by Chloe Hart
“All three were the same person?”
“That’s right.”
This was the world she wanted nothing to do with. The world of magic and immortality and supernatural mystery. She felt a sudden longing for one of the familiar classrooms at MIT, and the joy of working at a math problem that would have one answer, clear and unambiguous, beautiful in its logic and rationality.
But Peter was trapped in that other world, the world of the paranormal—and it was looking like she’d have to venture into that world herself if she wanted to save him. And that, in turn, meant she needed all the information she could get.
“Why did someone want this vampire killed? And why did you turn down the job?”
“All the supernatural races in Great Britain—Fae, vampires, shifters, witches—have had their concerns or suspicions about Snowdon University over the years. It’s a legitimate institution of higher learning, home to several thousand human students and many human professors, but the Vice-Chancellor, Merton Ambrose, is a shadowy figure at best. It was he who brought Luke Cadris to Snowdon many years ago, but Luke probably isn’t the only non-human there. There has always been a tremendous amount of magical energy around Snowdon, and that makes other supernaturals nervous.”
“What are they afraid of?”
Hawk shrugged. “They don’t know where the power comes from, and they don’t know what its purpose is. They don’t know the Vice-Chancellor’s intentions, or Luke’s. Neither of them is part of any traditional alliance, and no one is quite sure whether the Vice-Chancellor is a shifter, a rogue Fae, or merely a human with magical power.”
“But he and the vampire have never caused any kind of trouble?”
“Not that we know of. And over the decades, as they’ve continued to live quietly, some of the concern about them has faded. The belief is that if the Vice-Chancellor or Luke were planning some kind of power play or attack, they would have shown some signs of it by now. And that,” he added, “is the answer to your second question.”
“Why you turned down the job?”
“Yes. I don’t believe in pre-emptive strikes, and that was the only reason given me for taking out Luke Cadris. Not for anything he had done, but for what he might do. And that wasn’t good enough for me.”
Kit mulled this over. “What did the Welsh Fae say when you contacted them?” she asked Jessica. “What do they think about Luke, and about Snowdon? And why wouldn’t they help you?”
“The Fae have a policy of neutrality when it comes to other supernaturals, unless we know them to be a true threat to the human race. They won’t do anything that might compromise that neutrality.”
“That’s why the Fae left Evan alone all those years,” Celia put in. “They kept an eye on his club, but they didn’t consider him a threat. There’s blood-drinking at Blood and Whiskey, but it’s all consensual, and the humans who go there don’t realize that the vampires are, well, actual vampires.”
At the mention of blood-drinking, Kit had to look away for a moment. She was afraid her sudden disgust would show in her eyes.
Celia let a vampire drink her blood. Maybe she even liked it. And Queen Jessica… she let Hawk…
Kit repressed that line of thought with all the mental discipline she’d cultivated as a student of science. She had no time for personal feelings right now. She had to put them aside for Peter’s sake.
After a moment she was able to look up again.
“So the Welsh Fae won’t help.”
Jessica shook her head. “No. And as for sneaking into Snowdon—that would be impossible. There are ancient and powerful wards around that place. No vampire, Fae, shifter, or magician would stand a chance of getting in undetected. For all practical purposes, anyone who dwells within Snowdon’s walls is untouchable.”
Kit felt a surge of panic and forced herself to ignore it. She needed to rely on her reason and logic, to work this problem like a computer programming puzzle.
“Okay, so we can’t sneak in. Luke doesn’t know or trust any of our allies, so we can’t use a go-between. But you said Snowdon’s a real university, right? It’s not a fortress. What’s to prevent someone…someone like me…from just going up to the gate and asking to see Professor Cadris?”
Jessica and Hawk looked at each other, and Celia’s forehead wrinkled as she considered it. “You could do that, I suppose. But they’ll know you’re Fae. They may think you’re a threat. The protections around Snowdon include the ability to detect supernatural power.”
“If that’s the case, I’ve got nothing to worry about. I don’t have any supernatural power. They might think you were a threat—you’re a spellcaster. And Jessica’s a warrior. But I don’t have any special abilities. I have Fae blood, but I don’t have super strength and I can’t do magic.”
“You’re still Fae,” Jessica said.
Kit shrugged. “If they turn me away, I’ll have to think of something else. But unless you’ve got another plan, I’m going to Wales to talk to Luke Cadris.”
Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
It was the first time Kit had heard Jessica sound like her idea of a queen—abrupt and autocratic. Kit started to snap back at her, but she took a deep breath instead. Fighting with Jessica wouldn’t help her brother.
“Why not?” she asked calmly.
“You don’t have any experience with this kind of thing. And Luke has a reputation for…” Jessica paused.
“For what? You said the Fae don’t believe him to be a threat.”
“That’s true, as far as it goes. To the best of our knowledge he hasn’t killed a human in well over a hundred years. The reputation I’m speaking of regards his…amorous activities.”
“Amorous?”
“Luke Cadris is known as a seducer. He doesn’t kill but he doesn’t live solely on animal blood, either. He still drinks from humans…from women, specifically.”
Once again Kit had to fight back a surge of nausea. “Well, that’s what vampires do, isn’t it? Telling me vampires like blood is like saying cats like mice. Isn’t that just their nature? No offense,” she added, with a belated glance at Hawk.
He looked more amused than offended. “None taken,” he murmured.
“It’s not just blood,” Jessica said. “Or sex, either. Apparently Luke is very…appealing to women. They fall in love with him. To the point of obsession, sometimes. Not the female students at Snowdon—he never gets involved with them—but women in the local towns, and as far south as Cardiff. There are tales of women pining for him after he’s moved on…and he always moves on. In some cases, so the legends say, they die of broken hearts. Although there’s never been any confirmation of that,” she added. “Those stories are probably exaggerated, to add to his mystique.”
Kit felt a quick rush of relief. “That’s what you’re worried about? You’re afraid Luke Cadris is going to seduce me, or something?” She shook her head. “Believe me when I tell you that won’t be a problem. I’m not attracted to vampires on any level. My heart, my virtue, and my jugular vein are all safe.”
She was being flip, but even as she said the words, a sudden idea took root in her mind. A way to convince Luke Cadris to help her…assuming she could get in to see him.
It wasn’t an idea to share with present company, however. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t approve.
Kit glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece before rising to her feet. “Let’s cut this short, okay? I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to Wales. First, though, I need to return my roommate’s car and pick up my passport. Celia, if you’ll follow me in your car, you can drive me to the airport. That’ll give you a chance to tell me everything you know about Luke Cadris and the journey he supposedly made to the underworld.”
Jessica started to protest, but Hawk laid a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s no good, cariad,” the vampire said softly. “I’ve been around Fae women long enough to recognize the look in Kit’s eyes. No
matter what you say, she’s going.”
Jessica looked ready to argue, but after a moment she sighed. “All right,” she said, sounding resigned. “But Kit, I want you to know that we’ll be doing everything we can on our end, too. Liz Marlowe and Jack Morgan are in Peru right now, trying to find out anything they can. Celia and Hawk will continue their research, and if my position as queen can leverage any help for us, I’ll use it.”
“Thank you, Jessica. I appreciate that.”
She shook hands with the queen, hesitated a moment, and then extended her hand towards Hawk.
“Thank you for your help,” she said a little stiffly. She felt badly for some of the things she’d said about vampires…especially since Hawk had come to her defense, recognizing her determination to do whatever it took to help her brother.
She shared a Fae heritage with Celia and Jessica, but the vampire was the one who’d understood her.
“You’re welcome,” he said, shaking her hand. “Good luck in Wales, Kit.”
“Thanks. But I don’t believe in luck.”
Once again, Hawk’s mouth twisted up in a half smile. “Now might be a good time to start.”
Chapter Two
Snowdon University was more than a hundred years old. The stone and slate of its buildings were as timeless as the hills they came from, the sea that crashed against the cliffs, and the gray skies that so often prevailed on the northwest coast of Wales.
Given its relative isolation, Snowdon should have had a difficult time attracting the fine scholars who filled its dormitories and lecture halls. And yet every year the school turned away almost as many applicants as did Oxford or Cambridge.
Those who knew Snowdon well attributed its success to one man: Merton Ambrose, the Vice-Chancellor. Among his other accomplishments, he had attracted a dynamic group of professors to his university, many of them young as well as brilliant. Some were known for being “edgy” or “unconventional” if not downright odd, their reputations rivaling those of the famously eccentric Oxford dons of the Victorian era.
One chilly December evening, the most popular of Snowdon’s professors was sitting in an arm chair by the fire in the Senior Common Room. When he let out a low growl, the only other person in the room looked up from his newspaper and frowned.
“That’s not a very civilized noise to make, Luke. Hardly human.”
“As it happens, Merton—”
“Yes, yes, yes. A figure of speech. What have you got there, anyway, that provoked such an outburst?”
“An essay. The eighth essay I’ve read tonight that begins, ‘So and so was born in such and such a place—’”
Luke broke off, shaking his head. “Is it just me, or are the students getting less imaginative and less inspired with every passing year?”
The Vice-Chancellor looked judicious. “Keep in mind that your standards were set in a more exacting age. Historical biography is an art.”
“All I know is that if I read one more essay beginning ‘Sir Thomas More was born’ I’m going to throw myself off a cliff. A serious threat considering we’re actually on a cliff.”
Merton waved a hand towards the door.
“Take the night off, then. Drink some of that whiskey you’re so fond off. Just stay away from the female—”
“From the female students?” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Did you honestly think that little rule had slipped my mind? It’s not like you to be so untrusting. Haven’t I managed to be a good boy for—well, for an awfully long time?”
“Perhaps. I’m just reminding you that if you need to find amusement, you should go to one of the towns—Harlech or Dolgellau or Machynlleth. There will be more…scope for your activities.”
Now Luke raised both eyebrows. “You make it sound like I spend every night engaged in nameless debaucheries. When, in fact, I spend most of my evenings at home with a good book and a bottle of beer.”
“Indeed. Isn’t it curious, then, that every year in this part of the country a small number of women will visit their local health clinics or hospitals presenting with the same symptoms, which resemble, oddly enough, mild anemia.”
Luke grinned. “Keeping tabs, are you? Well, I’ll answer for it that those women are all perfectly fine after a week or two. And have any of them ever accused me of anything, or so much as mentioned my name to local authorities?”
“Not as yet, no. But some of them do seem to continue a certain romantic interest in you long after you’ve, shall we say, moved on? And they manifest that interest by coming to my university and making a nuisance of themselves.”
“Not much of a nuisance. The porter always stops them at the gatehouse.”
“Still, it does look a little odd—”
“You’ve been making hay off of my oddities for a while now. I’m the reason half your female students are here, including this year’s Templeton Scholar. Which is rather ironic, considering that I’m never more than politely distant with any of them. Still, you never hesitate to make use of my personality as a recruiting tool, so why are you suddenly concerned with my so-called ‘oddities’? What’s changed since the last time we spoke privately, which was, I believe, a mere three days ago?”
The other man shivered suddenly and pulled his chair closer to the fire.
Luke frowned. “All right, Merton. What’s wrong? It’s not like you to worry and fuss like this.”
“Of course it is. I’m the Vice-Chancellor. It’s my job to worry.”
“You know what I mean. What’s going on, man?”
Merton shook his head without looking up. “I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly. “I’ve received intimations, but nothing specific. The warnings are vague, cryptic…but there’s something about a woman. A stranger. Whatever it is, it relates to you, Luke. That I’m sure of. You remember the prophecy—”
“That prophecy will never come to pass.”
Merton sighed. “Just be careful, will you? Humor an old man. We’ve got a good thing going here, you know.”
“And you think I don’t know that? I’m not likely to upset the apple cart at this stage of the game. Don’t worry, old friend, I’m not going anywhere tonight. I’ll retire to my rooms, drink a mild-mannered Guinness, and read Boswell’s Life of Johnson. It’ll comfort me after all these wretched essays. All right?”
The Vice-Chancellor nodded. “All right.”
* * *
Funny, Luke thought as he strode through the courtyard to the north side of the main quadrangle. It wasn’t like Merton to get so spooked without any real information. And it wasn’t as if any threat could cross the boundary of Snowdon. The protections around this place were too strong.
Luke shook his head. Maybe the Vice-Chancellor was finally starting to feel his age, which God knew was long overdue. Regardless, Merton’s “intimations” were the least of his worries. No. What was troubling him now was something much closer to home: namely, his own growing boredom and restlessness.
When he first came to Snowdon University he thought he’d found the perfect place to stay until he could succeed in his quest. The quest that no one, not even Merton, knew anything about.
But years had gone by since then and he was no closer to his goal. His heart’s desire was as far out of reach as ever, and he was starting to believe it always would be. And he was still here at Snowdon, spending his nights grading undergraduate essays.
Luke’s long strides soon brought him to the tower that housed his rooms and his personal library. He’d bequeathed the library, which included several priceless volumes, to the university on condition that it be placed here, on the bottom floors, and that he be given rooms in the same tower.
Luke ducked his head to pass through the low doorway and began to climb the spiral staircase. The thud of his booted feet on the stone steps echoed dully in the hollow space, and the dim light cast by the sconces sent his shadow dancing crazily on the walls. He climbed quickly past the three library floors and went straight to the very top: the big round r
oom under the witch’s hat roof.
The windows in here were mere slits—perfect for his needs, of course. He’d had them shuttered from the inside so he could keep out the sun during the day, but also so he could open them at night to let in starlight and moonlight.
He opened them now, even though the moon and stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. It had, in fact, been so dismally gray today that he’d been able to walk outside with only his thick hooded cloak for protection. On sunny days he used a network of tunnels beneath the university to move from place to place.
Until recently, Luke had been able to tolerate sunlight. Vampires were nocturnal, but sunlight wasn’t normally deadly to them.
But thanks to his journey to the underworld—and an encounter he’d had there—the sun would now affect him the way human myths about vampires had always depicted. A few seconds of direct sunlight would burn him; minutes would destroy him.
With Merton’s help he’d adapted to the change as best he could. The students and professors of Snowdon believed he suffered from a form of porphyria—which, of course, only added to his mystique.
Luke paused to drop his leather jacket over a chair and to light a fire in the hearth. Despite his avowed intention of settling down with a book and a beer—which really were his most frequent evening companions—he found himself prowling restlessly around the room.
Every object his eye fell on seemed to increase his discontent. There was the Gem of Fanor, displayed in a glass case now that he had no other use for it. The jewel had been obtained on that same journey to the underworld, at great cost as well as tremendous personal risk, and had been offered to Demeter in one of his many attempts to fulfill his quest.
Offered…and refused.
Nothing seemed good enough for that wretched woman—sorry, goddess. What did she want from him? What would she finally accept as sufficient payment for his request? What did it bloody take? And why couldn’t she just tell him what it was so he could get it the hell over with?
Just like a woman, really. Couldn’t make things simple. Had to turn everything into a big sodding mystery.