If Morag noticed anything, she pretended not to as she stepped up to the large middle podium. She waved her hand at the crowd, and the shouting tapered off.
“We’re happy to have you in the crowd today,” she announced, her voice amplified through the microphones, spreading out over the decorative pools and floating on the air toward the nearby Holyrood Palace. Kane glared at the microphone. It let out a feedback whine, and Laini winced. A camera crew inched closer to Morag. She nodded to a sharply dressed man, who stepped up. “Our friends at the BBC are currently doing a documentary series on this issue.” She winked at the crowd. “I hope they filter me to look ten years younger, but you know how the English are since they lost the greatest thing that ever happened to them.”
A resounding laugh rose from the crowd, which drew a good-natured scowl from the BBC host, a pleasant, academic-looking man in his late thirties. Morag probably couldn’t care less about her appearance, but she knew how to charm a crowd and playfully tease her neighboring ally. I took mental notes on her posture and easy demeanor, hoping I could mimic them when my turn to speak came.
“Charles Winterford here with BBC1 for our series on vampire-human relations. Since Scottish independence from the UK some ten years ago, the offer for vampire asylum has catapulted Scotland onto the world stage in a profound way. It’s a controversial decision.” Charles stepped up to the podium, directing his microphone to Dorian. My nerves tingled. “We’d love to hear from the vampire whose cruel treatment at the hands of the Occult Bureau gained the sympathy of many who viewed the now famous livestream. Dorian Clave, can you give your first official statement to the UK media?”
Dorian took a half step forward. His eyes darkened as he visibly fought a snarl. I balled my hand into a fist beside me. Please, please keep it together. He blinked twice and stared into the camera before turning back to Winterford, who seemed a little unsure of himself now that he was standing in front of a pack of vampires.
“My people and I are here to seek a new life for vampires. We mean no harm to humans,” Dorian spoke. His firm voice spread easily over the crowd even though he was too far from the microphone. “We are grateful to Scotland for granting us temporary asylum. We would like to get to know humans better, as equal species.”
Kane looked down, rolling his eyes, and Laini covertly kicked him in the leg, hidden from sight by the podiums.
No harm to humans.
The truth was more complicated than that, but this was the public relations statement we had decided on. The vampires technically weren’t here to harm humans at the moment. It was the reason they’d stopped feeding in the Mortal Plane.
Winterford’s expectant gaze swung over to me, along with his microphone. I stepped forward, grateful to feel Dorian’s presence beside me. My arm brushed against Dorian’s overcoat. Maybe everything would go okay.
“Ms. Sloane, your uncle is famously in Scottish custody for his alleged inhumane crimes involving planned vampire eradication. Where do you stand on his alleged actions?”
“My uncle—” The term was so repulsive to me now that I choked on it. The reporter stared at me, his eyes widening a fraction. No, I couldn’t let this be a scandalous moment of news.
“My uncle’s actions were deplorable, but our connection is only by blood. It doesn’t matter who did this. My official stance is that I would like to encourage the US to stop hunting vampires. The deliberate eradication of a species that came to us in their time of need, seeking a partnership, constitutes genocide of the cruelest kind. Despite the bloodshed between our species in the past, I’m confident that all humans and vampires with good intentions can coexist.” I gestured to the group on the stage. “Just as my small team has been doing for some time now.”
As I showed off our finely dressed group, I saw Kane curl his lip from the corner of my eye. Was he hungry? Or angry that we were pandering? I cleared my throat as I glanced at Laini.
“In fact, the vampires have prepared their own statements to showcase their linguistic interest in human languages.”
Laini stepped forward. We hoped that having her sweet face on covers would show another side to the vampires, who could appear intimidating. She shyly glanced at Winterford and then began speaking in Scottish Gaelic, which she’d been practicing with two guards at the barracks. Winterford looked somewhat puzzled, but the Scottish journalists’ eyes widened in delight as Laini delivered her message, another statement about peace between the groups.
Sike came forward after her. “I’ve been trying my hand at Scots,” he admitted to the crowd. He grinned bashfully. “Try not to hate it too much.” He began speaking in a language somewhat similar to Gaelic. I grasped a few words that sounded slightly English, but much of it sounded like gibberish to me. Some in the crowd began laughing pleasantly, enjoying Sike’s attempt, though it seemed like he butchered some words.
“Lovely,” Winterford said, quite genuinely. “Thank you.”
Morag turned to the reporters as Winterford and the BBC crew fell back, but his camera crew remained focused on us. “We’ll now take questions from the floor. Please wait until I call on you.” Gestures flew up from the crowd, hands waving with microphones clutched tightly in their grasp. Morag pointed to a brunette woman in the front row.
“Isabella Smith, The New York Times,” she said and aimed her analyzing gaze at me. “How can we expect to keep humans safe from spontaneous vampire violence? There have been reports in the United States of rumored attacks.”
Rumored attacks were a laugh. They were the work of gossip or invented entirely by the reporter. If the vampires had fellow survivors in the Mortal Plane, they would know. I could answer that well enough, but I knew it wouldn’t satisfy her. That was apparently the name of the game in media and public relations. “Congress assured me during my conversations with them back in the US that these reports have been conclusively proven false. I have no more information on the matter. As I’m no longer in an official military position, I rely on what the US government is telling the public, which is that you don’t need to worry about spontaneous vampire attacks.”
“We expect our US allies to keep their people informed of any pressing dangers, but these are nothing but baseless horror stories spread across social media,” Morag added firmly. “Next question.” She selected a blonde woman with a red neck kerchief near the back.
“Charlotte Leblanc, The International Gazette. We ran a focus group with our readers. One of our top questions was about long-term expectations for vampire-human relations. For example, if we live peacefully, can our species interbreed? Will there be total integration of cultures, despite the inherent threat that vampires apparently pose to certain members of the public?” Her expression was cheerful, but a pang of defensiveness rose up in me. Did anyone outside our group suspect my relationship with Dorian? I squirmed slightly as I stood beside him. As for whether humans and vampires could interbreed, I’d like to know that for myself.
Dorian shifted beside me. Was he hungry or frustrated by the questions? I prayed the conference would end quickly. They said it would be twenty minutes to half an hour, but I was pretty sure it would run long, with this many reporters clamoring for responses.
“At present, we don’t have enough information on that,” Morag replied. “But I wouldn’t suggest setting up any dating websites for vampire partners anytime soon.”
The crowd chuckled. Glad someone is enjoying this.
“How are you responding to the rumor that tens of thousands of vampires will be walking Scotland’s streets?” a man from an English newspaper asked. “Will they be able to coexist if the vampires can maintain themselves by feeding on convicted criminals? Should the public worry?” His bushy eyebrows bunched together over thick-framed glasses.
“It’s too early to say anything definitively, without research to back it up and time for lawmakers to reflect on their decisions,” Morag replied, giving a careful answer that meant nothing. “There will not be tens of thousan
ds of vampires roaming Scotland, however. Future decisions about the guidelines for vampire feeding will be decided among international groups. I foresee some countries differing on restrictions, but perhaps we’ll see a creation of vampire-friendly countries that establish strict systems on this issue.”
“Won’t they just attack us anyway, if they feel like it?” a voice asked from the crowd.
Morag scowled. “Please wait for me to call on you, especially if you’re going to shout ill-considered speculation. No, vampires do not attack on pure whim. As we understand, they have a finely tuned internal sense of when a person has done unspeakable harm to others in the past. In fact, we hope researchers can study this ability to develop new opportunities for criminal science.”
The next reporter chosen stood. A wiry man with oval glasses peered at us curiously, as though we were lab experiments on display. “Henry Bugle, The Independent Times. Do we have a clear idea about what the internal rules are for vampires? Whose rules do the vampires’ ‘feelings’ follow, anyway? Is there any research currently in progress?”
The combined stares made my skin itch. There were plenty of questions we needed to figure out answers to, but we needed time to do that. The public floating the possibility of living alongside vampires was hopeful, but I knew the tide could turn easily if something went wrong. Dorian fidgeted next to me, a soft growl escaping his mouth.
Tahn raised a hand to answer, immediately charming the gathered reporters. “I can’t say much, but a lot of us vampires are working with scientists and researchers to answer those kinds of questions in ways humans can understand.” His voice was soft and syrupy, with a slight huskiness created by his age. “I must admit, it is fascinating to explore our own physiology in this way.”
A square-jawed man with a badly kept black beard surged to his feet, obviously annoyed at not being picked. “Who exactly will pay for these refugees if they’re granted asylum? Can we expect the vampires to get jobs and pay taxes? If they don’t—”
Dorian jerked beside me, and I grabbed him without thinking. He dropped to the ground on his knees. Sike and Laini quickly stepped in front of him.
“Uh, just a moment,” Morag said quickly, trying desperately to speak over the sudden rise of whispers. “One of our fellows isn’t feeling too well. Convinced to do a whisky tasting last night, and I think he got into it a little too much.”
“Been there,” shouted a jovial Scottish reporter in an electric wheelchair. His comment raised a few appreciative laughs.
“See, this guy gets it.” Morag waved over a man in a black suit to take her place. She pressed her hand to my back and murmured quickly, “Get him off stage now and into one of the cars so we can get him away from here. We’ll finish up and follow.”
She aimed a smile at the crowd, which was becoming increasingly apprehensive. Kane’s head swiveled suddenly toward the nearby Arthur’s Seat. Laini surveyed the crowd, her face focused. My nerves burned, telling me to move fast. Something bad was coming.
Morag gasped abruptly as Dorian ripped himself from her and Sike’s grasp. He leapt over his podium into the crowd. I froze in horror as I watched his powerful hands swat cameras and reporters to the side. He knocked down a man as he raced down the street.
“He’s headed for Holyrood,” Morag said sharply into the comm I hadn’t noticed she was wearing. “Track him and keep him clear of civilians.”
Dorian was already a significant distance away, little more than a black smudge racing across the muted green of the cliff’s base. Kane attempted to follow, but he stopped suddenly and hovered on the stage.
Like hot water pouring over great slabs of ice, the plaza in front of Parliament rang with several swift, sharp cracks.
Someone screamed as the BBC camera shattered.
Bullets.
“Get down!” I yelled as a spray of gunfire pockmarked the podiums.
Louise cried out as Sike leapt in front of her, yanking her down. I threw myself off the stage to avoid the spray. A trail of red caught my eye as I dropped into the chaos.
Blood, but I couldn’t tell whose.
Chapter Four
“Get down!” I shouted above the fray.
The crowd erupted into screams across the plaza. Several more shots pelted the ground. A window shattered across the road in The Queen’s Gallery. A wave of humans ducked. Someone’s sobs rose above the screams. I heard bodies splash into the pools in front of the building.
I risked raising my head and spotted Laini, Sike, and even Tahn across the plaza lifting reporters to their feet and helping the security team direct the crowd. Kane snarled as he looked around wildly, searching for the shooter. His eyes narrowed as the remaining crowd pushed against him, fighting their way back toward the Royal Mile. Police sirens rose in the distance. Laini shook her head, her fangs extending and shrinking back to their normal state as she struggled to restrain herself.
I dragged myself up from the ground, waiting with a thundering heart to hear another shot. My first instinct was to help the vampires, but the crowd made that impossible. People still rushed to get away from the plaza, with emergency response vehicles and curious people trying to push through from the other direction. The security team, including Morag, ushered people into the Parliament building. Some reporters remained glued to the ground, whispering panicked statements into their microphones or cameras.
After another moment passed with no more bullets, I stood up fully in front of the stage to make my way through the chaos. Flashing lights reflected off the metal and glass of Parliament as police and ambulances pulled up in the square. A cold chill ran through me as I glanced toward the Holyrood Palace. Where was Dorian? Had he chased the shooter?
Laini and Kane finally broke free of the crowd and ran off in the same direction he had disappeared in. I followed them as quickly as possible, shoving my way through the remaining crowd. Police officers rushed out from newly arrived convoys. I pushed past them, ignoring their yells for us to either head for the police vehicles or the building, and sprinted toward the palace. Laini and Kane darted into the nearby ornamental park.
I ran as fast as I could, past the ornamental gardens and pools of the Parliament building. Tourists peppered the path up to Arthur’s Seat, but they were scattered by Laini and Kane and then me a minute later. Laini and Kane could have moved faster, but they likely held back, not wanting to hurt anyone in the crowd of humans. Many of the faces were confused and anxious.
“Were those gunshots?” a woman asked me in a sweet French accent as she clutched her children close to her.
“Clear the area,” I shouted and waved my hands, all I could manage as I raced by. I didn’t look back to see if they obeyed or stayed frozen in place. My tone had been official enough that someone could mistake me for an authority figure, but my distinct American accent and frantic pace would be strange.
I pumped my arms and legs. I would give anything to be in athletic gear with some running shoes, but this outfit would have to do. People milled around in the palace parking lot, visibly alarmed and confused. I ran against them like a salmon going upstream. Had Dorian sensed something was wrong before it happened? Was that why he ran this way?
At the base of the steep incline, I spotted movement and a flash of pink in a clump of trees and briars. Changing course, I ran over, my fashionable boots sliding slightly on the damp grass, and was greeted with a somewhat distressing sight. Tousled and dirt-smeared, Kane sat on a wildly snarling Dorian, shoving his knee sharply into the small of his writhing back, while Laini grabbed his arms and pinned them to the ground.
“Dorian,” I called out, dropping to my knees close to his head, panting for breath. He didn’t respond, only continued to growl and fight against Kane and Laini’s grip.
“Nice try, but he’s lost it.” Kane stooped down to Dorian’s ear. “Did you hear that, you fool? You’re ruining your own stupid plan. Why can’t you follow your own rules?”
Laini glanced at me with a nervou
s frown. “The sniper left. Much faster than I would expect from a human.” Her gaze darted toward the path leading up to Arthur’s Seat. “All I can sense from this distance is darkness, an unusual amount for one person.”
“We could have run the shooter down,” Kane said crossly. “But we kept our word to Dorian to stop him if he lost it, since he’s being an idiot about feeding. If he’d killed the shooter, we might have missed our chance at asylum.”
I couldn’t stop my flinch at his words. We all knew Dorian’s refusal to feed regularly was due to not wanting to cause me pain. Kane’s words felt like an accusation that wasn’t altogether misplaced. Dorian’s hunger made him feral. Luckily, it also made him weak enough to be restrained by Laini and Kane. I understood why he’d asked them to keep an eye on him. I just hated that it was necessary.
“The shooter is farther away,” Laini reported, closing her eyes for a moment. “I don’t understand how they’re moving so fast. If they were somewhere up on the hill, it should have taken them far longer to get back to ground level. Every path is very steep and precarious.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if they weren’t human,” Kane said ominously. Not human? They’d used a gun on the crowd, which didn’t seem supernatural. But a human couldn’t run like that…
“What can I do?” I asked. My lungs ached from my run, and I couldn’t rip my eyes away from Dorian, who began to calm slightly.
Approaching footsteps sounded behind me. I turned to see five soldiers in black combat dress running up to our group—our Scottish military detail.
“We’ve secured the plaza,” the leading officer said with a steady nod. His eyes fell to Dorian, and he frowned uneasily. “We’ll escort you back to the major and the convoy.”
“We can help you look for the shooter,” I said, gesturing toward Arthur’s Seat. “But we have to hurry. They’re already nearly out of the range of the vampires’ senses.”
Darklight 3: Darkworld Page 5
