Mother of Chaos (Princess Dracula Book 3)

by John Patrick Kennedy

  He stopped in the center of the bridge over the Neglinka, leaning his weight against the stone of the side, looking down at the river. Ruxandra stood in silence and waited.

  At last Kade sighed and said, “That was, perhaps, foolish.”

  “Perhaps,” Ruxandra said. “But destroying the carriage acts as a wonderful threat.”

  “Perhaps,” Kade echoed. “Still, I ought not to have done it. It reveals too much of our power against an enemy of which we know nothing.”

  “True.” Ruxandra leaned on the side of the bridge. “If it makes you feel better, I was thinking of doing the same thing.”

  Kade chuckled. “It does, actually.”

  “So now what?”

  “We are facing an enemy we cannot see, hear, or touch,” Kade said. “It makes it difficult to proceed.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Ruxandra said, “or we’ll have no way to find them.”

  “There’s always a way.” Kade’s voice turned grim on the words, letting out a dark anger so strong that Ruxandra could almost see it. He took her hand, placed it in the crook of his arm. “Let us go home. Tomorrow night we renew the hunt.”

  Arm in arm they crossed the bridge, heading back to his house.

  ***

  The next evening, when Ruxandra stepped outside, the scent of the man from the bridge floated in the air. She looked down, sniffed again, and found the trail of his footsteps, fresh and new.

  “Kade!” she called, using the vampire tones. “They were here!”

  He was at the door before he finished dressing. In the moonlight his white skin shone, the chiseled edges of his muscled chest standing out above the flat ridges of his stomach. She looked away.

  Why am I noticing that now, of all times?

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow them,” he said. “I’ll finish dressing and come find you.”

  Ruxandra ran into the night. The scent trail was fresh and easy to follow. It led in a straight line, with no detours or attempts at concealment. Ruxandra tracked it to the edge of the neighborhood and stopped. When Kade arrived, she was still there.

  “Well,” he hissed, “are they here?”

  “One of them is,” Ruxandra said, and pointed.

  On the street between them and Neglinka River sat a black carriage with four black horses in harness. It looked the same as the one Kade had destroyed. Atop it sat a man in black clothes with a black scarf covering half his face and black gloves on his hands. Beside it stood another man dressed in black, solidly built and muscular, with a sword and a brace of pistols hanging from his belt. He was pale with black hair and snapping dark eyes. His hawk nose had been broken long ago.

  Ruxandra recognized his scent.

  The man from the bridge looked straight at her, expressionless, and held open the carriage door.

  Chapter 7

  Ruxandra stopped and searched the street with her eyes, nose, and mind.

  “How many of them?” Kade asked. “I smell other people, but I’m not sure from where.”

  Ruxandra sniffed the air. “The other people are inside the houses. Out here there are only the two of them.”

  “Then let us see what they want.” Kade strode forward.

  The man at the carriage bowed low and swept his hand to the open door. “Please, enter.”

  “Tell me who you are,” Kade commanded in Russian. “Why do you follow us?”

  “Commands will not work,” the man said. “Please; you are expected.”

  “Expected by whom?”

  “Enter the carriage and see.”

  “Or I could rip your head off and ask your companion.”

  “That will not work, either.” The man looked at Ruxandra and smiled. “Correct?”

  “Just because it didn’t last time,” Ruxandra said in Italian as she joined Kade, “doesn’t mean it won’t now.”

  “If you attack us, you die,” the man said. “I have limited patience, and it is already strained after you savagely destroyed our carriage.”

  “Fortunate that you had a spare,” Kade said, his voice low and smooth like the purring of a mountain cat. Ruxandra could feel the coiled rage and was impressed by the black-haired man’s equanimity. Knowing you could not be attacked was all very well—for your body to know that was something else entirely.

  “Enough.” The man bowed to Ruxandra. “I guarantee that no harm will come to you while you are in my custody.”

  “Custody?” Kade let the word roll slowly off his tongue, as if tasting its implications. “We are under arrest, then?”

  “Not at all,” the man said. “Being arrested hurts a great deal more. You are invited.”

  “Where are my friends?”

  In answer the man gestured to the open carriage door.

  “What now?” Ruxandra asked in Romanian, using vampire frequencies.

  “I believe it is a trap,” Kade said back, voice and language the same.

  “I am unsure.” Ruxandra kept her eyes on the man in black, but he gave no sign of hearing or understanding. “They could take us anytime. Why do it this way?”

  “Less bloodshed?” Kade suggested. “What if they charmed the carriage so we cannot leave it?”

  “I doubt they can charm it so much we cannot tear it apart,” Ruxandra said. “And it might take us to your friends.”

  “Or to our deaths.”

  “Their magic may prevent us from killing them,” Ruxandra said, “but only sunlight kills us, and even that we can escape.”

  “You know this?”

  Ruxandra remembered waking, buried in the earth. “I do.”

  “I see.” Kade’s eyes narrowed. He glared at the man holding the carriage door, and then peered inside the carriage.

  “Your guarantee of safe passage?” Ruxandra asked the man.

  “I promise. Will you come, my lady?”

  Ruxandra reached out with her mind, but could not feel the man’s emotions. She breathed in his scent and caught no whiff of fear or the excitement that generally accompanies the intent to commit violence. Not that this guarantees anything.

  But she refused to give in to fear. Once she did that, she might as well quit the field altogether, which was not an option, not now. Ruxandra climbed into the carriage. She settled near the far window, sinking into the black leather padding that cushioned the seats.

  “Kade,” she said. “Join me.”

  Kade growled and bared his fangs, but he stepped into the carriage. He sat beside Ruxandra, his arms crossed. The man climbed in, closed the door, and tapped the roof with his knuckles. The carriage started into motion with a gentle jolt. Ruxandra watched the houses and kabaks and churches go by. The carriage drove down the main thoroughfare, its well-greased wheels making no sound, the horses’ hooves thumping on the dirt road. The man without a name did not speak, nor did the vampires.

  They turned onto a bridge, the thud of the horses’ hooves turning into a sharp clop, and the wheels rattling against the cobbles. The city’s inner wall grew closer until it towered over them. They stopped, and someone out of sight challenged them in Russian. The driver responded, a gate creaked open, and they moved forward again. The walls passed above their heads, and the carriage rolled through the cobblestoned streets.

  Ruxandra sat back and spread her mind wide. Most of the Kremlin’s inhabitants slept. Some lay awake, exhausted. Some ached with the pains of age. A few boiled with lustful desires—some alone, some couples, and one group of three. Several people deep inside the buildings writhed in horrific pain while someone nearby felt deep satisfaction at his work.

  I wonder what they did to deserve that. Or did they deserve it?

  The driver called to the horses, and the carriage pulled to a stop. The man stepped out, waited for Kade to dismount, held out a hand for Ruxandra, then smiled briefly and pulled it back. “I forget myself.”

  She ignored him and stepped down.

  “The Palace of Facets,” the man sai
d.

  It was small, for a palace, though it connected to the much larger one behind it. Soot and dirt covered the once-white walls, speaking of years of disuse. They stood at the base of a short set of steps with a large arch above it. Beyond that, another much longer set of stairs ran the length of the building, stopping at a wide landing with a set of ornate wooden doors leading in. A line of large windows, their frames in need of paint, stood above it.

  The surrounding cathedrals, by contrast, shone white with freshly painted walls. Their golden domes high above glowed in the faint moonlight. Icons painted above their doors gave life and color to the white buildings.

  “Welcome to the Kremlin,” the man said. “You are in Cathedral Square. Behind you lie the Cathedrals of the Assumption, the Archangel Michael and the Annunciation.”

  “The cathedrals look much better kept than the palace,” Kade said.

  “It has been much neglected of late,” the man agreed. “Peter preferred St. Petersburg. With the new empress earlier this year, we expect to see improvements again. You see the scaffolding?”

  “We do,” Kade said. “What I don’t see are my friends.”

  “Come this way if you please.”

  Ruxandra linked her arm with Kade’s. The man led them up the long, shallow staircase to the large doors. At the top he turned on his heel. He knocked three times on the doors, paused, and knocked four more. The doors swung wide. Light from hundreds of candles spilled out, the yellow glow brightening the stairs. He gestured for them to go in.

  Ruxandra stepped inside and gasped in awe.

  The room was brilliant with gold.

  The red marble floor shone in the candlelight. Wide columns rose high and spread out above to become the domes of the ceiling. Gold decorated everything: the doors, the thick carvings on their frames, the windows, and the designs on the columns. It was laid out in ribs that rose from the columns’ corners to join at the top of each dome. And wherever there was no gold, pictures covered the walls and ceiling.

  A hundred images filled Ruxandra’s eyes. Paintings of kings, queens, and saints vied for attention with scenes of hunting, battle, and celebration. The colors, once bright and vibrant, had long since faded, but the effect still overwhelmed the eye. Ruxandra walked forward, eyes wide with wonder.

  At the far end of the room, sitting on a raised throne, sat a tall, stout woman—mature but not old. Her coarse features and small, dark eyes looked out of place amid the splendor that surrounded her. The woman’s brown hair stuck out, wild and ragged. She wore an unadorned light-blue gown, designed to display ample cleavage and draw the eyes to the magnificent garnet on a gold chain that rested between her breasts.

  She was the only other person visible, but she was not alone. Ruxandra let her head swivel from side to side, pretending to look at the pictures as she breathed deep to smell what she couldn’t see or hear or sense.

  The man stopped ten paces in front of the throne and bowed deep. Kade followed his example. Ruxandra dropped into a deep, formal curtsy. The woman watched them with a bored, tired expression.

  “Rise,” she said. “Approach.”

  They rose and walked forward. The woman’s eyes narrowed as they approached. She raised a hand, stopping them three paces away.

  “Well done, Alexi,” she said in Russian. Their guide bowed and stepped to the side. The woman frowned at Ruxandra and Kade. She switched to French. “Explain yourselves.”

  Ruxandra had no idea what she meant. Kade put on a gracious smile.

  “An honor, Your Majesty,” Kade said, also in French. “We had not expected an audience.”

  Majesty? This is Anna of Russia?

  “I had hoped to speak to you one day,” Kade continued. “That it should occur so soon—”

  “Spare me, vampire,” Empress Anna said. “It has been a particularly vexing day. I have peasants unhappy with their lot; I have the Metropolitan clamoring for more funds for cathedrals; I have nobles displeased with their removal from power and the removal of several of their fellows’ heads. And now I have you.”

  She glared at them as if they were personally responsible for everything that had gone wrong. “And before we begin I will tell you, your commands will not work on me, and you will not be able to touch me. Now explain why you are in my city and why I shouldn’t kill you both where you stand.”

  “I am curious to learn how you knew we were here,” Kade said instead, “and what we are. And how your men follow us, for that matter.”

  She offered a small, cold smile in which there was neither humor nor pleasure. “We’ve been waiting for you since your friends told us everything they knew. We knew the moment you entered the city and have kept you in our sight since,” Anna said. “This is Russia. We have not abandoned the old ways, unlike those fools to the west. We remember the battles to destroy your kind when they ruled this city. There is no place we cannot find you.”

  “I am impressed,” Kade said.

  Anna smirked. “My men surround you, though you cannot see them.”

  Kade smiled back at her. “Ruxandra?”

  “Fourteen men.” Ruxandra pointed to the columns that lined the hall. “Two behind each column, two more standing on either side of the throne, two waiting at the front door. All armed with swords and firearms.”

  Anna’s composure cracked for an instant—her eyes widened; her breath quickened. She contained both, straightened in her throne, and glared down her long nose at Ruxandra.

  Ruxandra kept her face expressionless. She had caught the men’s scent the moment she walked in, along with the smell of oil on steel and the sharp odor of black powder.

  “Perhaps I should kill you on the spot,” Anna said.

  “We are hard to kill, Your Majesty,” Ruxandra said, her voice bland and calm, even as she planned her escape route. “So I suggest attempting it somewhere less . . . expensive.”

  Anna’s eyes widened again. A real smile broke through. “Very funny, girl. Your name?”

  “Princess Ruxandra Dracula, daughter of Vlad Dracula, prince of Wallachia.” She curtsied again, deep and formally. “At your service, Your Majesty.”

  “Vlad Dracula?” Anna frowned. “Vlad Tepes?”

  “A nickname bestowed many years after his death,” Ruxandra said.

  Anna rubbed her chin. “Murdered by the Turks two hundred fifty years ago.”

  Ruxandra flashed back to the cave where she’d become a vampire, and the moment when she’d torn her father’s head from his shoulders. “Something similar, Your Majesty.”

  “Whereas this one I know.” Anna switched her gaze to Kade. “Though he did not see fit to tell me he had returned to Russia. Or that he was a vampire.”

  “I thought it best to keep the latter secret,” Kade said. “To avoid misunderstandings, Your Majesty.”

  “You know her?” Shock made Ruxandra forget her courtesy. “What?”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” Anna smiled again, the expression wicked. “For shame, Kade. It is hard for a woman to trust a man who keeps secrets.”

  “I do not know Her Majesty well,” Kade said to Ruxandra. “I served Peter.”

  “It was your idea to marry me to the Duke of Courland,” Anna said. “And no doubt your idea to have him die on his way home.”

  “I only carried out Peter’s bidding.”

  “Just as well,” Anna said. “The duke had a small cock and the breath of a corpse-eating dog. Not to mention a penchant for beating his servants.”

  “I was here, in Moscow, when Peter died,” Kade said. “Engrossed in my studies. Otherwise—”

  “I would never have inherited the throne?” Anna said it as a question, but her eyes narrowed, and her expression grew hard, as though she knew the answer. “What guarantee do I have that the two of you pose no threat to my rule?”

  “I have no interest in politics,” Ruxandra said. “Kade did not tell me of his relationship with the past emperor or with Your Majesty.”

  Kade winced at
the change in her tone, but said nothing.

  “I see you two have much to discuss, once I dismiss you.” Anna chuckled as she rose from her throne. “What if I asked you to swear allegiance to me, my heirs and descendants, and to Russia, in the name of God, to the end of time? Would such an oath hold creatures like you?”

  “I would say no and leave,” Ruxandra replied. “I do not swear allegiance to anyone.”

  “The doors are locked and charmed against vampires.”

  “Are the windows?” Ruxandra pointed high on the wall. “Even the small ones?”

  “You can’t get up there,” Anna said, though she didn’t sound positive.

  “I can, Your Majesty,” Ruxandra said, and once more Anna’s self-assurance cracked and reformed.

  Anna looked at Kade. “And what about you?”

  “I would like to know what Your Majesty has done with my friends,” Kade said, “before I answer any question about oaths.”

  “Indeed.” She looked them over for a moment, her gaze shrewd. “Those magicians? They are alive. Whether they stay that way depends on you.”

  “I want them back unharmed,” Kade said. “Or I will be very unhappy.”

  “Then unhappy you shall be, as your friends refused to answer all my questions the first time.” Anna’s voice grew cold and hard. “Will you live with your unhappiness, or shall I order you killed?”

  “If you try, I shall exit through the window like Ruxandra. And then, Your Majesty, I will burn as much of the Kremlin and the city as possible before I escape or am killed.”

  “I dislike threats.” Anna leaned back in her throne and frowned at him. “Ask the remaining members of the council that tried to usurp my powers if you disbelieve me. You’ll find the survivors in the prison below the Terem Palace, in an extremely uncomfortable room. Right next to some of your magicians, as it happens. And if you leave this room before I say, I will have my men run swords through your friends’ bowels. So instead of threatening each other, I suggest we come to an arrangement.”