Gareth drifted over the rolling green northwest countryside, noting the fields were rustling with new crops. But it wasn't long before he sensed something else beneath the temperature of the air. Uneasiness flared as his skin crawled. He knew the sensation well, for he felt it every Sunday in Edinburgh when mass was held by his flock in the massive St. Giles Cathedral. Gareth's curiosity and apprehension flared as a figure rose from a wooded copse below and approached. It was Cesare's bailiff.
“Prince Gareth,” Stryon said flatly with his teeth clenched against discomfort, “how good of you to come. Won't you join the party below?”
Gareth didn't reply, but merely followed the lanky servant toward the ground. The scents of numerous vampires filled his nostrils, including one that jarred an old memory, an old and unpleasant memory. They descended through the leafy canopy into the cool, shaded forest where vampires turned to gaze at Gareth with surprise and disdain. The clan lords stood in agitated clumps, whispering at the new arrival, but wary of showing open distaste for the king's son.
“Gareth!” Prince Cesare separated himself from a crowd and approached with a smile of satisfaction. He clasped his elder brother by the shoulder. “Delightful to see you.”
“Thank you for the invitation. I was glad I could make it.”
Cesare pulled his brother toward a group that included the foreign rulers, as well as a very familiar female. “You remember our great allies, King Draken, King Ashkenazy, and Queen Fen.”
Gareth bowed.
“And, of course, you know Lady Hallow. She is my right hand.”
Gareth stiffened, but held his emotions in check as Hallow's luminous face stared at him openly. Her familiar and dreadful scent cut through him. He silently cursed his brother for bringing her back to court.
“I do know her.” Gareth kissed the female's long, pale fingers while glaring into her blue eyes. “Though it has been years since we've spoken.”
“Prince Gareth.” Lady Hallow smiled with what appeared to be warmth. She was tall, quite half a foot above Cesare, and slender. Her frame was elegant and smooth like ivory. Her face was distant yet inquisitive; she seemed interested in everything yet unaffected by any of it. She exuded a demure sweetness that made her seem unthreatening.
Gareth knew better. “It's surprising to see you in Britain again.” He kept his responses cordial and monotone.
Hallow nodded politely. “I go where my lord needs me.”
Cesare said, “Lady Hallow's skillful diplomacy had much to do with the coalition we see today.”
“Yes,” the corpulent King Draken snorted agreement and touched the incandescent Hallow on the arm. “If I hadn't had so many queens already, she'd be my sixth.”
The lady bubbled with polite laughter. “Your Majesty does me great honor.”
Gareth knew Hallow would just as soon gut the disgusting bulk from Munich. However, the bloody deed would have been done already if Cesare's previous right hand, Flay, had been the subject of Draken's lechery instead of the politic and well-bred Hallow.
“What is that stench?” King Ashkenazy interrupted with a bitter face. His writhing was more pronounced now due to his discomfort. “I noticed it before, but it seems to be growing stronger. I do not like it.”
“That is our entertainment for the evening,” Cesare replied. “Just beyond this forest is a town called Hawkshaw where, I am informed, the humans have not encountered a vampire for a generation or more. You will all recall that stench from before the Great Killing? It's the abhorrent smell of free humans doing as they please.”
Queen Fen snarled at Cesare as she sidled next to Gareth. “So you dragged us out here to clean out your rebels, Cesare?”
“They aren't rebels, Majesty.” Cesare's kept a plastered smile on his face. “They are merely unaware. I thought we might all enjoy a hunt this evening. My gift to you: a human town to slaughter.”
Gareth's stomach turned and his hatred for Cesare spiked. He could smell the town as well, and it reminded him of Adele. It wasn't the smell of “free humans” per se; it was the scent of their power. Gareth was inured to the odor, as well as the uncomfortable tension and warmth that wafted through the air. He was, however, disturbed by the thought that perhaps he had avoided this area as Greyfriar because of the discomfort it may have caused his vampire self. The people of Hawkshaw were just the type he should have contacted. Soon they would all be dead and there was nothing he could do about it.
Queen Fen huffed dismissively as she brushed against Gareth. “I haven't lived this long and worked as hard as I have just to go back to the old days. If we wanted to hunt our meals, why did we bother to destroy the humans in the first place? You poseurs go and pretend you're still living in the wild, if you wish. I have no need for such fantasies, thank you.” Painfully, she lowered herself to the mossy ground.
“As you will.” Prince Cesare soldiered on, unwilling to let the cranky old crone derail his party. “I'll have something sent over to you. For the rest, sharpen your claws. The moon is up.” The young prince rose into the boughs and the rest of the party followed, laughing with vicious anticipation.
Gareth struggled to think of something he could do to prevent the coming destruction. His nearest Greyfriar stash containing his weapons and costume was many miles away; by the time he got there and returned, the deed would be done. He couldn't fight all these vampires. He couldn't warn Hawkshaw; death was on them already. He knew that thousands of humans were threatened with death every day across the north, and that Greyfriar saved only the smallest percentage of them. That realization still didn't dull the pain of watching it happen.
“Are you not participating in the party?” Lady Hallow's voice broke into Gareth's dire thoughts.
He realized he was scowling in revulsion, so he resumed his blank regal face. “I will. Shouldn't you be at Cesare's side? You did arrange this event for him, didn't you?”
She raised an eyebrow at the edge in his voice. “No, my lord. This event was all Prince Cesare's idea. He learned of this place and their miserable activities. And so he decided to deal with them and amuse his guests at the same time. Quite intelligent.”
“It's wasteful. Typical.”
Hallow remarked, “You are your father's son in some ways, aren't you?”
“Thank you,” was Gareth's clipped reply, unsure if she meant it as a compliment.
“King Dmitri always preached against waste; I remember it so well.”
“Did you learn anything from him?”
“While he hated waste, he didn't believe in coddling humans. They're food. You know, Gareth, I hardly recognize you as the same war chief who killed a regiment of human soldiers on the moors outside Fort Augustus. Do you remember that night?”
He stared coldly. That night was long ago, and it was the last time he had touched her with anything resembling affection. He looked away. “I must go. I'd hate for Cesare to slip in blood with no one near to lift him to his feet.”
Hallow murmured sarcastically, “I don't recall you ever having concerns for your brother's welfare. Why are you suddenly so solicitous to Cesare?”
“Times change.” Gareth shook his head, impatient with her sparring. “It used to be we all lived in tombs and holes in the ground. We've come far as a people.”
“They say you treat your Scottish herds well, that they volunteer their blood out of love for you. Is that so?”
He exhaled through his nose. “Do you have a point?”
“I'm just curious. It's been decades since I laid eyes on you. We were close once.”
“Once,” he snapped quickly.
“Who changed? You or I?”
“Both. Now we both love Cesare.”
Hallow asked with an undertone of sincerity, “What happened to you, Gareth? You could have been king, a great king. Now Cesare is carrying all the clans before him, and you merely step aside.”
“I don't want to be king. Look what it did to my father.”
Disappointme
nt washed over her features. “What will happen to you when Cesare succeeds King Dmitri?”
Gareth shrugged with cavalier disregard.
“I think you know the answer, Gareth,” Hallow continued. “He'll kill you.”
“Has he confided it to you?”
“No, of course not. He never tells me any more than I need to know for my mission. But he'll have to kill you. You're the heir.”
“Am I?” Gareth smirked coldly. “Perhaps you haven't heard, but I'm eccentric and weak. Practically impotent. I'm no threat to anyone.”
Hallow stepped close to him. “Cesare does not underestimate you. He may demean you in public, but he hates you. And he fears you.”
“Thank you for the warning, Lady Hallow. Surely he'll keep me as fodder for his war.” He wasn't sure what new cruel game she was playing, but he wanted no part of it.
“Cesare doesn't intend to fight a war. If the war with the humans begins, he believes he has lost. He knows the fight will be in our territory. Therefore, he intends to stop the war before it begins.”
“He tried that, and failed.” Gareth lifted into the air to head for the village to do what he could, but Hallow's next statement brought him back to the ground.
“He has gathered knowledge that no vampire has dared touch. Knowledge from humans who know about religion and the magic of the earth. Gareth, you make the mistake of underestimating him because you hate him, but Cesare is remarkable. He is plotting strategies that no other clan leader has ever conceived. He has brought in humans with specialized knowledge that he values and given them certain freedoms in return for information.”
“Impossible.”
Hallow rolled her eyes. “Stop being shocked. It's so. Believe me.”
“Why? Why would any human cooperate with vampires?”
“Because,” Queen Fen croaked from her spot on the damp ground, “there are humans who are more interested in their personal welfare and comfort than the good of their own kind. Imagine that. Cesare has humans in his thrall even in the south.”
Gareth and Hallow glanced at the crone, having forgotten she was even there. The old queen struggled to her knees and then, with the aid of her cane, rose unsteadily to her feet. Fen waddled forward and tapped Gareth on the shoulder. “If your brother wasn't so personally unctuous, he'd be a great leader. And you, you let him do as he pleases. What in hell became of Dmitri's offspring? Now Dmitri was a wonder to behold.”
Hallow lowered her face to cover a wan smile.
Then from the distant darkness came the sound of screaming, and the hissing and feral cries of vampires. Gareth sprang into the air and streaked toward Hawkshaw as the smell of fresh blood and fear filled his nose. His brethren flitted through the starry sky, dropping into the narrow lanes of the town. Figures raced wildly through the shadows, seeking escape, but there were far too many vampires. The great clan lords and their chief retainers unleashed their pent-up savagery, killing with joy, not feeding, merely killing.
Even Gareth felt hints of the old power welling up in him unbidden. The scene below him was reminiscent of so many from the Great Killing; there was a piece of him that glowed at the sounds and smells. To Gareth's relief, the stronger senses in him were terror and disgust as he clutched onto a tile roof over Hawkshaw. Figures settled on either side of him, and he turned to see Cesare and Lady Hallow perching beside him, also watching the scene below.
The hunting was sloppy. Many of these nobles hadn't attacked true prey in more than a century. Add to that the abhorrent power resonating in the town and vampire blows were ill-timed and weak, leaving humans sprawled on the ground, screaming in pain, crawling for safety. With shuddering laughter, the vampires would race after another poor target to savage and leave lame in the dirt.
“Look at this,” Cesare muttered ruefully. “Disgusting.”
Gareth exchanged a look with Hallow, who seemed as surprised by the younger prince's outburst as he was.
Cesare looked at Gareth with a rare open expression of confidence. “I've never been so ashamed of my people. It reminds me of the first time you tried to kill.”
“You're ashamed?” Gareth said hesitantly, ignoring the insult. “But you planned this slaughter.”
“I know. I wish I wasn't here to see it. Look at them. It's as if they have forgotten everything. The greatest of our nobles. Slow. Pathetic. In the old days, this town would have been dead by now.”
Gareth sighed with disappointment; how foolish to even suspect Cesare was capable of some level of self-criticism. But Cesare was right, again.
Two humans below actually repelled an attack, making another vampire rear back in surprise, but not for long. The vampire pushed through its mild shock and backhanded one of its prey as the other ran. The vampire staggered after him, although it didn't appear as if he would catch the human.
Gareth could only hope the human would escape. He pointed out the obvious to his brother. “We are soft. War with the humans is a terrible mistake.”
“I agree. The humans are lean and hungry. Just look at Senator Clark. I took his mate and he attacked me.” Cesare smiled. “Like a vampire.”
On the street, portly King Draken fell on an elderly man, raking with his claws once, twice, three times. The man continued to pound the king's chest and scream curses.
Cesare rolled his eyes. “Look at that spectacle. That sack of guts can't even kill an old man.”
Gareth pressed. “How do you intend to prevent the war from occurring? How will you strike at Equatoria's heart?”
Cesare didn't answer, muttering angrily, absorbed with the surrounding carnage.
“Cesare. I should like to come into your inner circle.”
Now the young prince raised an eyebrow and glanced at his brother.
Gareth continued, “Of course, I have no intentions on the throne, as you know. I will make that declaration to the clan, if you wish. But I would like to participate more in clan affairs. I feel as if I let our father down, and I want to make amends.” The taste of bitterness welled in his mouth, but he maintained an earnest and supplicant stare.
Before Cesare could respond, Gareth saw a young boy on the street. The lad was alone and crying, wandering aimlessly among the dead and wounded. Then the prince's attention was caught by the sight of thin King Ashkenazy, airborne, but rolling into position to strike the boy from above. Gareth launched himself down the slope of the roof and slammed into the street like a stone, landing jarringly in a cloud of dust. He laid a hand on the bawling child's shoulder just before the Hungarian king dropped hard beside him with an imperious glare.
Gareth kept his grip on the panicked boy, but smiled pleasantly at the king. “Ah, Your Majesty, I had no idea you were—”
“That is my kill,” Ashkenazy snapped.
“Who? Oh this? I had no notion you were interested when I laid hands on him first.”
“Surrender it.”
Gareth's smile vanished. “I will not.”
The young king went wide-eyed with disbelief. “I don't think I heard you correctly.”
Cesare settled beside them, followed by Lady Hallow. The young prince was all solicitous host, asking cheerfully, “What seems to be the problem?”
“Your brother,” Ashkenazy said, “stole my kill.”
Gareth pulled the struggling and screaming boy closer.
Cesare swiveled to Gareth. “Surely there are others you could take. His Majesty has a fancy for this one.”
“I've taken rather a fancy to him myself,” Gareth replied.
His brother glared coldly. “The king desires it.”
Gareth was silent. The sounds of terror had diminished around them, replaced by the forlorn moans of the injured and dying, and the laughter of the nobles. With none left to attack, the vampires had begun to gather around the main square, attracted by Cesare, Ashkenazy, and Gareth, none of whom looked very happy. The growing audience whispered to one another about the unfolding tableau.
“Gareth,” Ce
sare intoned quietly, “yield to His Majesty.”
“I will not. This is my kill by right.”
The younger prince reached out suddenly and took the child's arm. Gareth snarled and, in the blink of an eye, seized his brother's wrist and nearly flung Cesare to the ground. The collected mob froze in alarm and anticipation. Lady Hallow audibly gasped and eyed Gareth with surprise.
Cesare rose to his full height and straightened his jacket, trying to gather control of himself. His features twitched. “One last time. Yield the boy.”
Gareth clearly enunciated, “No.”
King Ashkenazy waved a twitching hand in the air. “Never mind, Prince Cesare. This isn't worth further discussion. Let your brother have his magnificent kill. Likely it's the first one he's managed in many a year.” The king laughed, but he stared at Gareth with a mix of fury and confusion. “I don't want Prince Gareth's deplorable behavior to color your delightful diversion.”
Relieved by the king's generosity, Cesare bowed to his young ally, then paused briefly to whisper to his brother, “Get out of my sight, Gareth. Stay in your museum. Go back to Edinburgh. Do whatever you choose. But don't let me lay eyes on your face again until I call for you.”
Cesare resumed his grand persona and led Ashkenazy back toward a crowd of nobles as if the matter had been a mere trifle. As the group began to drift away, many of them gave Gareth disdainful glances over their shoulders.
Gareth knelt in front of the child, who stood with quivering lips and blank eyes. “Shh. Stop crying now. There's nothing I can do to help your people, but you are safe, I assure you.”
Lady Hallow stepped closer. “What's wrong with you, Prince Gareth?”
“Why do you tarry?” Gareth snarled over his shoulder. “Your prince is departing.”
She stared down at him with her face full of confusion and anger. “If the boy is your kill, why don't you kill him? If you're going to create a scene over it, then kill him and feed.”
Rift Walker, The (Vampire Empire, Book 2) Page 11