The Living Night: Box Set

by Jack Conner

  “Why so long?”

  “My masters have had a taxing evening. They need a few moments to rest. Shall I tell them that the meet is set?”

  Malie snorted, as if this were nothing but more aggravation. “Sure. Why not?”

  Lyshira withdrew. Ruegger was amused to see how many turned to watch her go.

  But he was not yet done with Maleasoel. “Malie,” he said. “Much of what you say is simply false. I can’t believe Ludwig would hire those assassins to kill him. He was not too cowardly to take his own life.”

  “Ah, but he did not wish others to think he had. He wanted his death to remain a mystery, save to me. That way his reputation would be preserved and I could assume control of Liberty without having the taint of a suicide husband on my hands.”

  “So the Balaklava told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And they also told you of a kavasari that ordered them to harass me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That, too, was a lie. It was Vistrot that ordered them to hunt and harass Danielle and me, not Amelia—but because of her. We were his holds over her. Perhaps Junger and Jagoda knew of her existence and used this to make you believe them when they said they had no choice but to follow orders, but the truth is they did have a choice. They knew Vistrot and Amelia had begun the Scouring, or at least suspected as much, and they hoped to get in on the ground floor of the new world-order that presented to them. They’ve told me as much. That’s why they accepted the assignment to dog Danielle and I. Point is, they fear Amelia, true—but the rest was just a lie so that you’d allow them to do what they did to Danielle and myself. You just stood by.”

  “Ruegger!”

  “No,” he said quietly. “They deluded you, as they deluded me and, probably, countless others. It’s how they operate. But once Vistrot vanished, they knew they could achieve nothing by continuing to pursue Danielle and me, so they started in earnest on cultivating you and the opportunities you presented to them. They used you, much as Subaire did.”

  “Ruegger, you weren’t there. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, but I do.” Inside, he seethed with anger, but he wrapped his inner hands about it, squeezing it and shoving it into a vial for further use, when he would need it. Now was the time for tact. “Malie, look at yourself, at all these people around you. Since when did you have bards and jugglers and dancers and musicians and fawners—and a fucking throne! When? How did this happen?”

  For a moment, she just regarded him darkly, then said, “Junger and Jagoda suggested that since Roche Sarnova acts with such pomp, that I adopt his tactics to better understand him and, from there, to crush him.”

  “Don’t you see, Malie? They’ve corrupted you, or at least they’re trying. Now that I’m here, I beg you to put an end to it.”

  Quietly, she said, “I’ve actually grown to like it, Ruegger.”

  He nearly lost it then, but, slowly—slowly—he reeled the anger back in and sealed its vial. “Malie,” he began. “Why the humans? They don’t look like the ... stock ... you kept at Liberty. At least there you made a pretense at morality.”

  “Times are tough, Ruegger. We had to take humans where we could get them.”

  “And you see nothing wrong with that?”

  “Nothing more wrong than with letting Roche Sarnova live.”

  The ache to strangle her flared in him. “Malie, Roche is a typical vampire in many ways; he tosses aside basic morality and embraces practicality—find a meal, take it. It’s not my way. In fact, I’ve killed many who did think that way. Still, I don’t think Roche is evil. He wants to establish a peace between humans and immortals, to give us all a homeland.”

  Unexpectedly, Maleasoel laughed. “Yes,” she said through her chortles. “Subaire told me about that. His greatest folly ever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She gave him an amused but not unfriendly look. “Ruegger, Ruegger. Always the idealist. Come on, you really think we’re ready to announce ourselves to the human race? Ready to make peace with them? Ha! We can’t even make peace with ourselves; exhibit A: everything you see around you. Subaire understands that, as Blackie does not. And on top of that, humans aren’t ready, either. We, at least, have the easy excuse that we must kill to live. They don’t even have that. They war and kill and oppress each other because they can. Really, we’re all alike, humans and shades, but in this case I don’t think two evils would complement each other. And Jesus! It’s pretty much the worst time to announce our presence to them. I mean, the Tabloid Era! Christ. Think of it. Sarnova wants us to go up to the United Nations and say, ‘Hey, guys, here we are. Oh, but don’t worry, we’ll only kill your criminals. And by the way, we want our own country, too’—that’s his plan, right?”

  Grudgingly, Ruegger nodded. “In essence.”

  “Then he’s a fool. Once the media got wind of us, we’d never be let alone. Worse, they might paint us all as evil and villainous—a reputation we pretty much deserve—and demand that the UN stamp us out altogether. I mean, really. Let’s let humans mature a little more, and let’s let us mature a little more, and maybe ... someday down the line ... it will be time. But it’s not now.”

  Ruegger had considered all this himself and did not need her to bring these points to his attention, but still he had no answer for her other than to say, “Things will only get worse, Malie. We’ll grow worse, and very possibly they’ll grow worse, until the inevitable apocalypse occurs and most of us, on both sides, are wiped out. But maybe, if we announce ourselves to humans now, we can all learn from each other’s mistakes. Maybe, together, we could mature together as we could not apart.”

  “Maybes. You can maybe me till Doomsday, Ruegger, and I won’t change my mind.” She groaned. “You’re hopeless. You’re a cynic and an idealist all rolled up into one.”

  This was Ruegger’s last chance. “Will you support Roche Sarnova and help him win this thing?”

  She shot him an incredulous look. “Ruegger,” she said, and then could find no more words for a long time. Sadly, she shook her head. “My friend, I have eliminated all the ones I could think of that would want Ludwig dead; your king, if I can call him that, is the last and most likely on my list. Soon I will have Sarnova and will know the truth, once and for all. If I think he’s innocent, I’ll let him live. If he’s guilty, I’ll kill him very slowly. I’ve given it a lot of thought ... Then I’ll make a treaty with Subaire and give her the Castle ...” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew cloudy.

  “What?”

  “Well, to tell you the true truth, I think you’ve always been right. Power corrupts, as you and Ludwig always maintained. I fought that power, once I had possession of Liberty, but I wasn’t as strong as he was. I’d always thought before that when the chips were down I’d have the strength to resist ... but I was wrong.

  “It’s like an addiction. The power got to me. Now, with an army ... I have ambitions. Maybe I could make a better Queen than Subaire. Maybe I could help our races mature faster than she could, so that one day we could carry out your dream and Blackie’s. But as for now ...” Her black wings fluttered. “Once the Castle’s conquered, we’ll see how things look.”

  Deep, deep down, a part of him died. He could find no words to say.

  “Take heart,” she said. “Anyway, you look like you could use a good feeding more than anyone I’ve ever seen. I promise to rake those bastards over the coals for what they did to you. Anyway, there’s a waiting list for shades that need to kill a mortal, but I know that’s not your way, not unless you think the mortal amoral.” She smiled. “I should really get a jester. Anyway, I won’t make you wait. Take your pick of mortals and drain him or her until you’re better. Hell, kill him if you want. You’re my friend and I won’t begrudge you a mortal or two.”

  He should give up on her, he thought. Just give up. The problem was that she was his only hope.

  “Feed, Ruegger,” she instructed. “We’ll ta
lk later, although I hope we can change the subject.” She offered him a smile, which he did not reciprocate. “Go. I must meet the bastards in a few minutes and need a moment of peace first.”

  This was his dismissal. He had accomplished nothing. And all he’d left behind ...

  “No,” he said with a bluntness that was like a slap across her face. “You can’t do this, Malie. Once you were a good person, a moral person. You still are, somewhere under all that shallow self-interest. And I’m going to stand right here, even if I have to recall in detail every noble and kind thing you did to deserve my respect and all the things you did that you didn’t have to, just because you thought they were the right things to do. I’m going to stand right here and remember you until you remember yourself.”

  “I think not,” she said, and her voice had changed. “Raulf, take him away.”

  The Captain hesitated. “Malie, maybe you should hear him out.”

  “Goddamnit, I’ve heard him out! And I’m sick of it. He can’t change me, he’s got to realize that.”

  Ruegger felt a rough hand on his shoulder and turned to see Raulf looking at him sympathetically. “You ready to go?” the Captain asked quietly, and Ruegger knew there was no other choice.

  Chapter 17

  With a last glance at Maleasoel, whose answer was a withering and uncompromising stare, Ruegger let D’Aguila lead the way out from her inner court of sycophants, past the three rings of soldiers and into the quarter of the chamber Raulf presided over. Ruegger felt great relief to be out from under Maleasoel’s throne, but overall he felt disheartened and weary. He had failed.

  “Have a seat,” Raulf said, indicating a bench. “I’ll go get you someone to feed from.” He paused, as if about to ask what sort of person Ruegger chose to find nourishment from, but then seemed to think better of it. “I’ll get you a big man, with lots of blood to drain and still leave him alive.”

  Ruegger nodded, and D’Aguila turned to leave.

  “No,” said the Darkling, and the Captain turned back. Ruegger forced a smile. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “No, Ruegger. Thank you. You tried your best. You did what I was afraid to do myself. I just wish she was ... reachable.” Raulf paused, started to leave, then stopped again. “Just call me Raulf.”

  He departed. Did D’Aguila now consider himself Ruegger’s friend? The idea was strange to the Darkling. He was still puzzling over it when the Captain returned with Ruegger’s meal, a fellow even bigger than Raulf himself.

  “Thank you,” Ruegger said.

  “I’ll let you alone while you heal. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to come back in a while. Maybe we could tell each other a story or two.”

  With feeling, Ruegger said, “I’d like that.”

  Once the Captain had gone, Ruegger looked up at the big man. “What’s your name?”

  The man did not answer, and Ruegger repeated the question, this time patting the bench beside him in hopes that the mortal would take a seat. Still, the man did not answer, and Ruegger grew suspicious.

  He didn’t like questing into a human’s mind—didn’t like using his psychic abilities at all for that matter, lest he invade the privacy of another. But he remembered what Roche had told him about Maleasoel’s mindbenders and felt certain that the man now standing before him was under a spell of psychic dominance.

  Gently, he quested out and wasn’t surprised to find strong walls built up around the man’s mind—but not walls the man had built himself. Ruegger was a strong vampire and a legendary telekinetic, but through centuries of disuse his psychic abilities had developed very little, so he wasn’t surprised to find that he couldn’t break through the mindbenders’ barriers; but why did they guard the man’s thoughts so closely? Did he know something that Ruegger could turn to his advantage? Or were they simply keeping up walls around all the humans to prevent Roche from hearing their thoughts?

  “Please,” Ruegger said, “Come. I won’t kill you. And, if you don’t want me to, I won’t even take your blood. Can you understand me?”

  The man’s eyes were blank and he didn’t answer, but he did move closer to Ruegger; he even took the initiative and knelt down before the vampire as if blatantly offering himself. Ruegger didn’t want it this way. He wished the mindbenders would relax their guard but knew they wouldn’t. If they let go of even one man, it would allow Roche Sarnova an opportunity to enter a human captive and, through his or her eyes, see the Libertarian encampment and learn much about his enemies—as well, perhaps, of their location.

  At this, Ruegger had a sudden idea. Maybe Roche couldn’t see in, but perhaps Ruegger could see out.

  With only minor qualms of conscience, he reached out to find Harry Lavaca. He concentrated ...

  And was blocked. The mindbenders were not only refusing to allow Roche access to the humans’ thoughts, but they were refusing Ruegger the opportunity to communicate with anyone outside the Sabo.

  Smart. Malie was being very careful, indeed.

  “You tried to betray the Mistress,” said the man, and the sound of his voice almost jolted Ruegger to his feet.

  He knew the words weren’t the man’s own; they came from the mindbenders, or from a particular one that had caught Ruegger trying to reach Harry.

  “You tried to reveal our location to an ally of the Castle,” the man continued. “I cannot allow this to go unknown. Until your misdeed is brought to the Mistress’s attention, you will be denied the right to feed.”

  Shit.

  The man rose to his full height, spun about and rejoined the other mortals in what Ruegger knew to be called the Stable.

  Several Libertarians from within Maleasoel’s quarter marched out from the three rings and came to stand before Ruegger. There were five of them, and he knew that in his condition he was no match for any of them. Damn it all. He should’ve just taken the human’s blood and been done with it.

  “Lord Ruegger, you’re under arrest,” said the lead soldier. “Please, follow us—or we’ll have to escort you.”

  Ruegger closed his eye and swore to himself. For a long moment, he just sat there, and he could feel the Libertarians grow anxious; as weak as he was, they still feared him. For some reason, that made him smile.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll come.”

  They flanked him, at some distance, back through the three rings and into Maleasoel’s court; she did not look happy to see him again.

  “Goddamnit,” she said. “Why? Jesus, Ruegger, why did you do it?”

  She already knew. He had to hand it to her; despite her faults and vanity, she ran a tight ship.

  “Why?” she repeated, and this time he felt a rifle butt jab into the hole in his midsection. Just as the Libertarian was about to draw his weapon back, Ruegger reached out with his mind and broke the rifle in two.

  “Damn it, Ruegger,” Maleasoel all but shouted. “What am I going to do with you? You just can’t control yourself, can you?”

  “Maybe that’s not the point,” he replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, What if I push you to your limits, whatever they might be. What if I put you in the position of having to discipline me—or, worse, execute me? Would you do it?”

  She glowered at him, her wings stiff behind her, but she said nothing.

  He continued: “Maybe that’s the only way I can bring you back to yourself. If I forced you to decide between killing an old friend for trying to save a kingdom, or to let his transgressions go, what would you do? Would you kill me ... or would you forgive? It could be that’s the only choice I have left: to make you choose who you really are.”

  She was seething, he could tell. Emotions roiled and thundered about her mind, but she kept her face carefully guarded. He waited for the storm to pass, or come to a boil.

  Unfortunately, his timing was off.

  Just then the beautiful Lyshira came bouncing into Libertarian territory again—and, as before, she was escorted to Maleasoel’s throne by
not a few guards.

  “The Lords Junger and Jagoda are ready to meet with you,” she said, then rested her gaze on Ruegger. “So you’re the Darkling?”

  “That’s what some call me.”

  She smiled slyly. “Looks like you did pretty well by my masters’ defenses.” She turned back to the Mistress. “Again, my lords entreat you to bring Lord Ruegger to the meeting.”

  Sounding weary all of a sudden, Maleasoel nodded. “Very well.”

  Lyshira gave a quick curtsy and trotted off to her own side of the fence. Again, many watched her go, but not the Mistress. Her eyes remained on Ruegger, who returned her ponderous expression with one of his own.

  “Ruegger,” she whispered, and he couldn’t tell if she addressed him or not. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He said nothing.

  “Well!” she called to her court. “We’ve got arrangements to make, so everyone prick an ear.”

  She issued orders and commands like a veteran colonel, and soon the preparations were ready. Maleasoel waited until Junger and Jagoda had gathered at the border with only a score of zombies to protect them and with the Collage at a very respectable distance, then hand-picked twenty of her elite soldiers (she didn’t want to appear afraid of the assassins by bringing along more guards than they had) and turned to Ruegger.

  “Well?” she asked. “Will you come?”

  “What if I said no?”

  “I’d have you carted over.”

  “Then I’ll come.”

  He wondered what would have happened had not Lyshira interfered? Would Malie have come back to herself, or would she have killed him for attempting to betray her location to the Castle?

  Well, he would never know, and part of him was glad for that, because he feared that she would’ve made the wrong decision. And now what was he? Her prisoner?

  Out of nowhere, he wondered where Raulf was, and realized that he wanted the Captain to be here. For protection? For friendship? A hand to hold?

  Maleasoel delegated five more soldiers to guard Ruegger, then she and the rest of the procession crossed to the borderline and met the Balaklava.