Page 122 of Enchant the Dawn

At the sound of a stag’s horn, twelve Knights of the Dark Wood gathered in a circle beneath a bright yellow moon. Save for a gentle breeze that stirred the leaves of the trees and the hems of their hooded cloaks, utter stillness surrounded them.

More than twenty-five years had passed since the death of the Elder Knight known as Paul 9, who had been killed at the hand of Quill Falconer. A new Elder Knight had been appointed to take his place. For a time, every Knight in the country had sought the life of Falconer, but the vampire had taken his witch-wife, Callie, their twin son and daughter, and fled the country.

Tonight, the Brotherhood had met to pledge their loyalty to the Elder Knight who had been chosen to succeed Lucian 32, who had briefly replaced Paul 9.

It was no easy task, being the leader of the Brotherhood. The Elder Knight made policy, administered punishment, made sure rules were obeyed and that the members never forgot the sole reason for their existence—the complete and utter destruction of the Hungarian vampires.

As the horn sounded a second time, a stoop-shouldered man clad in a long, white robe strode into the center of the circle. Staff in hand, he made a slow turn, his steely-eyed gaze settling briefly on each man present. “We are here tonight to remember the passing of Lucian 32, who died peacefully in his sleep a fortnight ago. By a vote of the Counsel of the Brotherhood, Gregory 73 has been chosen to wear the mantle of the Elder Knight. His name has been sent to every member of our community throughout the nation. All have taken a solemn oath to give him their loyalty and their allegiance. Gregory 73, come forward.”

A tall man clad in a black robe stepped into the center of the circle. He was lean and well-muscled, with thick brown hair and penetrating brown eyes beneath heavy brows. Lowering his hood, he bowed his head.

The white-robed Knight handed the staff to Gregory 73, then placed his hands on the Elder Knight’s head. “This quorum, representing the combined number and strength of the Brotherhood of the Knights of the Dark Wood, hereby swears its allegiance to you, Gregory 73, and to none else. Will you, from this night forward, dedicate your life to the mission of the Knights of the Dark Wood? Will you do all that is required of you, and swear fealty to our cause, which is righteous and just?”

“I will.” The Elder Knight’s voice, filled with power and authority, echoed through the Dark Wood like thunder.

“So let it be written,” the white-robed Knight declared. Drawing a jewel-encrusted dagger from beneath his robe, he made a shallow cut in the newly ordained Elder Knight’s palm. And then he did the same to each Knight present. One by one, they clasped hands with the Elder Knight, mixing their blood as a symbol of their loyalty.

The white-robed Knight cut his own palm last of all. Clasping the Elder Knight’s hand, he declared, “By our blood united, we renew our oath to destroy the devil-spawn known as the Hungarian vampires, as well as any and all other supernatural creatures, and to shield and protect any and all humans from their evil.”

As one, fourteen voices rang out in the night. “We do so swear!”

* * *

Gregory 73 sat in his cell within the Knight’s temple, staff in hand. It was a small, simple room, yet it held the necessary furnishings—a sofa and small table, a comfortable bed. A stout oak chest held his clothing, his now useless invisibility cloak, and what few personal belongings he possessed. His first order of business was to find and execute the witch who had betrayed them—Ava by name. She had destroyed the power of their cloaks, which had shielded their presence from the Hungarian vampires. She had also removed the enchantment from the medallion each Knight had worn to alert them when vampires were near.

He had overheard the Brotherhood lamenting the fact that the witch, Ava, had betrayed them, even as they discussed their urgent need to locate a new witch ally, and to destroy Quill Falconer. Gregory quite agreed. The whole Falconer family was an abomination. None more so than Quill, who had mated with a mortal woman, an act every true Knight looked upon with repugnance. Unlike Transylvanian vampires, Quill’s ilk were capable of mating with human females. Destroying the Hungarian vampires before they could procreate with female mortals had been the primary mission of the Brotherhood of the Knights of the Dark Wood for a thousand years and more.

But Gregory had his own reasons for wanting the vampires dead.

He smiled faintly. Though the Knights did not yet know it, there was already a witch in their midst. Gregory had kept his ancestry hidden from everyone, including the previous Elder Knight. But now his moment had come. No one hated the Hungarian vampires more than did he. The creature known as Quill had murdered his father, but now, at long last, Gregory would have his revenge.

Quill Falconer might be out of his reach. But the vampire’s son was in New Orleans.

Still, Gregory was not yet ready to reveal the truth of what he was to his fellow Knights. To that end, he needed to find another witch—one to do his bidding until he was ready to reveal his ancestry. And he had the perfect sorcerer in mind.

Wand in hand, he chanted the words of summoning.

Gregory 73 reared back as an enormous black vulture appeared before him. He stared at the hideous creature, the shiny wings, the wicked talons, the slash of white on the bird’s head. Lifting his left hand, Gregory waved it in front of the vulture, from right to left, murmuring, “Rivelare,” as he did so. Power filled the room as the name of the man who had been bespelled appeared in the air. “Jasper!”

The bird bobbed its head up and down, its black, beady eyes focused on the Elder Knight’s face.

Gregory shook his head. “Who’s done this to you, my old friend?” Unleashing his dark magic, he walked around the scavenger. “Ava.” Gregory spat the name. “Interfering old crone.”

Murmuring the words of an ancient spell of unmaking under his breath, he walked around the vulture—three times to the left, three times to the right—and then struck the bird with his wand.

Multicolored ribbons of smoke erupted from the tip of the wand, swirling around the vulture, and when they settled, the warlock known as Jasper stood in the bird’s place, stark-naked and shivering from head to foot.

* * *

Wrapped in a thick, woolen blanket, the warlock huddled in a chair, a cup of strong black coffee cradled in his hands as he related the events that had led to his enchantment, how the witch known as Ava had rescued Quill Falconer from a Transylvanian vampire, destroyed the vampire’s coven, and turned Jasper into a hideous creature along the way.

Gregory nodded intermittently. He had heard the stories, had followed Quill’s doings for centuries.

“How can I thank you for undoing that hideous enchantment?” Jasper asked. “Ask of me whatever you will and I will see it done.”

“Yes, you will,” Gregory said. “Whatever and whenever I say.”

Jasper shivered as the Knight’s power rolled over him.

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