"I suppose.” Kharker started rolling a
cigarette. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and lit it. He had
the feeling it would be the first of many.
"Nowadays, even if humans knew of us, we
could more easily defend ourselves—provided we were united." Sarnova’s
nostrils flared, smelling Kharker's cigarette. He smiled and lit one for
himself. It made him cough more, but he didn't seem to mind, even when a few
droplets of blood came to his lips, which he gracefully dabbed at with a white
handkerchief.
Roche leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes
for a moment. His face took on a strange look, almost of longing. "I'm
old, Kharker. I'm tired of living in the shadow of our
lessors
—or,
if you prefer to think of them as equals, then I'm tired of living with our
equals ignorant of us. Maybe it's just the voice of ego, but I've been so
frustrated lately that I just want to run through the streets shouting at the
top of my lungs, ‘I'm a vampire! Look at me, I’m a vampire!' Childish, maybe, but
it's what I want. Don't you ever feel that way, my friend—that you just want to
be recognized and unashamed of what you are?"
"I suppose," said Kharker, wary.
"But just imagine, humans knowing of us and
accepting us, living in harmony with us. Sure, they might fear us, but we could
make some sort of treaty with them—they could send their criminals to us for
sustenance, and we wouldn't attack their countries. We need a land of our own,
a Jerusalem for
the Undead. Think how beautiful that would be." He sighed wistfully,
then
nodded at Mauchlery again.
The Ambassador resumed talking, and pacing.
"Roche wanted the Council to come to a consensus on the subject; it
wouldn't make sense to go ahead with the plan unless we had the support of our
followers, would it? So we summoned them for a special meeting and gave the
proposal. Many were outraged, but we fought it out. Finally, after everyone had
turned it over, it developed that the Council was evenly split, right down the
middle, with Subaire leading the opposition. The half in favor of the plan, our
half, would not back down. Unfortunately, neither would Subaire's.
"It was a stand-off. The differences were
irreconcilable. Subaire and her supporters stormed out, gathering all the
troops that were loyal to them and fleeing to London, which has become their
base of operations. We hear they get new followers every day, but so do we. Now
we're at war with them, and neither side shows any sign of backing down. Most
of the conflict seems to be taking place in Western Europe,
but recently rumors have started circulating about the war coming closer to
home.
"I was sent to the front lines several
weeks ago to check up on our troops and to recruit supporters, and I returned
two days ago with a werewolf named Victoria Lisaund, who accompanied me back
under the guise of petitioning Roche for protection of her clan, who she said
supported our cause. Apparently, though, she was an assassin—but worse, she had
skills we weren't prepared for.
“She'd been trained to kill mortals with her
mind, and she killed one that Roche was feeding from, causing him to drink dead
blood. She attacked Roche when he was down. Also, she seemed to have been
stronger than she should've been. It took both me and Roche to destroy
her."
"How?" asked Kharker. "How was
she so strong?"
Francois looked uneasy. "We think that she
might have gotten
ahold
of the blood of a kavasari."
Kharker raised his eyebrows. "That's bad.
That's very bad. But, Roche ... how did she get hold of such blood?"
"I wouldn't know," said the Dark Lord
quietly.
"Wouldn't you? There are rumors ..."
"There have always been rumors. Let's not
give them merit through discussion."
Kharker smoked in
silence,
then looked up again. "So all this is why the immortal world is in turmoil
right now? Does this have some bearing on the Scouring?"
Roche Sarnova sat up slowly, but not too slowly.
"Not quite. However, I'm afraid that I can't ... speculate ... on the
reasons why things are the way they are now."
"But the War and the Scouring—they are related?"
Sarnova coughed again, his face solemn.
"Perhaps," he said.
"Perhaps."
*
*
*
"That's
all he told me," Kharker said.
"But ..." Ruegger prodded.
"But he was keeping something from me, and
I didn't like it. Why should I? I figured the best way to gather more
information on the War would be to send some men to London, where most of it was—and is—taking
place. Surely some information would be floating around.
“What interested me most was the widespread
mystery surrounding the war. Surely if Sarnova and Subaire were getting more
troops each day, the troops knew what they were fighting for. As it turned out,
they didn't, not really. They knew of the break-up of the Dark Council, but
that was it. They were just signing on with one of the sides because of the
principles involved—they saw fighting for Sarnova as conservatism, keeping the
old ways and the old power base alive, and fighting for Subaire as liberalism,
fighting against the established power, and under a woman at that. As it
happened, Roche was the real liberal and Subaire was the conservative, but that
little bit of irony was about all the head-way I made; there was no more
information to be gathered, except for the tactics of the armies involved—something
I wasn't very interested in. But, just as I was about to recall my men, we
heard some major news; Subaire, and a couple of her followers, had been
kidnapped.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.
Apparently she was
tortured quite badly, but was permitted to leave alive. Why, I don’t know. I
kept my men there for days, wondering what new news would pop up, but nothing
came. Subaire would not reveal who her kidnappers were or why she’d been taken
in the first place. With nothing else to go on, I brought my men home. Since
then, I’ve been concentrating on building my zoo."
"And killing
Ludwig."
"Of course."
There was a long silence, at the end of which
Danielle looked at Ruegger and nodded. "That explains the War, then. Roche
Sarnova not only wanted to publicly reveal the immortal presence to humans but
wanted our own country—a Jerusalem
for the Undead." She thought about it. "I like the idea.
Rueg?"
He drew a sharp breath, as if pained. "I
don't know. It's hard for me to accept. All I can say for sure is that Sarnova
has a lot of balls, and I can see why Subaire was so outraged. Really, I'm
surprised Sarnova got as much support as he did." He drained his glass.
"I think that he might be right, though. It's time for a change. Then
again ..."
Kharker removed a shoe and massaged the sole of
his foot with one hand, still holding his cigar with the other. "I didn't
know what to make of it either, son," he said. "At first I was
indignant. Revealing ourselves to mortals rather, well, puts us on their level,
wouldn't you say? Knowledge is power; our knowledge of our own presence helped
me think we were somehow superior. I got to thinking,
What
would happen if humans knew of us? Would I lose stature, self-confidence—
something?
And I found that I might, I just might. On the other hand, I might not.
“Another issue: say they decided to punish those
of us who'd committed unforgivable sins—which most of us have, at one point or
another—like they punished the Nazis of war crimes after the fact. What then?
Well, we all know what then: I'd be executed.
And you with
me, Ruegger.
Most of us would. But, and this is virtually the only
positive thing I can think of, we wouldn't be hiding anymore, and that might
make all the difference."
Slowly, he leaned forward. "Now," he
said. "It's your turn."
*
*
*
Later,
Gavin showed Ruegger and Danielle to a large guestroom. The bed on which their
baggage waited was an enormous four-poster monstrosity with hand-sewn sheets
and pillow casings somewhat concealed by a thick mosquito net. After Gavin had
left, Danielle fingered the netting and raised an eyebrow at Ruegger.
"Why so thick?" she asked.
"Haven't you seen the mosquitoes here?
They've been sucking Kharker's blood for decades."
"You mean immortal mosquitoes?"
"Yep.
And Kharker's a
shapeshifter, remember."
"Werewolf insects ... I can see a really bad
movie come out of that one." Her voice changed into a rather poor
imitation of
Bela
Lugosi: "I—am—Count—
Bugula
!" She laughed. When she grew serious again, she
said, "It's strange the things you remember. I spent two years here and I
don't remember the bugs at all."
Suddenly the heat and humidity seemed to
overwhelm her and, pushing past the mosquito nettings, she sank to the bed and
placed a hand to her forehead. "You really think he killed Ludwig?"
she said.
"No. He's been friendly with Roche Sarnova
for nearly a thousand years, though, so if Sarnova did kill Ludwig, I doubt
Kharker’s going to rat him out. One thing's for certain; if Kharker didn't do
it, he's convinced Sarnova did. Either Sarnova confessed to him, or someone made
him believe that Sarnova was responsible. I think the former's pretty unlikely,
because that means Sarnova then let Kharker take the blame, and I don't think
the Dark Lord is that cowardly."
"No, but he has to know by now that Kharker
did
in fact take the blame, so why
hasn't he stepped forward, or at least discouraged Kharker from posing as
Ludwig's killer—unless he actually thinks Kharker did it?"
"Maybe Kharker refused to let him take the
fall because if Maleasoel somehow found a way to kill Sarnova in order to
avenge Ludwig, then there'd not even be a hope for a one-day Jerusalem of the Undead. I think that's a
cause Kharker would die for. He seems
to've
taken to
the idea." Ruegger sat beside Danielle. "Here's another thought. I
think someone—a third party—convinced Kharker that Sarnova did it so that he'd
be willing to take the fall. Then the third party gave him the soldiers as a
bargaining piece."
"So he can fight off Malie if she decides
to attack."
"Right.
And I think that
Sarnova hasn't stepped forward because he thinks Kharker might actually have
done it."
"But if that's true ...”
"... then the soldiers themselves might be
able to tell us who sent them to Kharker."
"Because whoever
gave them to Kharker might just be Ludwig's killer himself, or herself.
Wow. So he, she, or it
had Junger and Jagoda kill Ludwig because the Balaklava
are
connected with Sarnova, then used Junger and
Jagoda’s connection to Blackie to convince Kharker that Sarnova was the killer,
so the Hunter would take the blame."
"Perhaps the killer really intended Kharker
to be the target all along." He blinked and took a breath. The puzzle was finally
beginning to take shape. Then why did he feel a growing sense of dread?
She smiled. "Jesus. If that's true, it's
brilliant. Naturally, this is assuming Hauswell was wrong and that Vistrot
isn't really Ludwig's killer. But that's another issue altogether."
"In other words, what we're looking for—although
in a backward sort of way—is the Balaklava's
second employer.
Or, rather, the one that they refused."
“Maybe the one that
hired Jarvick to kill us.”
The Caucasian guards did not prove very
forthcoming. Ruegger and Danielle spent three worthless hours interviewing them
with no real results—except for the conclusion that whoever hired the guards
had enough sway to ensure their silence and the psychic power to enforce it.
"So what now?" said Danielle, bare
feet falling quietly on the uneven jungle ground as she and Ruegger took a
stroll.
"A hot bath, a cold
beer and a good screw."
"No,
seriously."
"Seriously."
Later, as they lay, swaddled, in the damp cream
sheets of the large bed, passing a joint back and forth between them (a rare
indulgence on Ruegger’s part), he said, "I like it here. It's ….
relaxing
."
She blew out a fragrant plume and nodded. Their
sweaty hands brushed as she handed him the joint. "It scares me here,” she
said. “To think of you and Kharker, how you were ...”
He put his arm around her, and she leaned into
him. "It scares me here, too," he told her, "thinking of you and
Jean-Pierre ... maybe in this very bed."
She took one of his fingers and placed it to her
lips, bit down on it gently, then sawed it playfully between her teeth. "Let's
not do this, baby," she said. "We've both done things, you know, things
separate from each other, that if we dwelt on, they'd kill us."