To Curse the Darkness (3 page)

“No,” Conrad gritted. “That will not be necessary. The fact that it would not be the first time is all the more reason to avoid it happening again. Besides, we have enough to worry about at the moment without imagining troubles where none exist. Armand has always been loyal to me. I have no reason to doubt him. He will keep our secret.”

“Yet, as he himself pointed out, you couldn't have been that certain of him forty years ago, or you would have told him then.”

“Not at all. As it happens, you're both mistaken. It wasn't because I questioned his loyalty that I said nothing to him at the time. It was because I felt it would be unfair to burden him with so large a responsibility, not to mention one that he was so ill-equipped to handle.”

Conrad met Damian's gaze and smiled faintly. “I know I've told you this several times now,
caro
, and I do not understand how it continues to slip your mind. Raising the twins was an ambitious undertaking, and there was only one person whom I considered capable of assisting me with so monumental a task.”

“Yes, well…” Damian shrugged. “I cannot argue with that, I suppose.”

“Besides, even you must admit that Armand has proved himself once already tonight. I'd say he's earned a little of our trust.”

“I don't understand,” Julie said crossly. “Why is it such a big deal? What's all this danger you keep talking about?”

Conrad sighed. “As you have no doubt gathered by now, you and your brother are anomalies. No one really knows what to expect from you. And, not to put too fine a point on it, people tend to fear what they do not understand.”

“You're special,” Damian insisted. “Unique. A miracle, if you will. People would be jealous if they knew the truth.”

“Special how?” Julie asked.

“There are many stories told about the
Lamia Infragilis
,” Conrad explained, “as vampires such as you and your brother are termed. These stories are vague and doubtless overblown, as is usually the case with such tales, but they all hint at an array of special abilities that you two may one day grow to possess. It has thus always been one of our greatest fears that some unscrupulous person might be tempted to take advantage of you, were they to learn of your existence. Hence why we hid you away for so many years.”

Julie's eyes widened. “You mean…like that stuff Christian was talking about earlier? You're saying that's real?”

“No one knows what's real,” Conrad told her. “Which is a big part of the problem. It's all so very…”

“Unprecedented,” Damian supplied.

Conrad inclined his head. “Yes. Unprecedented. Thank you.” It wasn't exactly the word he'd been searching for, but it would do.

“I see.” A frown creased Julie's brow. “So that's why I'm not sick? Because of these ‘abilities' you say I have?”

“You are
not
sick!” Damian insisted. “Tell her, Conrad. She
cannot
be sick.”

Conrad smiled faintly. What was Damian thinking? That the plague that had nearly wiped out their entire species could be averted on the strength of Conrad's orders? Would that it were so! “Yes, my dear, I believe that to be the correct assumption. I have questioned Christian at length and have seen the proof myself. Thankfully, it seems your blood provides you with a sort of immunity that none of the rest of us have. But that is just one more reason why it's so important to keep your true heritage a secret. Although that particular danger has largely passed—I would have said entirely passed, before tonight. Sadly that's no longer the case. But had you been born in another time, when the plague was claiming the lives of so many of us, that factor would have given people another reason to wish to exploit you.”
Or to kill you.

“Because I could have saved their lives?”

“It's a possibility, yes.”

Julie got to her feet. “You know what? You're right. This
is
a lot to deal with. I-I need to go and think about everything you've told me.”

“But we have not yet finished our discussion,” Conrad protested.

“What discussion?”

“I wish to know more about this…friend of your mother's and what else she might have told you.”

Julie shook her head. “No. Not happening. Maybe later, but not right now.”

“Julie…”

“I said no. I told you; it's no big deal. It was pure coincidence. I just happened to meet someone who'd spent time with my mother when she was pregnant. She remembered that my mother had said her babies were going to be vampires.”

“How do you know it was coincidence?” Damian demanded. “How do you know this person…he? She?”

“She.”

“How do you know she didn't plan this meeting between the two of you and arrange things so that it seemed accidental? Maybe your mother confided in her more than you know. If Conrad's name was mentioned, she might have done research, might have found out who he was, where he lived. Once you'd moved here, it would not have been at all difficult to find you.”

Conrad started. The scenario Damian had laid out might be somewhat farfetched, but it was far from impossible.

Julie shook her head. “No. That's not how it happened.”

“You don't know that,
chica
! You don't know for how long she might have been planning this. You don't know what she might want from you.”

“She doesn't want anything from me!”

“Not even to live forever? She must be getting on in years. How do you know she doesn't—”

“Stop it!” Julie snapped. “She's not gonna do any of that because she doesn't believe in us. I practically had to drag the information out of her. She thought my mother was crazy talking about vampires. And she didn't want to tell me
anything
at first because she thought I'd think so too.” She smiled sadly. “You say one reason we're safe from other vampires is because they don't believe people like Marc and I exist, but what you're forgetting is that most humans feel the same way about vampires in general. They don't believe
any of us
exist.”

“On the contrary, my dear,” Conrad corrected. “I am not forgetting about that at all.” Forget the centuries of hard work he'd put into ensuring that was the case, all the people he'd killed or coerced or compelled into silence? Not likely. He shared a rueful smile with Damian, then added, “We are, in fact, counting on that being so. It's what we've done for centuries.”

But if life had taught Conrad anything, it was this: it never hurt to be too careful.

Chapter Three

Repubblica di Firenze

Late Seventeenth Century

Their footsteps rang out against the marble floor, echoing loudly in the empty chamber. Conrad glanced around in distaste at the hall he'd acquired from Rupert. It was large and opulent, and beautifully appointed. It had proven itself useful on more than a few occasions when he'd had to host large groups of people, or when he'd wanted to impress someone with his wealth and power. But he had never taken a liking to the place. The memories were too thick here, the atmosphere too depressing. Even after all this time, it still remained the least favorite of his properties.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Georgia remarked as she cast a critical gaze around the room. Her restrained tone suggested she was no happier to be here than he was.

“Yes, it does.”

The two of them had come early to make certain that everything was in readiness for tonight's council meeting with the heads of several of the most important Houses. Conrad was pleased to see that someone—Damian most likely—had anticipated his needs. A full staff had obviously been sent over ahead of them. Every surface within the dark and gloomy hall had been thoroughly scoured. It had been cleaned and polished, dusted and waxed. Too bad no one had thought to take a torch to the place.

“I must confess,” Georgia confided, “I was more than a little surprised when I learned you wished to hold tonight's meeting
here
, of all places. And I still don't understand why you insisted on
my
being present. I hope you realize that decision will not sit well with everyone. You're sure to receive complaints.”

Conrad shrugged. “If anyone wishes to complain, let them do so—if they dare. It shan't bother me in the slightest. Though, truly, I cannot understand either your surprise or your confusion. You know what I plan to propose tonight, and how unpopular it's likely to be. This place is nothing if not impressive. If a show of affluence helps to convince some of those who might not otherwise be inclined to side with me to change their minds, so be it.”

“Ah.” Georgia's lips curved in a knowing smile. “I begin to understand. So you're showing off then? I hate to spoil your fun, my love, but I doubt they need any such reminders. Your position in society is well noted.”

“Good. Even better, in fact. Still, it doesn't hurt to hammer the point home a little. I am determined to have my way in this by whatever means necessary.” He shot her a sidelong glance and then added, “But there was another reason I chose this venue. It was in this very spot that I promised you I would someday find the means to end the horrendous practice that has caused us both such misery. I'm doing this for us,
ciccia
; for you and me and all the countless others who have suffered as we did.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I hope you also realize that many of those ‘countless others' will be coming here tonight for the express purpose of opposing you—and your plan.” Georgia shook her head. “You're right, you know. It will not be easy to win them over, especially since so many of the others—people who
might
have been more sympathetic to your cause—have been barred from even attending this meeting!”

“
Our
cause,” Conrad corrected automatically. “I'm not doing this for myself alone.” He gazed at her curiously. “You think I erred in having invitations sent only to those Houses that are headed by
Invitus
. Is that what you're saying?”

“If I may be so bold as to question my sire's wisdom, then yes. I do believe it would have been better if the others had been included. As a group, non-
Invitus
are far more likely to be in favor of your position. After all, it is they who will reap most of the benefits of it.”

Conrad waved her concerns away. While it was true that
Invitus
, vampires like themselves, were naturally more powerful than ordinary vampires, the vile process that made them that way was nothing short of torture. It needed to end. “Non-
Invitus
are far from the only ones who will benefit. Think of the future and all those we will be sparing. Besides, you are missing the point. While it might have been easier to achieve victory if everyone were allowed a vote, ultimately it would have been meaningless. It matters not how or whether anyone else will be affected by the decisions we make here tonight; this is a choice that can only be made by those of us who
are
Invitus
. Only we can end this practice. And the decision to do so must be unanimous.”

“Unanimous?” Georgia shook her head. “Oh, my love! You were ever a dreamer, but this is impossible! I'm already concerned that you will not even get a simple majority of the council to vote in your favor; you will
never
convince all of them to do so.”

“You don't think so?”

“No, Conrad. I'm sorry to say it, but I don't.”

“I would not concern myself with it overmuch if I were you.” He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. “Tell me something, Georgia. Did you not find it strange, you who know me so well, when I so willingly accepted the role that the council foisted upon me—that of chief executioner for all those afflicted by the plague?”

“Strange? No, not really. I found it worrisome. You took a great risk—to your health, to your life, to the well-being of all of us who depend upon you. If you had become infected…”

“If I had become infected, those I care for would have been fine. Did you imagine I did not envision such an eventuality, or plan for it? I assure you that was not the case. If I had become ill, I would have immediately asked you to end my life and take over the leadership of my House.”

“Me?” Georgia's face went white. “Dear heavens, surely you jest. Why, pray tell, would you choose
me
for so onerous a task?”

Conrad smiled. “Why not you? I can think of no one better suited to see to the safety of my family—or to continue the work I'd begun.”

“I suppose I should be honored by your trust in me,” Georgia replied, still shaking her head in bemusement.

“We're straying from the point,” Conrad said. “Do you wish to know how I can be so certain that I will carry my point tonight without outside support? It's very simple. What I am now is exactly what the council has made me. They were content to be lazy and complacent, to sit back and let someone else do their dirty work for them—to let someone else take the risk for them. They thought to use me, never even noticing that I, in turn, was using them. I took advantage of the opportunity they gave me to consolidate my position. What they all failed to realize was that with every life I took, my strength increased, my wealth increased, my House grew ever greater. It was they who gave me much of the power I intend to wield over them tonight.”

“They didn't all fail to realize it,” Georgia corrected. “I know for a fact that there were several of them who eyed your growing wealth with greedy eyes. They were counting on you becoming afflicted, on your House devolving into chaos upon your death. I have no doubt they'd planned to descend upon us like vultures, to pick over your still-warm corpse, as it were, and redistribute your wealth among them.”

“Truly?” Conrad shook his head. “Well, well, I suppose that does not really surprise me overmuch. It was a miscalculation on their part, of course, but only one of many.”

Georgia glanced at him curiously. “So, explain this to me. Are you saying you undertook this entire campaign for no other reason than to bring us here tonight, to this moment, to this vote to end the cult of
Invitus
?”

“Not entirely. In the beginning, as you know, there were many who sought me out independent of the council. They did so because of my reputation for killing swiftly and efficiently, for not toying with my victims. They were seeking a merciful death for themselves and my promise that their people would be taken care of once they were gone, that they would not be victimized, not enslaved or abused. I acted out of compassion, nothing more. Of course, once I took on the burden of acting on the council's behalf, I was forced to kill many who did not seek it, but who needed to die nonetheless. In all these cases, however, my own motives remained the same; I sought only to minimize pain wherever possible.”

Georgia nodded. “Of course. I should have realized. Although I imagine most of the council assumed you were motivated either by cruelty or ruthless ambition.”

“Quite likely,” Conrad replied grimly. “It would not be the first time that has happened. I have been accused of brutality on several occasions when it was not the case. This time around, I saw no reason to correct their misperceptions. It suited my purposes to let them think what they wished.”

* * * * *

“It has now been over ten years since any new cases of
Vesco Inedia
have been reported to this council.” Sojinnyara, generally acknowledged to be the oldest among them, glanced at the group assembled around the council table. Georgia shivered as the older woman's stony gaze passed over her. “And nearly a quarter of a century since the last major outbreak. Given the time that has passed, and the shortness of human lives, this council believes it is safe to say that everyone who was involved either in conceiving or in carrying out this campaign against us is now deceased. Most of them, of course, were identified and eradicated many years ago—and that includes those who were merely unwitting carriers of the disease.

“To the best of our knowledge, none of the original instigators was allowed to pass their knowledge on to anyone else. We have pored through all of their written documents and destroyed everything that pertained to the disease. There remains a slight possibility that something may have been missed, that some details were passed down via word of mouth, for example. But we consider that enough of the most crucial information has been destroyed. It is therefore highly unlikely that the exact process could ever be duplicated, or that the disease itself could somehow be revived at a later date.

“There may be other such threats in our future, of course, and we must remain ever vigilant to that possibility, but in this moment we feel confident—for the first time ever—in stating that the plague is ended. My friends, we are victorious. Those who opposed us have been defeated. Our species, our families and we ourselves have survived.”

A smattering of applause met her pronouncement. “Hear, hear.” Emrys Ap Llewellyn, the council's newest member, pounded on the table to signify approval. “Well done.”

Georgia shifted restlessly in her chair. It mattered not what Conrad said; she did not belong in this company. She was uncomfortable being seated alongside the heads of the various Houses—and not just because of the subject up for discussion tonight, but because all the other vampires who'd accompanied their lords and ladies here tonight were standing at attention around the room, ready to be of service should their sires desire anything. She would have been happier if she were among them.

She would have been happier still had Conrad allowed her to stay away altogether. Being here, in this cursed hall, brought up so many memories, none of them pleasant. She had only to pass through the front doors for the old feelings to re-emerge, and once again she felt like a slave.

If things had been different—if, for example, she had been the one to kill Rupert, as should have been the case—she would have been happy to have taken her place at this table tonight. Indeed, if she
had
been the one to kill Rupert, this hall would have belonged to her. It might have been she who acted as hostess, who received the others here as her guests.

If things had been different, she would have been their equal. And despite all of Conrad's assurances, she was sure it was just a matter of time before one of the others recalled that fact and challenged her right to be here.

“I mistrust this report from the council.” It was Brockwell who spoke, not surprisingly. He'd been born of royalty. In fact he'd once been lord of a small principality, so his arrogance came naturally. He was also well known for his cruelty, his vicious temperament, and his vociferous disdain of anyone whom he considered inferior—which was pretty much everyone.

Rumor had it that his temper had grown even worse of late, that those close to him had suffered mightily as a result, with many paying the ultimate price. “Your arguments are specious and your self-congratulatory tone is laughable. What gives you the right to be so smug? Or to make such outrageous pronouncements on the council's behalf? Ten years, you say? Bah. What is that? It is nothing! When there are no new outbreaks after a hundred years, or better yet five hundred years, then maybe, perhaps, will I begin to be convinced that anyone on this council knows one-tenth of what they claim to know, or that this plague might be deemed over.”

“Five hundred years?” Emrys feigned shock. “It's likely we'll all be dead of other causes by then. Why not celebrate this moment while we can?”

Brockwell ignored him. “Nor am I at all pleased with the manner in which our enemies have been dispatched. Who ordered these deaths to be carried out so swiftly and with such lamentable secrecy? Why were we on the council not kept better informed?”

“You well know who ordered these deaths,” Conrad replied. “It was you yourself, or rather, the council as a whole. As for the manner in which they were carried out, that was my decision—and my right, as I was the one to implement the council's orders. But you're aware of that already as well. Are you registering a complaint?”

“Ah, Quintano, our most faithful and enthusiastic executioner. Yes, I have a complaint to make! How dare you claim to have acted on the council's behalf? Tell me, where is the fear that should have been engendered by these deaths? Where were the lessons learned? We should
never
have squandered so many glorious opportunities to make examples of our enemies. They should have been killed properly—by which I mean slowly and painfully. They should have been made to suffer as we have suffered. Afterward, their mutilated bodies—what was left of them—should have been put on display so that everyone would know that this is how we deal with our enemies.
That
is how you discourage future attacks from happening.”