Clay Griffith & Susan Griffith - [Vampire Empire 03] - The Kingmakers (mobi).mobi

by The Kingmakers (mobi)

  A revelation suddenly occurred to Adele, and she gave a slight gasp. “I've just had a thought that I can't believe never occurred to me before.”

  Gareth pulled back to regard her as she straightened slightly in his arms. “What?”

  She gazed full into his eyes. “Despite what you've always told me about vampires never creating anything, I know one who has.”

  “Oh really?” He crossed his arms with humorous expectation. “Who is that?”

  “You. You created Greyfriar. You made him with your mind and your heart and your hands. He is a piece of our history now. Just like all the kings and pharaohs in the British Museum.”

  Gareth stared at her, contemplating the concept. A smile played over his lips. “It's not the same thing as creation. Just like when I was trying to write. You said I was only copying.”

  “No, it's not like that at all. Greyfriar is a unique creation that didn't exist before you made him. You, a vampire, created something lasting and important.”

  He laughed. “How simple you make it.”

  “It should be that simple. I want Greyfriar in my life always.”

  “Greyfriar. Not Gareth.”

  “Don't,” she warned. “You know I didn't mean it that way.”

  “I know.” For the first time since Adele had known Gareth, his eyes seemed to glisten. He blinked and nodded in acceptance. “Thank you, Adele. That's a very kind thought.”

  “It's a very exciting one, don't you think?” Adele crushed him in her arms. “It shows that our people may have more in common. There may be a way we can coexist.”

  “No, my love.” Gareth kissed the top of her head. “There's nothing in Greyfriar's existence that will lead any human to accept a vampire. Not fully.”

  “Don't talk that way. General Anhalt has accepted you!”

  “By your command,” Gareth pointed out. “And he is only one man.”

  “We'll change their thinking one person at a time if we have to.”

  “It will take centuries.”

  “So? It takes as long as it takes.”

  Gareth took comfort in her steadfast determination. Once she made up her mind, there was no shaking her from her course. And it was what he loved best about humanity; she thought far into the future even though she would never see it. He might live to see such change, but she would not. His heart ached at the thought that her life was so short in comparison to his.

  In four hundred years he had never loved anyone like he loved her. There was no logic, no rational explanation save who she was. He would never find her equal again, and he knew it. He would live and die beside her. Whatever happened in the future, his calendar now matched hers, no matter what.

  At the break of dawn, Gareth entered the great hall alone to find Baudoin waiting for him. The servant was seated at the table with two cats curled upon his kilt. The vampire paid the sleeping cats no heed, but he did gently nudge them off to rise to his feet.

  “The din around here is deafening,” was his sour comment to his liege.

  “It is less than a dozen people. You'll get used to it. Like you did the cats.” In his arms, Gareth carried his Greyfriar clothes and swords.

  “Cats seem remarkably reserved in comparison.” Baudoin reached for the bundle. “I shall clean your wardrobe. It will be ready for your next excursion.”

  Gareth dropped the woolen garments and steel on the table. “I won't need it again, my friend. I will wear this no more.”

  “I don't understand.”

  Gareth took the rapier and swung it through the air with a sad whisper. “Soon I will go to London.”

  Baudoin took the clothing into his arms. “And then what?”

  “I think you know.”

  “I want you to tell me.”

  “I'm going to kill my brother,” Gareth said. “And then I will be king.”

  Baudoin stared agape. “You will be what?”

  “King. It's time I give up my romantic notions and return to the real world.”

  “What are you talking about, Gareth?” The servant panted as if gasping for breath. “When did you decide this? You've never wanted to be king. Have you gone mad?”

  Gareth laughed and pointed at the bundle Baudoin carried. “I thought you would be happy that I'm following in my father's footsteps instead of…” He touched the cloak. “Instead of this.”

  Baudoin stared at his prince. “I love you, Gareth, as if you had been my own son. You are loyal and brave and strong. But, my boy, you are no match for Cesare in London. Clan politics are his battlefield. I raised both of you. I know.” He pointed a silencing finger when Gareth began to object. “I don't know why, but I know you are doing this for Adele. Now, she's a match for Cesare. I'm telling you, Gareth, that human will destroy you. She's already destroying Greyfriar.”

  “No, Baudoin. You don't understand her. I'm the one who is killing Greyfriar. It's time. I can't live inside storybooks any longer. My father is dead. I have to take his place. I owe that to him.” He studied his old friend keenly. “I'm surprised. You most of all had no love of this…game I played.”

  Baudoin straightened and stared into Gareth's gaze. “It was no game, my lord. I have watched you over the many centuries. After your father faded, you lost heart. If this”—he touched the wool reverently—“gave you solace, then who am I to deny you? I want only for you to be content in this world.”

  Gareth clasped his friend by the forearm. “I am content with the people at my side. Loyal friends, trustworthy souls. You and Adele have been that. You more than make up for my brother's and my people's perfidy.”

  “Then you truly love the human woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Baudoin nodded, as if he had known it all along. He drew in a deep breath before asking his next question. “Once you are king of Britain, won't that make you a target for the Equatorians?”

  “Not so long as Adele remains ruler. We will try to stop the war before it claims one species over the other.”

  “How can there be any other solution?”

  “I have faith.” Gareth became grim. “In North America, Senator Clark is striking the clans by destroying their herds. Killing humans in order to starve us to death. He would have done the same here if Adele had allowed the union between Equatoria and the Americans to go forward.”

  Baudoin's face grew angry and then slack with stunned understanding. “Adele refused to marry him?”

  “Yes, she wouldn't sanction genocide, even if it had been the best solution for her people.”

  “But against humans, not vampires.” Baudoin's voice was harsh.

  “Both. She knows, like I, that genocide is not the solution.” He still believed that despite the fact that he remembered the taste of her blood and the promise of death he had found there.

  Baudoin bowed his head. “Perhaps I have misjudged the woman.”

  “Most do. It's her greatest asset.”

  Baudoin smiled. “Adele will always be welcome in this house.”

  chap34

  A FIRE ROARED in the hearth of the great hall in Edinburgh Castle, and lanterns hung down from the hammer-beam roof timbers. Gareth was relaxed, despite the heat, as he sat at the head of the table and listened to Adele discussing details for the immediate future of the people of Edinburgh. She was excellent at details. Two of the Harmattan stood outside the door, the only members of her guard who were not out with Captain Shirazi combing the city for the elusive assassin.

  Gareth had begun the difficult process of evacuating Edinburgh. Over the last week, he had announced several times to his people that they should move out of the city. He had to hurriedly explain to their worried faces and shouted questions that it was only temporary, and they would all soon be home again. Ultimately, a majority of the townsfolk had been willing to leave. Already some had packed up and departed, dispersing into the countryside, journeying to relatives' farms or abandoned villages in the Highlands. Still, many remained stubbornly behind. Gareth and Adel
e had just returned to the castle after hours of meeting with some of the city's elders to entreat them to push for further evacuations.

  Morgana entered the great hall carrying a tray of food, followed by a smiling Captain Hariri. They chatted amiably with the pirate slathering great doses of compliments on the lovely serving woman. She accepted his attention, but maintained a studious distance.

  Hariri seized a hunk of warm bread and announced, “We will be taking another journey north with more of the sick and elderly later today. I believe it may be our last before His Highness leaves for London.”

  Adele chuckled at the couple. “Morgana, are you taking that flight out of the city?”

  Morgana laid the tray on the table and wiped her hands officiously on her apron. “Oh, I won't be leaving. There's no need for me to go.”

  “There's as much need as anyone,” Adele replied. “We want everyone out of Edinburgh.”

  Hariri leaned on his elbows. “There's plenty of room, Miss Morgana. I'd welcome your delightful company.”

  The woman smiled. “My place is here.”

  “No,” Adele said. “I want you to go.”

  Morgana looked a bit more disturbed. “But why? Nothing will happen, miss. It's just a precaution, but there'll be no problems surely. So why go?”

  The empress looked at Gareth for support, then back to Morgana. “We don't believe anything will happen, you're right. But we must prepare for every possibility.”

  The servant shook her head vigorously. “No. It will be fine. I'll stay.”

  Gareth propped his chin on his hand. “There is no way to know what may happen in London. If Cesare's packs fall on Edinburgh, I don't want anyone in danger. In all likelihood, all will be well, and soon you will be able to return to your duties here.”

  The young woman tightened her mouth, as if fighting back tears. “But I don't want to go.”

  Gareth said, “Morgana, take the airship today and go. Please.”

  She nodded quickly and left the room. Hariri took a deep breath in sympathy and followed.

  “It will work out.” Adele pulled the inquisitive Pet off the table for the third time. “We can't get everyone out, no doubt. But most of them have left.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Of course not. I'm not afraid of Cesare and every vampire in Britain. I'll stay here and wait for word from you.” She walked over to Gareth and dumped the disgruntled cat in his lap. “Here, you wrestle with this beast a while. He's like a lion. What have you been feeding him? He's gained ten pounds already!”

  “Everyone in town was glad to see him apparently. They all fed him.”

  Adele rolled a sore shoulder. “Well, if he's on board we're going to have to dump more ballast just to get the ship into the air at this rate.”

  Gareth laughed and stroked the cat's silky fur. “I could tie a note to him pleading for folks not to feed the monster.”

  “Don't tempt me.” Her voice dropped to a breathy sigh. “Though if you wrote the note, I'd probably steal it for myself to keep under my pillow.” Her lips brushed his.

  “I'd write you a thousand notes if it meant staying near you.”

  Her breath caught every time he bared his soul like that to her. She leaned in close and whispered seductively in his ear, “My darling, do you want to come with me to arrange for horses and oxen?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “As enticing as that sounds, I must decline.”

  Adele laughed and kissed him gently. Their fingers trailed apart as she reluctantly left to see to her duties.

  Gareth walked to his library. Though it was nothing like Alexandria's vast collection, he still felt excitement and pride in his own meager offerings. After all, it was the only one of its kind in Britain. And it had brought Adele and him closer together after being torn asunder.

  He pushed through the half-opened door into his private sanctum. It was a dark and quiet place, and one that he had not visited in some time. The sparse windows, tall thin things dotted with color, still allowed for a smidgen of light. A part of him was eager to open his books again and delicately flip through the thin pages, an exercise in warm memories as well as subtle dexterity. He wished he had been able to teach Baudoin to appreciate the wonderful nature of books, but that his friend carefully cleaned the Greyfriar uniforms and honed his weapons to a sharp edge demonstrated just how far even Baudoin had come in using his hands to accomplish simple tasks. Perhaps there was some shred of hope for his people after all.

  Gareth spied the trunk on the floor. The sound of his boots thudded on the stones. There were odd shadows cast about the floor, and he paused to study them a moment, lost in the artistry of the designs.

  The door slammed shut behind him. Gareth spun around, but saw no one. The room was empty. Only when his skin suddenly flushed hot, he knew he was not alone. Agony seared his flesh and he staggered forward. The shaded designs under his feet flared to life in a white brilliance. Gareth immediately recognized the runic symbols of geomancy. Every space on the walls and floor was covered with geometric drawings. The closed door completed the pattern, sealing him inside a death trap.

  The assassin had found him.

  In his ears came a hum like taut steel spinning and he dove to the side. A steel barb attached to a thin wire sliced the air above him. It would have taken his head.

  The humming began again. Gareth tried to move, but he wasn't fast enough. He didn't even register the bite of the barb until it wrapped around his arm, slicing into his flesh straight to the bone. The wire snapped taut and jerked him off his feet. A second wire whistled, and something sharp stabbed into the small of his back, striking a nerve. His legs went numb. He struggled to rise to his unsteady feet, grasping the silvery wire to pull himself up.

  Now Gareth saw the assassin he was fighting: a tall African woman. She wore numerous talismans on chains and attached to her clothing. He could smell her power surging. Her eyes were dark with determination and hatred. They reminded him of Mamoru's. This was someone whose life had been irrevocably changed by his kind. There would be no reasoning with her. Instead of pulling back, he rushed toward her, closing the gap between them.

  Nzingu was prepared for his attack, however, her lithe body moving in a macabre dance as her razor wire held him fast like a fish on a hook. Her free arm gestured wide and then back, and the second wire wrapped around Gareth's leg, throwing him off-balance.

  He swiped his claws at the wire holding his leg. He couldn't cut through it, but it did loosen slightly. He squirmed out of its grasp. The wire around his right forearm was lodged into the bone. It was the same arm Flay had broken months before, and it wouldn't take much force to snap it again, letting the wire sever his arm.

  He staggered to his rubbery legs once more and rushed her, claws extended. He ran up along the wall and back down, attempting to circle behind her, making her readjust her aim. Her weapon, though its reach was long, required space and positioning. Gareth intended to deny her both. Her feet shifted as she tracked him, her arm swinging the silvery razor wire above her head, the hum of death filling the room with its reverberating cry.

  Gareth darted in. His claws raked her arm with a spurt of blood as she spiraled aside, her whip still spinning. It lashed out again, cutting into his ribs, stabbing deep. She jerked back and the barb ripped free. Red blood splattered the pristine white of his tattered shirt. He cried out, not sure if it was pain or frustration. He came forward again, following her, his blood dripping far too fast onto the ground.

  He saw her lips moving. A quick glance down showed that he stood within a circle of crystals on the floor. He tried to leap out, but a tug of her wire pulled him off-balance. The rune circle flared, and again he burned. The heat was concentrated and precise. His howl echoed through the hallowed room. He jerked, palsied in his throes of agony, and pulled Nzingu off-balance, breaking her concentration. The heat ceased. He crawled out of the circle, panting, with warm spittle running over his lips.

>   The woman made no sound. No cry of victory, no snide comment of derision. Her only focus was his demise. And she was going to succeed.

  He rose a third time in a lurching shuffle, willing himself to continue fighting. He wasn't going to leave Adele. His mouth opened and he let loose a high-pitched scream that no human could hear, but hopefully it would carry to Baudoin somewhere in the castle.

  The Zulu darted in from behind with the speed of a lioness and looped her long steel thread around his throat. He managed to bring his right arm up to block it, letting his forearm bone stop the wire from cutting off his head. Even so, the wire dug deep into his skin, silencing his cry for help while blood poured forth from his neck and arm. He felt searing heat wherever the woman touched him.

  Nzingu easily manhandled him toward another set of runes on the floor. He knew he wouldn't survive another blast, and he twisted in her grip. His free arm stretched behind him and his claws found burning purchase, ripping cloth and soft tissue. She screamed in his ear and wrenched away. He collapsed onto his knees, his hand bearing the remainder of his weight against the wall. His fingertips brushed a carefully drawn rune.

  Nzingu's foot smashed into his back, slamming him against the wall. His face pressed against the symbols. Her lips began the incantation. The pattern flared, and the heat rose.

  Gareth prepared for death.

  The heat abruptly died. His skin stopped burning. It was such a relief that he slumped to the ground. Baudoin must have heard him. He turned weakly on his side.

  It was not Baudoin. Adele stood in the open door with a member of her Harmattan behind. Her face held shock, swiftly replaced by fury.

  She drew her Fahrenheit blade. Gareth fought to rise, but shadows began to creep over his sight, and the last thing he saw of Adele was her auburn hair flaring in the green glow of her dagger. Then the darkness took him.

  To Adele's horror, Gareth was not moving. His injuries looked ghastly. Beneath her feet a ley line coursed. She attempted to quiet her anger so that she could still the undulating energy and bring it under her control. It meant taking her concentration off Nzingu.

  Thankfully, Corporal Darby pulled his revolver, and in one fluid motion, aimed and fired. The bullet struck Nzingu in the arm, holding the ensnared Gareth. The impact spun the Zulu to the side, but didn't bring her down.