Flay clutched her heart and fell.
The young empress appeared from the wings with a smoking revolver.
Cesare exclaimed in surprise, and Greyfriar leapt to his feet, drew a dagger, and raised it over his head. He plunged it into Cesare's chest while singing, “I strike for humanity. And thus humanity triumphs!”
The real Greyfriar suddenly twisted away from the stage. Adele reached out her hand, and he gratefully grasped it.
As the stage swordsman and empress joined hands and sang their final love duet, the army of Equatoria entered and surrounded them. The cast finale was rousing and patriotic, for country, for flag, for empress.
For humanity.
The curtain dropped. Adele was watching the troubled Greyfriar when she realized the theater was in silence. She looked down confused to see all faces glowing toward her. Waiting.
She rose and began to clap. The audience responded in kind, standing as a body, with thunderous applause. Cheers rang out. Greyfriar joined her, mimicking the act of clapping his hands.
“What happened to you at the end?” she asked him. “Why did you turn away?”
“I killed my brother.”
Adele turned to him. “I thought you want to kill Cesare?”
He continued to clap with his hidden eyes focused on the cast on stage. The masked swordsman below whipped off his disguise. “I don't want to. I will have to. And I won't do it as Greyfriar.”
“We are scheduled to meet the cast, but we can simply go, if you'd prefer.”
“No. They worked hard. They deserve to see their empress.” Greyfriar's chin bobbed with a sarcastic huff. “And the great hero of their people.”
AS THE AUDIENCE cheered at the couple in the high box seat, Empress Adele waved politely, her bright smile visible for all to see, the infamous Greyfriar stoically beside her. The ever-present mask and glasses prevented the crowd from seeing what emotion the show might have generated in the dark swordsman.
Sanah adjusted her dark plum silk burqa, the same one she had worn to the play where she'd first met Adele, and idly wondered how long the empress intended to play such a dangerous game with the vampire prince. Eventually the truth would come out. Already more people knew than should.
Sanah couldn't contemplate the idea of touching a living vampire with the intention of anything other than violence. Inwardly, she shuddered. Mamoru was convinced the Greyfriar was using Adele for some nefarious and deeper purpose. Of course that was the case. What else could it be? No vampire in the thousands of years they existed had ever looked at a human without bloodlust in its eyes. Why would this one be any different?
However, none of this was Sanah's primary concern tonight. She was here for only one purpose. When Mamoru told about Adele's doubt, it reminded Sanah of another woman who had stood in her place once. Although Mamoru guided Adele spiritually, someone was needed to assist the empress in other things, things that only another woman or even a relative could understand. Perhaps if Adele had that additional guiding hand, matters wouldn't seem so confusing to the young woman.
The packed theater emptied out into the lobby, where a receiving line formed awaiting the return of the empress and her consort. Much to her consternation, Sanah was shuffled to the end of it. But she knew the empress would make time for all. A side door opened, and the White Guard emerged and moved with precision through the crowd, forming a path along the red carpet. Finally, in the close air of the crowded lobby, Empress Adele and Greyfriar emerged from the heavy doors to the polite adulation of gathered high society. People packed in tighter, but Sanah would not be moved or shoved past. Her dark contoured eyes locked onto Adele and pierced her sharply.
Adele paused from her cursory scan of the long line with her brilliant smile and tracked back to settle on Sanah. Her brow creased as she attempted to place the familiar woman. Sanah lifted a henna-covered hand in greeting, hoping to convey a memory, and closed her eyes to show the tattooed eyelids that stared at Adele from across the room. When Sanah opened them, Adele's eyes were wide in sudden recognition.
Abruptly, Adele excused herself from her place along the greeting line and left many shocked and indignant expressions on the grandees, including Lady Tahir, as she walked to the end and stood before Sanah.
The Persian blushed behind her veil and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”
“So you did make it to the premiere. As you said when we met last year.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Sanah replied.
“I thought you might have recognized me that night.”
“I admit, I did. I remember fondly our talk during the production of Desire in the Dead North.
Adele laughed out loud. “My art of disguise is awful, apparently.” She stepped aside. “May I introduce the real Greyfriar. Now you can see why no imitation would do.”
Sanah curtsied again and fought the urge to step back from what she knew lurked behind the cowled face. “Sir.”
The tall figure nodded in a semblance of politeness, his tone almost bored. “A pleasure.”
Knowing she didn't have much time with the empress's attention, Sanah grasped Adele's hand and slipped her a card. “We have much to talk about, Your Majesty. I knew your mother.”
“My mother?” Adele's expression was one of surprise. “May I ask your name?”
“It is written on the card along with my address. Send for me when you do not have more pressing matters to attend and we can talk more privately about her.”
“I shall. Thank you.” Adele allowed herself to be directed back to the receiving line, with a lingering glance over her shoulder at the Persian woman.
Sanah watched Adele return to the far end of the lobby where the expectant crowd waited to bestow their curtsies and salaams on the empress. Suddenly Greyfriar stiffened sharply. He shoved Adele aside and went for his sword. It released from its scabbard with a hissing scrape and then sang as Greyfriar spun around. The blade moved in a precise arc and struck a man in an ill-fitting tailcoat. It drew the barest amount of blood, but the coat burst open and something from his chest fell forward, straps dangling.
“Bomb!” a White Guard shouted.
People screamed around Sanah. Greyfriar was still in motion. He grabbed the device that had been strapped to the man's chest and flung it away. Then he grabbed Adele and shoved her to the floor, covering her with his own body.
The massive blast shook the establishment, filling the air with a sound so loud it punched Sanah in the chest as she was flung backward. The buzzing of a thousand angry hornets filled the air along with a sudden fierce flash that blinded her. Then everything went silent.
Smoke filled the high ceiling hall in a rolling wave. Sanah's eyes stung and watered, making it hard to see Adele or Greyfriar. Blood and wreckage were everywhere along with the palsied motions of the wounded and dying. Glittering crystal fluttered in the air as slivers of glass from an obliterated chandelier fluttered down like snow. Any sound was buried under a high-pitched whine inside Sanah's head.
She struggled to her unsteady feet and saw the still form of Adele, covered by the bloody body of the vampire. Jagged shrapnel fragments lay imbedded in Greyfriar's back. He looked dead. Mamoru had his wish finally. However, they might have lost the empress along with him.
Sanah watched in awe as Greyfriar stirred, raising himself on arms that shook. Blood flowed from multiple wounds. He grabbed a semiconscious Adele, and for a panicked moment Sanah thought he was going to feed on her to save his miserable life. She shouted to a stunned White Guard captain who was rushing in from outside at the head of a line of troopers, but her voice was ragged and useless against the smoke.
Then, to Sanah's astonishment, the vampire called for help, cradling the dazed empress. His mask still hid most of his face, so she could not see his expression, but there was despair in his voice, so different from the cold greeting of just moments before.
“The empress!” he rasped. “Here!”
A young blond corporal from th
e White Guard grasped Greyfriar's arm as the captain and two other soldiers tended Adele. “You're hurt, sir.”
“Forget about me! Help her!” The swordsman shoved aside the aid and attempted to stand.
“Yes, sir. But you are a priority too.”
Greyfriar hunched over on one knee, trying to shake off the weakness. “There may be more bombs. We need to get her to safety.”
“We will,” the White Guardsman insisted, grabbing hold of the Greyfriar's arm. The soldiers already had Adele and were carrying her out of the theater. The empress twisted in the arms of the captain and turned back to the vampire, determined not to leave him behind. Greyfriar gained his feet with the assistance of the corporal, and at Adele's frantic urging, followed her outside.
Sanah stood staring after them, having a hard time comprehending the vampire's actions.
The creature had saved Adele with no thought of his own safety. From the blood trail he left, his wounds were grievous, more than capable of killing him. Sanah swayed on her feet and leaned against a wall to steady herself.
The implication was astounding. Mamoru was wrong! This creature did love Adele, enough to risk his life for her.
Even as Sanah tried to comfort the wounded and stunned, she couldn't shake the image of Greyfriar throwing himself on Adele.
A vampire saving a human.
A man saving the woman he loved.
This changed everything.
THE ROOM WAS dark and quiet. Adele was hesitant to disturb the silence. Her head pounded. The powerful explosion had only been a few hours past, but the pain wasn't bad enough to stop her from what she needed to do. Despite the darkness, she moved unerringly through the room and placed a tray on a table at the far wall. A dim shape shifted on the bed next to her and a pale face turned toward her.
“I didn't mean to wake you,” she said softly.
“Don't be foolish. Did you have any trouble getting what you need?”
She laid a hand on his shoulder and kissed him. “No. The good thing about being an empress is people don't ask too many questions.” She turned up the lamps and winced at the sight of Gareth's back still riddled with shrapnel. She had cut away the ruin of his clothes with scissors, but more delicate surgical instruments were needed to extract the vicious shards.
Gareth raised himself up. “You know you won't hurt me. You let me feed, so I'm already stronger. The remaining ministrations are simple.”
“Easy for you to say.” Adele took a deep breath. “I've done it before, I can do it again. Lie flat, please.”
Blood oozed slowly from some of his wounds, staining the sheet below him a dark red. If it weren't for his bravery she would be dead along with many others. How many times now had he thrown himself on the pyre to protect her? How long before his luck ran out? She didn't want to think about it and focused instead on the task ahead of her.
His back was bare and raw. After sterilizing the tweezers, she went to work on a small piece of metal shrapnel protruding from his back. She pulled hard at the shrapnel but it resisted, which meant it was wedged in deep. Her gut knotted at the thought, but she had no recourse but to take the scalpel and cut around the shrapnel. Mercifully, he never flinched. Then she leaned over and gripped the metal more firmly. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” was his swift response. “Scars just add to the mystique.”
“We both have far more than we need. My new goal is for us to go at least six months without an injury.”
He laughed quietly. “That's far too optimistic.”
“Three?”
“Two.”
“I'd be happy even with one,” she admitted softly. She moved into a better position over him and pulled, ignoring her own aches and pains as she wrestled with the jagged metal. A nasty five-inch fragment of steel came free of his muscle with a spurt of blood. Adele gasped at the size of the shrapnel as her stomach rolled.
“Easy. You did fine. It didn't hurt,” he reassured her.
“I know,” she panted, breathing harshly through her nose to stem the nausea. She dropped the shard into a metal tray with a loud clank. No matter how many times she mended him, it never seemed to get easier for her, even though he felt no pain. She was terrified that perhaps someday she would be as blasé about it as he was. Adele never wanted that to happen.
“Then breathe deeply, slowly.”
“Just keep talking to me. How did you know that man was carrying a bomb?”
“I could smell it.”
“You know about explosives?”
“My time spent on the front has burned the smell of explosives into my memory. The bomber did not expect that. But his kind are not skilled assassins.”
“His kind?” Adele tweezed out another fragment, this one smaller and easier to extract.
“I suspect the man was Undead.”
Shock burned through her, pausing her hand. Gareth had told her about the human cult of the north. The thought of them chilled her to the bone. Adele instead concentrated on removing more shrapnel. She had only another three dozen pieces to pull out. “Undead. In my city.”
“It raises the question as to how they got here,” Gareth remarked. “They need transportation. Someone had to ferry them here. And a ragged bloodman airship couldn't possibly slip through unnoticed.”
“Meaning a human conspirator.”
“We know they exist.”
A scowl marred Adele's face. “And where there was one, there are more.”
“Most likely.”
“Is there any way to tell an Undead from a free human?”
“No. It was only the bomb that gave this one away. We were very lucky. If he'd had a knife like Selkirk, it might have been another story.” His voice drifted away into brooding silence.
She knew where his thoughts were taking him. “I will always trust you with my life.”
“I didn't stop Selkirk.” His tone was harsh and angry. The anguish of that moment forever haunted him.
“You're only human,” she remarked simply and kissed him, but Gareth didn't respond to her compliment.
Finally, the last piece of shrapnel was pulled from his mangled back, and Adele hung her head, utter relief spent in a long sigh. “I've gotten them all.”
Gareth shifted onto his hip and reached for her, his hand cupping her flushed cheek. “I couldn't ask for a better surgeon.”
Adele scoffed. Then she pressed him down again and disinfected the wounds with alcohol before stitching the deepest ones. To her amazement, the hole from the first one was already healing over.
Her blood did that. It healed him.
Her hand brushed over the muscles on his back, her fingers fluttering over the deep well-developed curves and the ragged scars. Those scars told the story of how hard they were trying to have a life together. She doubted he could even feel her light touch. But her touch didn't need to be physical. It was how she touched his heart that mattered.
Then something caught her eye. It was a dark mark at the base of his neck. His long hair had covered most of it so she had not noticed it before. It resembled the burn scars that marred his chest and the one that creased his left cheek and jaw in a thick line, the ones she herself had inflicted on him in the Mountains of the Moon.
The mark of geomancy.
“What is this?” she asked, her hand tracing the scar.
He fidgeted. “It's nothing. Just another old injury. It happens in my line of work.”
“No. This wasn't from me. Where did you get it?”
“It is nothing, Adele. Merely an echo.”
“An echo of what? I know of only one other geomancer who can do what I do.” Her eyes focused on the middle of his back, where a small round blackish red mark blazed. It was an injury bestowed by Mamoru when the secret of Greyfriar had been revealed to him, and the man's hatred had overwhelmed him. The wounds were identical.
“Don't jump to conclusions,” Gareth said.
“Am I wrong? Or is this something I did to you, and
you didn't tell me?” Her expression turned to one of horror, and a small gasp escaped her lips at the thought.
Turning, he took her in his bare arms. “It wasn't you.” He kissed her, wiping away her fears. But she would not relinquish the matter.
“Then it was Mamoru.”
Gareth was silent.
“It was. He tried to kill you?” Rage was building inside her like a wave.
“He failed. That's all that matters.”
“No, it isn't!” she exclaimed. “He lied to me.”
“Adele, he will not have another opportunity. I will never turn my back on him again.”
“He's a geomancer! He does not have to be near you. He has the same power that I do.”
“Far from it. What you do is completely on another scale, trust me.”
“What did he do?” Adele asked, almost afraid to know.
“It's in the past. Your Anhalt saved me, and he is as good as his word. Someone I trust with my life.” Gareth proceeded to tell Adele what had transpired in the catacombs beneath Alexandria, the night Flay learned his secret.
Adele fumed at the conclusion of his tale. “You mean General Anhalt knew of this? What is the matter with you two? How could you keep this from me?”
“Because you care for Mamoru, and because you need him.”
“Nothing is worth the risk of losing you!”
“And you never will.”
“Gah, you are such a romantic! But that doesn't mean we shouldn't take precautions.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Make Mamoru realize making a promise to me is nothing to be trifled with.” She gathered her strength and rose to her feet.
“I think that's unwise. You still need him, Adele.”
Fury filled her face as she made for the door. “We'll see who needs whom more.”
Adele entered the dojo with extreme civility, though that was not what consumed her thoughts. Mamoru's head lifted and he smiled at her in surprise, but when she did not return it, he sobered.
Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) Page 17