Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4)

by Arshad Ahsanuddin

  * * *

  Vladimir raised an eyebrow as the Faith Ward faded, leaving Lorcan unprotected. Did he die already? Then he raised his hand to shield his eyes as Lorcan’s body was consumed by harsh white radiance. When the light dwindled, Vladimir lowered his arm, to see that Lorcan was gone, leaving behind nothing but a residue of fine white ash.

  Vladimir leaned forward to look more closely. No, not quite nothing. He lifted the plain, gold band from the ashes. It was cool to the touch and unmarked.

  “It appears the Imperator has gone to his reward.”

  Vladimir turned around to see Eduardo standing behind him. “So it would seem.”

  “Then House Diluthical descends from primacy,” said Eduardo. “I have already canvassed the Greater Houses outside the Daywalker Alliance. Once they learned of the Harbinger threat, a clear majority of Magisters offered me their votes in proxy. The office of Huntmaster is yours, should you desire it.”

  Vladimir laughed as he slipped the ring into his pocket. “I do.”

  “Then you have duties to attend to, Imperator Vladimir.”

  Vladimir strode toward the door. “By all means, let us begin.”

  CHAPTER 41

  November 2142; Kom el Shoqafa, Alexandria, Egypt

  Rory was pacing in the open center of the tomb, while Nick stood silently by the entrance, extending his mind into the catacombs beyond to probe the defenses of the entry hall to the Court. Then Nick stiffened, and darted away from the door, Reaper appearing in his hand. Rory immediately raised his defenses as he felt the approach of an intruder.

  William walked into the tomb, unarmed. He looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry.”

  Nick stumbled backward, clutching at the wall for support. “No.”

  Rory went numb. “Are you sure?”

  William held out his hand, revealing a plain gold wedding band. “Vladimir Magister Talizered taunted me with it before the Court, saying Lorcan died a traitor.”

  Nick grabbed the ring from William’s palm and probed the metal with his mystical senses. Clenching his fist around it, he faced Rory, his expression twisted with agony. “It’s his. The spell is still intact.”

  “How?” whispered Rory. “How did they catch him?”

  “The Night’s Herald,” said William. “He learned of the plan somehow, and tipped off Vladimir. They ambushed him inside the depot.”

  Rory went cold and still. “Where’s the body?”

  Nick looked up at that with sudden hope.

  William shook his head sadly. “You can’t bring him back, Sean.”

  “Watch me,” said Rory.

  “There’s nothing to restore. They burned the body. The Herald said he has already scattered the ashes into the sea.”

  “I’ll kill them,” said Nick. He straightened to his full height and turned to Rory. “Break me a hole in the shields, and I will destroy the Complex.”

  Rory nodded, his blood boiling too hot to speak, and began to draw on the Grace for power.

  “Wait,” said William.

  “Why?” snarled Rory. “Those bastards killed him, when he was only trying to save as many of them as he could. They all deserve to die.”

  “If you destroy the Court, then you cement the wills of the other houses against you. I won’t be able to save any of them after that. You’ll destroy everything he worked for.”

  “Are you telling us to do nothing?” said Nick, his voice cold.

  “No, just give me time to work.” William reached into his pocket and removed a datacrystal in a portable reader. “Lorcan said you had a code to unlock his files.”

  Rory stared at him. “Now? You’re asking for this now?”

  “I know it may seem callous, but I need his resources if I am to continue his work. Give me time, Sean. That’s all I ask.”

  Rory glared at William silently, then took the crystal reader from the Daywalker’s hands. He typed in a fifteen digit code into the keypad, and then returned it.

  William typed a twenty digit code into the keypad, and grunted in satisfaction as a green telltale lit, indicating the archive was decrypting. He looked up at Rory and smiled. “Thank you.”

  November 2142; Jumpvessel Singularity, lunar space

  Antonio lay in bed and let his gaze wander over the images on the wall, seeking out Lorcan’s face. A soft tone interrupted his contemplation, announcing a visitor. He got out of bed and walked through the main room of his quarters to the door. He tapped the control to the side of the door and it slid open.

  Rafael stood there, saying nothing.

  Antonio looked at him for a moment, then silently stood aside and waved him into the room.

  Rafael came inside and took a seat on the couch. “How are you holding up?”

  Antonio sighed and opened a cupboard in one corner, pulling out a bottle of bloodwine and two glasses. “Honestly? I have no idea.” He poured them each a good measure of the red liquor, then set the bottle and the glasses on the coffee table. “It’s different from when Uncle Jeremy died. I knew that was coming. We all did. Uncle Ruarc? He was so smart and devious, I thought Death would never find him.”

  Rafael warmed the two glasses of bloodwine with a weak heating cantrip, then picked up one glass and took a sip. “You don’t expect to lose someone immortal. Somehow it’s always a surprise.”

  Antonio claimed the second glass and sipped at it as he wandered the room, looking at the pictures on the wall of his life as a Spacer. “I don’t know how Uncle Nick will get through this. He leaned on Uncle Rory and Uncle Ruarc just to get through the days.”

  “He’ll find a way. They both will.”

  Antonio nodded absently, facing away from Rafael, then set the glass of blood down on his desk. “Raf, I appreciate your dropping by, but it’s been a long, horrible day, and I just want it to be over. Would you think I’m a bitch for asking you to leave so I can go to sleep?”

  Rafael stood up from the couch, and walked to stand behind Antonio, sliding his arms around the Starchild. “Do you want me to stay?” he whispered in Antonio’s ear.

  Antonio stiffened in his arms. “Raf…You’re not—”

  Rafael held him tighter. “No, I’m not. But you shouldn’t be alone tonight, and I don’t mind watching over you, if you want to sleep.”

  Antonio drank in the sensation of Rafael’s breath on the back of his neck, the strength of the Daywalker’s arms around him. “There’s only one bed.”

  “It won’t be the first time we’ve shared.”

  Antonio turned around in Rafael’s embrace and draped his arms over the Daywalker’s shoulders. “But you didn’t know how I felt about you then.”

  Rafael smiled. “I’m not sure I know how you feel about me now.”

  Antonio leaned forward and kissed him, gently at first, and then more passionately when Rafael responded. Then he pulled back and looked into his mentor’s eyes. “Do you still think you’re just a crush to me?”

  “I don’t recall everything from the double bridge, but I remember a lot. I know you’re serious in your interest. It’s just that I’ve known you for so long, and for so much of your life, it seems strange to contemplate crossing that last line with you.”

  Antonio tilted his head quizzically. “Are you talking about sex?”

  Rafael reached up and brushed his thumb over Antonio’s cheek. “I’m talking about love.”

  Antonio licked his lips, his heartbeat accelerating. “Do you love me?”

  Rafael stroked his fingertips along the line of Antonio’s brow. “No, not like that. But I think I could…eventually.”

  Antonio opened his mouth to say something profound, and found himself yawning instead.

  Rafael chuckled while Antonio stood there, mortified. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

  November 2142; the Citadel, Lunar Farside

  Layla held her hand over the door sensor and waited for the security system to identify and announce her. Finally, the door unsealed,
and swung open, revealing Nick. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were red tear tracks on his face, hastily wiped away. “Now’s not the best time, Layla.”

  “He was my friend and student. Can I not grieve beside you?”

  Nick stared at her for a moment, then sighed and moved aside. “Come on in, but we’re not exactly good company tonight.”

  Layla walked into their quarters to find Rory sitting in the living room flipping through one of a stack of albums of old, two-dimensional photographs. He didn’t look up as she approached.

  She sat on the opposite couch and Nick took a seat next to Rory. Rory immediately caught Nick’s hand in his. Nick leaned into his touch, she saw, draping his other arm over Rory’s shoulders. “I was afraid the two of you might be dealing with this apart,” she said.

  Rory looked at her then, taking his eyes away from the aged photographs in the binder before him. “What good would that have done?”

  Nick nodded sadly. “The argument didn’t seem so important after he was gone.”

  “So many things seem more transient when you lose something that truly matters,” she said softly. She met Nick’s gaze. “You said as much to me when Tobias died.”

  Nick eyes flashed red for a moment. “You mean when he was killed.”

  “Yes, when he was killed.” She took a deep breath before letting it out. “I never thanked you for eliminating his attackers. At the time, I was too caught up in my loss to think about vengeance. Afterward, I felt cheated that you were so thorough, that there were no more enemies for me to kill.”

  “That won’t be an issue, this time.” Rory’s voice was flat and angry.

  “No, it won’t,” she said. “But I have the means to dispose of your enemies, if you ask me to.”

  Nick fixed her with a level gaze. “Are you offering to poison the world and commit genocide just to avenge Ruarc’s murder?”

  She raised an eyebrow as she gazed back at him calmly. “Are you asking me to do it?”

  Rory glared at her, and she could see the muscles of his jaw clench. Finally, he looked away. “No. It’s not what he wanted,” answered the Nightwalker.

  “We’ll make Vladimir and the Herald pay for what they did,” said Nick in a subdued voice. “There’s no need to move against the others directly.”

  Layla let her gaze drift down to the photo album open on the table, and changed the subject. “These must tell a great many stories.”

  Rory tacitly acknowledged the diversion by talking about the scene in one of the images.

  * * *

  Layla stepped into the study, leaving Rory and Nick asleep in each other’s arms. She studied the pictures on the walls, finally resting her gaze on the image of her wedding to Toby.

  “Prince Layla.”

  She turned around at the familiar voice, to find a holographic image of Toby standing before her. “Revenant.”

  “Thank you for coming over tonight. If you had not diffused their rage, I think it would have been only a matter of time before they worked themselves up to asking Antonio to lay waste to the Nightwalkers.”

  “It may still come to that.”

  “But not today, and not at their hands. It would have destroyed them to have forced that step, and only later remembered Ruarc’s wishes.”

  “I merely reminded them of what they already knew.”

  “Even so.”

  She turned back to the picture of herself and Toby, arm in arm. “Vengeance is a poor substitute for love.”

  “Something they would have learned too late.”

  She took a deep breath. “Sooner or later, someone is going to poison the land, and there will be no stopping it.”

  “Then you must try and save as many of them as is possible, just as Ruarc did.”

  “I will do what I can.”

  “That will have to be enough.”

  The two of them stood silently then, the widow and the orphan, and nothing more needed to be said.

  CHAPTER 42

  November 2142; the Citadel, Lunar Farside; The next morning

  Rory lay comfortably in Nick’s arms, their bodies entwined on the leather couch. Above his head, he heard Nick sigh.

  “We need to talk, Leshir.”

  Rory raised his head and met Nick’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “With Ruarc gone, there’s something I have to tell you about the morning he left.”

  Rory frowned at the hesitant note in Nick’s voice. “What about it? Did something happen?”

  “We watched the sunrise together, and I mentioned that I wished you could share it with us.”

  Rory snorted. “I don’t go out in the sunlight for kicks anymore, Nick. Recreational pain and suffering doesn’t appeal to me.”

  “He suggested we find other allies than the White Wind to free you from the Grace.”

  Rory froze, then slowly unwound himself from Nick’s body and sat up. “You’re talking about Pact Arcanum. With the Red Wind.”

  “Something like that. I told him you would never agree.”

  “No joke. Why even mention it?”

  “Because there was an alternative.”

  “What altern—oh, God. Nicholas, you didn’t.”

  “I spoke to the Crown.”

  Rory got to his feet and glared down at Nick. “After the reception I got from the Grace, what made you think the Crown would be any more helpful?”

  “It was worth a try.” Nick sat up on the couch, eyes downcast.

  Rory sighed. “So what did it say?”

  “Not ‘it’. Luscian imposed his spirit on the Crown. He was the one waiting for me when I reached out to it.”

  “I see.”

  “I knew he was still affecting my judgment from the Crown, but I didn’t realize he was consciously self-aware.”

  “No, I imagine he wouldn’t have wanted you to know that. It would have put you on guard.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, he said that the Grace was right, and that you had to die before the White Wind would release you from the Great Work, but if the Grace was wielded by another person, you could be resurrected.”

  Rory pondered that briefly. “It wouldn’t work. The Grace is tied to my soul. There’s no way for anyone to wield that aspect of the power other than me. Even Antonio only controls the destructive part of the Grace. He couldn’t resurrect me.”

  “I could do it, if I controlled your soul.”

  Rory understood immediately. The idea was so outrageous that he couldn’t form the words to reply.

  Nick confirmed his suspicions a moment later. “If your soul becomes part of the Crown, then I could wield the Grace and bring you back.”

  Rory swallowed, his mouth dry. “And what would happen to my soul?”

  “Luscian said it would remain part of the Crown, trapped forever.”

  Rory took a deep breath to calm himself. “Nick, why are you telling me this?”

  “Because Ruarc is dead. I never thought it would happen, but it did. Sooner or later, the Great Work will end, and we have to be realistic about our options.”

  “The Crown isn’t an option. It’s eternal slavery!”

  “Not if Luscian lied.”

  Rory sat back on the couch next to his lover. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because lying came as easily to him as breathing, and because I believe he wanted me to think it was impossible.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  “It might be, but before we discard that opportunity, we need independent confirmation that he’s telling us the full story.”

  Rory nodded in understanding. “You want me to talk to the Grace and see if he’s telling the truth.”

  “That’s right.”

  Rory lifted Nick’s chin so their eyes met. “If there’s a way for it to work, could you do it? Could you kill me?”

  Nick gazed at him with complete sincerity. “I could do it for you.”

  Rory kissed him. Then he extended his mind. “Link with me.”

  Ni
ck touched his thoughts, and Rory bound their minds together. Then turned his attention to the power of the Grace embedded in his palms. “Can you hear me?”

  “I can hear you, Master. How may I be of service?”

  “Can you tell us what we need to know?”

  “The avatar of the Crown was correct. If your soul was ensnared in its clutches, then Nicholas would indeed be able to wield my power to raise your body from the dead.”

  “But not my soul.”

  “That is not certain. The Crown is equal and opposite in power to me in order for it to restrain so many souls. It is possible that the conflict between us to rescue your soul from the Crown would simply destroy both powers, and your soul would be released as the Crown dissolved. In that case, your body would live as a Nightwalker does, soulless until death, when the soul is freed to ascend to judgment.”

  “So I would be a Daywalker without a soul. That doesn’t sound necessarily that bad.”

  “Master, just as the soul’s absence shapes the behavior of the Nightwalkers to accept the depredations of the Red Wind, so too would your personality reflect the White Wind without that restraint. You would become a crusader—an avenging angel dedicated to eradiation of evil in all its forms. How many of your associates would have the moral purity to escape your wrath?”

  “Fine, so that’s out. I guess it was a waste of time to even consider it,” said Nick.

  “That is not entirely true. If the avatar of the Crown were to assist in this endeavor, then it would ease the passage of the soul from its prison. The Crown would still be destroyed, but a measure of my power might survive the conflict, enough to restore the Redeemer’s soul to his body.”

  “But Luscian is hardly going to help us,” said Rory.

  “The shade of Luscian Firstborn would not. That is certain. However, he has already replaced the true avatar of the Crown with his own soul echo once. If Luscian were to be defeated and replaced, then another would have direct access to the power of the Crown in addition to Nicholas, just as the Harbinger may wield my own power in addition to you. This proxy could assist Nicholas in calling your soul from the Crown.”