The Geomancer
Page 31
The vampires obviously didn’t recognize Gareth but hesitated at his authoritative presence. They fell back, then lifted and veered eastward.
Adele and Gareth raced the last few yards off the bridge and into a stand of trees with enough budding foliage to hide them from vampire eyes in the air. Gareth’s grip eased and he drew Adele into his arms.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly. “You do the dominant male quite well.”
Kasteel and his rebels dropped through the branches. “That was close.”
“I’m glad you didn’t engage them,” Gareth said. “Well done. There are far too many.”
Kasteel beamed at the praise. “It won’t be any easier at the cathedral. It’s crawling with them.”
“Of course it is,” Adele muttered.
“This way,” Gareth ordered, already in motion. “We’re almost there.”
They ran toward the towers of the cathedral. The buildings they passed were once magnificent structures, but no more. Gareth took them through another natural area where the city was being reclaimed by tall, gnarled trees and a carpet of grass. To their right was a massive dilapidated structure with overgrown courtyards barricaded behind crumbling walls.
To the south, Adele heard the bellow of Equatorian gunfire grow more intense. It wasn’t just the howitzers now. She recognized the heavy shoulder guns of the Galahads. The armor battalion was marching. The invasion of Paris had begun.
The living cloud veered suddenly. Thousands of vampires flew together in a chaotic and ever-changing pattern, transforming in an instant into wild geometric abstraction across the sky. Twisting and turning into a dense swarm and then spreading thin, they swooped down beyond the river.
Gareth and Adele approached as close as they dared to Notre Dame with Kasteel and his rebels, staring across an open square at the behemoth. The ground was covered with the dead, the fruits of mass vampire feeding. The magnificent façade of the cathedral should have brought a sense of awe, but it only filled Adele with dread. Kasteel had been right. From the gothic gables and flying buttresses clung multitudes of dark shapes. The cathedral was crawling with a thousand living gargoyles.
“Damn,” Adele cursed quietly. “We won’t make ten yards.”
Gareth looked around to gain his bearings. “Which is why we are going back underground.”
“They might have fighters down there also,” Kasteel pointed out.
“Perhaps, but they can’t swarm us down there. We stand a better chance.”
The thought of returning to the silent ground chilled Adele, but Gareth gave her no time to contemplate the matter. He used his claws to pry up a rusting manhole cover. Damp muskiness rolled out of the inky pit. Gareth jumped down the shaft. Adele gulped several deep breaths while the rebels filed after their leader.
She grabbed the iron rungs and climbed down. The Earth swallowed her like a giant snake. Her foot touched the bottom. The small ring of light from above illuminated her and she hesitated to step out of it.
Then it hit her. Nausea flowed into Adele and her knees weakened. Horror gripped her. Her gut contracted, pushing acid up into her throat. She struggled to keep her balance, fighting the vertigo that tried to drive her into a senseless spiral.
A hand reached out. She knew it was Gareth.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
As Adele was drawn into the darkness, she gasped, “It’s beginning.”
CHAPTER 40
Queen Caterina stood on a scaffold in the northwest corner of the Place de la Concorde. She felt very alone although Flay and Lady Hallow were beside her and thousands surrounded the platform staring up at her in the light of the early morning sun that filtered around the Tuileries Palace to the east. It was already a warm day, which made her feel sluggish, as it would to all of them. There was little breeze but it brought the constant, distant booming of the human guns to the south. Vampires thronged the grounds and swarmed the buildings and trees. They perched on vine-covered statues, crawled over the smashed fountain and the cracked Egyptian obelisk in the center of the square.
Flay eyed the crowd. “Where’s Fanon? I don’t like that he isn’t here. I don’t trust him.”
Hallow smiled serenely. “Don’t worry about him. The packs are loyal to me.”
“To you.” Flay snorted with derision.
“This day will end badly for all of you,” Caterina said. “It’s already warm and this mob is annoyed that you couldn’t do this at night. No doubt you had to hold it to accommodate the Witchfinder. Humans love sunlight.” She laughed, which unnerved the crowd. The queen seemed awfully self-assured to be under the thumb of her pointless son and his sinister advisors from the dead clan of Britain.
Hallow ignored the queen and murmured to Flay, “Watch for Lothaire. And keep yourself under control. This is a dangerous game we’re playing up here.”
Flay sneered at her.
Caterina added, “Do you think Lothaire a fool? He knows this is a ruse to draw him out.”
“He’ll come.” Hallow surveyed the crowd. “He won’t allow you to be humiliated. Nor can he take the chance you could be harmed because I hate you or Flay is an unbalanced lunatic. He loves you. I know how he’ll act.”
“How would you know that? You’ve never had anyone love you.”
Hallow gave a slight twitch, which was the only sign that Caterina had struck the target.
A figure in long regal robes appeared in the crowded sky. Flay tensed, but it was only Honore. The mob followed the Dauphin’s arrival as one until he settled lightly onto the scaffold. He faced the crowd with his arms out and a pompous grin of triumph. Caterina tried to catch his eye, but he purposefully avoided looking at her. After absorbing enough attention from the clan, Honore swung around to Lady Hallow.
“This had better work,” he hissed. “I can’t stand here like a fool all day.”
“Don’t fret, Your Majesty. We’ll have your father and the end of the war before noon.”
Flay whistled sharply and two of the mercenaries rose onto the platform and took positions beside the queen. The scarred war chief eyed Caterina with the precision gaze of an executioner, evaluating the resistance of her body and exactly how much effort it would take to tear open the queen’s chest and crush her heart. Judging from the bland expression, Flay didn’t imagine it would require much.
Hallow stepped in front of Caterina. “This is the last time. You will either denounce the king’s traitorous relationship with Gareth now, or we will pass sentence on you for attempting to kill me.”
“How many last times will you give me?” Caterina feigned surprise. “You won’t do anything because you can’t.”
Hallow didn’t smile. She nodded to Flay, who was laughing at the comment but then snarled a command. The two mercenaries seized Caterina’s arms and roughly pulled them taut. The queen grunted from the pressure. Flay seized the collar of Caterina’s worn gown and, with a single motion, tore the front of the dress away leaving the queen’s breasts and stomach exposed. The action caused many in the crowd to laugh and jeer, winning back the moment for the new regime.
Honore showed a flash of anger before turning away with embarrassment. It wasn’t the nudity that was hurtful—many vampire females went bare-breasted—but the blatant expression of insolence for Caterina as queen upset her son. He snapped at Hallow, “This event was for the king. Not to humiliate my mother.”
“Start speaking, Honore,” Hallow said. “The clans are waiting. The king will be here.”
“How do you know? I’m not sure that you’re right.”
“We’ve come too far to quarrel now.” Hallow remained calm, and even a little subservient. “Do as I say and I will make you the king who sets the humans back hundreds of years. Cesare couldn’t dream of what I will do for you.”
The Dauphin let his gaze linger along Hallow’s elegant form as he tightened his fists. “Is that so?”
Hallo
w gave a faint smile of promise. “The sooner you start, the sooner you can finish.”
Honore spun back to the crowd and raised his hands above his head for silence, although the crowd was relatively quiet. “I come to you today on a mission . . . an unfortunate mission. I must denounce the queen. She attempted to assassinate Lady Hallow, whom you all know is my chief advisor. I must lay this tawdry affair before you, the clan lords.”
A line of old vampires stood near the scaffold, whispering to each other. None of them could bring themselves to look at Caterina, but the oldest of the crowd, a walking fossil named Lord Marais, croaked out, “We leave the fate of the queen to you, Dauphin. What of the king? Where is Lothaire?”
“Hiding!” Honore stood at the edge of the scaffold, towering above the ancient lords. “He’s a failure. He has done nothing to stop the Equatorians, who are practically wading across the river. It is time for a change.”
Marais said, “Since we hope there are no more refugees from Cesare’s clan to blow into our city and take positions of power, we assume you will confirm us all in our possessions without any sort of quarrel.” He left the final word hanging, letting Honore know that he was risking civil war if the status quo wasn’t respected.
“Of course, Lord Marais. The old lords such as you are the backbone of our clan. I look forward to decades . . . years at least, of the same loyalty you gave my father.” Honore turned around to Hallow and, with a clever grin, whispered, “Hopefully better, the old traitors. They are the first for Flay to visit when this is over.”
“Quiet,” Hallow said, with the same officious look on her face.
“They’re old and deaf as stones.”
“Do as you please, Dauphin,” Lord Marais called out, “but do it soon. It’s hot. You have our permission to set the royal couple aside.”
Flay growled deep in her throat. It wasn’t in response to Lord Marais’s statement. In fact, she was hardly paying attention to the farce at the front of the scaffold. The war chief turned her head, listening to the distance. Caterina realized the human guns had stopped. The nonstop sound of cannons that had dominated the city for the last few days was gone. In the silence that no one else noticed came a rumbling and grinding of metal.
“Damn it,” Flay stared toward the south, clearly agitated.
The thuds of new explosions sounded from across the river. They were smaller blasts than the big guns of the last week, but closer. The popping of rifles filled the air too. The clan lords began to show alarm at the smoke rising across the river. Some in the crowd slipped away.
From high overhead came the high-pitched whine of incoming artillery. Smoking canisters arced through the blue sky from the south, flying for different parts of the city. Several descended toward the Place de la Concorde. Vampires scattered as the canisters crashed on the cobblestones. They didn’t explode, but smashed into pieces. Dull grey metal balls skittered wildly through the feet of the confused vampires. The spheres burst open with brain-stabbing squeals. Shriekers.
The square erupted in chaos. Vampires clutched their ears. Others launched themselves into the air, trying to escape. Honore doubled over from pain. Hallow put a hand to her head and staggered.
The mercenaries holding Caterina loosened their grip. The queen pulled her arms free. She felt a blow to her back and she fell to her knees. Her head was jerked up hard.
“Enough of this.” Flay towered over Caterina with eyes narrowed against the shriekers.
Honore grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away from the queen. “Take your hands off her! You dare hurt my mother? I’ll have you execu—”
The prince stiffened as Flay spun in his grip. She grinned as her claws grasped him by the throat and tore. A wash of his blood covered her. The Dauphin stumbled and fell to the scaffold.
Caterina’s scream broke through the fading wail of the shriekers. She fought to rise. Something grabbed her arm. She turned to strike and saw Lothaire. Others raced past them and closed on Flay, with Nadzia shouting, “Take the queen and run!”
“Honore!” Caterina tried to pull away from her husband. She wanted to touch Honore’s hand that lay on the wooden planks, stretched out toward her.
“Come!” the king yelled. “Honore is dead.”
One of the mercenaries gathered his wits and reached for Caterina. Lothaire seized him with the sound of snapping bones. He clawed the brute’s face and kicked him aside.
“Can you fly?” he asked. “Caterina! Can you fly?”
The queen lifted off the platform and he followed.
Hallow stayed on her feet with great effort. “Flay! The king!”
Flay looked up at the royal couple rising away through the chaotic swarm over the square. She then regarded the rebels who had surrounded her. Claws came out. Flay ducked multiple strikes. She spun and raked. Dodged. Snapped a neck. Crushed a rib cage. Shattered knees. Sliced open muscles.
Nadzia weaved through Flay’s blows and struck her. The war chief immediately stepped up, expecting the girl to retreat. Instead Nadzia closed in and ripped Flay again. Flay fell back with her hand covering a bloody wound just as a rocket slammed into the square, sending fire and shrapnel everywhere. Staggered, she looked around for the young female who had hurt her, but she and her last comrade were gone. Eight rebels lay dead on the scaffold.
Hallow stumbled to Flay’s side with blood dribbling from her ears. “You must find the king and queen and kill them.”
In the distance to the south, human screams echoed. The weapons’ fire grew more ragged and disordered.
Flay grinned. “And it begins. The Witchfinder strikes.”
Panic filled Hallow’s porcelain features. Her pristine veneer cracked. “We can save this situation. Call your mercenaries. After you kill Lothaire and Caterina, find Isolde. We need an heir to put on the throne. Do as I say!”
Flay laughed. “Your day is over, Hallow. The queen is right. Your schemes and plans are pointless. I’d advise you to hide, because when I come back I’ll kill you.” She raised her head and screeched a call to war. As she lifted into the air, vampires rose around her. Most of them were her mercenaries, but there were Parisians and other French clan members who came to join her. They had no one else to follow.
Flay and her new pack drifted south toward the battle that raged in the ivy-cloaked suburbs and into the toppled edges of the city. Through the frantic bodies of diving vampires and the thick haze of gun smoke, the khaki hordes of Equatoria dropped in their tracks. Rank after rank staggered and fell. The thundering lines of steel Galahads ground to a halt and tilted uselessly to the side, venting steam. Over the faltering clatter of gunfire came more human screams, even from the distance where the vampire packs had not yet struck.
The scale of death she witnessed below unnerved even Flay. No one should have such power, certainly no human.
CHAPTER 41
All-encompassing black surrounded Adele and drowned the chatter of gunfire from the south. She drew her khukri and beat back the ebony maw with its green chemical burn. They were inside an old sewer pipe. Water from the spring thaw sloshed around their feet. Her steps were slow and measured, as if she were struggling through a black mire.
Gareth led them to a crack in the curving wall. He pulled more of the bricks aside, letting them tumble to the wet floor. Kasteel and the others moved forward to help. Soon the crack widened to a hole big enough for Gareth to wriggle through. He disappeared inside and Adele had to fight down her terror as she squeezed in after him. She held her blade aloft, but its light didn’t quell the rising dread inside her as she inched through a long passageway. It didn’t help that she knew vampires crawled right behind her. Old fears died hard.
Gareth dropped from her line of sight and then his hand reached back for her. She tumbled into a cavern with a low ceiling. It looked like a pile of dirt at first, but then she noticed exposed tiles and a brick arch.
“How did you find this place?” Kasteel emerged from the crevice.
Kasteel laughed nervously.
“Does it connect to the cathedral?” Adele was already pushing forward despite the darkness.
“We’re in front of the cathedral, but these halls stretch to it. I used to think they were the crypts of the old church.”
On they went through the lost city. Despite the crumbled debris, many rooms were intact. Occasionally they had to use their hands to claw open a wider entrance, but the group of vampires worked in tandem. It didn’t take long to clear a path.
Finally, Gareth looked upward as if searching. His fingers dug into the low ceiling and a rain of dirt fell over them all. Gareth stood and the top of his head cracked against a barrier. His hands pressed into the underside of something solid. A flat stone. Gareth braced and pushed. It didn’t give. Kasteel joined him, imitating his mentor, and the stone shifted slightly. The two vampires drove against it, pushing upward with their legs. They gained a few more inches of space. The stone tilted. Gareth bowed his back, holding the heavy object in place. Together, he and Kasteel forced it to the side.
Gareth went up silently and, a moment later, Kasteel followed. Adele looked up into a vaulted ceiling stretching far above her. Gareth reached down and pulled her up. The rest of the rebels emerged from the hole into Notre Dame.
The echoes of clattering machine gun fire from across the river had grown more sporadic, so the envelope of silence inside the vast chamber shouted their arrival to the rafters. Shadows shrouded the ceiling. And the shadows moved, writhing like rats in the hold of a ship when a hatch is opened. Adele stifled a cry, pointing up. The shadows fell toward them.
Kasteel stepped in front. “Go! Find your Witchfinder!” The rebels flew up to meet the incoming vampires.
Gareth and Adele ran up the nave, across the open marble floor. The sounds of battle filled the church with screeching, the rending of flesh, and the ring of claws.