“The time of House Luscian is over. You and your allies made sure of that. You may have stolen the knowledge and the strength of the Eldest, but you are not he. You do not measure up even to the mud on his boots. Walk away, child, and step out of his shadow, as we have. I do not fear you or your sword, Daywalker. If you challenge me before the Court, I will scatter your ashes to the wind just for the chance to lay his legacy to rest forever.”
“I cannot back down from a threat to the ones I love, my Lord,” Nicholas said earnestly. “I have committed my honor to their defense.”
“Honor.” Xavier snorted. “Honor is a tool, boy—a way to harness the Red Wind to serve our needs. If you let it rule you, you become its puppet.” He raised his left hand and pointed at the altar, where a shroud of invisibility dropped away to reveal an intricately worked silver urn. “If honor means so much to you, look inside.”
Nick’s eyes darted from the urn to Xavier, who was watching him expectantly. Reaching out with his left hand, but keeping his sword arm free, he lifted the lid. Inside, the urn was three-quarters full of fine gray ash. He focused his full senses on it and felt a faint psychic echo of pain and terror. Quickly fitting the lid back into place, he regarded Xavier soberly.
“Who was it?” he finally asked.
Xavier stared at the urn. “Her name was Isabeau. She served me faithfully for more than a millennium. A friend. A trusted adviser. But she compromised my honor when she caused your brother to come into his power. I could not let her live, not without damaging my standing in the Court. Out of respect for her service and her loyalty, I offered her a choice: seek the sunrise on her own or face the punishment I had crafted for her. She chose the sunrise.”
Xavier reached out with the point of his sword and knocked the urn off the altar, spilling the ashes across the floor of the apse as it rolled away. “She has paid for her transgression. That is the price of your honor, Nicholas. Now leave my city and never return.”
Nick looked at the ash stains on the altar cloth and the pall of gray flakes that covered his shoes. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular device with a small, integrated keypad. “It’s not enough,” he said sadly.
Xavier eyed the device suspiciously. “Is that a weapon?”
“Of a sort. It’s the control module for a temporal manipulator that is in geosynchronous orbit over Paris. I had one of our jumpvessels place it there. Usually, that kind of technology is restricted to large-scale, planned projects with extensive preparation time, but it can be made to work on short notice if confined to a very small target. It has allowed me to walk the length and breadth of the city, as well as the surrounding countryside, in a miniature bubble of accelerated time. I have been here for six months, my Lord, while only two days passed for the rest of the world.”
Xavier raised the point of his sword en garde between them. “For what purpose?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“I have shed my blood and mixed it with the earth to form a permanent containment circle around the entire greater metropolitan area. No Child of Darkness has been able to leave the city since I activated it the moment I stepped across the threshold of the Cathedral. I have also shielded the containment matrix to prevent the circle from being dispersed from the outside.”
“So you have trapped us here? That is your revenge?” Xavier’s face twisted in contempt. “I will not kill you now, Magister Luscian. Leave while you can, until the day I break your circle and you die with it.” He spat on the floor in front of Nick.
Nick shook his head. “The circle is layered and modular. If any part of it fails, the surrounding elements of the spell will restore the damaged portion. You will never be able to break through, Magister Tervilant. You will remain here in your city, until the day you die.” He drew himself up to his full height. “If I don’t make an example of you, my family and friends will become pawns for the Court, bargaining chips to be used against me. I can’t let them suffer because of what I am. That is the price of my honor.”
“Then you have become Luscian’s heir in truth.” Xavier sneered at him. “And your justifications ring just as hollow. Do you honestly think the Court will be impressed that you have crafted your own eternal prison—a lesser version of your Master’s Crown?” He laughed out loud. “You should have killed me, Nicholas. I will break your circle, and I will take your life. In the meantime, I have been projecting this entire little drama to the Court through my link to one of my Praetors in the Council Chamber. They have seen your pathetic Daywalker aversion to killing. They know you are weak. Your lack of will has condemned all those you protect to the very fate from which you tried to save them. Nothing you do now can convince the Court not to exact vengeance on House Luscian. Tonight, by your half-measures, you have truly lost everything.”
Nick turned back to look at the ashes strewn across the floor. “You’re right, but not in the way you think. I knew what I was going to have to sacrifice the second I finished casting the second half of the spell: a cascade purification field, designed to radiate outward from the Place du Parvis at the center of the city, then reflect off the containment circle to form a permanent standing wave across the enclosed space for eternity.” He looked up again into Xavier’s widened eyes as he set the preconstructed spell in motion, reaching through Luscian’s sword to draw upon the full power of the Crown of Souls. “I’m sorry.”
The vampire lord struck blindingly fast. Nick blocked with Reaper, knocking Xavier’s sword sideways so that it sank deeply into his left lung rather than piercing his heart. The Daywalker collapsed, gasping for breath. Just as Xavier pulled his blade free of Nick’s chest and drew his arm back for a killing stroke, a wave of mystic symbols appeared on the floor of the cathedral and raced down the nave toward them. As they reached the Nightwalker, the sword slipped from his hand and he fell, convulsing on the floor. Nick watched silently as the mosaic of magic signs blew past them to the east. Ten seconds later, it was over, and Xavier’s body crumbled into dust.
Nick stood wearily, coughing up the blood spilled into his lungs. He allowed Reaper to fade away, and slipped the temporal manipulator control back into his pocket. Ignoring the pool of his blood as it spread into a black mire, mixing with the dust and ashes on the floor, he walked quietly over the Sigils of Purification, up the nave of the cathedral to the doors. He held his breath as he stepped outside, squinting against the hanging clouds of dust, stirred into motion by the freshening breeze upon the piles of white powder that had been an army only moments before.
“So this is what genocide feels like,” Nick said aloud, his heart empty. “No wonder Rory drinks himself into a stupor one day a year.”
CHAPTER 30
Icehaven City, Hudson Bay, Canada; One hour later
Rafael Tervilant mulled over his options as he examined the AI neural network software package he was designing. He made some adjustments on the control panel of his workstation, and the virtual schematic rotated ninety degrees and then expanded to reveal the interconnections between cognition and linguistics. Finally, fatigue killed his enthusiasm and he leaned back in his chair and sipped at his glass of bloodwine. He glanced at the clock—two o’clock in the afternoon. Late enough to make him bone tired, but far enough past midday to prevent him from getting any sleep. I might as well stay up for the rest of the day, he thought sourly. Maybe I can make up my sleep debt if I go to bed at dawn instead of sunrise.
He stood with a yawn, smoothing the wrinkles from the pants of the simple, two-piece, black outfit favored by the Nightwalkers of the Citadel, and made his way back to the living room. Settling on the couch, he picked up the remote and activated the off-world news feeds. The virtual screen opened, revealing a dozen icons—some with scrolling text, some with integrated video. He read at random, trying to get a sense of what was happening out there above the sky.
The security AI interrupted. “Nicholas Magister Luscian is requesting entry.”
Rafael frowned and glanced at
the clock once more. Then he stood and clicked off the news feed. He looked around for his shirt and then snorted. Who cares what I look like? This is Nick we’re talking about. I’m certainly not going to end up on his dance card. Chuckling, he unsealed the front door.
“Hi, Raf.” Nick said, leaning on the doorframe. “You’re up late,” he said.
He sounded as tired as Rafael felt, and despite his casual pose, Rafael could tell it was more than just a friendly visit. He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Late enough that I wasn’t expecting visitors. I was working on a new design and lost track of time.” He cocked his head. “What brings you to Icehaven at this time of day? Most of the city is asleep by now.”
“I came to see you.” Nick considered his words carefully. “There’s something we need to talk about, and I’m not sure how it will affect our relationship.”
“Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk about it?” Rafael stepped aside for Nick to enter.
“Actually, I’m feeling kind of claustrophobic,” he said, gesturing to the empty marble streets and the polished obsidian buildings around them. “Do you think maybe we could go for a walk?”
Rafael frowned. The other races tended to avoid Icehaven, oppressed by the dark colors and the heavy weight of the water above. Most were glad to get indoors, where they could pretend they were somewhere else. Nick was usually no exception. Something was seriously wrong with this picture, and the Daywalker was obviously in no hurry to enlighten him.
What the hell, I need to take a break anyway. “Sure, Nick,” he said. “Let me just grab something to wear, and I’ll be right with you.”
Nick shrugged out of his leather jacket and held it out. “Here, take this.”
Taking the jacket without comment, Rafael slipped it on over his bare chest, stepped out of his house, and closed the door behind him. “After you, Nicholas,” he said, inhaling the salty tang of the seawater that permeated Icehaven’s atmosphere, mixed with Nick’s scent emanating from the jacket. He was silent, waiting for Nick to speak, when he noticed the scent clinging to the leather was subtly different. It was imbued with a faint odor of something distinctly alien, but somehow familiar. He searched his memory, trying to identify it, and then stopped dead in his tracks. No. It can’t be.
“Something wrong?” Nick asked, noticing Rafael stop.
Rafael shook his head mutely. Oh, Nicholas, he thought. What the hell have you done?
Nick stared straight ahead, getting his bearings again. The city was laid out in a great wheel, with circular streets punctuated by radial boulevards. It was easy to get lost if one lacked the vampire visual acuity to pick out the shallow runes carved into the black buildings as street numbers. “There’s a park near here, isn’t there? Maybe we should sit down.”
Rafael nodded. “One block inward and a couple of segments clockwise. I go there all the time.”
“Why don’t you lead.” Nick remained distracted.
Rafael walked ahead, his mind in turmoil.
* * *
The two silently made their way down the marble path to the Zen garden at the center of the meditation park. It was surrounded on all sides by carefully raked black sand. Stylized waves lapped at rocks embedded within the design. Nick sat on one of the stone benches, letting his gaze track along the patterned sand. Rafael sat next to him.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” Rafael said softly. “It reminds us of what this place means.”
Nick looked at him. “It’s just a place to live, Raf. What does it mean other than that?”
Rafael’s eyes met the Daywalker’s. “It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced the second life for real.”
“Try me.”
Rafael turned his face upward, to the opalescent glow of the perimeter shield that held back the water above. “Have you ever wondered why we rely on the shield rather than building a dome like they did at the Citadel?”
Nick shrugged. “I assumed it was so the city could expand as more Nightwalkers emigrated here.”
“That’s partially true. Unlike Anchorpoint and the Citadel, we can only build horizontally if we want to avoid exposing the city, but that’s not the main reason.” Rafael leaned back against the cool stone. “Close your eyes, Nick, and tell me what you feel.”
Nick shut is eyes and reached out with his senses. “The air’s cool; feels slightly moist,” Nick began. “It smells like salt. I can feel the increased pressure from the weight of the water.”
“And what do you hear?”
Nick frowned, his eyes still closed. “Two heartbeats, yours and mine.”
“Pay closer attention, Nicholas. What do you hear?”
There was something else, Nick realized, something other than the thumping of their hearts and the faint rushing sound of the blood pumping through their veins. A rustling in the background added a gentle, rhythmic beat in counterpoint to his pulse. He focused on it, hearing the secondary harmonics layered within the sound, forming a complex percussion at the limits of his awareness. Without even realizing it, he slowed his heartbeat, bringing it into harmony with the soft cadence, and felt himself relax. Opening his eyes, he found his friend smiling at him.
“Now you understand,” said Rafael. He looked up at the shield again. “A solid barrier would muffle the sound of the waves and the water currents against the shield. This is Icehaven, Nicholas. Our sanctuary against the rage of the Red Wind. Here, we are free to think and dream—without fear, without bloodlust.” Rafael reached out and touched Nick’s hand. “You’re safe here, Nick, if you finally want to tell me what happened.”
“Rafael…” Nick hesitated. “You’ve been a good friend to me, and I don’t want to lose your respect or your friendship. When I tell you what I did, it might cost me both.”
“Then you’ll just have to trust me enough to tell me and see what happens.”
“It’s not about trust, Raf,” Nick said. “It’s about honor.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “When did you join the Armistice?”
Rafael frowned. “Twenty-thirty-five. Right after I heard about the off-world colonies the Triumvirate had been building. It was the creation of the Spacer Guild that pushed me over the edge. I was amazed they would give that much power to an autonomous civilian organization. It was contrary to everything the Court had told us about the Armistice and its leaders. So I took a chance, packed my entire life into two carry-on bags, and ran like hell before my superiors could eliminate me for desertion.”
“Twenty-thirty-five,” repeated Nick. He opened his eyes and turned to look at the Nightwalker. “Were you part of the expeditionary force that claimed the vacant Luscian territories after the Burning?”
“Yes. I had lived in Marseilles since the end of twenty-thirty-three. I hope you’re not offended. No one knew you existed when the expansion began, and Luscian had locked down some prime real estate in Europe and the Ukraine. House Tervilant just moved the fastest and most decisively, so when we claimed all of France, it was pretty much a fait accompli.”
“Did you know anyone in Paris?”
Rafael shrugged. “Not really. The Magister claimed Paris as his capital. Only his elite soldiers and high-ranking scions wound up there.” Rafael frowned slightly. “Why?”
Nick took a deep breath. “Toby was in Paris a few days ago. He ran into a Nightwalker in a bar; she kindled his Gift.”
“I see…” Rafael eyes followed the sculpted waves in the sand before him. “That’s unfortunate. Was he able to get away without having to fight her?”
“Yes.”
“Then everything is fine. Some intensive training and a little discipline, and he’ll be good to go.”
“I swore I would destroy any house that hurt one of my family, Rafael. If I backed down, something like this could have happened again someday—with my sister or my mother. I had to do something spectacular in revenge to ensure the Court took notice.” Nick leaned forward, clasping his hands together in his lap. �
��I trapped the Children of Darkness inside the city and cast a permanent spell of purification over it.” He paused, and then rushed on. “They all died, every Nightwalker in Paris, tens of thousands of them. I killed them all, even the Magister and the Primogenitor. I cut off the head of House Tervilant.”
Rafael stared at him, shocked. Then he reached out and clasped Nick’s trembling hands. “And how are you holding up, afterward?”
Nick’s laugh echoed through the silent garden. “How am I holding up? I tell you I wiped out the entire leadership of your house, and you ask about me?”
Letting go of Nick’s hands, Rafael embraced the Daywalker. “My former house,” he whispered. “My current friend. No contest.”
“Thank you, Rafael.” Nick returned the Nightwalker’s embrace, and then sat back against the cool stone and ran his hands through his hair. “I should go. There’s still work to be done before I can truly finish this. I’m sorry I doubted you, Raf.”
* * *
Rafael watched Nick stand, the pieces of the puzzle he had been trying to assemble finally fitting into place. He remembered the first time he heard Nick’s voice, brash and arrogant, issuing across the psychic landscape of Europe on the day Soulkiller’s Bane declared himself before the supernatural world. The memory contrasted with the Daywalker’s vulnerable, lost expression the day they had first met during the memorial service at the Citadel. The contradiction between Nick’s public and private face had intrigued Rafael from the beginning. He had never regretted striking up a conversation with this enigmatic Daywalker at the reception afterward.
Rafael stood as well and lightly clasped Nick’s shoulders. “Nicholas, I have killed innocents myself, more times than I care to remember. Even without a soul, I know how strong the need can be to avoid living your life again afterward.”
Sunset (Pact Arcanum) Page 29