Nightborn: Lords of the Darkyn

by Lynn Viehl

  She spoke clearly, but her words made no sense to him. Korvel wondered whether she was talking to him or some hallucination. “What is my name, Simone?”

  “You call yourself Captain. Korvel sounds like a surname.” She gave him a curious look. “Do you have a Christian name?”

  “I was never given one,” he admitted as he steered her around the desk.

  “You should choose one. Oops.” She chuckled as she stumbled over an ottoman. “When I came to the sisters, I did. I picked Simone out of a wonderful book.”

  “Your family never named you?”

  She shook her head, taking in a sharp breath. “I have no family. I was just the girl. Or my number.” She held her head with her hands. “Quatorze. Fourteen. I was number fourteen.”

  He bent down to check her eyes. “I think you should go back to bed, angel.”

  “What for? I will recover. I always do. And you will need me. You need me now, don’t you?” She staggered away from him, groping for the chair. “You should have said. That is why I’m with you.”

  Korvel didn’t realize she had taken a dagger from the harness until he heard the blade cutting through the fabric of her sleeve. “Sister, stop.”

  He reached to take the dagger from her before she cut herself, and in the struggle that followed felt a slash of pain across his palm as the blade turned and cut his flesh. He finally gained control of it, and held it up to see his blood staining the dark metal.

  He threw it away and seized her, turning her to face him. “Why are you carrying a copper blade?”

  “It’s the only way. Therese told me.” She swayed, smiling blindly. “But I know the real reason she gave it to me. To put an end to it forever.” She leaned forward to tell him in a theatrical whisper, “As soon as the scroll is safe, I’m going to use it to kill Helada.”

  “Simone.” He cradled her head between his hands. “You don’t have to kill anyone. Do you understand me? You don’t have to do anything.”

  “I don’t want to kill,” she whispered, her eyes fever-bright. “I swore that I never would. But if I don’t, Helada will never die.”

  He caught her as she collapsed and swung her up into his arms, swearing as he felt her body heat. She was suddenly, inexplicably burning up. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “Please, no.” She clutched at him. “There is no one else. My brothers are gone. I think he killed them.”

  “You’re not making any sense, and this is not your responsibility,” he told her. “Helada is charged with guarding the scroll. Where is he?”

  The question made her go rigid, and she pulled back from him, her tear-streaked face suddenly calm. “Everywhere. In the frost that withers, and the snow that buries. No one can escape the winter, or the shadow of the valley of death.”

  Now she was misquoting Bible passages. “Simone, is he the one who did this to you? Was it Helada?”

  A strange smile touched her lips before her body drooped against him. One last crystalline tear escaped her lashes before she went still and silent.

  The weary village police chief only glanced at the counterfeit identification before handing it back to Gabriel Seran. “The fire inspector has not yet given permission for anyone to enter the château, Detective.”

  “That’s all right, Chief.” Nicola leaned close, suffusing the smoky air with the sweet-sharp scent of juniper as she rested her hand on his shoulder. “You know we’ll be careful, so you’re going to give us clearance.”

  “Careful.” Dazed, he nodded. “Clearance.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Now, go ask the fire inspector to take a walk around the grounds with you to see whether anything else was torched. Be sure to walk around the outside of the walls first.”

  As the remaining firefighters were busy packing up and securing their equipment, no one challenged Gabriel or his sygkenis as they slipped inside the burned-out château.

  “Two killed outside.” Nicola turned on her flashlight and surveyed the entrance foyer. “Three more in here. They were thorough.”

  Gabriel walked to each body, crouching down to examine the remains. “Mortals,” he said. “Shot with standard rounds in the head.”

  “Looks like Antoine wasn’t lying when he bragged about the arson job to Oksana.” She sniffed the air as they made their way toward the stairs. “They splashed around a couple gallons of gasoline in here.” She eyed the burn patterns on the walls, and then bent and picked up a broken piece of clear glass before handing it to him. “Then they set it off with Molotov cocktails.”

  Gabriel and Nicola had investigated dozens of suspicious arsons in France. When burning out a Darkyn stronghold, the Brethren had used very specific incendiary devices designed to leave little to no trace evidence behind. Most of the time the local authorities declared the fires accidental, or the result of vandalism. “Perhaps they did not have the chance to make their usual preparations.”

  Nicola shook her head. “This doesn’t feel like Brethren. For one thing they’ve never chased down and shot the humans on-site; they sneak into their rooms, knock them out, and burn them in their beds.” She stopped and looked in at two charred bodies that had fallen with their arms still clutching each other. “No, this feels much more personal. Like someone wanted to send a very nasty message. Someone who doesn’t care about getting caught. Which is seriously crazy.”

  Gabriel put an arm around her waist. “What are you thinking? That this was a deed born in madness?”

  She shrugged. “A changeling doesn’t have enough brains or self-control to hire a crew and pull off something this sophisticated. A rogue operates alone, and he certainly wouldn’t have to shoot the servants to stop them from escaping. Not when he could easily control them with l’attrait.”

  Gabriel tested the stairs, which, while scorched black, were made of stone and remained intact. “Is there anything upstairs?”

  Nicola lifted her face, her eyes glittering as she reached out with her ability. No matter how well they were concealed, she could detect the presence of other Kyn as well as objects they had handled. “Something small…and not old.” She mounted the stairs slowly, moving from one side to the other, until she reached the landing and turned toward the east wing’s upper level. “Over there.”

  Gabriel followed her as she picked her way across the burned floorboards, skirting open gaps where the flames had burned through. She stopped in front of an open doorframe, switching off her flashlight before she stepped inside.

  Gabriel smelled it as soon as he crossed the threshold behind her. “Blood.”

  The word echoed faintly around them as he became aware of the size and emptiness of the space.

  “I don’t see any bodies.” Using her flashlight, she moved around, eyeing the smoke-streaked mirrored walls before she stared at the irregular areas of dark brown stains marring the center portion of the gray stone floor. “It’s all over the place.” She stopped at one stain, dropping down to press her hands against the granite. “Here, mostly. Old blood. Human, not Kyn.”

  “Most of the servants were elderly.” Gabriel reached out with his ability to communicate with insects, but whatever had formerly inhabited the château had either fled the fire or perished in it. “Perhaps some were killed here and their bodies moved.”

  “No, I meant old as in it’s been here awhile.” She stood and absently rubbed her hand against her trousers. “Maybe years.”

  He didn’t like the strange room any more than she did. “There is nothing here. The object must be in an adjoining chamber.”

  “Trust me, baby; it’s right here. The feel of it is just about crawling all over my skin.” She walked over to one of the mirrored walls and placed her hand against it. “Behind this.”

  He measured the wall and the single sheet of silver-backed glass covering it. “I do not see how we are to get behind it.”

  “That’s because you’re not the thief; I am.” Using her flashlight like a small club, Nicola struck the mirror square
ly in the center. Glass splintered, and an enormous web of cracks rayed out from the spot she had punched, but the wall remained intact.

  Gabriel pulled her away from it. “It will fall on you.”

  “I doubt it. The glass is coated with a polymer, like safety glass.” She studied the panel again. “I doubt an immortal guardian was worried about seven years’ bad luck. So why go to all this trouble?”

  “It must be where the scroll is hidden.”

  “Maybe.” She put her hand to one side of the panel and felt along the seam. She found something and pressed it, and stepped back as the panel began to descend into the floor. “Hello.”

  The weapons hidden behind the panel had been carefully hung on custom racks, and ranged from small knives to two-handed swords. All had been fashioned from copper.

  “Interesting choice of materials, considering he’s Kyn.” Nicola bent down to a storage unit and opened the doors. “Some clothes down here.” She took out one folded black garment and shook it out. “Looks like pants, but they’re too small for an adult.” She took out a matching long-sleeved jacket and a long belt. “These remind me of kids’ karate uniforms.”

  “They are sparring garments,” Gabriel told her. “Sized for children.”

  “Helada has kids? How is that possible?”

  “They likely belonged to his tresora’s children. They begin their training as soon as they can walk.” Gabriel went to the next panel, found the side latch, and opened it to reveal another, identical cache of weapons and stored garments. He continued around the room until he had opened all twelve.

  Nicola stood up and wrapped her arms around her waist as she surveyed the open caches. “I know Europeans like big families, but would his tresora really have this many kids running around this place?”

  He felt as puzzled as his sygkenis. “It would seem so.”

  Nicola turned and eyed the first rack of weapons. “He didn’t touch any of these.” She took down one of the daggers, frowned, and peered into a hole where the blade had been hanging. She tugged on the rack, which swung out on a hinge, revealing video equipment and a television screen. “Here we go. He handled this.”

  Gabriel studied the equipment. “He was secretly filming something.”

  “This looks like the first VCR ever made.” She touched the front panel of the boxy recorder, jumping back as the television screen illuminated. “Didn’t they cut the power to this place?”

  “There is the power source.” He pointed to the rows of batteries and wires sitting on the lowest rack.

  “Good, we can see what he was recording. Maybe he got the guys who did this.” Nicola pressed the rewind button, and then played the tape.

  The images that appeared on the screen were slightly blurred, and they both stepped back. Twelve children who were dressed in the black sparring uniforms sat in a large circle on the stone floor. Behind them, four men wearing gray versions of their uniforms stood against the wall. All of them watched in silence as a teenager and a man circled each other in the center. Without warning the teen lunged forward, swiping at the man, who easily avoided the blow.

  What followed was like an intricate dance, like nothing Gabriel had ever witnessed. Both fighters moved faster than seemed possible, weaving in and out and around each other as their arms and legs landed dozens of blows.

  “Wait a minute.” Nicola peered at the screen. “Are they using—” She fell silent as a blade flashed and the man struck the teen in the face.

  The boy darted backward, holding one hand to his bleeding brow. Almost at once he attacked the man, and a moment later was sent sprawling onto the floor. His blade skittered out of his hand and landed at the feet of one of the watching children, who didn’t touch it or react at all.

  The man stood over the teenager, but didn’t try to help him up. In a colorless voice he said, “You did not protect your head. Scalp and facial wounds bleed heavily. Blood in your eyes will blind you, and then you are dead. Quatorze.”

  One of the smaller children rose and walked into the center of the circle. A foot shorter than the teenage boy, and very thin, the smaller boy had light hair cut so short he looked almost bald.

  “Now,” the man said, handing his blade to the wounded teenager, “kill her.”

  “That’s a girl?” Nicola murmured.

  Gabriel felt more shock over the man’s order. No one, not even the most ruthless of Kyn lords, trained children to kill other children.

  Nicola pressed a hand over her mouth as the teenager went after the smaller child. Just as he was about to stab her in the neck, she spun out of the way, clasping her hands together and striking the older boy in the small of his back. He went down hard and lay on the stone as if stunned.

  The little girl walked up to the boy, kicking the blade from his hand before standing back. The boy rolled over and crawled toward the man in black.

  “Please, master,” the boy begged, trying to grab the man’s leg. “I will practice more. I will—”

  One of the men in the gray uniforms came forward, grabbed the boy by the hair, and dragged him out of the circle and then out of view of the camera. Gabriel heard his shrieks grow louder, and then stop suddenly.

  The little girl went and picked up the blade she had kicked away, taking it to an open panel and replacing it on the rack before she rejoined the circle.

  The screen turned to static.

  Chapter 8

  N

  icola stood in silence for a moment before she reached down and shut off the recorder. “This is how you train tresoran kids? By forcing them to fight to the death?”

  “Never.” He went to her. “The children of human servants are taught many things, but not this. Never anything like this. It is…” He had no words for it.

  “Fucking disgusting?” she suggested.

  Nicola had been only sixteen years old when the high lord’s former wife had attacked her and her family. A sadist who enjoyed inflicting mental torture on her victims, Elizabeth Tremayne had forced the terrified girl to dig graves for herself and her dead parents before she had drained Nicola and buried her body.

  Thanks to a twist of fate, Nicola had not perished, but instead made the transition from mortal to Darkyn. Left alone, without any of the Kyn realizing she had been changed, Nicola had roamed Europe searching for Elizabeth. It took ten years before she had finally found her and obtained justice for what the evil woman had done. However, the mortal life that had been stolen from her, like her parents, could never be replaced.

  He would not have her suffer this place and those memories, not even for Richard Tremayne’s sake. “We will go.”

  She removed the tape from the VCR and tucked it inside her jacket. “There’s nothing else in here. Did you pick up anything on Korvel?”

  Their bond made Gabriel sensitive to Nicola’s moods and emotions; now he felt nothing from her, as if she were completely indifferent to what they had watched. “His scent is outside, near the body of the old man.”

  She walked out of the room.

  Gabriel retrieved two more of the tapes stacked on top of the recording unit before leaving the château. Outside he found Nicola examining the old man’s corpse and the ground around it. When he joined her she moved out of his reach.

  “Two sets of footprints here.” She pointed to the ground. “They went around to the back of the house.”

  “I know you are very angry,” he said to her. “So am I. Hurting mortal children is a violation of our laws as well as our beliefs. Helada will be made to answer for what he’s done. I promise you.”

  “Yeah. Whatever you say.” She followed the trail of the footprints into the brush.

  The police chief and the fire inspector appeared, flanking Gabriel as they both began firing questions at him. He took a moment to reestablish his control over them, commanding them to ignore him and Nicola while they attended to their duties.

  His sygkenis he found inside a greenhouse that had been extensively vandalized. She was
sitting on the ground next to a large shattered pot; in her hands she clutched an empty green velvet sack. She didn’t look at him or the sack, but stared blindly at the black soil strewn about the remains of the planter.

  Before he could speak, she said, “The scroll’s gone. Korvel’s injured or dead; he left behind a lot of blood tainted with copper. A human woman was here with him, too. From the direction of the scent trails I’d say she took him out of here on horse, up into the hills.” She moved away from the hand he held down to her and got to her feet. “You want to track them from here, or call the vampire king and see what he wants us to do?”

  She sounded like a machine. “I want you to talk to me.”

  “We don’t have time for chitchat.” She tried to go around him, freezing as he caught her around the waist. “I’m fine.”

  “No,” he said softly. “You are not.”

  “If you’re waiting for me to have another tantrum, that’s not going to happen,” she said flatly. “When we find Helada, we’ll take him to Richard, show him the tapes, and he’ll chop off his head, or wall him up in a room and starve him to death, and everything will be just peachy again.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Laws have been broken, like you said. Richard will take care of it, Helada will pay, and we’ll go on like always. Until we find the next vampire who likes torturing humans, or considers them nothing but…What do the really snotty Kyn call mortals?” She pretended to think. “Oh, right. Fodder.”

  She wasn’t shouting, but then, she didn’t have to. Her words scalded him. “Nicola.”

  “It’ll never end, and I’m part of it now. You’d think karma would kick in, and as a vamp I’d be tuned into humans being tortured the way I was by Elizabeth, but no. I can’t save any of them. I get to rescue the fucking monsters who eat them.” She saw his face, and regret instantly replaced her rage. “Oh, no, baby, I don’t mean you. You could never be that.” She dragged her hands through her white curls, yanking at them before she dropped her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m just…tired. I need to do something that doesn’t make me feel like this.”