Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13)

by Joey W. Hill

  “I understand, my lord.” Daegan dipped his head, though his eyes did not leave Uthe’s, nor did he withdraw his hand. “I will attend to it.” His gaze shifted to Gideon, and Uthe sensed the intent conversation there. A muscle flexed in Gideon’s jaw, threatening to crack bone. Uthe sheathed his blade and stepped back, allowing Daegan to release him.

  “You wish to ask me or your Master for permission to say something, Gideon?” Uthe said.

  If the human could have spit nails, he would have. The vampire hunter cared little for saving his own skin, but putting Daegan in an untenable position was a different matter, which was why Uthe had deliberately inserted that implication into the discussion. But as Gideon fought his natural aggression and consistent disrespect for authority, he looked toward his Master, and Uthe saw more than that at work.

  Commanding submission from Gideon was a challenge, but it was a challenge that Daegan had well in hand. The slight altering of Gideon’s face told Uthe the truth of it. Whatever complicated makeup the alpha hunter had in him, something in the male recognized Daegan as his ruler on matters of justice and balance. Uthe had no doubt Gideon kept the relationship lively with challenges. Daegan and Gideon were yet another pairing that did not fit the traditional vampire-servant mold in the way that Uthe and Mariela did. While Daegan was not as open as Lord Mason was about his feelings for his servant, they were still nevertheless there.

  Gideon inclined his head with grudging but genuine respect. “I didn’t mean any offense, Lord Uthe. Sometimes sparring like this, I forget we’re not just a group of guys training, if that makes sense.”

  He wasn’t a pretty speech maker. Uthe understood that. As the moment passed, he was more concerned about his hot-blooded response to what he’d known all along Gideon hadn’t intended as a slight. But it had been so long since Uthe had unleashed himself like that. He’d wanted to act on the power boiling through his blood.

  Why control your impulses at all? Your father knew how absurd that was, yet you resist it still…

  He shut that sibilant voice down with a resounding clang. His fingers twitched on the sword hilt as he heard distant, mocking laughter. Daegan’s eyes flicked to the motion.

  The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. A Templar was required to say sixty paternosters a day, thirty for the dead, thirty for the living. It wouldn’t hurt to do one now. He reached the end of it quickly enough, though the pause had drawn out long enough both men were staring at him, wondering what he was thinking, doing.

  Steadying himself. Mission accomplished. He looked at Gideon.

  “To the Templars, the use of archery or spears to take out an enemy was considered cowardly, in most circumstances. It seems foolish in retrospect, with all we’ve learned since about battle strategy and weaponry. It was also hypocritical,” he mused, “because our ultimate charge was to defend pilgrims, not to cling to pride in how we accomplished that.”

  Daegan cocked his head. He was over seven hundred years old, so the turns and twists a vampire’s mind could take, even in a tense moment like this, were not unknown to him. Whereas Gideon looked as if he thought Uthe had wandered off topic like a doddering uncle. Uthe was not amused. His gaze sharpened on Gideon like Daegan’s katana.

  “In your years as a vampire hunter, with your skills, you could have taken out more with a high powered cross bow at a distance, like a sniper.”

  Gideon gave him a wary look. “Yeah, but a vampire’s reflexes and instincts are too sharp. They hear it coming and move, most the time.”

  Uthe nodded. “That may be so. But I don’t think that was it. You needed the close kill. You are a knight at heart, Gideon, like your brother. A knight must straddle a fine line between honor and pride. You still have too much of the latter, and anger. A knight can easily become a brigand, if he does not learn self-discipline and humility to something far larger than himself. If you have no belief in such a thing, then the next best thing is realizing what you fight for and against, and how to reconcile the two.”

  Uthe returned his attention to Daegan. “I know you will not be present for the activities involving the Fae Queen, due to the need to maintain as much anonymity as possible among our kind, but Anwyn has been invited to the soiree afterward, yes?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Your servant will not attend with her. Too much is at stake to risk him giving offense. He has a limited ability to behave properly around vampires, let alone Fae royalty.”

  Regrettably, that would likely make it impossible for Anwyn to attend. Due to the volatile nature of her forced turning, the young woman was susceptible to seizures that Gideon’s proximity helped meliorate. It was another reason Uthe knew one or both of the men’s minds were always in contact with hers. However, a fledgling’s desire to attend a party wasn’t Uthe’s primary concern.

  He glanced at Gideon. “Why are you looking at me, servant?” he snapped.

  He was pushing, but he had cause. After three seconds too long, Gideon shifted his gaze to the far wall, but he didn’t lower it. Uthe didn’t expect miracles. Plus, he had no desire to break him—simply to temper the steel.

  Daegan shot Gideon a look as the vampire hunter shifted. Uthe kept his eyes on Daegan’s face, and he saw what he intended to see. The vampire assassin understood Uthe’s intentions. Disappointing his Mistress was a lesson Gideon would not soon forget. Daegan inclined his head, conveying respect, though his own eyes never lowered. While the vampire was technically subject to the Council’s rule, Daegan was an authority unto himself, so there was no purpose to jerking that chain beyond necessity.

  “My thanks for your guidance, my lord,” Daegan said evenly. “And for the workout.”

  “The pleasure and benefit were mine. Thank you, Lord Daegan.”

  Uthe left them without further comment, striding back toward his quarters. Gideon was all muscle and flashes of rebellious temper. Uthe suspected it was a pleasure to Daegan to take his body, hold his soul and heart in his hand. To possess, or be possessed that way...

  He turned his mind to related Council business, a way to ease himself out of hazardous waters. The debate over Lord Mason’s policy to formalize certain rights for servants had been ongoing for a month now. While Uthe still straddled the middle ground on it, Lord Belizar, the former head of the Council, headed up the stringent opposition. The Russian vampire was certain the universe of vampire kind would be destroyed if anything changed. Ever. Uthe allowed himself a smile. For all of Belizar’s flaws and his propensity for violence, Uthe had stood at Belizar’s side as his right hand for many years, and he knew the male’s strengths. Despite his stubbornness, it was good Lyssa had kept Belizar on the Council.

  Uthe’s apprehensions on the subject were more aligned with Lyssa’s. For all that she loved her servant openly and deeply, she knew the vampire world was ruled by blood and power, far more than the human one, at least in the human societies which claimed to be civilized. Order and a known structure were extremely important in keeping the vampire world balanced, and the role of servants in that balance was critical. Otherwise, the world of the Trads would rule. Uthe knew exactly what that kind of world looked like.

  Trads, or Traditionalists, were an extremist splinter of the vampire world, though there was a certain romanticized regard for them by vampires like Belizar. Trads lived as pure predators, rejecting most of the technology and domestic comforts the human and vampire worlds both preferred. They viewed mortals as prey alone, with no rights accorded to their sentience or wellbeing. While Trads kept their kills fairly close to the maximum allowed, thirteen annually, Uthe suspected that was a common sense decision and a way to avoid the irritant of Council involvement in their lives, rather than any respect for Council laws.

  When made vampires had staged a coup against the born vampires recently, some of the made who had fled justice had reputedly become Trads. Trads weren’t known for organizing in force. Mostly they wanted to be left alone by non-Trads. They were like rabid bears who neve
r sickened and died. However, there was no telling what an infusion of made vampires in their ranks would do. There’d been more frequent reports of female vampires disappearing. Uthe, as well as other members of the Council, was concerned the mostly male Trad population was trying to reproduce, to increase their numbers and maintain their blood purity. Even that was rumor. Rumors were nigh impossible to substantiate in a world where vampires could disappear for long periods of time, for their own reasons and purposes. Usually it was only noted when a tithe for a Region Master or overlord wasn’t delivered on time. If that amount was small, it might not even be pursued.

  He paused in a breezeway, lifting his face to the touch of the evening wind. The crickets were out in full harmony tonight. Servants’ rights, made vampires, Trads…there were so many things to resolve, but they were the usual kind of problems. It was easier to think on that than on the things that could spiral out of his control more quickly. Like his reaction to a Fae Lord. He shook his head at himself. Out of all the things that could cause him serious problems, that one should be at the bottom of the list. Instead, because of his preoccupation with the arrogant male, it slipped into his mind at the least provocation.

  He sighed. He’d given his heart and passion to many things. To God, to battle, to protecting what was important to protect. Despite his wayward mind and suddenly overactive libido, he knew how to prioritize. He valued Keldwyn’s friendship, and within those boundaries was where he needed to keep it contained.

  He’d had friendships he’d prized deeply. Like Daegan’s mother. She’d succumbed to Ennui, the one incurable disease that vampires faced. One dawn, she’d chosen to wander out of her room to meet the sun. Lord Brian, who headed up all scientific research involving vampires, had explained that Ennui could manifest itself in many ways, depending on the vampire. There were those who gave in to their impulse control like a rogue fledging, pursuing ever greater violence to assuage the raging pain that such loss of control caused inside them. Others, like Daegan’s mother, experienced an almost gentle slipping away of the mind, becoming ever more childlike. Vampires could experience symptoms all along that spectrum. The only common thing about Ennui was that it was more of a risk with advancing age, and seemed to connect to a loss of interest in life. Though Lord Brian, ever the practical scientist, had been quick to say that should not be assumed. It was still a chicken and egg question – did the Ennui incite the loss of interest, or did the loss of interest make the vampire more vulnerable to the condition?

  The Council had protected and watched over Daegan’s mother until she embraced the sun, part of why Daegan gave them such loyalty now. Uthe had sat with her in the gardens at night, listening to her rambling talk of the flowers, of the stars, of an angel who visited her once and conceived a beautiful son upon her. No one knew who Daegan’s father was, and she’d never spoken of him before the Ennui, so an angel was as good a reference as any. Uthe supposed it was a vampire she didn’t want to be an active father for her son. It happened. Some vampires made good parents. Some shouldn’t be trusted with a dead bug collection.

  Like his own father.

  Shaking his head, Uthe shut down all the open topics in his head and started to work on those fifty-nine remaining paternosters. He should finish them in the time it took him to shower and arrive at Council chambers. They had a Fae Queen to meet tonight. He would need his mind fully locked in the present—and focused on anticipating any problems before they happened.

  That was why he was Lyssa’s right hand, the role he would serve until God called him to answer the purpose he’d been waiting centuries to complete.

  A missive is coming…

  Chapter Three

  The Council meeting was swift. Lyssa ran down a few details on Fae protocol, then Uthe returned to his quarters to clothe himself in a manner suitable to meet Queen Rhoswen and her retainers. Lyssa had said there was no vampire complement to the finery a Fae male would wear for a formal occasion, so black tie was the best option. Mariela helped him with the tie, which, to her amusement, still baffled him. She was already dressed, in a strapless chiffon dress of blue, teal and purple, with a floral rhinestone clasp at the hip. Her blonde hair was dressed in a chignon with a waterfall of blue sparkling stones dressing it.

  “You look quite beautiful, dearest. You are a credit to us, as always.”

  She glowed as she arranged the tie. “I admit I’m nervous, my lord. You hear so many things about the Fae. Lord Keldwyn has tended to live up to those unsettling stories.”

  “He is no different from the rest of us males. We pretend to be complex only to impress our sexual conquests, but under those trappings we are decidedly dull.”

  “I believe he attempts to impress you quite often then, my lord.”

  At his look of surprise, she lifted one smooth shoulder. “It is the way he looks at you when you are not looking at him.” She pressed her lips together as if she thought she’d said too much, but Uthe touched her face, lifted her chin. Since she was six feet tall, and tonight she wore three-inch heels, they were eye to eye.

  “Speak to me of your concerns, Mariela. I value your thoughts. You know this.”

  “I do not know his motives, my lord. When he is near you, I am concerned for your wellbeing. It is as if he could simply make you disappear for his amusement.”

  “Well, he is Fae. But considering his queen and Lady Lyssa would like to see some advance in the relations between our two species, and I do believe he has that same wish, perhaps he’ll hold off. He’ll wait for a more expedient time to put me in a box, tap it with a wand and produce a rabbit.”

  Her full, moist lips twisted. “I cannot tell what he wishes, beyond his desire for you. And I think desire to a Fae is no simple thing.”

  “Desire rarely is a simple thing, for any of us.”

  “Hmm.” She suddenly was very focused on the tie again. “My lord, I hope you know I would never allow my concerns to interfere with my service to you. Should you have an equal desire for him, and wish me to be part of what you want from one another, I will not shame you.”

  “I would never think you would, even if you told me he repulsed you and you had to imagine someone far more handsome than either of us to get through it. Like…who was the actor in the movie you were watching the other day in the servants’ common room?”

  “My lord.” She pushed at him. “A Council member should have far more weighty concerns than spying on servants.”

  “Now my servant is chastising me.” He chuckled. “Another reason to punish her later. Right now, I would do nothing to muss your beauty. I will have that name from you then, though.”

  She shook her head, her reserve returning as she completed the task of helping him dress. He enjoyed teasing her, but he could not indulge the easy informality like what was between Lyssa and Jacob, or other vampires who enjoyed greater intimacy with their servants.

  He’d never considered that a burden, and he didn’t now, but it made him think about how often of late he woke up with a feeling as if he were bound in heavy chains. The sensation sometimes lingered throughout the night. Because of it, he prayed more, worked out harder, pushed himself further on Council duties. Which was what could have led to his slip earlier tonight, he mused, where Daegan had seen Uthe’s fighting skills were greater than most knew. He needed to figure out the right balance to restore his equilibrium, but the problem was the fulcrum of that seesaw was moving daily.

  He could not give in to the fatigue. Or the fear of what it all meant. Too much remained to be done. One moment at a time. For tonight, Lady Lyssa and the Council were depending on him to be who he’d always been for them.

  “My lord, did you review the mail I left on your desk today?”

  He tuned back in to Mariela. She had a voice like a flute, haunting like a dove’s coo. It soothed. At times he allowed her to read him to sleep at dawn. Perhaps he’d do that tonight. “I didn’t realize I’d received any.”

  Though many things were comm
unicated electronically, correspondence requiring excess discretion was usually couriered. He searched his mind for what might have come from the Berlin office, but came up with nothing.

  “It was just a postcard. I should have propped it up on your desk and made it more noticeable. I was going to throw it away, because it was from a tourist attraction.” Mariela grimaced. “Even vampires end up on marketing lists.”

  “Evidence of the Devil at work, for certain.” Uthe shrugged into his coat.

  “Hmm.” She smiled at him. “However, this card had a first class stamp and it’s handwritten in Arabic. It may be inconsequential, but…”

  Mariela moved to his desk, her skirt flowing out from her like peacock feathers, the light in the room reflecting off her blonde hair. Picking up the single postcard, she brought it back to him. “Discover the Holy Land Experience” was in bright red letters on the front of the card, and layered over what looked like a map of the exhibits one could see there. It appeared to be a Florida tourist attraction. His brow creased. Solomon’s Treasures, the park’s gift shop, was circled with a black marker. When he flipped the postcard, there was only one handwritten line. In Arabic, as Mariela had said.

  Your gift is ready!

  It is ready. He should know what that meant. It was the missive. Heat flushed through his body beneath the confines of the tuxedo, and a tremor went through his fingers. His mind strained, panicked, as the information eluded him. By the Holy Relics, this was important. So important.

  “My lord?” Mariela was staring at him. “You have gotten…paler. Are you…”

  “Leave me.” He spoke brusquely and turned away from her. “I will see you on the back lawn.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He heard the hesitation in her voice, the worry, but she was ever-obedient, his beautiful Mariela. She closed the door behind him.

  He stared at the card, passed his fingers over the writing. Damn it, damn it. Closing his eyes, he dropped to one knee by the bed and began to pray, fervently. But he was trying too hard, he knew it, and he could not open himself to God’s will. The information eluded him.