The Chronicles of the Immortal Council: The complete 10-book collection

by D C Young

  Chapter Two

  “What exactly am I doing here, Sam?” Allison asked. “Seems to me you two are having a couple's night out so I'm not sure what I'm doing sitting here in the middle of it.”

  “That's not the case at all, Allison,” Sam replied. “It's just that I think it might be best to bring in all the resources on this new case.”

  Allison grimaced a little as she picked up the menu, knowing that Sam had taken on something out of the ordinary and legitimately difficult if she was going to those lengths.

  That's true. But I also don't want to be on the case for three months. So put a smile on and order some food.

  Get out of my head, vampire.

  Not until you give a smile.

  Allison smiled, and then stuck her tongue out at Sam. Sam burst out laughing.

  “Stop the mind talking you two,” Kingsley ordered. “It's incredibly rude to do that psychic stuff in the company of others.”

  “Really?” Allison asked jokingly. “I thought that was kind of the point.”

  “Touche!” Kingsley conceded and the three laughed heartily.

  Soon, a waiter came and took their dinner orders. With that out of the way, Kingsley, being the capable litigator that he was, took the opportunity to start the conversation about Sam's case. “Well, now that we've got some time, tell us about this case, Sam.”

  “Honestly, at first it seemed to be your average run of the mill missing person's case but when I sat down with Julia and Marie and got the story first hand...”

  “It got complicated?” Allison asked.

  “that's one way of putting it,” Sam replied sarcastically.

  “Cold case, huh?” Kingsley asked as he masterfully buttered some bread.

  “Considering the person I need to locate has been off the radar for just over four hundred and fifty years, I'd say it's a hell of a super cold case.” Her two friends looked extremely confused; obviously waiting or Sam to give them the details. “The subject is Antoinette Nemours, Marie de Guise's handmaid of over twenty years. From what I've gathered, someone secretly turned Antoinette, purposely kept that information from Marie and has also managed to keep Antoinette off of everybody's radar, the Eastern Watchers included.”

  “Whoa,” Allison said, “Isn't that like against the vampire code or something?”

  Sam shrugged her shoulders, then replied, “I don't know about all of that but I do know it's incredibly difficult and by virtue of that, quite suspicious.”

  “Actually,” Kingsley piped up, his voice quite grave. The two women turned to him, surprised by his tone. “From a lawyers perspective, it's rather insidious. Anyone who would go to such lengths has a plan and is playing a very long game. It would suit us to figure out what exactly that game might be before we proceed.”

  “I agree completely, Kingsley. That's where my mind was going with this whole story too,” Sam said. She paused while the waiter set up a folding stand beside their table and placed a large platter on it. He went around the table placing each person's dish in front of them as well as the accompanying sides, wished them 'bon appé tit' and quietly left the table.

  “How incredibly professional,” Allison mocked.

  “Actually Allison, that's the very reason I have all my mealtime meetings here,” Kingsley advised. “They do their job, they do it well and they keep it professional. No lingering, no overstepping, no small talk.”

  “All right, all right. I get the jist of it.”

  “Anyway, as I was saying” Sam hissed at the two, “since I don't have the time to get much more background information on this, other than what Marie and Julia have provided, I'm going to have to just get to France and jump right in.”

  “Huh!” Kingsley grunted she lifted a forkful of potatoes to his mouth.

  “That's where you two come in.”

  “Okay,” Allison replied, leaning forward as if the suspense were killing her.

  “Allison, I need you with me in France. The possibility that you might be able to get into some of these people's heads is likely going to be a huge asset to the investigation. If they've hidden this vampire for four centuries, I'm gonna want to know how they did it and why.”

  “Fair enough. I'll be as much of a help as I can, Sam.”

  “Great.”

  “What about me? Am I just chopped liver over here?”

  “Not at all, Kingsley,” Sam said smiling sweetly at him “I'm going to need you to play anchor. Whoever's been hiding Antoinette are masters at making things disappear and keeping them that way. I need you to track our movements and call in the back up troops if we go dark for too long or without giving you notice.”

  “Good idea Sam,” Kingsley said nodding his approval. “I think I may know a guy that can supply you with a little tech to help out with that too.”

  “Perfect!”

  “So, when do we leave?” Allison asked rudely around a mouthful of food.

  Chapter Three

  One did not scorn Henry VIII of England and expect there would be no consequences. And yet, Marie de Guise, Dowager Queen of Scotland was about to do it a second time. Having endured the burial of two husbands and four sons, she simply had no further interest in marriage. The prestige and wealth of London's royal palace, though it had tempted her before, no longer appealed to her in any way. Henry VIII appealed to her even less. If those facts were not true, Marie had an even greater commitment to the infant she held in her arms.

  Born only six days before the news of James' death was delivered to her, Mary, was the only light left for her in Scotland With all of her will, Marie was determined that Mary would live to rule Scotland and all the rest could be damned; that included Henry.

  “Princess Margaret is here to see you, your majesty,” Antoinette announced. The aging attendant had been with her even in Scotland and she still doted over her even through the direst circumstances and there had been many.

  She smiled softly, remembering when Princess Margaret, in her father's house would simply enter her chambers unannounced. Marie's status in Scotland made that behavior, which was heavily frowned upon, cease. Margaret's timely vacation had helped to chase away the weariness of winter and bring on spring. She had been at Linlithgow Palace for several weeks and her quick wit and sunny disposition had done wonders for Marie. “Please send her in.”

  “What a lovely sight the two of you are this morning, my Queen,” Margaret blurted as she entered the room. “The light falling through the window lends a rather angelic atmosphere. Perhaps Michelangelo ought to be called to capture the moment.”

  In spite of the dower mood thinking about Henry VIII and his offer had put her in, she couldn't help but laugh. “I am becoming quite fond of your lies. Please do not stop telling them.:

  “I've a passion for it,” Margaret retorted.

  Margaret took a seat in front of the window along with Marie and Mary. She watched the two of them silently for a few moments.

  “She reminds me a lot of you,” Marie said as she continued to gaze down at the quiet face of her sleeping child. “There is so much spirit and fight in her.”

  “She'll need it if she's to be queen of this rugged land,” Margaret responded. A devilish twinkle came into her eyes in the next instant. “There is a stable boy or two down there that I would like to take on a rough ride.”

  “Margaret,” Marie hissed.

  “They would sure beat a go with Henry,” Margaret laughed.

  In spite of the fact that she refused to respond to such a scandalous statement, she could not hold back her own laughter, but cut it short when Mary began to stir. She soothed her and whispered. “I fear that you will be a horrible influence on this sweet angel.”

  Marie looked up and toward where Antoinette was standing quietly. Antoinette did not leave the room whenever Mary was with her mother. She saw Marie's head turn toward her and she scurried to carry out her order, knowing that the nurse was to be called to take Mary.

  Once the nurse ha
d quietly taken the sleeping infant to place her in her cradle and sit beside it, Marie turned back toward her guest. “I assume you have heard about Henry's proposal, then?”

  “Who hasn't?” Margaret giggled. Can you believe that he's still after you after all these years?”

  “You know that he has no real interest in me,” Marie scoffed. “I do not doubt that he only wished to marry me so that he can later have my head taken from me. I suppose, in truth, he is seeking a way to better relations between both France and Scotland. Perhaps it is a move toward peace.”

  She did not believe that Henry could be at peace with anyone, but it was a motivation to be considered.

  “Shall I fetch a coin?” Margaret grinned.

  “The coin has already fallen in Henry's favor and I still will not abide by it,” Marie smiled.

  “You do realize that he will be in a rage over this.”

  “That just makes it all the more delightful.”

  “Marie de Guise, indeed.” Margaret faked being shocked by the statement. “What are you going to do?”

  “I am going to send him a letter.” The moment she said it, she looked up toward Antoinette.

  “Your majesty?” Antoinette responded.

  “I want to send a letter.”

  “Whatever shall you write?” Margaret asked.

  “We're going to write it together,” Marie responded. “one thing which we will be sure to mention is his deplorable matrimonial record to date.”

  ***

  The first consequence of scorning Henry VIII a second time came less than three months later with the signing of the Treaty of Greenwich between the Earl of Arran and Henry VIII. The treaty stipulated as one of its conditions the marriage of Marie's daughter, Mary to Henry's son Edward VI, was five at the time. Their wedding was to take place on Mary's tenth birthday.

  “That irreparable imbecile!” Marie de Guise's shouts could be heard echoing throughout the halls of Linlithgow. “It is one thing to be angry with me, but to make my daughter a part of his revenge is beyond insufferable!”

  “Your majesty, you really must be reasonable about this,” Earl Arran coaxed. He had been appointed Governor of Scotland and Regent to her daughter, Mary, who lacked a few days of being seven months old.

  “Reasonable?” Marie retorted. “Did you think it reasonable when you signed this wicked edict?”

  “Your majesty,” he responded. “We cannot afford a war with Henry right now. Scotland is in a shambles and we simply cannot endure it.”

  “So you bargain with the future of my daughter,” she snapped.

  “Technically, your majesty, she is Scotland's daughter,” the Earl answered in a soft, but firm tone.

  “This whole thing will be undone, Arran,” she growled. “It will never come to pass, do you understand me?”

  “Your majesty there is little that can be done,” he answered. “The treaty is signed and is law.”

  “Little can be done?” Marie's smile was not a pleasant one. “Evidently you are not familiar with how vicious a she-bruin can become when fighting for her cub.”

  Marie's words were no empty threat. By December, a mere three months after her daughter was crowned Mary Queen of Scots, the Scottish Parliament, given plenty of reason to believe that the she-bruin would carry out her threats, repudiated the Treaty of Greenwich. She had also won another battle in the Scottish Parliament during that same period and was crowned Queen Regent of Scotland, giving her greater control over Mary's future.

  The repudiation of the treaty did nothing but inflame the anger of Henry VIII. By May 1544, Henry's troops were invading the south of Scotland by land as well as by sea near Edinburgh. Scotland, in spite of being in a shambles, as the Earl of Arran had claimed, rose to the occasion and kept Henry's armies at bay. By the end of February 1545, Scottish troops had won a decisive victory over Henry at Ancrum Moor.

  Were Henry's military forces the only enemy they had to fight, Scotland might have found rest from battle, but Henry's northern thrust had stirred up Scottish Protestants as well. In an effort to quell the rebellion, Cardinal Beaton had George Wishart burned at the stake for heresy. The move only further inflamed the Scottish Protestants who broke into St. Andrew's Castle, surprised Cardinal Beaton, killed him and then held the castle for more than a year.

  Though the southern portion of the Kingdom of Fife kept Scotland well protected from attack by the Protestant rebels, Marie, Arran and Parliament had feared that six months of continuous Protestant appeals to London would eventually draw Henry to attack again from the south. Those fears might have come to fruition had not Henry fallen ill and died the next winter. His nine-year-old son, Edward VI, was hardly interested in the Protestant cause.

  Even without support from London, there was a great deal of fear that Scotland's troops could not hold out much longer without help. Marie was called upon to convince Francis to send her aid. Francis, Marie was certain, would never neglect her and had hoped for a positive response, instead, she had gotten word that the king was critically ill.

  She turned her appeals toward Henry II who had been like a little brother to her when she had lived with them. Henry was all too eager to help, but Henry's hands were tied until he was crowned. Marie later received word that Henry had succeeded his father on his 28th birthday, when Francis died.

  Grieved by the death of Francis, Marie continued to hold out hope that Henry would come to the aid of Scotland. A siege upon St. Andrew's Castle was being planned, but the hope of success was less than positive. Marie continued to battle Arran and Parliament to hold off, knowing that Henry would send her aid, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince them of it.

  With Mary playing quietly at her feet, Marie found herself gazing out of the window once again as she worried over another grave decision. Parliament and the Earl were pressing her to give her blessing to the siege, but she feared that a failure there would spell doom for Scotland.

  Henry will come through, she assured herself, though it was becoming harder and harder to believe those worlds. Her thoughts were interrupted by Antoinette.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, Antoinette.”

  “A letter has arrived from Paris. Would you like someone to read it to you?”

  It was a common question but one to which she rarely gave a positive response when it came to letters from France. Somehow, reading the letters herself allowed her to return to her native land, if even for an imaginary moment.

  “That will not be necessary. I will read it myself.”

  The letter was brought to her and dismissed all but Mary and Antoinette from her presence as she broke the wax seal with the coat of arms of the King of France melted into it.

  Dearest Marie,

  I do not doubt that you are quite anxious to hear from me. This letter is at to come to you while in dire need of some new support from France. Were I aged seven or so, I might tease you a bit just as I did when we were children but I will not burden you with such a thing now Final arrangements have been made for a fleet to sail at about the same time this letter is being written. I expect the final order to set sail to be given about the same time this letter is delivered to your hands. The fleet is ordered to commence the bombardment of St. Andrew's Castle immediately upon its arrival. At this time, this is the only aid that I have been able to muster, but I pray that it will come in a timely manner and turn the tide against your heretical rebels.

  Best Regards,

  Henry II, King of France

  P.S. I do hope that you will find a way to give leave of Scotland ad come for a visit. The entire place would be greatly brightened by your presence as well as that of sweet Mary.

  Marie refolded the letter and pressed it to her chest. He had come through, just as she had expected. A smile broadened on her lips. The release the letter brought to her worries made her spirits soar.

  “Antoinette,” she ordered. “Let McBain know that dinner will be served for the Governor and me
mbers of Parliament at the palace this evening. I've an extraordinary announcement to make.”

  Chapter Four

  Charles de Gaulle airport... even at night was easy to see why it was ranked Europe's busiest airport.

  Sam and Allison stomped through the concourses; immigration, baggage claim, customs, ground transportation. When they stepped out into the nighttime Paris air, they both took a deep breath and collapsed on top of their suitcases.

  A concerned skycap came to offer his assistance.

  “Taxi?”

  “Oui!” Allison replied in her very limited French.

  Luckily the man was not interested in a prolonged conversation. He walked to the curb raised his hand put out a high-pitched whistle. A few moments later a taxi pulled up speedily to the curb.

  “Mademoiselles,” he called waving at them.

  Sam and Allison trudged across the sidewalk and happily handed him their cases to place in the trunk. When he slammed it shut, Sam had a ten euro note waiting for him.

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  “Bienvenue, mademoiselle.”

  Julia had spared no expense setting them up.

  The Hotel de Crillon was across the street from the Place de la Concorde and walking distance from the famous Champs-Elysees. The Tuileries train station was also on the same block so they had easy access to transportation for the next day's travels. With her mind at ease about an immediate action plan, Sam sank thankfully into the luxurious bed, pulled the comforter over her body and fell asleep instantly.

  ***

  The next morning, Allison waited in her room patiently while Sam ate tentatively from a bag of AB+ that had been placed in her mini fridge.

  As usual, Julia really had taken good care of the arrangements.

  When she was finished, she accompanied Allison to the hotel restaurant and sipped coffee while her friend indulged in the best Parisian pastries and fresh fruits.