Anhalt stifled a sigh of despair. He could hear the distraught murmurs of the crew around him, stunned that their mythic commander had been brought down like a mere mortal. If he could die here, there was surely no hope for any of them.
The sirdar turned to the crew with the chaotic sky behind him. “Gentlemen, I want to thank you for your service to your nation as well as to humanity. What you do here today will leave the world better for your children. You will not be forgotten. It is my great honor to serve with you. Now, let's rain hell down on them.”
The captain and the young helmsman calmly returned to their duties and steered the crippled airship using short spurts from burster motors. Several men perched by the windows and directed the ship in its attempt to stay over Buckingham Palace and keep the wind from pushing them off target. The helm brought the ship tail-down to maximize the impact of the bombs along the belly, and lift the bridge as high above the blast as possible.
The sound of monsters slamming the underside of the entry hatch grew louder. The metal suddenly bent inward. Clawed fingers probed in through the gap between hatch and metal frame as the pounding continued. The metal buckled more with each strike.
Anhalt laid a hand on the hilt of his saber. “How long will that hatch hold, do you think?”
Captain Sandino shrugged. “No idea. Won't matter much in a few minutes.”
The airship vibrated madly, rattling as if bolts and rivets would pop across the bridge, or the bulkheads would crumple like paper. The helmsman had both arms locked around the spokes of the wheel, and Captain Sandino braced himself against the wheel too, legs straining, teeth grinding, holding the ship on course against the numbing vibrations. They both recited the old Lord's Prayer. The marines and airmen at the window interlocked their elbows and clenched their eyes shut.
The hatch smashed open and rang off the bulkhead. Vampires crawled in, smiling and bloody. They stopped when they saw Anhalt standing with feet wide apart on the tilting deck, glowing saber in hand, staring at them.
One vampire said in English, “Welcome to London.”
“Empress Adele sends her regards,” General Anhalt replied evenly. Then he charged the creatures.
WHAT WOULD GREYFRIAR do?
Gareth had read all those penny dreadfuls. Greyfriar had been captured by the evil Cesare countless times and always escaped. Just when everything looked bleak and hopeless, when humanity was down to its last gasp, Greyfriar always triumphed. There was always some vampire weakness, some steam-powered gimmick, some experimental weapon. There had to be a way out. There had to be some last-minute heroics. Greyfriar always escaped and saved the day.
Always.
Gareth had nothing. No secret knowledge. No tricks. No rocket-powered bombs. He might not save the day. But he couldn't fail. Adele couldn't die. Gareth tried to struggle, but his body was a mass of excruciating pain. Cesare might be nearing Edinburgh by now. Adele wouldn't be expecting an attack. If Cesare managed to take her unaware, he could kill her. Gareth cried out and strained against his bonds again. The clank of chains mixed with the grating of the door bolt. Gareth looked up expectantly.
“Flay?” he breathed.
Baudoin appeared in the doorway with a confused smile, but eyes that showed horror at his master's plight. “Flay? I should hope not.”
Gareth breathed out through the agony. “Baudoin!”
The servant took several eager steps, then stopped, reeling from the power of the talisman hanging around Gareth's neck.
“She is in danger. Cesare is on his way to Edinburgh.”
“Then let's get you out of here.” Baudoin trudged forward despite the obvious pain. He reached for the crystal.
“You can't touch it,” Gareth warned.
“If I don't touch it—” Baudoin began, but his words turned to a shriek as his fist closed over the talisman. He tore it from Gareth's neck and flung it across the room before sinking to his knees with a whimper, clutching his sizzling hand. “—how will I save you?”
Gareth reached for the reeling Baudoin, but the chains held him back. He tested them again, but his heavy arms still couldn't tear metal free from stone.
Amazingly, Baudoin staggered to his feet. “That hurts.”
“Yes. Can you free me from these chains? I must get back to Edinburgh.”
The servant rolled his eyes and patted Gareth's chest with his good hand. “I'll be fine, my lord. Don't worry about me.” He walked with unsteady steps into the corridor and returned dragging a chair that he placed in front of Gareth. He climbed onto the seat, wavered for a second, and then reached up. His rough tunic rubbed across Gareth's face.
“Aren't there guards outside?” Gareth watched the servant's fingers fumble with the manacles.
“Not now.”
“Did you find keys?” The prince could see the pain etched on his man's face, but even so, Baudoin kept working.
“Not necessary. The manacles are just pinned. Fortunately, living with you has given me the dexterity of a human.” There was a metallic click, and Gareth's right hand dropped free. Baudoin started to work on the left wrist.
“Thank you, Baudoin. You are a marvel. This is just the sort of thing that always happens to the Greyfriar in books. When things look darkest, a miracle.”
Baudoin suddenly stiffened.
Gareth glanced up. “What's wrong?”
The servant's face lowered to look at his friend. His mouth twitched and opened slowly. His eyes narrowed with great sadness. With quivering lips, he murmured, “Gareth…my boy.”
“Baudoin!” Gareth reached with his free arm to support Baudoin as he began to drop. Behind the servant's slumping form, he saw Flay.
The war chief raised a bloody claw to her mouth. “How many others must die for you?”
“Just one more!” Gareth shouted, and grabbed for the murderous Flay. He felt a pull on his left arm as he tore the chain loose. He caught her by the coat, his wrist trailing the chain with a broken haft on the far end. He let Baudoin drop and seized Flay by the neck with his claws. He surged forward, tearing at her throat, lifting her off the floor.
Flay clawed at Gareth's face. She dug into his right forearm, trying to pry his sharp fingers from her bleeding neck. He slammed her full against the wall, and her breath flew out. Without pause, Gareth pulled her forward and smashed her into the stones again. And again. He pounded her abdomen with his fist and heard ribs crack under his knuckles.
Flay snapped at him with her teeth, latching onto the tendons at the base of his neck. She ripped, and his fingers loosened from her throat. She made to escape the close quarters, to bring her speed to bear.
Before she could slip away, Gareth pushed his right forearm against her gnashing mouth and she instinctively bit hard, tearing into his muscle. He dug his left claws into her ribs while pounding the back of her head like a piston against the wall. Her eyes rolled back and her attack slackened. Gareth drove his arm deeper into her mouth, stretching her bloody jaws wider.
Flay's eyelids flickered, and she started to refocus on him. Gareth pulled his arm free and gathered the chain in his scarred hands. The war chief started to bolt, but he looped the heavy links around her neck and pulled tight. Flay gasped and frantically grabbed for the chain. Even in his battered state, she couldn't match Gareth's fury. She turned her claws on him, tearing his face and throat. He felt the blows, but ignored them, pulling the unyielding steel chain ever tighter.
Flay's desperation turned to panic. Her eyes locked on Gareth's in a second of unfamiliar fear. She gasped, “Gareth…we…”
“There is no we.” He strengthened his death grip on her.
Flay sank her claws into his forearms, raking flesh and tearing muscle. She dug so frantically, several claws snapped off. Gareth stared beyond her, listening to the sounds of her dying struggle. He thought of Baudoin. He thought of what Flay would do to Adele if given the chance. He pulled the chain ever tighter.
Then he heard Flay's heart flutter with i
ts final weak beats. And it stopped.
Her form went slack, and Gareth let it drop to the floor. He watched the chain links slide over Flay's lifeless throat and follow him as he stepped back. He scrambled to Baudoin.
“I'm so sorry, my friend.” Gareth placed his hand briefly against the cold cheek of his beloved mentor. “Thank you for everything.”
Gareth straightened and then lurched for the door. He scrambled up the stairs toward open air. Vampire figures raced past him. He paused, ready to fight, but they ignored him and took to the sky.
Gareth vaulted out of a window. He caught a rough updraft and soared quickly. Wheeling above the palace courtyard, he saw the colossus of Ramses, or Dmitri, on the ground.
In the blue sky above London, Gareth noted a vast metal airship, unlike the sailing ships he was familiar with. The weird oblong behemoth belched smoke. Vampires rose to meet it with their usual vicious abandon. Already the gleaming, sloping hull was crawling with black figures. Even without the rendezvous, General Anhalt was attacking. Or at least attempting to.
Gareth moved toward the airship on an instinct to fight alongside the Equatorians. But no. The thought of Adele and Cesare came back to him with a horrific shock. There was nothing he could do for the humans, and he knew Anhalt would understand. One more against the thousands would make no difference now. He put the ship and its men from his mind and set his face northward with terrifying urgency.
Adele woke.
She felt the soft bed beneath her and listened to the remorseless wind whistling around the empty castle. Everyone was gone. Her Harmattan, save a couple of bodyguards, and even Morgana had gone north with Hariri on Edinburgh. She took a deep breath and shifted her leg slightly, feeling the weight of Pet sprawled at her knee. His careless snores comforted her. The cat hadn't been awakened by anything unusual.
Then why was she awake?
Adele cast her eyes about without moving her head, and lay listening for anything out of the ordinary. The peat hissed from the hearth, casting a soft glow. Nothing moved.
Just as she was about to sink back into the pillow, something hard fell on her face. She instinctively tried to turn away, but her head was locked in place. Pet leapt up with alarm and bolted from the bed. She felt a pressure on her chest, and she took a sharp breath.
Immediately her head was filled with a soft, sweet smell. She cursed herself, and she now felt the prickle of herbs pressed against her mouth and nose. Her vision began to cloud. She grasped the hand on her face, but it was too strong.
“Don't fight,” came a command in a familiar voice. “I don't want to hurt you.”
Adele's gaze shifted, and in the shadows she saw the face of Mamoru hovering over her. He was drawn and thin, unshaven, a bit wild. She went for her dagger that lay on the bed next to her.
Mamoru swiftly seized the weapon and slid it into his belt. “No, no. You won't need that.”
Adele tried to claw at his eyes, but now her arm fell limp on the mattress and the fingers that clutched his hand slid down to her chest.
Mamoru pressed the sweet herbs tighter to her face. “Breathe deeply, Adele.”
The empress struggled to hold her breath. She felt like a thrashing fish on a pier, trying to fight, but her eyes told her that she was motionless. Helpless. The cloying stench was already seeping deep into her, slowing the flow of blood from her heart far into her limbs.
“There.” The samurai smiled with gentle relief and pried her eyelids wide to examine. He removed his hand from her face and then proceeded to brush the stems and leaves away like a worried mother cleaning a dirty child. “As always, you are amazing. There is no one on Earth who should have heard me approach. But you did.”
Adele watched him throw back the bedclothes and felt him reach under her neck and knees. He lifted her off the bed. He looked down into her face with kindness.
“Come, Adele,” Mamoru said. “Let me help you one last time.”
She could do nothing as her old mentor carried her out into the night, past the bodies of her murdered guards.
GARETH FOCUSED ON squeezing every sliver of speed from the cold blasting winds. He knew he couldn't reach Edinburgh before Cesare, but he didn't think about that. Reach Adele. That was his goal. Then he would deal with whatever he found. It seemed like months had passed since he left Baudoin and Flay dead in London when he finally saw the grey spires of Edinburgh.
From the air, buffeted by the harsh northern winds and the grey clouds obscuring the morning sun, the city looked deserted. There was no layer of smoke and no sign of movement. As Gareth descended, the castle looked normal.
Surely Adele would have had a fire if she were there.
Gareth dropped into the courtyard like a stone, leaving a heavy indentation in his wake, and he raced for the palace entrance. He shoved the door open and was overwashed with the smell of blood. His wounds were healing slowly, but his head swam with exhaustion. He couldn't make sense of the stench. It didn't have Adele's scent, but it was clearly blood.
He raced up the stairs, caution lost to fear. The door to her room was open, and Gareth ran inside.
“Adele!”
The room was empty. The hearth was warm, but unattended for some time. Her scent was faint.
He noticed with alarm that the bedcovers were thrown about. There had been a struggle of some sort here. His heart pounded and his breath grew thin.
A shadow shifted along the wall, and Gareth dropped into a crouch with claws out. He saw two small eyes reflecting near the floor. A cat. The animal hissed at him, arching its back.
“Pet.” Gareth extended his hand. “Where is your mistress?”
The grey cat pressed himself against the floor, ears pricked forward. He growled low in his belly. Gareth quickly snatched the animal and stood. Pet snarled and clawed, but the vampire didn't feel it.
He left Adele's room and returned to the outer courtyard. He stood listening and scenting the air. The wind roared in his ears and carried hints of blood, but he couldn't pinpoint her. He moved toward the great hall and pushed open the doors.
“Adele!”
He saw the corpses of his cats strewn across the floor.
All the animals that had once charged out to meet him when he returned home now lay motionless at his feet. Pet struggled wildly in Gareth's arms, no longer growling with anger but howling in terror. He dropped the frenzied animal, who scurried into a dark corner.
Gareth knelt over a mound of stiff bodies. He saw one that he recognized and reached down to lift the small white kitten that gazed up with round sightless eyes. He stroked the cold matted fur. This was the small refugee he had named after Adele. Pet trilled from the corner, and Gareth turned to see the poor animal nudging a motionless companion with an uncomprehending paw.
Then Gareth heard the sound of paper tearing.
At the far end of the hall, he saw a figure seated in a chair.
Cesare.
His brother had his feet on a trunk. Gareth's library. In Cesare's hand was a book, and in the other hand was a page, freshly torn out. The younger prince smiled as he dropped the loose leaf onto a pile of pages beside the chair. He looked up pointedly at Gareth as he slowly ripped another page from the book.
“Hello, Gareth,” Cesare said. “I must say I'm surprised to see you.”
“Where's Adele?”
Rip. Another page went into the pile. “From your dreadful appearance, I'd say it wasn't an easy escape at least. I assume Flay is dead?”
“Where. Is. Adele?”
Cesare held up the mutilated book and tossed it aside. “Please tell me you just have these things as an affectation. You haven't sunk so low as to try to read?”
Gareth remained silent, gathering his strength.
The king-to-be reached down and lifted objects from behind the trunk, a rapier and one of Greyfriar's scarves. It was the one Gareth had given to Adele. Cesare took an exaggerated sniff of the scarf with a smile, and then he spread it out to conceal his l
ower face. His cold blue eyes shone over the edge of the cloth. “Does this make me look human?”
Gareth laid the little cat's body aside with a gentleness that belied the rage he felt. “I'm going to ask you one more time before I kill you. Where is Adele?”
“You won't be killing anyone. You can barely stand.” Cesare inspected the sword curiously. “It's too bad Greyfriar wasn't here to save her, because I drank her blood and threw her onto the rocks.”
“You're lying.”
Cesare shook his head. “If only I had gutted her when I first saw her last year. Ah well, life would be tedious if I always made the right decisions.”
Gareth leaned on a chair, gripping the wood until it cracked, imagining it was Cesare's neck. “And I should have killed you on your airship.”
“Yes. That was stupid of you.” Cesare chuckled at his brother's frailty and dropped the sword and cloth to the floor. He sat forward lazily, eyeing something in the back of the room. “Hm. I missed one.”
Gareth glanced over his shoulder to see Pet hunched at the door. He moved to block the cat from Cesare's sight.
The younger prince came to his feet. “Well, I had hoped you would see my coronation before you died, but that isn't possible now. I'm afraid, my prince, I must execute you here before the eyes of your last remaining subject. And then I'll kill it too.” Cesare raised his snarling face slowly to his brother. “Just like I killed our father as he lay in his own filth.”
Gareth charged, fueled by sudden flaring wrath. He impacted Cesare, who fell back against the chair, throwing up his arms in defense. Gareth's claws struck home on his brother's face and chest. Cesare grunted from the force.
Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) Page 38