Incarnation by Emma Cornwall Page B

for its study.”
    “A great many learned people of his time recognized the need for a better understanding of the unseen realm. Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, supported our founding. Indeed, she went so far as to generously endow the society.”
    I had long been fascinated by Elizabeth Tudor, whose ability to reign in her own right went against all the traditions of her age, but I had never suspected her involvement with anything as esoteric as the Golden Dawn.
    Still gazing at the renowned magus, I said, “He favored silver.”
    Marco nodded. “Dee was morbidly afraid of vampires.”
    “He encountered them?” I had accepted that Lady Blanche was likely older than any human could be, but I had thought no further than that. Now, struck by the notion that vampires had been in England for centuries, I was taken aback. How had two species—humans and vampires—both so powerful in their own ways and so at odds with each other, managed to coexist for so long?
    “Vampires have played a significant role in this realm,” Marco said. “I think it would be helpful if you had some understanding of their—your history.”
    Impatience stirred in me. All I truly wanted was to find the singer and discover why he had done what he had to me. The need to do so was growing stronger with each passing moment. Even so, I had come to the Golden Dawn to learn. Schooling myself to patience, I said, “If you insist.”
    Marco drew a large, leather-bound volume from a nearby shelf and laid it on the table. “This is a history of the vampires in England as compiled by Queen Elizabeth’s Dr. Deeover several decades of intensive research,” he said. “Dee had access to”—he hesitated—“unusual sources of information, with the result that the work is very detailed and highly accurate.”
    I scarcely heard him, for by then my attention had been captured by the illustration on the first page of the dusty tome. With growing disbelief, I studied the drawing of a mighty warrior riding beneath banners emblazoned with the image of a bear and carrying a great sword beside which was penned the name Excalibur .
    Slowly, I said, “That cannot possibly be—”
    “Arturus Rex,” Marco said. “The king who was and who shall be. At least that’s what the legends say.”
    “What could King Arthur possibly have to do with vampires?” I demanded. Arthur was the very heart and soul of fantasy, the chivalrous knight seen through the kindly mists of vanished time. Even his death, tragic though it was portrayed, held within it the promise of redemption and rebirth. Darkness could not touch him. Could it?
    Marco turned the page. Quietly, he said, “There is your answer, as recorded by one who saw all and had every reason to understand it only too well.”
    I bent closer and read what Dee had transcribed in his own hand but in another’s words.
     
The vampires came into England when I was a child. Their leader was Damien, not a bad sort, kingly in his own way. The Christian priests spewed spittle at sight of them, so frightened were those men of God by what they called devil spawn. You would think they would have had sufficient faith in their own deity to be unworried, but no. The Druids took the vampiresmuch more in stride, understanding as they did that the real danger came from the Saxons.
With the fading of Roman order, the way lay open for rapacious tribes to fall upon our fair isle. The old Anglo-Roman families—my father, King Arthur’s being first among them—banded together and held off the invaders for a while, but the floodtide that washed up against Britain could not be long repulsed. We were overrun and in danger of extinction when King Arthur raised his banner. My royal father swore that he would do all that was needed to protect our families, our fields, and our hearths. He vowed to leave no measure untaken, no effort unfulfilled.
He lied.
When Damien proposed an alliance with his kind, King Arthur—under the influence of the