The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith

by Clay; Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith

  "All right," Clark said to his second in command. "I'm not waiting for them to decide what to do. Let's smoke 'em out."

  Nodding, Major Stoddard shoved his hand in his rucksack, and a shudder went through the ranks as he pulled out two canisters. Blood grenades. They dispensed smoke with the scent of blood. Unlike shroud gas, blood grenades were designed to play into the vampires' animalistic craving. Normally the grenades were used to distract and divert vampires away from humans, but this time Clark intended to goad the creatures into a fighting rage. The smoke from two blood grenades should drive the vampires mad with hunger. Major Stoddard checked the light wind, twisted the top of one canister, and heaved it toward the orchard. The canister flew a strong seventy-five yards, hit, and rolled. There was a loud pop, and reddish smoke boiled over the grass. Stoddard hurled the second canister a bit wide of the first, then quickly took up his rifle as more smoke poured aloft.

  Hissing strengthened from the orchard, proving that the vampires were getting a massive whiff. Dark shapes coursed frantically onto tree trunks and bounded from limb to limb. Some scuttled like lizards into the unkempt canopy and rustled through the green. The hissing changed to weird sounds like growling cats that came from deep within inhuman throats.

  Then they came. First one, then more. They streaked unbelievably fast into the open, running and leaping, landing and crouching in the high grass, then up again. They never stopped moving, like a wave of locusts.

  "Steady, boys," Clark said, and Winchester barrels rose.

  His men waited as the creatures loped toward them. It seemed like hours watching the growling figures scramble through the sun-dappled meadow, but it was mere seconds. Several vampires bounded high off the ground, spread their arms, and caught the air.

  "Fire!" Clark bellowed.

  The front rank opened up at ground level with their carbines. The second rank raised muzzles in practiced style and blasted vampires from the air. The Americans' chemical-fueled cartridges threw off a greenish smoke. The commandos worked their lever-action rifles, keeping up a murderous roar. The vampires fell. Some rose, only to be hit again. And again.

  The air was choked with smoke as several of the tattered and bloody beasts reached the square. They flailed with their clawlike nails, but only against bayonets. The Rangers thrust and slashed, tearing through the vampires' bodies. The creatures collapsed when muscles, tendons, and organs were destroyed. They dropped to the ground writhing and spitting.

  One vampire dropped inside the square and seized a trooper. Before the man could shout, his head was nearly torn from his shoulders. The vampire lashed out, and a second soldier dropped with savage wounds to his side.

  Clark whirled with his saber merely a blur of light and slashed deep into the thing's face. The monster showed little pain as Clark wrenched the sword free. Clark then fired his long-barreled Colt revolver, punching a hole in the vampire's left cheek and staggering him. A second well-aimed blow with the searing sword severed the vampire's head, and he fell lifeless to the grass.

  Rifle shots were tapering off. The Rangers stood with guns poised, watching for shapes moving in the mist. Slowly, the light wind shoved the emerald smoke away to reveal the field. Wounded vampires wriggled hissing in the grass. Some dragged themselves forward despite horrendous wounds. They wouldn't stop until they were destroyed.

  The field medic reported six Rangers down. Two dead. Two more soon would be. Clark hefted his saber, reveling in its constant sizzle. He would make the vampires pay for every one of his men lost.

  The female vampire thrashed against the chains. She rolled on the cobblestones and fought the heavy irons binding her ragged arms and legs.

  "This is the clan chief?" Clark muttered as he glared from under an upraised eyebrow at the ragged thing at his feet. It had been a decidedly quick fight against such primitives. It was akin to cleaning rats from a cellar.

  Captain Eskandari nodded. Around the Persian officer, his marines leaned on their long, bloody pikes, watching the thing struggle. "War chief. These Bordeaux vampires are nothing. Throwbacks almost."

  The American sneered and stamped his boot on the female's chest. He lowered a torch close to her face. "All right. Talk. Where is Princess Adele of Equatoria?"

  The vampire gnashed her teeth.

  Clark tossed the torch to Major Stoddard and snatched a pike from one of the Persian marines. He lowered the wicked blade against the vampire's throat. "I know you understand me! No clan mounts an action so large as the one that took the princess without all you animals being aware. Where is Princess Adele? Tell me or I'll take your head!"

  The creature eyed the pike. Her voice came out as a gargle. "Dmitri."

  Captain Eskandari whispered to a fellow marine, "King Dmitri, lord of London. His son is Cesare. The Slaughterer."

  Senator Clark could hear fear in Eskandari's voice that chilled him. The American pushed the blade against the vampire's throat, slicing skin and drawing thin watery blood. "I am Senator Clark from the American Republic. You are the last of your clan. I have killed every other vampire in Bordeaux. The only reason you're still alive is that I want you to deliver a message to old Dmitri. Tell it that it has five days to release Princess Adele alive and well. If it fails to do so, I will come to Britain and kill every vampire there." Clark tossed the pike back and stepped off the vampire's torso. "Release it."

  The Persians and a few Americans aimed their weapons at the female as two wary marines unsnapped the lock and scrambled away. The vampire flailed free of the chains and crouched in the middle of the soldiers. Clark refused to cower, but did place his hand on the butt of his pistol. In the silence, he could hear the last of the creature's wounded brethren being put to death in the night. The vampire glared around her and then seemed to disappear, trailed briefly by the sound of her moving off through the rubble-strewn streets. The soldiers all sighed with relief, knowing that she certainly could've killed several of them before the other troopers could have stopped her. But apparently even vampires wanted to live.

  "Senator," Major Stoddard asked, "do you think it will really take your message to Britain?"

  "Doesn't matter." Clark strode down the ash-strewn cobblestones. "I delivered my message here in Bordeaux. Those things in Britain will hear about it." He stepped past scorched bodies, both vampire and human. He kicked his way through a pile of vampire heads. Some of them were from children. "They'll know I've been here, and they'll know I will not be trifled with."

  CHAPTER

  ESARE SAW CONFUS10N descending across his father's face again, and it was all the young prince could do not to groan aloud with annoyance. He leaned forward in his chair next to King Dmitri's tarnished throne and regarded the ragged war chief from Bordeaux with uncommitted boredom.

  King Dmitri's chin quivered as spittle drizzled onto his wispy beard. "Is she right? Is she here?"

  Cesare understood his father to refer to Princess Adele. "Yes. I have her." He indicated the Bordeaux visitor. "She is correct in that matter."

  A murmur of alarm spread through the clan council as Cesare adopted a look of amused disregard, making it clear he felt there was no cause for dismay and that he was firmly in charge of the situation. He raised a lazy hand to quiet the elders. "Please. I have had her for several weeks now."

  The king went wide-eyed. "What? I did not know."

  "No, Sire. I am your right hand. There is no need for you to concern yourself with minor matters."

  "Minor?" shouted the bearded Lord Ghast of Cornwall. "Didn't you think the humans would fight to get her back? What have you done, Cesare?"

  Prince Cesare said in a steady voice, "Are you afraid of the Equatorians, Lord Ghast?"

  The elder snarled. "You have no right to start a war!"

  The old king began to fidget uncomfortably. He rolled his hands together, his cracked and yellow claws permanently extended due to age.

  Cesare replied, "Isn't it better that they fight our war rather than us fighting theirs?
"

  "Our war?" Ghast protested. "How is this our war? Bordeaux has been destroyed because of your actions, and the first we hear of it is from this pathetic trash dragging herself into our presence! This is how the elders hear of Cesare's war? There has been no clan gathering!"

  Cesare grinned. "Oh, my war has not yet started. Don't trouble yourself about that clump of degenerates in Bordeaux. My seizure of Princess Adele has sapped the Equatorian initiative. Now we can fight them when we are ready. I don't have to explain my plan. And frankly I'm concerned that you have the temerity to question me here in my father's chamber." He rose menacingly.

  The Lord of Cornwall paused. He gave the prince a curt nod and sat. The other elders were pleased enough by the spectacle of Cesare handily folding the haughty Lord Ghast into the calming embrace of clan hierarchy that they forgave the prince's high-handedness.

  King Dmitri, completely out of the flow, muttered, "Are we at war?"

  Cesare made a show of considering the king's comment as if it meant something and replied, "Not yet, Your Majesty. That is why I have done what I've done. You recall that I told you Equatoria and America were gathering their forces, awaiting the alliance of those two people?"

  The elders again broke into dismayed murmuring. This was the first they had heard of these actions by the human kingdoms. The king's brow furrowed with dismay. He did not remember it either. Of course, the king could no longer be sure what he'd been told or not. Cesare knew this, and that's why the prince never told his father anything. Still, the aged king preserved some semblance of control by nodding his head as if recalling a conversation.

  "Should we call the clan?" The king rubbed his wispy chin. "The attack on Bordeaux ..."

  "Is nothing." Cesare pointed toward the filthy female war chief from the Continent. "Look at her. The humans obliterated Bordeaux with three ships and a few men. In fact, if we act boldly, the attack on Bordeaux gives us the chance to move this game even more in our favor. We can bring other clans into our fold." The vampire prince stretched out his long fingers and closed them into a fist. "Then we can strike the humans at our convenience. But only because I had the foresight to take Princess Adele into my power. One day, my actions will be remembered as the turning point of our clan, and our kind."

  Cesare floated toward the Tower, followed at some distance by Flay. He had been deeply troubled by the pathetic showing of the king in council. Cesare had to guard against the doddering old relic's natural tendency to panic and call the clan at the first sign of trouble. A clan gathering was not in Cesare's plans at the moment because he could never be sure which direction the mob would jump. Cesare preferred to rule by whispers in the king's ear.

  In addition, a clan gathering might draw his brother, Gareth, into the game. Gareth was a terrible wild card who would have to be eliminated at some point. Destroying him required the most careful preparation given that his older brother was the rightful heir and that vampires, being creatures of time, loved nothing so much as tradition in their governance. Cesare would certainly finish his brother and rule the clan after feeble Dmitri, but it would take skill. And he wanted time to relish it all.

  Nearer to hand, Cesare already had a plan to turn the Bordeaux massacre to his advantage. He had heard tales of Senator Clark, a man who had turned one battlefield victory into a reputation as a "vampire killer." Now the human had a reputation to preserve. Clark was no doubt deluded enough to think that humans could defeat vampires. Stupid, yes. But dangerous. For all the excuses that Bordeaux was a pathetic clutch of ferals, the sudden and brutal success of the human forces caused Cesare to worry. There would be no taking the humans by sur prise like the Great Killing. This was a delicate matter, and men like Clark were enemies of delicacy.

  Cesare and Flay settled onto the crumbling stone roof of the central tower and went down the dank steps to find the princess huddled near a glowing brazier. She didn't glance up. Her clothes were dirty and beginning to show prison wear. Plus her hair was in danger of becoming a great tangled hive despite her best efforts.

  "Princess," Cesare said quietly, "I fear there is bad news."

  Adele kept her eyes locked on the glowing coals.

  The vampire prince continued, "Your beloved fiance has killed several hundred of my brethren. Without provocation or reason."

  Now Adele did look up with real interest, and a smile.

  It infuriated Cesare. "Yes. How proud you must be. Your brave Senator Clark massacred the poor population of Bordeaux. Women and children included. And humans. Hundreds slaughtered. It is a frightful outrage, and all the clans have justifiably taken great umbrage."

  Adele remained stoic.

  Cesare said, "There is, of course, no hope of releasing you now. Unless you can provide me with some useful information with which to distract the clans from their bloodlust for revenge."

  The princess returned her eyes to the fire.

  "Tell me about your spies in Britain," Cesare repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time.

  There was, again, no reply.

  The vampire moved closer, letting his iron-laden breath wash over the woman. "Your people obviously have no regard for your welfare. Why should I keep you alive if they are going to start a war against us anyway? You afford us no protection. Tell me about your spies in Britain."

  Silence.

  "I'm wasting my time with negotiations for peace. Your people have no interest in peace. I should just prepare for war."

  Silence.

  "I should just kill you. Your brother is dead. And after I assassinate your father, your people will fall apart."

  Silence.

  "Is that what you want? The end of your kind? Your silence will cause it. Tell me what I want to know and you can go home to keep your people safe. It's just that simple! Talk or your people will all die!"

  Silence.

  Cesare drew back his clawed hand with a guttural roar.

  The blow did not fall. A figure appeared over Adele, grasping Cesare's wrist with a firm hand. The tall vampire then released Cesare, who staggered back a few steps.

  Adele stared up at the newcomer. He was dressed in a long black frock coat over a white shirt and black trousers. Long-limbed yet powerful, with long supple fingers. His hair was dark and a bit unkempt, unlike Cesare's close cut. His pale, icy blue eyes darted quickly and intelligently about the chamber, piercing Adele for a long moment before slipping away. His face was strong and his lips curled into a slight wan smile, which seemed unusual.

  The new vampire's sudden appearance changed the emotion of the room. Flay stood transfixed. And Cesare was angry, but not playacting this time; he was truly furious. But more, he was surprised and confused because he was no longer in total control, like a vicious animal suddenly finding itself in a cage for the first time.

  Cesare glared at the new arrival. "How dare you lay hands on me!"

  The tall, dark vampire gave a slight bow. His movements were spare and reserved. "I apologize, Cesare, but I was afraid you were going to kill her."

  "What's it to you, Gareth?"

  "Everything. She is my prisoner now."

  "I'm sorry?" Cesare stared with narrowing eyes as his jaw worked back and forth.

  "I am the heir. I claim her. In fact, I feel that I've neglected clan affairs too long now. I intend to take a greater interest. If you will excuse me, I wish to interrogate my prisoner."

  Cesare brushed the sleeves of his coat roughly and raised his eyebrows. He turned and left without another word or gesture. Flay paused at the door, looking at Gareth with a gaze that caught Adele's attention. Then the war chief followed her master.

  Gareth waited, listening to the sounds of his brother's exit that weren't audible to Adele. Then he studied the princess for a long moment.

  Adele stared at Gareth. Something about him seemed familiar, but she didn't know why. She had never encountered a living vampire before this voyage, but now she'd seen far too many to suit her. Maybe they were all starting
to look alike to her.

  The vampire bowed slightly. "I am Prince Gareth, Lord of Scotland. Are you well?"

  Adele almost responded, but then shut her mouth and turned back to the brazier. Gareth waited for a long minute before realizing no reply was coming. He exhaled in disappointment. "Very well. I will have you moved to more comfortable quarters. You are under my care now. Cesare won't trouble you again."

  Adele assumed this was just some interrogation ploy. One brother treats her harshly. The other brother steps in to treat her kindly. In gratitude for the respite she breaks down. She found herself eyeing Gareth surreptitiously as the vampire turned away and disappeared through the door.

  The young woman didn't move for several minutes. It was typical for Cesare to leave and then abruptly return to throw her off. But clearly Gareth wasn't coming back. Adele stood and went to the window. A few shadows flitted across the cloudy sky in the distance. Just another night in dead London.

  She dug her fingers into a niche in the stone wall and pulled out a thin length of rock about six inches by three. The edges were sharp. She tested it with her thumb. Not sharp enough yet. The young woman sat on the floor and spat on the stone, working the edge of the makeshift knife patiently across a whetstone placed on the floor.

  Now she had another vampire lordling to kill.

  CHAPTER

  UST AS PRINCE Gareth had promised, Adele was moved to better quarters away from the treacherously decrepit central tower with its vast open spaces that invited stinking breezes from the river. The new rooms had ancient but serviceable coal heaters. There was furniture to keep her aching body off the cold stones, but the bed was so ill used and foul that Adele contented herself with using the cleanest of the blankets and sleeping on the floor near the warm grate of the heater. While bugs and rats were still constant companions, her existence was made gentler by the fact that Cesare's frightening and debilitating interrogations stopped.