Moonlight(Pact Arcanum 3)

He pulled his coat tighter as he watched the flames rising from the memorial plaque. Somehow, he didn’t think the dead President would approve of him using the grave as a meeting place. He caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and found her standing behind him.

“You’re late.”

The vampire smiled at him, standing calmly among the graves of the honored dead, clad in a black evening gown that highlighted her pale skin. The chill breeze lifted her waist-length brown hair as she idly read the plaque at his feet. “Does it matter?” she asked. “I have all the time in the world.”

He gritted his teeth against the insult that rushed to his lips. He couldn’t afford to piss her off. Not now. “I did what you wanted. The votes are mine as soon as I give them the green light. Now you keep your end of the bargain.”

“Patience,” she said. “When the votes are cast, then I will cure the cancer that’s eating you alive. Not before.”

“Damn it! I might not have that long! The doctors said—”

She laughed—a high musical sound in the austere silence of the graveyard. “You have little over a month at most, perhaps only a few weeks. I can smell the scent of disease on you—the stench of your rotting flesh. I suggest you give any other vampire you meet a wide berth, or your secret will be out.”

“You said you would cure me if I helped you,” he snarled. “Is this what passes for honor with you people?” A second later, he choked as her fingers wrapped around his throat.

She leaned in close, fangs bared. “Don’t ever question my honor, mortal,” she hissed. “I said I would cleanse you of disease, and I shall. I did not say when. When you’ve served your purpose, then you will have your reward. Until then, don’t test my patience.” She let go of his neck, and he fell gasping at her feet. She looked down at him contemptuously. “The Court of Shadows thanks you for your service, but you shouldn’t let yourself think that whatever power you might wield in your world will do you any good in ours.”

Before he could draw a breath to reply, she wrapped herself in the white light of a teleport spell and disappeared.

The White House, Washington, D.C.

Tobias Jameson surveyed the ballroom, trying to figure out exactly when his brother had disappeared. He stood almost six feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore a gray suit expertly tailored to his body, with the seal of House Luscian embroidered on his left breast pocket. Even so, he still managed to look like a child playing dress-up in his parents’ clothes. Presently, he was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible without actually resorting to magic while he internally debated his strategy. At almost twenty-six years old, the Sentinel’s former life as a musician seemed like a distant memory, and the demands of his career as a novice diplomat on behalf of the Armistice were real and pressing.

The receiving line formed—Andrea Daniels calmly shaking hands with the first of the guests. She wore her black hair long to highlight her oval face and hazel eyes, but it was her bearing that caught Toby’s eye. She stood stiffly at attention while she deftly handled the diplomats and other guests, seeming much older than the nineteen years she could actually lay claim to. After the somber affair of the funeral, she bore up well under the weight of the dignitaries’ regard without showing a hint of her grief over putting her mother’s ashes to rest.

Toby realized that President Daniels was prominently absent, although he had been there a few minutes ago.

Well, that about says it all, doesn’t it? He and Nick are probably involved in some high-level discussion that I’m not going to be privy to.
Toby settled his suit jacket more evenly on his shoulders before joining the end of the receiving line.
It looks like I’m going to have to stand in for Nick again,
he thought sourly. First Brother duties never seemed to end, even at something as solemn as the reception after a State funeral. He waited his turn until the line brought him face to face with the daughter of the President of the United States.

“Good evening, Miss Daniels,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Please accept my sincerest condolences on your loss. I only met your mother a few times, but she always impressed me with her grace and dignity.” He tried to think of something else, but what was there left to say? “Tobias Jameson Primogenitor Luscian, Armistice Diplomatic Mission.”

She smiled. “I know who you are, Mr. Jameson. I might even have a few of your albums in my collection.”

Toby reddened. “Ah, yes, well, that was a lifetime ago, ma’am, before I opened my eyes.”

“Do you miss it? Your bandmates have never filled your spot, as far as I know.”

“Sometimes, but that part of my life is over.”

Her smile faded. “Family responsibilities?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head to look at her with more interest. “I imagine you would know all about that.”

“I do know,” she said with a somber expression. She glanced at the next diplomat in line. “Come by my table later in the evening, if you like, Tobias. Maybe we have something in common to talk about.”

“Call me Toby.”

“Pleased to meet you, Toby,” she said with a new smile. “My friends call me Andrea.”

* * *

Nicholas Magister Luscian sat in an overstuffed leather chair across from President Daniels in the Oval Office. The vampire was similar to Toby in height and coloring, in contrast to the President’s darker hair and complexion, but the air of confidence he radiated set him apart from his brother. Unlike Toby, Nick had largely come to terms with the role he played. “I remember the first time I stepped into this room. I was terrified.”

Kevin Daniels snorted while he poured them both a glass of scotch from the bottle on the table. “You didn’t show it much. The only time you lost your composure was when you told me about how Luscian murdered you.”

“At the time, I thought it might give me a more human face if I didn’t hide my reaction.”

Daniels took a sip of his scotch. “I simply saw it as an admission of weakness and filed it away in case it turned out to be useful later.” He looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid absently. “Politics as usual.”

Nick’s gaze sharpened. “What’s on your mind, Kevin? You should be focused on your family right now.”

The President settled back in his chair. “My wife is dead, Nick. My daughter is all I have left, and we’re barely on speaking terms these days. Work is about the only thing that keeps me sane.”

“I’m sorry about Catherine. I wish there was something I could have done, but even if I had been right there, the stroke was too massive to repair all the damage in time.”

“You could have asked the Traveler to bring her back,” Daniels whispered.

Nick put his drink down on the coffee table and regarded him soberly. He opened up his senses a little to read the other man's emotions. The human might put up a stoic front, but Nick could already see him straining to maintain that level of control. “Death is what makes life meaningful, Kevin. She didn’t deserve to be cheated of what comes next. I don’t blame Rory for refusing to use the Grace that way anymore.”

Daniels said nothing for a time, taking another sip of his scotch before answering. “My association with the Armistice has been met with a great deal of political resistance, even from within my own party. If my re-election fails, then whoever follows me in this office may not be a friend to you.”

Nick shrugged. “I’ll settle for an ally.”

Daniels took another sip of his liquor. “You might not even get that. The vultures are already circling.”

“What happened?” Nick asked, his eyes intent.

“I have been advised by my intelligence services that there is a movement to revoke the recognition of the Armistice as a foreign government, on the justification that it is a
de facto
dictatorship.”

Nick sat up straight. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not a dictator.”

“You’re a constitutional monarch with actual power. That’s a rarity in the modern world. Very few humans believe it won’t go to your head eventually.”

Nick frowned, his eyes shading toward red. “And what do you believe?”

Daniels turned silent again for a long moment. “I believe that a bill will be submitted to the Senate sometime in the next few weeks, which will open the debate, and it will turn ugly. I don’t know yet who will introduce the measure.”

Nick sighed. “It would mean an end to trade and scientific exchanges between the Free People and the Americans. Can’t they see how much they have to lose by breaking off relations?”

The President shook his head slightly. “All they see is your power and the threat it implies. This bill is a way to put that threat at arm’s length.”

“Will it pass?”

“It might … if I support it.”

Nick’s smile grew points, and his eyes changed fully, to a vivid crimson. “And why would you do that?”

Daniels swallowed the last of his scotch and put his glass down next to Nick’s. “I told you. My daughter is all I have left, and she’s probably going to fly right back to Oxford as soon as she gets a chance. I want to know she’s as safe as possible.”

Nick growled in a barely audible rumble. “Don’t dance around what you want, Mr. President. If you are going to ask for something, then ask.”

Daniels took a deep breath. “I want to have more protection around Andrea than the Secret Service can provide. I want you to use your influence in the Court to make sure she’s left alone.”

Nick watched him through half-closed eyes and then stood from his chair. “I’ll consider it.”

Daniels stood as well. “That’s your answer? You’ll consider it?”

Nick growled louder this time. “I don’t like being blackmailed, Mr. President. That’s the best answer you’re going to get for the time being.” He retracted his fangs, and his eyes faded back to their natural color. “In the meantime, we should get back to our responsibilities. Your daughter shouldn’t be going through this alone.”

* * *

Toby walked back to his seat. He drummed his fingers on the table and, on a whim, subvocalized to his AI. “What’s up, Strings?”

The AI’s voice sounded in his ears by bone conduction. “The opposite of down, Tobias. You should have learned that in school.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “All right, Strings. What are you doing right now?” He smiled. “Besides talking to me, I mean.”

“I am currently monitoring your vital signs and composing a volume of epic poetry.”

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