"Do you think Sarnova knows more than he's
telling?"
After a long moment, Kharker said honestly,
"I just don't know. It's possible."
"It's possible?"
"Yes."
"Very well.
If I have any further
questions, will you answer them?"
"I have nothing left to hide, you bitch.
For the love of my boys, I've given up the only other being I love in this
world. You were right about that. And, for the record, I too wish to discover
the identity of Ludwig's killer. After all, whoever hired Junger and Jagoda has
delivered more harm to those I love than I can ever forgive."
"Good," she said. Her gaze drifted to
the remains of Gavin. "Sorry for your loss."
His features hard, he whispered, "You
should know my answer to that."
"Yes. But please wait for me to avenge
Ludwig's murder before you choose to avenge Gavin's. Is that a deal, Lord
Kharker?"
Without inflection, he said, "They say that
anticipation is the best part of the kill. They're wrong, of course. Tasting
your flesh on my tongue will be the sweetest part, but have no fear. I'm in no
hurry. Whether it's now or later, your meat will taste the same."
*
*
*
After
Kharker's confession, Ruegger was dismissed to his room, accompanied by four
guards who weren't to let him out of their sight.
Trying his best to ignore them, he showered and
donned clean
clothes,
then plopped down on his bed and
lit a cigarette. Things weren't going his way, but it seemed selfish to be thinking
about his own misfortunes when those of Malie and Kharker were far greater. Malie
had changed. It was hard for him to believe that she’d cried on his shoulder
not all that long ago.
Kharker, though, was still the same, and Ruegger
didn't know quite what to think about that. It all came back to the question of
evil; if there was no such thing, then how could he deny the Hunter his love?
Even if there was such a thing, shouldn't love be unconditional? Perhaps the
main question was how Ruegger could love someone who
was
evil?
On the other hand, he could understand
Jean-Pierre very well indeed. The albino had retreated so far into himself that
he had probably forgotten who he was. He yearned for redemption, for salvation,
but mistakenly thought he required the assistance of someone else to do this
for him. Ruegger was certain that what Jean-Pierre needed was not for someone
else
to find something of value in him; he needed to find it for himself.
Frustrated, Ruegger rose from the bed and placed
a tape (old technology for an old vampire) in a small cassette player he'd
brought to the Lodge. The tape contained an array of some of his favorite songs
and he hoped that they would comfort him. Stubbing out his smoke, he opened his
ears and smiled as the waves of classical music washed over him.
He raided the mini-bar for a bottle of
Cuervo
Gold, a shot glass, and the requisite salt and lime.
He didn't know quite what was coming next and saw no good reason why he should
face it coherently.
"Here's to you," he said to the soldiers,
and knocked back a shot. "Want one?" They just looked at him, and coldly.
"Yeah, well, I guess somebody's gotta drive."
He downed another shot, and another. To the
strains of music, Ruegger danced around the room, carrying the bottle of tequila
as he went. No longer did he require the assistance of the shot glass but drank
straight from the source.
He pulled the black-out curtains over the
windows, withdrew to the bed that he'd shared with Danielle only a few days ago
(he could still smell her perfume!) and snuggled up in the sheets. Another hour
and it would be dawn. Perhaps it would be best just to slip off now and get the
added sleep, not that he needed. What he needed to do was to think, to plan, to
come up with a strategy—
Someone knocked on the door. Captain Raulf
D'Aguila entered, now clothed and looking much better than he had the last time
Ruegger had seen him.
"Darkling!" he roared. "Get out
of bed, goddamnit. Maleasoel has ordered me to bring you to her."
"She wants to talk to me?"
"Get moving."
Ruegger realized that D'Aguila was not alone; he
was flanked by two guards. For some reason, that made the Darkling smile.
They wound their way through the halls until
they came to one of Kharker's most prized rooms, where he kept all his immortal
trophies. The heads and bodies of werewolves and
shapeshifters
and various undead monsters that had died under Lord Kharker's hand decorated
the chamber, some with plaques under them offering an account of the life and
death of their subject. Several were legendary beings in their day, and their
mythos only added to the Hunter's own.
In every corner, torches blossomed with fire,
throwing strange light across the eyes of the dead, whose shadows jumped and
leapt as if they were the dreams dreamt by these trophies. At the far end of
the room hunched a large antique desk and behind this reclined Maleasoel, booted
feet thrown carelessly on top of the surface, her frame leaning powerfully back
in a chair meant for Kharker.
She smiled when she saw Ruegger and told him to
pull up a chair, which he did.
"Want a cigar?" she asked, opening a
box on the desk.
Without a word, he used his mindthrust to raise
one of the brown tubes in the air, strip off its plastic shell and guide it
between his lips, where he bit off the tip at the very end. Simultaneously, he
raised the silver Zippo from the desktop and lit the cigar.
"Don't be that way," she said.
"Was that rude?"
"You could have at least let me light it
for you."
"Tell me this: would you really have killed
me?"
It was her turn to frown. "Yes. I needed to
hear what Kharker had to say and I knew that you had already put your life on
the line to find out why Ludwig died."
"You didn't think I'd mind?"
"Oh, I'm sure you might have objected at
the time, but in the long run, I knew you'd at least understand why I did
it."
"I understand. I just can't condone it. Or
forgive it."
"You can't forgive?
You,
of all people?"
He puffed on the cigar. "I suppose I'll
forgive you sooner or later. But if Gavin comes back as a spirit to haunt you,
I wouldn't blame him."
"And if Kharker comes for me—will you think
that I deserved that, too?"
"Yes, but that won't prevent me from
attending your funeral. I'll even bring flowers."
At that, she almost smiled, and some of the
tension between them was broken. "Thanks."
"That's what I'm here for."
She glanced over his shoulder to D'Aguila.
Apparently failing to find what she was searching for, she returned her gaze to
the Darkling.
"Ruegger," she said. "We have
business to discuss."
"First tell me this, about Liberty. I thought you'd
given up on enslaving humanity and all that rot. So why is Liberty still together? Why haven't you
dismantled it like you wanted to? Come on, be honest. It’s only us and the
Captain here now."
"Isn't it obvious, Ruegger? I need those
soldiers, now more than ever. Their numbers ensure that Ludwig's murder will be
avenged. So I tell them lies. I tell them that I’ll further the cause for which
Liberty was
founded.
To take over the world.
Because of that,
they're loyal to me. And because of
that
, I’ll find the person that
killed my husband."
"And Captain Raulf?
He's in on this
too?"
"Yes, but he's the only one. He knows that
whatever becomes of our current cause, we shall find a new one. Liberty will not be
disbanded, and he will continue to be the leader of men."
Ruegger saw an odd light in her eye and thought
she might be lying, but to D'Aguila, this time, so he didn't press the point.
"What about Subaire," he said,
"the
leader
of the half of the Dark Council that
opposes Roche Sarnova ... or do you know about all that?"
"Oh, I know the reason why the Council
broke apart."
"Then doesn't it make sense that Subaire
might have been responsible for hiring Junger and Jagoda to kill Ludwig? Since
the Balaklava
were
associated with Sarnova, you would've blamed him and attacked. At least, this
would be her reasoning. And whether or not your attack finished him off, it
would've made it much easier for Subaire to come along and pick up the pieces.
You would’ve crippled him and she would have taken the glory."
"It could've happened that way, but it
didn't."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because while you
and
Dani
were off having your adventures with
Jean-Pierre and Laslo, my crew and I took a little trip to London, where I used my men to infiltrate
Subaire's organization.
I gleaned enough intelligence to know how to get her. It
cost me ten men, but we captured her and another member of the Council. We
tortured them for days. Believe me, they talked, but they didn't tell me
anything I wanted to hear. She didn't kill Ludwig or have any idea who did. I
scratched her off the list and came here to do the same thing with
Kharker."
"And you did."
"I did. And before that—before I'd even
gone to London—I
captured a member of Vistrot's tribe, one Jacob
Ikaud
,
and did the same to him."
"You’ve become quite the little
torture-master. What did you find out about the Titan's involvement in all
this?"
"Absolutely
nothing."
"So you don't know ..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
She shrugged. "So now I'm going to Roche Sarnova's
Castle to capture and interrogate the Dark Lord."
"How are you going to attack the Castle, of
all places? Even if you could gather all your surviving soldiers, you wouldn't
be able to overrun it. The number of soldiers on each side would probably be
pretty equal, but they're better fortified and they've been preparing against
an invasion for centuries. You don't stand a chance."
"That’s where you come in."
"Me?"
"After I dismissed you and Jean-Pierre, I
stayed to chat with Lord Kharker. We talked about a number of things, but what
I found most interesting was this order he calls the
Sangro Sankts
.
Apparently, they protect Sarnova, but then you know all that. What he may not
have told you was that they have their own back way into the Castle."
"You're kidding."
"Somewhere hidden in the catacombs is a
passage that leads through the mountain and opens onto the other side. There's
a secret entrance, and Kharker has told me how to find it."
"You trust him?"
"He wouldn't hurt Sarnova for the world,
but he knows I won't kill the Dark Lord unless he turns out to be the one. Not
only that, but Kharker’s agreed to help me in any way I can to find Ludwig's
killer."
"How
gracious."
"Damnit, Ruegger, he's sincere. He doesn't
like the things
that've
befallen you, Danielle and
Jean-Pierre on account of
Lud's
death and he's going
to help me bring the responsible party to justice."
Ruegger sighed, but his blood was stirring just
a little. "Won't Sarnova have this entrance guarded?"
"Why would he? He's under the impression
that only he and the surviving conquerors of his line that came before him are
aware of the existence of the
Sangro Sankts
. Little does he know that
those that came before him—the ones that are still alive—aren't as discreet as
he is; they've let bits of information leak out here and there over the course
of centuries. That’s the meat of the information Kharker’s gathered. The rest
is just myth, conjecture."
"Yet he knows exactly where this tunnel
is."
"Apparently, yes."
"Won't it be guarded?"
"Ruegger, do you think the
Sangro Sankts
would permit Sarnova to know when they're going to visit him, to give him some
advance knowledge? No, these are secretive creatures. They're not going to
allow Sarnova to keep tabs on them.”
"Maybe.
But I’ve heard that the
wolves that run through the Carpathians are Sarnova’s watchdogs. He sees
through their eyes, smells through their nostrils. He’ll know if someone’s
approaching.”
“I’ve heard that rumor, too. Maybe it’s just
myth. I hope so, but we have to go under the assumption that it’s not. Which
means that once we get within a few miles of the Castle,
me
and my army will tunnel underground till we get to the secret entrance.”
“You’ve had practice.”