Rift Walker, The (Vampire Empire, Book 2)

by Clay Griffith

  Adele reached for the hilt of her Fahrenheit dagger beneath her robe. Mamoru stepped in front of her.

  “No, Highness. The creature is quite secure.”

  Adele stared at the growling vampire and felt the cold of London stiffen her joints. She could smell the stink of the Thames River lapping over piles of bodies and saw the fresh wash of blood spreading across the floors of Buckingham Palace. She heard the screams of the people of Reiz as Flay's packs descended on them in the dark.

  Then a calming warmth spread through her again, forcing the darkness aside. She took a deep breath, inhaling the saltiness of the desert around them. Her feet were firmly planted on the floor, with the sensation that they were almost sinking into sand. Her heartbeat slowed.

  The two men stared at Adele. She nodded for the program to continue and asked, “Where did this thing come from?”

  “Oh, we occasionally run across them,” Sir Godfrey began casually. “Blown off course. Lost. Weak. I believe this particular chap came from a friend in Constantinople.”

  Adele added, “Fortunately, he does look weak. And the heat is making him sluggish. Otherwise, I'm not sure your bindings would hold him.” She studied the wide-eyed beast. It was naked, but it wasn't one of the ferals that civilized vampires used as trackers and killers, those fearsome beasts called hunters. The creature's helplessness was pathetic, but Adele had seen too much vampire brutality to feel a great deal of sympathy. The thing hissed, and Adele understood it on some level. She had the uncanny ability to decipher vampires' incomprehensible language, through no special study of her own, a fact she had told Mamoru, but no other, upon her return from the north.

  Her teacher asked, “Can you understand what it's saying?”

  “He's angry.” Adele stated the obvious. Perhaps that was the reason for this impromptu visit—a test of her language skills.

  “Is that all?”

  “Technically, no. He's threatening to kill Sir Godfrey; in fact, to kill all of us. He's being quite rude and explicit.”

  “Remarkable,” Sir Godfrey exclaimed. “I've made a detailed study of their language myself, wrote a dictionary, yet I've only ascertained a few words here and there.”

  Mamoru nodded with pride at his student. “Yes, I've studied it for over a decade as well. Yet it appears we're only novices, Sir Godfrey. You can't speak their language, can you, Adele?”

  “I've never tried. I can't emulate the hissing. I don't know if any human could.”

  “Amazing, simply amazing.” Sir Godfrey shook his head. He put a hand on the vampire's chest and leaned on it casually as the creature snapped the air, his jaw clacking loudly while spittle flew. “Your Highness, I believe you have a Fahrenheit blade on your person. May I borrow it to perform an experiment?”

  She pulled the weapon from her robe. “This blade is a dangerous thing. Are you familiar with them?”

  “I am, Highness. I have experimented with Fahrenheit scalpels. But I have none here.”

  Adele presented the weapon to the surgeon and then retreated across the room at his urging. Sir Godfrey slowly slid the khukri from its ceremonial scabbard, revealing the glowing blade.

  He whistled. “It's beautiful.”

  “Thank you. It was my mother's.” Adele stood next to Mamoru, watching her precious dagger in the hands of a stranger. Her teacher handed her several crystals. “What are these?”

  “Talismans. Similar to the pendant I gave you before your trip to the north. Hold them in your hands for protection.”

  The stones felt hot and heavy.

  “I say, what's the creature going on about now?” Sir Godfrey was waving the searing dagger a few inches from the snarling vampire's face, resting his other hand on the edge of the table.

  “Nothing new,” Adele replied. “He still wants to kill you. And then us. And then everyone else he can find.”

  Sir Godfrey chuckled until the band holding the vampire's chest and arms suddenly released. A long clawed arm snapped up and slammed into the man's head. The old surgeon dropped suddenly behind the table as the vampire sat up and shredded the bonds that held his legs. The naked vampire rose on the operating table with a screech of triumph, calling out how he would now slaughter everyone. The vampire's cold eyes found the old man on the ground.

  “Good God!” Mamoru shouted. “Stop him!”

  “Over here!” Adele shouted to bring the creature's attention on her.

  The vampire's head snapped around, and his blue stare locked on her. The creature immediately lunged, so Adele reacted. Something in her mind snapped, and his muscles twitched slowly, like a moving stereoscope show. Each instant of the creature's attack was another click, another lantern slide. The thing leapt from the table in what should have been a flash of catlike speed, but he seemed slowed, as if swimming through paste. The vampire's face grew long with shock.

  Adele felt the crystals burning her hand. Waves of shimmering air and smokelike tendrils rose around her from the earth. Something rumbled under the pale green tiles, straining to burst up into the room. Her hands lifted, the air around them boiling with swelling vapors. Pulses of heat circled her, spiraling into her and then out in waves.

  The vampire screamed, even while it came forward, with an agony that his kind rarely felt. His skin began to bubble and heat; boils rose and popped. The creature tumbled through the air, slamming into Adele and carrying both of them to the floor. The vampire twitched in the palsy of death and fell still.

  Mamoru instantly dragged the scorched vampire away from Adele. Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes darting beneath as if caught in the throes of dream sleep. He pressed a hand against her forehead. She was warm, but not feverish. He pried the crystals from her clenched fists and pocketed the steaming stones.

  Sir Godfrey joined him quickly. “How is she?”

  “Bring cool water.”

  “I've never seen anything like it.” Sir Godfrey went to a sideboard where sat a pitcher and a cloth, eyeing the dead vampire as he stepped around its blistered corpse. He signaled into the mirror on the wall, letting the two women on the other side know that the princess was well.

  “There's never been anything like it.” Mamoru took the pitcher and draped a cool cloth on Adele's forehead. “That's the point.”

  “Lucky for me, I'd say. Was my performance convincing? Did I fall to the floor like a helpless old man in danger? I rather felt like a helpless old man when that monster looked at me.”

  “I told you that you'd be safe. So close to the rift under the Great Pyramid, the crystals acted as a catalyst. Plus, given her natural response to a person in danger, she simply acted. She couldn't have stopped if she'd wished it. From the stories she told me about her experiences in the north, I suspected I could bring this out of her.”

  There was a click, and a panel opened in the wall. Two women started out. Nzingu, the tall Zulu in a white satin gown, stared with intensity at the dead vampire. And Sanah, the Persian cloaked in a black burqa, looked at the supine figure of her former theater companion with concern. Mamoru shook his head for them to stay hidden in case Adele was more aware than she appeared. He wasn't ready for her to meet the entire cabal yet.

  Sir Godfrey shoved the vampire's body with his well-shined shoe. “Seems completely dead! Still, I should decapitate him to be sure. I'll anatomize him to ascertain the physiological damage. Then I'll add him to the collection.” There was a gleam of anticipation in his gaze.

  Ignoring him, Mamoru wet the cloth on Adele's forehead again and hummed a soothing tune he remembered his wife singing to their baby.

  Adele saw dark plaster and a wooden ceiling swim into view, and she wondered where she was. A few flicks of her eyes showed a crimson brocade fabric next to her head, and a room full of books. Her fingers played over a soft blanket at her waist. She saw Mamoru start up from an armchair at her feet. His concerned gaze swept over her.

  “Highness, you're awake.” He took her wrist and fumbled for a pulse as she sat up on the plush
sofa in the dimly lit library. “You should remain still until Sir Godfrey can examine you.”

  “I'm fine.” Then a memory washed over Adele and she gasped. She saw a vampire tearing free from its bindings and leaping for the poor white-haired surgeon. “Sir Godfrey! Oh God! How is he?”

  “He's perfectly well,” the teacher said as he stared deeply into her left eye, then her right. “Thanks to you. How do you feel?”

  The princess exhaled with relief and then realized she felt remarkably fine. “I'm actually very well, if a bit tired.” She looked at her hands. They looked incredibly normal. Just the delicate fingers of a young woman. But it seemed as if there should be something special about them.

  Mamoru sat back and observed her with crossed arms.

  She asked, “What did I do? It's hard to remember.”

  “I don't know. I need to learn more myself.”

  “Did you see me? I remember fire and smoke around me.”

  Mamoru stared deeply at her. “No. I saw nothing around you.”

  “What is it?” Adele asked. “What is happening to me?”

  “Be patient, Highness. You must be patient.”

  “But you have to help me. I told you about my experiences in the north. Now this.”

  Mamoru took her hand gently and said without hesitation, “I ask you to trust me. This cannot be rushed. We are treading in new fields. I must study these events. Soon, I will come to you with information. But to tell you something wrong would be worse than telling you nothing. Please, a little more time and I will have answers for you.”

  Adele nodded, but she was deep in thought, trying to recall more details of the night. It was hazy, but she certainly remembered reaching out to the vampire and calling a fire that swept over the creature. She remembered a somewhat similar powerful physical and emotional epiphany she had experienced in Canterbury. But more, she recalled Edinburgh and how she had burned Gareth with a power she didn't understand. And then she had burned Flay, sending the creature to her death over the side of Prince Cesare's wretched airship with a cross looped around her neck, a cross charged with some strange power that Adele could command. But now she had destroyed a vampire with only her hands. No, not even her hands; she hadn't come near the creature.

  The door across the library opened and Sir Godfrey entered. He wore a heavy leather apron stained with old blood and flecked with fresh bits of something foul. He was smiling, unharmed, and whistling cheerfully.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed at seeing Adele sitting. “Highness, I am gratified to see you up. How do you feel?”

  “A trifle warm, but never better, Doctor. How are you?”

  “Splendid. I must thank you for saving my life.”

  Adele smiled at the old gentleman. “I wish I could tell you I knew how I did it.”

  Sir Godfrey crossed the floor and started to take her wrist. Mamoru rose and indicated his gruesome apron. “Oh my. Terribly sorry. Hardly appropriate attire. I lose myself when anatomizing.” He slipped it off and tossed it out in the hallway.

  Adele raised her eyebrows and was grateful she wasn't his maid.

  Sir Godfrey returned to the princess. “Marvelous. No fever. Pulse is steady and remarkably low. You are in excellent condition. Highness, won't you please eat something, if you're so inclined?” He stepped to the sumptuous buffet, now devoid of servants.

  Adele joined him. She began to fill a plate, surprised she had an appetite after all the excitement.

  Sir Godfrey reached into his coat, handing her the Fahrenheit dagger. “I return this to you none the worse for wear.”

  Mamoru stood to one side, watching the princess intently for signs of weakness or anything unusual. They took their seats at the grand table. “Sir Godfrey, what can you tell us about the creature?”

  The old surgeon cut into a dripping pink rack of meat. “Quite dead, old boy. And more besides, virtually cooked through. Unlike my lamb here. Internal organs charred beyond repair.”

  Adele looked instantly at Mamoru with surprise, but he smiled serenely, deflecting her renewed questions. He didn't have answers, his eyes told her. Yet.

  He said, “If you feel up to traveling, Highness, we should return to Alexandria.”

  “I feel perfectly fine.” She finished eating a stuffed grape leaf. Even her weariness had been fleeting. She now felt energized.

  “Good. We'll be back very late and you have a full schedule tomorrow, so make sure you stay in and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

  The princess exhaled in dismay. “After this sort of event, I have to attend meetings and receptions? How ordinary.”

  “That is one thing that you are not,” Sir Godfrey said.

  “Quite so.” Mamoru raised a cautionary hand. “Needless to say, what occurred in this house stays among we three.”

  Adele said, “Do you think I'm channeling some power from the crystals?”

  Her teacher raised his eyebrows in warning. “I told you, Highness. It will take time. In the interim, you must live your life as before, difficult as it may be given your natural enthusiasms. Time alone will unfold your future.”

  “Well, I suppose time is what I have.” Adele stood and pushed her mother's dagger into the belt under her robe.

  T HE GRAND DAMES of the Phoenix Society had broken into post-lunch clutches inside the splendor of the Delhi Room in Victoria Palace in Alexandria. Gowns rustled. Diamonds and rubies sparkled. Champagne tipped. Heads with fantastic feathered hats and fine embroidered scarves tilted with discreet laughter. Hushed, droll voices droned as conversation topics competed between discussions of failed dinner parties and horrific country weekends on the Red Sea, with eyes darting to ensure the targets of the excoriations weren't within earshot.

  Princess Adele remained in her seat on the dais between two matronly monoliths of society. Servants cleared dishes with the residue of a remarkably mediocre meal as she pretended to study sketches of the Monument to Our Beloved War Dead. The planned bronze cenotaph was gigantic, gaudy, and inelegant. It was also quite forward-thinking, as the coming war had not yet begun. It strove to overawe the viewer's emotions with sheer mass and melodrama, presenting heroic Equatorian men firing rifles, cradling wounded comrades, saying good-bye to sweethearts, and, in one tableau, several men holding a struggling vampire while another soldier impaled the creature with his bayonet. Adele toyed with the idea of making sure the vampire resembled Cesare.

  Lady Tahir, the chairwoman of the Phoenix Society, cleared her throat. “Do you approve of our design, Your Highness?”

  “Hm?” Adele was shaken from her memories of the events in Giza the night before. “Oh yes. It's…monumental.”

  “Yes, we agree,” cooed Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.). “My husband, General Alfred Cornwell, retired, personally vetted the soldiers' appearances.”

  “They are very military.”

  “Your Highness”—Lady Tahir indicated the monument tableau with the soldier and his sweetheart—”in this scene, which I suggested to the sculptor—”

  “Who is?”

  “None other than Tomas Chaudry, the man who reimagined the façades at Petra.”

  “Oh, him,” Adele said flatly. “Yes, those remarkable old ruins were long overdue for a sprucing up.”

  “Exactly! Anyway, as I was saying, I suggested this touching scene of a proper Equatorian lady bidding adieu to her beloved husband as he departs for the vampire front.”

  “Stirring,” Adele lied.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Lady Tahir chuckled with great self-satisfaction. “You may be even more pleased when you note that the soldier's visage is based on your own betrothed, Senator Clark.”

  “What!” Adele jerked the sketch closer and, with a shock, saw the resemblance. She remembered not to scowl and grunt, and instead smiled politely. “I see. Well, it is pleasing to imagine him going off to war.”

  “We thought,” said Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.), with jealous emphasis on the we, “it an approp
riate honor to Senator Clark as our gallant ally and soon-to-be prince regent.”

  Across the room, the Phoenix Society began to churn from some disturbance. The two chairwomen at the dais lifted their heads to study the alarming activity. The buzz of female voices was undercut by a deep male sound that came closer and closer as a figure moved through the throng.

  Only when the words, “Ladies, if you will make a lane, please!” penetrated the air did Adele rise to her feet with a sickening stomach.

  Senator Clark appeared from among the dowagers like an explorer cutting his way through an overgrown couture jungle. Hat in hand, he was smiling generously as he nodded at each kind word and gently grasped each gloved hand that was extended his way. But his eyes were hot with impatience.

  “This is most irregular,” Lady Tahir murmured. “He was not invited.”

  Adele knew sadly that the likelihood of these matrons throwing him out was slim. When his eyes locked on her, she felt angry, for the first time, that proper protocol wasn't being observed and wasn't serving as her protector.

  The senator finally reached the long white-clothed table where Adele stood. He bowed properly, sweeping his hat to the floor before him.

  “Your Highness,” he said. “How delightful to see you.”

  “Senator,” she intoned. “This is an unexpected…well, it's unexpected.”

  “Yes, indeed. That's how I operate. Strike fast when they least expect it.” He nodded to Lady Tahir and Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.). “Ladies.”

  Adele held up the monument sketch. “Alas, I am quite occupied. You should see my secretary for an appointment.”

  Clark's smile twitched. “I'm a bit fatigued fighting through the skirmish lines of your staff. It was hard enough just finding out you were here. I was hoping we might have a stroll and a few words.”