrin Bloodline gift. Daemon wasn’t exactly singing, but his hum pierced every mind. It was similar to the Eyros Bloodline gift, but Julian could see how under certain circumstances--like this one--it could almost be more powerful, while under others, it would pale in comparison.

Julian glanced behind him to see exactly what the Syrin gift was doing to everyone. He saw that the police who had been held in thrall by House Wynter were released. Well, not quite released. Daemon wasn’t going to allow them to do anything violent to anyone else or themselves. He didn’t have to worry just then. The cops were too stunned to reach for their weapons as they, too, made their way past the still and rotting dead towards the base of the hill. Julian could hear their thoughts.

Who is that man? They wondered about Daemon.

Are these people dead? They thought as they looked at the corpses they passed by--or veered away from.

I thought we were dead! Quite a few believed.

They saved us! More thought as they walked alongside various Vampires whose eyes were glowing a silver-white and whose fangs were out.

But what are they?Others questioned.

Angels?

Demons?

It was easy to see why the cops thought of Vampires as angelic or demonic beings, but definitely not mortals. Julian, himself, was stunned by them. Old or young, conventionally beautiful or ugly, all of the Vampires held a kind of magnetism that Julian felt drawn to, even though he was one of them. In fact, as he and Christian passed by these Vampires, they reached out to him. To touch him lightly. To murmur their awe. To give him thanks. To pass on their service to Daemon.

“Julian,” they whispered reverently.

“Prince Julian,” they said with even more reverence.

Christian gave him a small nod and smile even as Julian wanted to say that he was just Julian. But Daemon had explained how that wasn’t so. And, he supposed, so long as this was for Daemon’s greater glory, he could endure the bowing and scraping.

“You woke our king. Look at him! So magnificent!” Vampires cried as they pointed to Daemon.

The blue-white lightning that streaked towards the circle around the moon, once it hit that circle rebounded outwards crimson red. It streaked over the entire city and beyond. The Horys Bloodline gift was spectacular. Daemon used it with ease and delicacy.

Glancing over his other shoulder, Julian saw that the cops who had been holding the media at bay out front were also coming around the sides of the museum towards the rise as well. Daemon’s hum hadn’t driven them mad. They weren’t running, but coming in an orderly fashion. Julian’s keen Vampiric hearing picked up on what some of the anchors were telling their audiences.

“Something extraordinary is happening here,” one breathless female reporter in a cream pantsuit said as she walked backwards so that the camera could see both her and Daemon. “I have no idea who that man is. But…”

He’s king, Julian thought almost mirthfully.

“But he’s compelling,” the reporter finished

“These are dead people. Corpses! But they’re… alive!” A male reporter was telling his audience as he passed near a female corpse whose jaw had fallen off and whose skin had become as hard as stone in places. “Is this the zombie apocalypse?”

No, just Kaly throwing a tantrum, Julian thought.

“Look at the sky! I’ve never seen anything like it!” Another reporter gasped.

Though many of the reporters held themselves somewhat professionally together, there were tears of wonder on cheeks, eyes wide with shock and awe, and a lot of pointing at something new and never before seen by many human eyes.

Those who noticed the Vampires had similar reactions to the police officers who had glimpsed them first. But instead of just thinking whether the Vampires were angels or demons, the reporters decided to interview them. A blond woman with carefully applied makeup and helmet hair thrust a microphone under Christian’s chin.

“What are you? Who are you?” she asked.

Christian, who had been stunned into stillness, stared at her then the microphone then back up to her. In the past, Christian had been perplexed and gun shy when other reporters were interested in him. Like those that admired his looks or wanted to be close to him without actually knowing him, he would have brushed past this reporter in the past or shoved the microphone away. But he understood now that she had questions, just as he had, and Julian felt his sympathy for her. He knew that any answer he gave at that moment, she likely wouldn’t have believed.

So Christian answered her, “Everything will be explained. But that’s not important right now.” Christian gestured towards Daemon. “You should keep your eyes there and hold your other questions.”

Then they resumed jogging. They passed by many reporters who were trying to talk to the dead.

“Madam, can you hear me?” One reporter asked a woman so decomposed that she had gaping holes for eyes, and even if she had been able or inclined to speak, she had no tongue.

“This--this is just a skeleton held together by dried ligaments!” Another reporter gasped.

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