Wild Fire

by Ally Shields

  Lost in his own thoughts, both past and present, it was some time before Andreas noticed Gabriel had nearly finished the bottle of wine. “Are you especially thirsty tonight or is something on your mind?”

  Gabriel tilted his empty glass, then frowned at the bottle. “Overcompensating, I guess. I’d hate to see the elders spread their iron-fisted regime to this continent.” He set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Something’s not right. First”—he ticked off the points on his fingers—“they don’t make visits to foreign courts. They force people to come to them. Second, why Bastian and Porbius? And why the heads-up from Bastian?” He dropped his hands. “I could go on, but I tell you, Andreas, there is something weird happening.”

  “Daron and I have the same concerns.” Andreas glanced toward the werelions across the cabin and lowered his voice. “What do you know of Daron’s connection to the O-Seven?”

  “I know there is one, and I have my suspicions who and what it is.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t asked, because it was clearly a forbidden subject. Would I be wrong to say his connection will be at this high-stakes meeting?”

  Andreas sighed. “No, you would not.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Gabriel settled back in his seat. “Which makes this situation even more interesting.”

  Andreas bit off a laugh. “That is one way of putting it.”

  The plane’s wheels touched down in Toronto, and by the time Andreas disembarked and reached Daron’s compound, safely hidden below a defunct garment factory, it was almost midnight.

  The audience chambers grew silent the moment Andreas and his companions were announced.

  “Ah, here they are.” Prince Daron rose from a small group of Otherworlders and extended a hand to Andreas.

  Andreas clasped it firmly. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting.” Daron had been a staunch friend and ally for many years, but last fall he had offered to relinquish control of the Toronto court to the O-Seven in exchange for Andreas’s safe return from a kidnapping. This was their first face-to-face meeting since.

  The Toronto prince was older than Andreas, more rugged, his straight black hair cropped in the shape of an inverted bowl, his movements more forceful than graceful. Yet he had the commanding presence of power gained through centuries of vampirism.

  Andreas focused on the others assembled in the room. He shook hands with the two visiting Canadian princes, Raphael and Bolivar, and kissed the hand of the elf-witch Guardian. He winked at her, and Zoe blushed. When he’d first met her, Zoe had been girlishly enchanted with his Regency period manners, and still got flustered with overt displays of attention.

  Andreas noted that Daron’s lieutenants Lucien and Carmella were not present. Daron had sent them to outlying districts until the current situation was settled. If something went wrong, Daron wanted his second-in-command to be able to assume control and keep the O-Seven from taking the court by default.

  As they sat at the long table, Andreas inclined his head to acknowledge Mike, Daron’s werewolf security chief, then turned to Raphael and Bolivar. “Are you here on your own?”

  “Not entirely,” Raphael said. “We represent a majority of the Canadian princes. The coalition formed when Ursula was here is intact.”

  “Well, that is good news.” A small part of the weight on Andreas’s chest lifted. They had allies. He swung his attention to Daron. “Is everything in place for tomorrow night?”

  “Bastian and Porbius are scheduled to leave Germany shortly before dawn our time. That should put them here tomorrow afternoon. They will be awake by the time they land, and frankly I am uneasy that they will be up and about several hours before we meet at 8:00.”

  “I wouldn’t make too much of it.” Gabriel lounged back in his chair. “Porbius is known for spending hours getting ready to go anywhere, and Bastian doesn’t like to be rushed. I doubt if they could bestir themselves early enough to cause much mischief.”

  “Porbius is still that vain?” Daron frowned, clearly surprised. “I thought he would outgrow such foolishness.”

  “For shame, Daron.” Gabriel rubbed his fingernails on the front of his jacket as if polishing them. “Some of us just care about our appearance more than others. It takes time and effort.”

  Daron guffawed. “I trust that you know their habits, having spent time in their court as recently as last year. We will set our concerns aside until they walk through the doors.”

  “What happens then? What are we going to discuss with them?” Gabriel asked.

  Surprised faces turned to stare at him.

  Gabriel raised his palms in defense. “We did call this meeting, didn’t we? To negotiate? I assume Porbius believes it was our idea, so he’ll expect us to be making a proposal. What’s it going to be?”

  “A good point. He will expect us to start.” Andreas turned to Daron. “How did you word your invitation?”

  “That I had heard they were planning a trip to America, and I thought it would be beneficial for us to discuss certain issues.” Daron lifted a casual shoulder. “I kept it vague.”

  “We could put it back in their lap by asking why they were making the trip,” Raphael suggested.

  Bolivar’s brows met across his scowling forehead. “Or we can simply tell them they aren’t welcome here. That the O-Seven isn’t recognized as having any authority over us.” A year ago, the O-Seven’s enforcer Ursula had savagely attacked two of the Canadian vampire compounds, including Bolivar’s.

  “I like the way he thinks,” Lilith declared.

  “I am afraid what we would like to do and what we should do are far apart on this occasion.” Daron’s gaze swept the circle. “I am not interested in starting World War III if we can stop it.”

  Andreas steepled his fingers. “While in theory I agree, I am not certain we can avoid a confrontation. The elders have provoked the first skirmish.” He narrowed his eyes. “I assume you are aware of recent events in Riverdale and the warlock’s attack on Arianna. The elders gave Gerhard access to the Maleficus and enabled him to bind her fire magic. The timing of this visit is not accidental.”

  “They think there’s a hole in our defenses,” Bolivar said. “That we’re more vulnerable than we were.” His voice sharpened, and he threw out his chest. “While the witch’s abilities certainly gave us an advantage, we are not helpless.”

  “Agreed,” Andreas said. “But we must decide how to play this game. Do we defy the O-Seven? Confront them from the beginning with a strength that is tenuous at best?” Andreas paused to add emphasis. “Or do we present an agenda of our own to distract them, or stall until we understand why they are here? Perhaps something unexpected. We could suggest a treaty, offer trade agreements, make some outrageous demand.”

  “I don’t do subtle,” Bolivar growled.

  Raphael smiled at his countryman. “Yes, but the question is whether we should.”

  “We are wasting time,” Daron said. “Unless we intend to assassinate them the moment they walk in the door, I see no advantage to flaunting our defiance.”

  Bolivar frowned. “I’m not suggesting we kill them. That would be suicide. The entire O-Seven would be demanding our heads.”

  “Then what are we arguing about?” Andreas raised a brow at the Canadian prince. “We need an approach that will throw them off course. Perhaps we can walk a fine line by demonstrating strength without initiating a major confrontation.” His lips curved with grim humor as he thought about it. “We can show them how modern we are, how united in supporting one another. We might even offer an alliance. We will support their rule of Europe if they support us in taking over North America.” In the astonished silence that followed, Andreas laughed. “I’m not truly suggesting a violent take over. But it is a story they’d believe, because it is precisely what they would do.”

  Daron stood and crossed the room to the wine table. “Perhaps it is time to seriously consider a US/Canadian vampire coalition to prevent the elders from d
estroying us one by one.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Bolivar smacked his fist against his other palm. “They may be powerful, but we outnumber them.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Andreas cautioned. “The idea is to appear strong enough to prevent a war, not to start one.”

  Daron carried his filled glass of wine back to the table. “A US/Canadian coalition. It is ironic that the elders have forced us to do what they feared the most.” He lifted his glass. “To a new alliance.”

  One by one the others joined him in the toast.

  “It will not happen in days or weeks,” he cautioned, “but perhaps we can convince the O-Seven we are further along in our plans than we are. We have much to do to set this in motion before tomorrow night.”

  * * *

  The meeting broke up an hour before dawn. Andreas and Gabriel walked together toward their sleeping chambers.

  “I’m looking forward to this meeting,” Gabriel said.

  “Good God, why?”

  “It will be fun watching you match wits with Bastian. Porbius is a lightweight in a conversation, but Bastian is clever. It should be a good match.”

  Andreas sighed, shaking his head. “You have an unusual definition of fun, my friend. If I thought your words were anything other than an attempt to lighten the mood, I would be afraid you had lost your good sense.” He stopped at the door to his room. “I have no hope of a treaty with the O-Seven, but we may be able to delay their plans until we have a chance to strengthen the coalition.”

  “Or until Ari gets here. From what you’ve said, Zylla’s prophesy was pretty clear that Ari has a crucial part to play.”

  “The prophecy was far from clear. I have faith that Zylla saw something…” Andreas looked at his friend. “But I have even greater faith in Arianna. Whatever happens, I will be glad when she is back at my side.” He unlocked the door. “In the meantime, we will try to hold our own against Bastian.”

  Gabriel grinned. “As I said, this will be fun to watch.”

  * * *

  Andreas glanced at the closed doors to the audience chambers. A smile flitted across his face. Just as Daron had predicted, the elders were fifteen minutes late.

  They were in for a surprise. The meeting had started without them.

  During the day, the shapeshifters had transformed the chambers into a modern conference room. In order to emphasize the contrast with the Old World pomp and circumstance the O-Seven would expect, the usual drapes, marble statuary, and gold goblets had been replaced with glass and chrome. A huge walnut table and modern swivel chairs of chrome and walnut-colored leather stood in the center of the room. At the front, a large computer screen held a map of the North American continent covered with dots of various colors.

  A group of eighteen, dressed in what passed in the Otherworld as casual business attire, sat around the table. Jackets of fine silk or leather, slacks or dress jeans, white silk shirts, no ties. Also no robes, no chains, no royal colors, no over-the-top displays of formality. The elders would find nothing familiar, except for the heavily armed guards at each entrance/exit.

  Tonight’s gathering included several new members: the local werewolf leader, five additional Canadian princes, and a second guardian from the Magic Council. They’d been discussing who could reasonably be expected to join the new coalition, which had been expanded to include the Wolf Federation and a number of Magic Councils.

  “What about Chicago?” someone asked.

  “The vampires might join, perhaps, but the werewolves will be a problem. They are holding a grudge against Riverdale.”

  Grudge might be too mild a word, Andreas thought. Their leader had been tricked by Arianna during an incident two years ago and was still simmering.

  The local wolf leader scowled. “It will be their loss if they can’t put that aside. We could all find fault with one another if we wanted to worry about the past. Let me talk to them.”

  The chamber doors flew open. Bastian and Porbius stood in the doorway.

  Porbius wore an ankle-length black cape which swayed as he moved to reveal red silk and black leather underneath. His black hair hung to his shoulders, and his fingers glittered with several large rings of red stones. Bastian’s more modest hip-length brown leather jacket was nevertheless draped with multiple strands of heavy gold chains. Both men stared at the scene before them, taking in the group assembled around the conference table.

  A local vampire guard preceded them. “Prince Daron, your guests have arrived.”

  Andreas silently congratulated the guard on his presentation. He had gotten it just right. Respectful but no grand flourish.

  Daron walked toward his guests with an affable smile. “Welcome, Porbius, Bastian. I trust you had a pleasant journey. I was beginning to fear you were too exhausted to join us.” He gestured toward the table. “We have quite a group eager to meet with you.”

  Then he offered to shake hands.

  Porbius stared at the extended hand in disbelief. “What is this? Is this how you treat your guests? Do you no longer bow to show your respect?”

  Daron pretended surprise. “Why, Porbius, this is the 21st century, and you are in the new world. Customs are different here. I had not realized this was your first visit abroad.”

  “It is not often the situation requires my presence. I had assumed you would extend us the normal courtesies.”

  “But I am. Please join us at the table. Would you care for wine?” Daron turned toward Bastian. “And you, Bastian. I hope you will accept our hospitality.”

  Andreas struggled not to chuckle at the elders’ obvious discomfort.

  Bastian looked as if he’d swallowed a spider, but he managed to be more gracious than Porbius. He put out his hand. “When in Rome, as the saying goes. I think I could use a glass of wine. Come, Porbius, this is Daron’s court. He must run it as he sees fit. We are merely guests.”

  Porbius turned his head to glare at his companion. “Can you not see that this…this greeting…is an insult?”

  “No, no. Not at all,” Daron interrupted in a hearty voice. “No disrespect is intended. You will no doubt get used to our more relaxed manners.”

  “I have no desire to get used to them.” Porbius raised his nose even higher, his eyes grew dark, and the crease between his brows deepened.

  Daron paid no attention to his attitude and introduced everyone at the table in the order of their seating.

  Porbius interrupted when they reached Zoe. “What is this elf-witch doing here?”

  “She is a guardian with the local Magic Council and attending as their representative.”

  “Another guardian.” Porbius curled his lips. “Are you a friend of the witch from Riverdale?”

  “I like to think so.” Zoe lifted her chin.

  “Pity.” He scowled and turned away.

  Andreas paused in the act of pouring wine. Perhaps it was fortunate that Arianna wasn’t present. Porbius’s attitude was almost begging for a confrontation, and she might have been eager to oblige him.

  While Daron coaxed the disgruntled elder toward a chair at the end of the table under the rapt scrutiny of the other participants, Andreas quietly handed Bastian a glass of wine.

  “You are looking well, Andreas.” The elder’s tone was wry.

  “Very well, thank you. Sadly, your German air did not agree with me during my recent visit, but that is behind us now.”

  “Is it? I wonder.” Bastian tried the wine and gave a nod of surprised approval. “I do not see your witch tonight.”

  “My wife is otherwise occupied,” Andreas said smoothly. “I hope she will join us in a day or two.”

  “Your wife?” Bastian lifted a brow. “Not so indifferent to her as you seemed at our last meeting.”

  “Little was as it seemed in Germany.”

  The elder’s voice sharpened. “Does that include your pledge to me? Your abrupt departure would imply so.”

  Andreas bristled. “A pledge given under duress and
never sealed in blood is of no worth.”

  “If honor is of no consequence.” Bastian’s demeanor remained bored in spite of the cutting words.

  Andreas squashed a flare of anger. Bastian was baiting him, and he wasn’t going to be drawn into the fight. “I fear we are destined to have different views regarding the events in Germany. Perhaps we should agree to disagree on this point.”

  “I am not inclined to release you from your commitment so easily.” The elder’s voice grew icy, and he leaned closer to Andreas. “You owe me.”

  “Do I?” Andreas shrugged, feigning indifference.

  “Someday I will collect.” Bastian’s words were soft, insidious.

  Andreas’s voice hardened. “Only if I allow it.”

  Before Bastian could respond, Daron called their names. “Why don’t you join us? I was about to tell Porbius the reason for our meeting tonight.”

  Andreas moved away from Bastian and returned to his earlier seat at the table. “Excellent. No doubt our guests are eager to proceed.”

  The elder’s eyes followed him, but Andreas refused to acknowledge the scrutiny. He relaxed as he heard a chair scrape, and Bastian seated himself next to Porbius.

  When Daron remained standing at the head of the table, the occupants of the room grew quiet. He turned to address the elders. “I know you did not expect such a large gathering, and we will have a private discussion later, if you wish. As a group, we wanted to assure you that the offer we are about to make is sincere, and that it comes with the support of many, including a number of vampire courts, werewolf packs, and magic councils.” He cleared his throat. “Stated in simplest terms, we have formed a coalition of strength to govern Otherworld affairs on the North American continent, including both the United States and Canada. We are offering to enter a treaty of mutual respect and support with the O-Seven.”

  “You cannot be serious.” Porbius lounged back in his chair and sneered at them. “Have you deluded yourselves to the point you believe the elders’ council would accept your upstart coalition as an equal? Spare me the necessity of responding to such nonsense.”