Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4)

by Arshad Ahsanuddin

  Lorcan read the other vampire’s sadness with his senses fully open. “You think he loved them more than you?”

  Rory continued to stare at their names. “He was a Sentinel. Sacrifice came naturally to him.”

  Lorcan laid his hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Sean, have you considered that maybe he wouldn’t abandon you either?”

  Rory turned to face him. “I knew it was coming. He was almost ninety years old. But I never thought it would be this sudden. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Sean, even if you’d suffered through a long decline as his strength failed, even if he died cursing your name for your immortality, it still wouldn’t have prepared you.”

  Rory growled. “Are you saying you think I should be grateful it was quick?”

  “No, of course not.” Lorcan tried to think of some way to explain without dredging up his own memories, but there wasn’t any way to avoid it. “Connor and I, we made so many plans. He wanted to be the same physical age as me when I turned him, so we would be equals for eternity. I thought it was a harmless gesture. Another year and he would have joined me in the darkness. Then the human wars intruded, and I lost him.” He held out his hand and summoned his sword, which appeared in a flash of green light. He raised the blade, tracing the intricate scrollwork etched into the steel, chased with gold. “He could have lived forever. Instead he died on the point of a sword.” Lorcan raised his eyes to meet Rory’s and allowed his irises to shift to red as he remembered the rage of that day. “This sword.”

  Rory took a step back. He stared at the sword in Lorcan’s hand. “You don’t know that.”

  “His blood was on the blade. I knew its scent better than any other. The bastard officer who led the raid put Connor down personally. I repaid the favor, with interest.”

  “So why did you keep it?”

  “It took my lover’s life. It was tangible proof that he existed outside my memories. And it was a reminder not to waste time, because life’s too short, even for immortals.” Lorcan willed the blade away and it disappeared. “I forgot that lesson over the centuries, until Nicholas reminded me of what I had lost.”

  * * *

  Rory studied him, hearing the wistful note in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we talked about Nick.”

  “Nothing has changed. I still love him, and he’s still in love with Jeremy.” Lorcan took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak of that while you’re grieving.”

  Rory shrugged. “I asked.”

  “Why have you kept him at arm’s length? He’s worried about you, that you’ve suffered through this alone for the last half a year.”

  Rory sat on one of the stone benches that flanked the obelisk. He rubbed his hands together as if for warmth. “I can’t be around Nick. It makes me feel dirty, like I’m being unfaithful just talking to him.”

  Lorcan sat next to him. “Sean, I know it seems unimaginable now, but someday you’re going to want to seek out companionship other than your memories.” He reached out and squeezed the Nightwalker’s hand. “If you can’t stand to be around Nick, then find someone else to talk to, someone who understands.”

  Rory chuckled. “Are you volunteering?”

  Lorcan let go of Rory’s hand and draped his arm over the younger man’s shoulders. “I am, if you want me to.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “I wasn’t.” Lorcan pulled Rory closer. “If you stay here, you’ll only wallow in your loneliness. I know you have some roots in Ireland. Come stay with me for a while, as my guest, and I’ll show you around.”

  Rory looked up at the white dome of the cathedral, capped by a beacon of white flames. “I can’t leave. There’s so much—”

  “No there isn’t,” said Lorcan, cutting him off. “You’ve hidden out for months, and nothing changed. I told you, don’t waste time. Just for a little while, leave the memories and come with me.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Rory hung his head. “I can’t leave Take.”

  Lorcan sighed and drew his arm back. “Would he have wanted you to live in his shadow? Come with me, Sean. He’ll still be here when you get back.”

  Rory said nothing, and the two of them sat in silence as the sky grew lighter. Finally, Rory looked up at the sky, expertly gauging the time left before sunrise. “When do we leave?”

  CHAPTER 2

  December 2082, House Diluthical Stronghold, Belfast, North Ireland

  Rory sipped at his glass of bloodwine and turned another page in the book he was reading. He looked up at the soft knock. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Lorcan stepped into the room. He frowned at Rory’s t-shirt and sweatpants. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

  Rory put the book aside. “Why should I?”

  “Sean, it’s Christmas Eve. Surely you’re not going to just lie in bed all night?”

  Rory shrugged. “I don’t see any need to celebrate this year.”

  Lorcan sat beside him on the bed. “How do you usually celebrate?”

  “Take loved Christmas, even though it didn’t square with his own religion. We always had a tree and presents. He even found a group of carolers near our neighborhood in San Francisco, and we would make the rounds on Christmas Eve after attending at least one party with our friends. Then we’d stay at home on Christmas day, just reminiscing.”

  Lorcan’s expression remained unreadable. He stood from the bed. “Get dressed. Wear something nice.”

  Rory raised an eyebrow. “I’m honestly not interested in parties, right now, Ruarc.”

  “Not a party.” Lorcan grinned. “Let me show you how I celebrate.”

  * * *

  The deacon dismissed the congregation, and Rory stood with the others, the final words of the mass coming easily to his lips though he hadn’t spoken them in decades. He felt oddly at peace, the elements of his childhood beliefs conspiring to offer a measure of comfort he had forgotten as an adult. He started to leave, but then Lorcan’s hand on his arm held him back.

  “Wait,” said Lorcan. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Lorcan led Rory down the aisle to the rectory. Their bodyguards trailed behind them. The security officer at the back door inclined his head to Lorcan and let them through while their guards took up position on either side of the door. Inside, they found a comfortable receiving room with a roaring fire in the grate.

  The far door opened, and the priest who had led the service entered. He smiled at Lorcan and held out his hand. “Welcome, Imperator. A pleasure to see you as always.”

  Lorcan knelt before him and kissed the ring on the priest’s finger. Then he stood and turned to Rory. “Sean, this is Archbishop Padraic. He’s spearheaded the movement in the Church to reach out to the local vampire communities.”

  Rory reached out and shook the priest’s offered hand. “A pleasure to meet you, your Grace. I wondered why a section of the church wasn’t consecrated.”

  “Please feel free to call me by name, my son,” said Padraic with a smile. “There was some resistance at first, but in the end, there is no one in greater need of our services than those who are lost to God. The Holy See was eventually swayed by my arguments and granted us an indulgence. Not many of the Children of Darkness choose to join us in prayer, but there are enough who come that I am hopeful that at least some of their souls might be reclaimed into the light.”

  Rory smiled sadly. “The Great Work never ends.”

  Padraic bobbed his head in agreement. “Yes. I’m glad you understand.”

  “Sean understands,” said Lorcan. “Your Grace, allow me to introduce my friend Sean Rory Brennigan Magister Jiao-long, called the Redeemer, the Prince of the Dawn, founder of the Armistice.”

  The priest’s face grew slack with shock, and his gaze darted to the black leather gloves Rory wore. He quickly recovered. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Sean. I hope that my efforts may offer you some small assistance in your work.” />
  “I wouldn’t characterize it that way, Padraic,” said Rory. “I can only open the door to redemption, but without your preparation, some of them might never find the will to walk through it. In a way, our efforts are complimentary.”

  “It pleases me that you think so, Redeemer. The power you wield has been an inspiration to many, even among my human flock.”

  Rory tilted his head in confusion. “How does my work impact the humans?”

  The priest indicated the armchairs before the fire. “Please sit, and I will explain.”

  Rory and Lorcan took their seats, and Padraic settled in across from them. “For millennia, the human race has wondered whether our prayers were heard by anyone other than ourselves. Your story has offered objective proof of that which we have always wished to believe, that the divine exists and is not indifferent. Millions of people took that lesson to heart and came back into the fold after your existence became known. Your touch is a living affirmation of faith.”

  Rory sighed. “I’m not any kind of saint, your Grace.”

  The priest shrugged. “You have embarked upon a holy task, by your own admission, opening a doorway to redemption to those who would otherwise remain in the clutches of the Adversary. Is that not what a saint is?”

  Rory scowled. “I struck the Pact Arcanum for purely selfish reasons. It was simply a means to an end, a way to avoid the consequences of my actions and raise my first victims from the dead.” His words grew more of an edge. “There’s no way you can call that holy.”

  Padraic smiled. “And your victims, what became of them?”

  “Anaba died fifteen years ago in her sleep, and Takeshi was killed in an accident back in April. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Were they happy?”

  That brought Rory up short. “Yes. Ana lived to see her daughter grow up and have children of her own.”

  “And the other?”

  “I think so,” whispered Rory.

  “So they lived full lives that they would otherwise never have had, and their lives touched others. How many lives were changed by your selfish bargain? How many sought out the light once you showed them it was possible?”

  Rory looked away, staring into the flames. “Not as many as the light destroyed at my command.” Lorcan squeezed his shoulder in silent support.

  Padraic studied Rory’s profile as the vampire refused to meet his eyes. “Prince Ruarc, could you excuse us for a moment?”

  Lorcan looked surprised, but he nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll be outside.”

  After Lorcan closed the door behind him, Padraic turned back to Rory. “My son, do you have any specific religious beliefs?”

  Rory continued to focus his attention on the blazing fire. “I am a very lapsed Catholic, your Grace. I hadn’t been to an actual mass in over sixty years, until tonight.”

  “And do you have any particular faith in its place?”

  That got Rory’s attention, and he turned away from the fire to face the priest. “I haven’t met many priests who acknowledged the distinction.”

  “Religion is a social construct, made by man and therefore fallible. Faith is immutable and incorruptible. Too many people believe that following the tenets of their religion makes them righteous.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  “That without faith, our prayers fall silent, and our good works come to nothing.”

  Rory shivered in his seat. “I don’t know if I have any faith left.”

  Padraic reached out and took his hands. “And what has taken it from you?”

  “I have seen too much.”

  Padraic took a deep breath. “My son, I mean no disrespect, but if you wish it, I will hear your confession.”

  Rory stared at him. “I haven’t been to confession since I was a teenager.”

  “What changed?”

  Rory pulled his hands away, and sat a little straighter in his chair, his eyes shading toward red. “I realized that I loved my best friend. His name was Takeshi. I had to choose between him and the Church, and I chose him.”

  Padraic gave him a half smile at the show of defiance. “And did he love you as well?”

  Rory swallowed against a tide of pain that rose in his throat. “Yes.”

  “Then you were blessed.”

  Rory’s posture deflated, and the spark of anger he had been nursing went out. He put his head in his hands. “I don’t feel blessed,” he said in a strained voice. “I feel like I’m being punished.”

  “What have you done to deserve punishment?”

  Rory looked up, his eyes reddened with tears of blood. “I killed him. Takeshi. And Ana. I cut a deal to bring them back, but it doesn’t change what I did. Then I took the gift the higher powers granted me and turned it into a weapon. I killed tens of thousands during the Burning, maybe even hundreds of thousands. I watched their memories as they burned, one after the other.”

  “Their memories?”

  Rory got to his feet and began to pace. “When I touch someone with my power, I see their lives, everything they have ever done. Even now, I can’t think about that day without remembering all the terrible things they did over the centuries. For the longest time, I thought they deserved it.”

  Padraic watched him from his chair. “Do you feel differently now?”

  “They were alive. I killed them. No one deserves that.”

  “You said your friend Takeshi died recently.”

  Rory froze and said nothing.

  “Did he deserve it?”

  “No,” whispered Rory.

  “Do you deserve the blame for his death?”

  Rory was silent for a long moment before answering. “Maybe.”

  “Did you strike him down, like you did the others?”

  “I put him in a position to get killed.”

  “Deliberately?”

  “No.”

  “Then is it fair to say that this death was simply his time, and no fault of yours?”

  Rory struggled to answer convincingly. “I don’t know.”

  Padraic sighed and got to his feet. “My son, I think your lover’s death was one that should not be on your conscience.” He smiled sadly. “As for the others, when you struck down your enemies, you served a heavy penance for your actions by accepting the burden of their sins. Perhaps it is time to set them aside?” He raised his hand and sketched a cross in the air. “I forgive you.”

  * * *

  Lorcan pushed away from the wall when Rory came through the door to the rectory. “Everything all right?”

  Rory nodded in silence.

  Padraic came to the door as well. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Redeemer. If you pass this way again, feel free to stop in.”

  Rory pulled himself together and faced the priest. “Thank you, Padraic. I might just take you up on that.”

  Padraic inclined his head and turned to Lorcan. “Merry Christmas, Prince Ruarc. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.” Then he stepped back and closed the door.

  Lorcan faced Rory. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”

  Rory gave him a weak smile. “Maybe it was worth it.”

  Lorcan waited for a moment. “You’re not going to explain that, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Lorcan laughed. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER 3

  December 2082, House Daviroquir Stronghold, London, England

  “Rory, you don’t have to come if you’re not ready.” Lorcan looked at Rory sidelong. “William is my chief vassal. I have to attend, or it will be perceived as a public rebuke.”

  Rory took a deep breath and let it out. “I can’t hide forever.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “All right.” Lorcan turned back to the mirror and made sure his tuxedo jacket was straight, and the signet brooch was centered on his lapel so that the seal of House Diluthical showed prominently, surrounded by a serpe
nt biting its tail. “Time to go.”

  Rory stood from his chair, the gold and silver thread shining brightly from the embroidered seal of House Jiao-long on the breast pocket of his tuxedo. He held out the crook of his arm to Lorcan.

  Lorcan raised an eyebrow, but smiled as he linked his arm with Rory’s. The two of them walked from the guest quarters to the elevator and descended to the level of ballroom. The doors opened, and they stepped into the wide open space, which stretched the entire length of this level of the skyscraper. The crowd was packed, but the other celebrants stepped back before the two of them. Rory and Lorcan made their way to the high table at one end of the hall and sought out their host.

  William Magister Daviroquir Primogenitor Diluthical turned away from the other Court of Shadows dignitaries to greet them. He went down on one knee before Lorcan. “Master, my life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

  Lorcan slipped his arm free of Rory’s to step forward. “I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own. Rise.”

  William got to his feet and smiled. “Thank you for coming, Imperator.” He turned to Rory. “Prince Sean, it is an honor to meet you once again.”

  Rory inclined his head. “Prince William. It’s been a long time.”

  “I was surprised when my security staff informed me of your arrival. I did not hold much hope that you would accept my invitation.”

  “It was a last minute decision.”

  “I would have understood if you had declined, given your loss.” William sighed. “Takeshi Nakamura was an exceptional man, and I was proud to have fought beside him at Manchester. Please accept my regrets for his passing.”

  Rory nodded stiffly. “Thank you for the sentiment.”

  William picked up on his discomfort and turned back to Lorcan. “My lord, may I introduce you to a few of my business partners?”