The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (23 page)

Cesare tried to hide his surprise that his father could remember back
that far. This burst of reason by the king was distressing. Without
missing a beat, he replied, "The situation has changed, Your Majesty.
You were correct when you suggested gathering the clan. I wasn't wise
enough to see as far as you. I now believe, as you do, that war is imminent and we must gather the clan to prepare."

King Dmitri sat up with alarm. "War imminent?" He looked at Gareth
with eyes that were now cloudy with confusion. "Why was I not told?"

"Because it isn't true, Sire," Gareth said slowly. "Cesare is panicking.
He claimed his entire reason for capturing the Equatorian princess was to
forestall war. Surely he won't admit that his plan was so far off the mark?"

Bristling but keeping his voice even, Cesare said, "I only admit
underestimating the viciousness of the humans. The Equatorians apparently don't care that we have their princess. They attacked Bordeaux,
and they continue to gather their forces."

Gareth asked, "But what about the ambassador you sent to Alexandria? We should wait to see if there is any movement toward a peace
treaty."

"No," Cesare retorted. "The ambassador was a failure. Flay's spies
report that he was murdered by the Equatorians and his head displayed to
the mob." The young prince turned to his war chief for confirmation.

Flay added quietly, "As Prince Cesare says."

Her face was stern, but her eyes flicked briefly to Gareth's, and he
knew she was lying. Anything to support her master.

Cesare continued, "Equatoria's goal is clear. They want us all dead.
There is no doubt about that. Their threat to attack us if we don't release
their princess is unambiguous." He regarded Gareth. "Do you deny that?"

Gareth replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "Then perhaps we should
release the princess. That will remove their excuse for aggression."

The younger prince scowled. "As if they need an excuse. How
extraordinarily naive of you, Gareth. Why don't we just give them
London in the bargain? Why don't we just kill ourselves to save them
the trouble of doing it? I won't give them the princess because I was
right to take her. She was in our territory! I am trying to save our kind.
Did you learn nothing from the Great Killing? When we have the
chance to crush them, we must!"

Gareth stirred uncomfortably in his seat, but said nothing more. He
avoided the triumphant glare of his brother. His suggestion to release
Adele, although glib, was a terrible misstep and made him look weak.
To argue further, or to seek to set the record straight on the Great
Killing, was pointless and would merely put him deeper under his
hawkish brother's thumb.

The king now leaned toward Cesare, body language making it clear
that he had slipped back into his comfortable place following his
younger son, as he always did. Cesare sighed with relief now that his
father's moment of lucidity had passed.

"Just so," Cesare said with obvious contempt for his brother, then
regarded the king with a renewed aura of a wise man. "The Equatorians
are coming. Would you try to prepare for war while their ships are
bombing us? We must ready the clan, as you wisely suggested in council.
As king, you can do no less. Would you have your people taken unaware?"

"No," King Dmitri muttered. "No. I am their king. I must act,
yes?"

"I will see to it, Majesty," Cesare replied. "I will call on the lords,
and they will gather here in two days. I will see to everything."

"Yes." The king was relieved to have the burden of decision taken
from him. He reached out with a feeble hand and patted Gareth on the
knee. "Yes, thank you, Cesare. You're a good son."

Gareth felt the gnarled old claw stroking the wrong son. He
would've liked to take comfort in his father's touch, but he felt only rage
at the king's impotence. Cesare bowed with a smile and withdrew.

The older prince glanced up at his father, who was now hunched forward on the throne, chin trembling and hands shaking. Gareth shook
his head angrily. The king was lost again somewhere in eight hundred
years of memory that sprouted brambles to prick and trap what was left
of his old mind. Gareth fought back bitterness for the wizened, drooling
figure as he recalled the many years at his father's side in cool forests and
frosty glens, listening to ancient tales of battling rival clans. His father
had taught him to hunt human prey. The pleasure of it was to savor each
kill, not wallow in countless slaughters. Blindly destroying the source of
your nourishment just to demonstrate superiority was prideful insanity.
King Dmitri had seemed the most noble and fierce and wisest father
imaginable, and Gareth had once wanted to be just like him.

However, now old Dmitri was nothing more than a regal skin that
Cesare put on to govern a clan of gluttons. Soon they would all come to
London and, despite the fact that Gareth was heir, Cesare would rule the
gathering. If Cesare wanted war, he'd have war.

Gareth rose and paid obeisance before the cloudy eyes of the king.
Perhaps he should have stayed at court the past century, if only to protect his father from Cesare. But it was too late for those thoughts now.
Gareth left the palace to prepare for what was coming.

D EXERCISED IN the yard of the Tower, where flowers
pushed pushed up around the rubble. Her arms weaved a slow pattern
around her body while she breathed deliberately and shifted from one
foot to the other. She brought her hands together and then pushed them
apart. Mamoru had taught her a wide variety of kata, for martial arts and
fitness and meditation. It gave the young woman great satisfaction to
hone her killing skills under the unsuspecting eyes of her watchers. She
wondered what Greyfriar would think of her training routine. Adele
thought about the excitement of dueling him, crossing blades with that
master swordsman and basking in his praise for her style. He could teach
her more practical fighting skills than Mamoru had ever attempted.

Mamoru. When Adele thought of him, she was increasingly confused. She respected her mentor, even loved him in a way, but he was
withdrawn by nature and she knew very little about him. There was
only a certain level of connection they could ever make, separated as they
were by culture and position. She had had no idea Mamoru had a secret
network of mysterious geomancers such as Selkirk. Was her father
aware? Adele intended to know more about geomancy and this ability
to cloud the minds of vampires once she returned home.

She surprised herself by how matter-of-factly she entertained the notion of freedom now. The possibility had seemed so distant a few days
ago that she had refused to allow it into her mind because it might soften
her mad resolve to assassinate the clan royal family. But now she knew she
had to return home. Sacrificing her life for the pipe dream of killing King
Dmitri and his dreadful brood was ridiculous. With Simon gone, Adele
was now sole heir to Constantine II. With the Reconquest imminent, this
was no time for a succession crisis in Equatoria.

Out of the corner of her eye, Adele saw her watchers suddenly turn
to the north. She had known them to perch motionless for hours, but
today they had seemed agitated, constantly craning their necks and
peering off into the distance. Now the watchers glanced briefly at her
and seemed to consult with one another before lifting into the orange
sky to join a growing flock of black figures gathering over the city.

The princess discerned weird background noises that she realized
she had been hearing, but ignoring, for hours. Sounds of celebration
mixed with screaming, like the fantastic sound of a distant unwholesome festival. Adele hastily concluded her exercise. The sun was sinking
and the air cooling, and she wanted to find the fireside. As she turned
toward the doorway to her prison, several vampires dipped sharply from
the crowd overhead.

Three horrible figures surrounded her-two males and a femalethin and dirty, clad in filthy rags, with claws extended. They hissed to
one another, which Adele understood. They were apparently strangers to
London and hungry from traveling, and pleased with themselves for
happening on a bit of unprotected food-meaning Adele. They decided
to celebrate their trip to the big city by sharing her.

Adele launched herself at the larger male and slammed the palm of
her hand into his nose. The creature roared in shock and fell like a sack
of wet laundry. The other two stared in surprise. Adele took the female
by the back of the head and gouged her eyes with thumb and forefinger.
The princess felt pain in her shoulder and was pulled backward into a
flurry of nails and teeth, which tore her clothes and skin with mercuryfast strikes. Adele kicked out at the knee of the vampire attacking her.
She heard a solid crack, and the male glanced down at his leg, now bent
backward like a bird's, flailed at the air for support, and dropped. The blinded female sniffed and felt the air with her clawlike hands. Adele
looked around for some weapon to dispatch this trio of horrible cripples.

A tall, dark figure settled to the ground in front of the young
princess. She drew up her fists in desperation, ignoring a warm droplet
of blood drizzling down her cheek. Then she realized the looming figure
was Gareth, and for a mad instant she was grateful for his presence. His
face was a mask of anger, but it wasn't directed at her. He spat a few
harsh sounds at the three vampires in which he identified himself and
condemned them to death.

The three froze with looks on their faces like naughty children
caught in a prank. They attempted to flee, climbing unsteadily to their
feet and preparing to rise into the air. But Gareth was on them, and in
less time than it had taken him to pronounce their deaths, they lay dead
in the grass. The large male was decapitated, his head torn from his
shoulders. The female and smaller male both had their entrails steaming
in the cool early evening.

Gareth briefly inspected the eviscerated intruders, as if coolly comparing them to plates in an anatomy book. Barely winded, he then
scanned Adele up and down. His penetrating azure gaze gave her chills.
"Are you hurt?"

"No. Who were they?" The sight of the prince amazed Adele. He
was so nattily attired in black mourning dress with shined leather shoes,
but dripping wet and red. She was both horrified and thrilled by the ease
with which Gareth had slaughtered those vampires, as well as by the satisfaction he had seemed to take in it. His attack had been swift and
brutal, yet almost elegant.

Gareth replied, "They're bumpkins. They wanted a meal and didn't
know you were under my protection. They know it now." He smiled
haughtily. "The dead can never infringe on your rights. That's a bit of
vampire politics."

Did he just make a witticism? Adele wondered, eyes wide.

The vampire extended his arm toward the door to her rooms.
"Collect your things and come with me to the museum. For your own
protection."

"Why?"

Gareth looked up into the darkening sky. A loathsome multitude
swirled in the air like black snowflakes caught in the wind currents.
Writhing fliers touched and intertwined in disgusting congress, then
rejoined the mindless mass. Adele shivered in horror and said a prayer.

"The clan is gathering," Gareth said.