Shadow’s Fall

by Dianne Sylvan

  Still, the Haven’s staff made sure that each Pair was made to feel honored and welcome as they settled into their rooms, and David’s closest allies would of course get there first and have a chance to meet privately. Other gatherings would doubtless occur among other Primes. Aside from the Magnificent Bastard parades, there were few chances for allies to meet face-to-face, so it was tradition to allow even one’s enemies to get together … even if it meant they were conspiring against their host.

  Whoever was hosting the Council was expected to remain as neutral as possible as far as etiquette went. It was considered a major coup to host, a vote of confidence in one’s power rather like landing the Olympic Games. David had lobbied long and hard for this, and he was determined things would go as smoothly as possible. As old as he was, his tenure had not been long, and he was still looked at as an upstart newcomer in the Council. He was the first Prime to have won a Council convention with less than fifty years’ rule under his belt. He knew that several of the Primes who had voted for him had done so more to see if he’d screw it up than because they liked him.

  That was fine. He had built a career out of making other vampires eat crow. By Monday they would all have feathers in their teeth.

  “Tanaka-san,” David said, bowing. “Welcome. It’s good to see you again.”

  The Prime of Japan returned the gesture and smiled. “Likewise, my old friend.”

  Tanaka was older than Deven, and given his age and status he could have easily been some sort of wise-old-Asian stereotype, but he coupled the bearing of an emperor with the wardrobe of a business executive. As parliamentary leader of the Council, he ran the meetings and had therefore given up his vote in most matters to maintain neutrality, but his influence among the Signets was formidable, and where his favor went, most of the Council tended to follow. He rarely spoke ill of—or heaped praise upon—anyone. His friendship, however, was coveted.

  Each Signet territory’s culture reflected its human culture, of course, and despite Japan’s dense vampire population, it had been calm as long as Tanaka held it. Japan was known for its fierce warrior class and its elegant, highly ritualized Court. Tanaka dealt with his enemies quietly and swiftly, and though David knew there was gang activity there, no one would ever see it from outside. David had learned a lot observing Tanaka’s leadership.

  “I trust your accommodations are acceptable,” David added.

  Tanaka smiled. “Of course. I am honored that you remembered this was our favorite room. Not surprised, but honored.”

  “For you, anything.” David turned to the woman who was directing the Japanese Elite on where to leave the Pair’s luggage. “Is there anything you require, Lady Queen?” he asked.

  Mameha didn’t often speak English—in fact she rarely spoke at all—but it would be a mistake to dismiss her as servile or unintelligent, as some Primes tried to when they met her. She missed nothing, and David had heard that she carried several weapons concealed in her traditional kimono. David thought back to the last time the Pair had visited; Mameha was to date the only woman he’d ever seen visibly intimidate Miranda, and with good reason. It would never occur to anyone to treat Mameha with anything but utmost respect; her sheer presence demanded it.

  She merely bowed, said that no, she required nothing, thank you, and went back to her business.

  “I wanted to invite you to a private reception in my study,” David said, returning his attention to Tanaka. “The West, the Plains, India, and Eastern Europe will be there.”

  “I shall be happy to attend,” Tanaka replied. “I need to speak to Varati anyway to finalize a business transaction. And I am anxious to hear the latest news on your network progress—as are the others, I imagine. I know that as soon as you have the system ready for distribution, we will want to purchase a license.”

  “Absolutely. Of course I’d give it to you for free, but I’m sure we can strike a deal that will satisfy Council propriety.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Two A.M., then. I’ll have Faith come to escort you to the study.”

  They bowed to each other again, and David left the suite with a nod to the Japanese Elite who stood guard.

  Once in the hallway again, he paused.

  The next suite to visit was California’s.

  David steeled himself. There was no reason to be nervous. They had talked frequently over the last three years, and as far as anyone was concerned, the whole horrible incident was behind them … but he knew, as did they all, that in reality it would never be done.

  Just get it over with.

  The door opened before he could even knock. “There you are,” Jonathan said with a grin. “Come on in.”

  They shook hands, and the Consort ushered him into the room. He gave David a sidelong glance. “Relax,” Jonathan said. “I’m here to chaperone.”

  Normally David would have been embarrassed to be so transparent, but really, it was something of a relief not to dance around the subject. He’d had no idea how this was going to go; phone calls were one thing, but face-to-face … but Jonathan’s expression held only acceptance.

  It had been three years since he’d seen Deven in person. Three years—and the last time they’d been in the same city, they’d surrendered to the demons that still bound them together. David wouldn’t allow it to happen again … but he would never have believed it would happen in the first place. Nothing he had ever been sure of about himself held true anymore, and that was the most terrifying thing he’d ever had to face in his life.

  The Prime stood at the window, watching the splendid view of the night; as David approached, he turned toward him, unsmiling.

  They stared at each other.

  “My Lord Prime,” Deven finally said, bowing. “It’s good to see you again.”

  David took a deep breath and held out his hand. “You, too. Welcome back.”

  Deven looked down at David’s hand, then back up at his face; slowly, he offered his own, and they shook, neither one willing to draw any closer. David realized that Deven was as afraid of this as he was.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Jonathan said. “You two are ridiculous. Just kiss already and let’s move on.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Deven said quietly.

  The Consort made an irritated noise. “If you start humping each other, I’ll turn the hose on you. Cross my heart. Now stop acting like you can ignore all of this and it’ll go away—we all know what happens when you do that.”

  David couldn’t help but laugh a little. “All right, all right.” Carefully, he moved closer and leaned down to bestow a kiss on Deven’s forehead.

  Dev raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?” He put a hand around the back of David’s neck and pulled David’s lips to his.

  The contact was electric … but David found it easy enough to keep the kiss brief and light, and when he drew back, they both breathed a little easier. He did, however, notice that Deven’s ears were a little pink.

  “There,” Jonathan said. “See? We’re all adults here. You were perfectly able to be friends before and nothing went wrong. You’ve got to trust yourselves.”

  Deven smiled. “All the same … thank you for putting us in a different room this time.”

  David gave him a slightly wicked grin. “Actually Hart’s in that one. I thought that was appropriate.”

  “You are as delightfully evil as always,” Deven replied. “Now, to the matter at hand.”

  David frowned. “What’s the matter?”

  Deven sat down. “A few days ago I lost contact with the operative I had in Hart’s Elite.”

  David bit off a curse. “So we have to assume the worst—he knows you were spying on him.”

  “No, he knows the Red Shadow was spying on him. Even then, he’d have no idea why; the Shadow doesn’t normally work for vampires, so he’d most likely believe a human hired us.”

  “Doesn’t normally? Does that mean you’ve changed your policy?”


  “Irrelevant, David. The point is that even though Hart has no reason to suspect my involvement, nor any way to know on whose behalf Claret was working, he knows someone was watching him … and more important, I no longer have eyes on Hart. Whatever his plan is, we’re flying blind now.”

  David nodded slowly, straightening, determination stepping up to stomp out the stirrings of fear. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We proceed as planned. Whatever he’s up to, we’re ready for it. Let him try something. If he makes a move on us, he’ll regret it.”

  Three

  “There … all done.”

  Miranda took a deep breath. “How’s it look?”

  Faith raised an eyebrow. “As usual, I recommend you wear a bag over your head.”

  “Be serious, Faith! I can’t see it!”

  “I can help you with that.”

  Miranda looked up from the vanity—which wasn’t much of one, considering it had no mirror—to see David in the bathroom doorway, mostly dressed, with his laptop and some sort of odd contraption that looked a lot like a video camera. “What’s that?”

  He gave her his “geek triumphant” smile and set the computer down on the counter, opened it, and plugged the camera into the USB port. “One moment, my Lady.”

  Miranda exchanged a look with Faith, who was both amused and bemused; Miranda remembered that Faith had been helping David with his new toys, and they’d had some promising results.

  “Now, this won’t be a perfect image, but …” David brought up a window and typed in a string of commands; another window popped up, this one a media player. At first it was nothing but shadows and fog, but David adjusted a dial on the camera and turned it toward Miranda. “Watch the screen.”

  As her eyes lit on the monitor, the foggy image in front of her flickered, and …

  “Oh my God.”

  It had been a while since Miranda had seen her reflection—she’d seen the one in the mirror during the Rolling Stone interview for a few seconds—but she had found herself incredibly frustrated at having to get by without one; she had hair-and-makeup people for performances, but she never had any idea what they were sending her out looking like onstage. And for every night, she generally went without makeup at all and didn’t try to do much with the unruly mass of her hair. She had yet to master Deven’s ability to perfectly apply eyeliner by feel, and really, why bother when she was going to run and fight and sweat it all off?

  The last time she’d seen herself, she’d been human … or a human on the verge of transition, with David’s blood in her veins. She’d still been pasty and unhealthy looking, with dark circles under her eyes.

  “I forgot about that scar,” she said softly.

  “I can cover it better if you want it to disappear,” Faith said. “It’s really faint.”

  “No,” Miranda told her. “No … I want to see it. I earned it.”

  Faith had spent nearly two hours working on Miranda’s face and hair for the ball and had wrought some sort of cosmetic miracle. The red tumble of curls had been secured atop her head, with a few tendrils artfully falling down into her face; the effect made her neck look longer, graceful, and even just in her bathrobe, she looked elegant and refined.

  Miranda would never have left the house in half the color that Faith had applied to her face, but it was gorgeous. She’d used at least four shades of eye shadow, and Miranda’s natural eye color was practically luminous against the palette. Faith had even fastened several tiny jewels, like Indian bindis, down Miranda’s left temple. Her lips were a deep bloodred with a purple undertone.

  Miranda felt her eyes start to burn. “I look like a Queen,” she said.

  David tipped her chin up with his hand so their eyes met. “You always do, beloved,” he replied. “I just wanted you to see it.”

  “Don’t cry!” Faith instructed. “I don’t want to have to redo all of that.”

  Miranda stared into her own face for a long moment, swallowing hard. This is who I am now … It’s real.

  “Come on,” Faith said. “Time to get you into your dress.”

  “I’ll wait outside.” David rose, leaving the camera where it was and giving his Queen a loving smile before he left them to their preparations.

  “Did you feel like this when you saw yourself?” Miranda asked Faith, who was fetching the garment bag from where it hung on the back of the door.

  “It was weird,” Faith admitted. “It’s been a lot longer for me.”

  Miranda sighed and stood up so that Faith could help her into the gown they’d spent four hours shopping for last week. Miranda had thought she should wear green, what with her hair and eyes, but Faith had quickly squashed that idea. Every redhead in the world wore green dresses, the Second told her. She had a better idea.

  Still skeptical, Miranda stood still while Faith pulled and tucked and yanked various bits of the gown down over the insane bra situation that they’d bought. It was reasonably comfortable, though definitely not something she’d wear to fight or perform in. Still, she had refused to go anywhere totally unarmed, and Faith had chuckled and produced a small wooden knife that slid into a hidden sheath on Miranda’s garter.

  “Okay,” Faith said. “Take a step back, and I’ll move this thing so you can see the full effect.” The Second took the computer and turned it sideways so that the image switched to vertical.

  Miranda started laughing. “Jesus, Faith. Are you sure that’s me?”

  Faith grinned. “You plus some helpful girly scaffolding.”

  The gown was dark plum, almost black, and shimmered when it caught the light; it was fitted to the waist and then had a flowing skirt that was slit expertly to reveal glimpses of her calves as she walked. Her shoulders and arms were bare, and while she’d been afraid her skin would look pallid, it glowed; her Signet made the entire ensemble complete.

  “All right, go blow your husband’s mind while I finish getting ready,” Faith told her.

  Feeling faintly dazed, Miranda nodded and slipped on her shoes, then left the bathroom.

  She heard a half-choking sound when she emerged, and had to hold back a giggle.

  David was standing by the fireplace, staring at her with wide eyes over a glass of Scotch that he had apparently inhaled when he saw her.

  Miranda smiled, put a hand on her hip, and said, “What do you think, my Lord?”

  He set the glass down on the mantel and came up to her, still staring, and she half expected him to seize her arms and throw her down on the bed. His hunger for her was palpable, and his eyes were dilated and full of fire.

  He looked as beautiful as she did—she’d never seen him in a tux before and hadn’t thought it possible for him to look more sophisticated, but there it was. It was so attractive she wanted to rip it right off.

  They stared at each other. “Faith will kill us both if you smudge my makeup,” Miranda said, her voice husky with desire.

  In response, David leaned into her, lips moving lightly along her neck while his hands encircled her waist and pulled her tightly to him. She sighed, eyes closed, and sucked in a breath at the sting of his teeth in her throat.

  He took only a swallow, and by the time he lifted his mouth she knew the wound was gone. Carefully, so as not to smear her lipstick, she ran her tongue across his lips.

  “I have something for you,” David said, the words a whispered secret between them.

  “I bet you do,” she replied impishly.

  Reluctantly, he turned away to retrieve a flat box from the dresser. He opened it and showed her its contents: a set of earrings and a ring, stones and setting a flawless match to her Signet.

  “They’re perfect,” she said, letting him put the jewelry on her. He lifted her hands and kissed her fingers before slipping the ring on her middle finger next to her wedding band.

  “Now you’re ready,” David told her with a smile.

  A knock at the door, and the guard outside told them it was time to head for the ballroom.

&nb
sp; “Faith,” Miranda called.

  “I’m right behind you,” the Second returned. “Go on ahead.”

  Prime and Queen smiled at each other, and Miranda felt the first moment of genuine excitement she’d had in days. Whatever was going to happen, at least for a minute she’d get to dance with her husband like a Disney princess, something she would never have imagined possible for herself a few years ago. This is who I am now.

  David bowed and offered his arm. She gave him an almost-graceful curtsy, laughed, and took it, and together they left the suite.

  The first time she set foot in the Haven, she was a slave, wasting away from starvation and abuse. She was almost too weak to stand, and she lived in the quiet hell of eternal despair. She had no hope, no will to live, no will at all.

  Then a woman had come into her life, and without saying a word, she changed everything. Her dark-honeyed voice, her proud shoulders, the purpose in her stride had awoken something … something fierce, something that would not go quietly into the darkness …

  And the next time Cora set foot in the Haven, she, too, was a Queen.

  “Are you sure … ?”

  They stood near the end of the line of Pairs waiting to descend the grand staircase into the ballroom, she in floor-length velvet and he in his tuxedo. On the far side of the wide double doors she heard a booming voice announcing each Pair one by one. She recognized a few from their state visits three years ago; her Prime had many friends, and the array of names and territories had been dizzying.

  Cora turned to Jacob. The syllables of her new home language—Czech—were still a little strange to her, but she tried to honor her Prime and her subjects by becoming as fluent as possible. “I am, my Lord.”

  He took her hand and kissed it, giving her that kind, nose-crinkling smile that warmed her to her toes. “I am proud of you,” he said. “You are doing far better than I am with all of this.”

  She shrugged. Perhaps her stomach was quaking a little from nerves, perhaps not, but the truth was: “I have nothing to fear.”