Fatigue marred Nick’s features. “I did it in cold blood, Raf—after almost half a year of relative time to plan it and set it up. I could have turned aside at any point, but I went through with it anyway, as if it were just another gambit in chess. How evil have I become, to do something like that and simply not care?”
Rafael sighed and sat again, patting the stone bench next to him.
Nick looked at him for a moment, then silently sat back down.
Lacing his fingers together in front of him, Rafael chose his words carefully. “Nicholas, for all your power and responsibility, you’re barely thirty-eight years old. You’ve just been through a difficult, drawn-out ordeal, and you’re probably still in shock. Just because you feel numb now doesn’t mean it won’t hit you later. Give it time before you make any rash decisions.” He focused his full attention on Nick, trying to convince the Daywalker of his sincerity. “What did Scott and Jeremy say when you told them what you did?”
“I haven’t talked to them yet.”
“Why not?”
Nick slumped on the park bench. “There’s still more I have to do if I want to cement its impact with the Court, otherwise the effort will be wasted.” He wearily met Rafael’s concerned gaze. “It may have been tactically necessary, but that doesn’t change the fact that I murdered an entire city full of people, none of whom had committed any crime against me personally.
“The Nightwalker who kindled Toby’s Gift was the only one who truly deserved to be on the receiving end of my vengeance, and she was already dead when I made my move. However I justify my actions, whether I say I was avenging my honor or an invasion of my lands, it doesn’t wash away the blood on my hands.”
The Daywalker shivered in his seat. “Scott is a just, decent man. He could turn his back on me forever over this, and I wouldn’t blame him. I could lose Jeremy—hell, even Toby. I don’t know if I’m ready to face the rest of my life alone.”
Rafael gave him a small, knowing smile. “You couldn’t tell them because you were afraid. So you told me because it would hurt less if I turned on you.” He looked at Nick, amused. “Am I so dispensable?”
Nick’s face reddened. “I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I came to you first to test the waters, but that doesn’t mean I care about you any less.”
“Go home, Nicholas,” Rafael said gravely. “Tell them the truth about what you did, and let them see who you really are. If they’re worth holding on to, they’ll come through for you in the end.”
“Are we still friends?”
“We are. Nothing you’ve told me changes anything.” Rafael smiled at him sadly. “Go home, Nicholas. Tell your friends and your lover the truth. If they’re anything like the people you tell me they are, it won’t change anything for them either.”
“Thanks, Raf, for being here.” Nick smiled and stood, apparently planning his next move.
“What are friends for?” He shrugged dismissively as he watched Nick walk toward the park’s exit. “So, now what?” Rafael called after him. “Are you heading back to Anchorpoint?”
Nick turned, his expression steely. “No. I’m going to see an old flame and ask him if he loves me enough to watch my back while I brave a nest of vipers.”
“Somehow, Nicholas, I get the impression you’re not exaggerating in the least.” Rafael sighed. “It would mean a lot to me if you were there for my two-hundred-fiftieth birthday next year.”
Nick smiled. “That’s a lot of candles, Raf. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you try to blow them all out.”
“Then do me a favor, okay? Don’t get yourself killed.”
Nick stared at him for several moments. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally. Then he turned and walked away.
Rafael watched Nick go and then turned his attention to one of the stones in the raked sand. Rippling waves spread outward in the carefully ordered sea around it. Once he was sure Nick was out of earshot, Rafael stood. “Ballista,” he instructed his AI, “get me clearance from the Anchorpoint Transit Hub to jump to Armistice Security Headquarters, tunnel level, and request the city garrison’s security AI to grant me permission to visit a new Sentinel trainee named Tobias Jameson.”
CHAPTER 31
Court of Shadows Council Chamber Complex, Alexandria, Egypt; The next night
“How do you think I should play this?” Nick asked as he stared down the long tunnel ahead of him.
“Be dominant,” Lorcan suggested from beside him. “Don’t back down, no matter the insult, even if it means provoking a duel. Show no fear, and no remorse. Anything less and they’ll kill you before you leave the room.”
He looked over Nick’s tan suit critically, noting the carefully embroidered seal of House Luscian on the left breast pocket and the triskelion adorning the triangular brooch on the right lapel. “It would probably go over much better if you hadn’t chosen to wear Armistice insignia and Daywalker colors.”
Nick snorted. “They know what I am. If I don’t show pride in my allegiance to Rory and the Grace, they’ll take it as an admission of weakness and eat me alive.”
Lorcan’s expression was unreadable as he casually smoothed the cuffs of his own black suit. The Seal of House Diluthical—a Celtic knot interwoven with the rune for ‘eternity’ in Arcolin—was embroidered on the left breast pocket. “True enough,” he conceded quietly. He faced the bright light at the end of the tunnel. “If you’re ready, it’s time we made our entrance.”
The two strode down the corridor, Lorcan walking on Nick’s right to denote their alliance. At the tunnel’s end, they stepped through the archway and into the entry hall. Floating globes of pure magic lit the room, their shadows shifting as the lights bobbed along, carried by random air currents. Five Nightwalkers barred their way forward, their swords ready. In the center was the Night’s Herald—the head of the elite security forces who guarded the Council Chamber Complex.
Her crimson eyes watched them with suspicion, and her fangs were extended in hostility as she addressed them. “Who seeks entry into the Court of Shadows?” she booming voice, speaking ritualized Arcolin, a language dating from the start of the war.
Nick stepped forward first, drawing on Luscian’s memories to address her in the same language. “I am Nicholas Magister Luscian Primogenitor Jiao-long, called Soulkiller’s Bane, called the Prince of Thunder. I am the Triumvirate Council Ambassador to Humanity, and I claim the right to raise my voice in Council.”
She nodded, acknowledging the request, and grudgingly said, “You have the right, Nicholas Magister Luscian. You must surrender your sword to be allowed entry into the Council Chamber.”
Calling Reaper to his hand, Nick encased the sword in a tight shield of magic, willing it to remain corporeal before holding it out horizontally, resting on his palms. To avoid touching it, the Herald accepted it by telekinesis and then passed it to one of the guards for storage. Then she faced him again, reaching into her coat to remove a small crystal orb that glowed with a green light.
“Prince Nicholas,” she said, switching to English, “you are known to possess an implanted artificial intelligence. You will shut it down and allow us to verify its inactivity before you proceed.”
“Rapier,” instructed Nick, “execute timed AI shutdown protocol with reactivation set for one hour.”
“Offline.”
The Herald watched as the green light faded from the crystal in her hand. She nodded in satisfaction. “You may pass, Magister.”
“I will wait for my Primogenitor before proceeding.” Nick’s tone was arrogantly self-assured.
“So be it.” She turned to Lorcan. “Who seeks entry into the Court of Shadows?”
“I am Lorcan Magister Diluthical Primogenitor Luscian, called the Prince of Subterfuge, and I claim the right to raise my voice in Council,” Lorcan said in Arcolin.
“You have the right, Lorcan Magister Diluthical. You must surrender your sword to be allowed entry into the Council Chamber.”
Lorcan called his sword to his hand and stepped forward, handing it to the Herald hilt-first. Reaching out for it, she stopped as the crystal orb glowed green again. Staring at him in suspicion, she switched again to English. “You also have an artificial intelligence in your possession, Magister Diluthical. Have you submitted to AI implantation?”
Lorcan shook his head, noticing the points of the soldiers’ swords rise slightly as they readied themselves to attack. “No, Herald, I have not. The AI is completely self-contained within a portable external device.”
The Herald bared her fangs. “It is forbidden for members of the Court of Shadows and their vassals to own artifacts of Armistice technology without first submitting them to the Court for analysis, Magister Diluthical. Have you sworn allegiance to the Triumvirate, my Lord? Otherwise, your possession of this device constitutes a serious crime.”
Lorcan drew himself up to his full height. “I do not serve the Triumvirate,” he said haughtily. “The artifact does not belong to me, Herald. It remains in my custody only, a loan from Armistice Security for the express purpose of maintaining communications with my Magister.” He glared at her. “I have committed no crime. Do you wish to challenge my honor?”
She regarded him with a sneer. “Very well. You may retain possession of the device upon your exit from the Council Chamber. However, you will deactivate and surrender it now before you will be allowed to proceed.”
Lorcan reached into his pocket and removed an oblong of white metal topped by crystal, roughly the size of a cellular phone. He pressed a small switch at the side and the green glow of the Herald’s orb extinguished. He handed his sword and the portable AI to the Herald without further comment.
“You may pass, Magister Diluthical,” she said.
Side by side, Nick and Lorcan walked the length of the entry hall toward the Council Chamber and finally entered a spacious amphitheater. The shallow dome ceiling was decorated with a vivid mosaic featuring the seal of the Court of Shadows—a serpent biting its tail, its writhing coils surrounding the Arcolin rune for power. More of the floating, magical globes drifted beneath it, their shadows dappling rank upon rank of vampire lords, all seated on the tiered seats below.
Nick and Lorcan walked toward the combat circle, which was marked out in human blood on a layer of white sand in the central open space. It was redrawn at sunset for every Assembly, allowing the assembled Magisters to watch the duelists whenever a challenge was forthcoming. A Full Assembly could only be called by the Magister of one of the twenty greater houses, a list from which House Luscian had never been officially removed.
Arrogantly, Nick strode over to stand before the Champion’s lectern, just to the right of the dividing line between the two halves of the circle. Lorcan followed. It was his right, as Primogenitor Luscian, to stand beside his Master in case the Challenge of Kings was called. The leaders of the greater houses glowered at him, resenting his intrusion into the coveted lower circles of the amphitheater, but said nothing aloud. Yet.
Aleksei Magister Tailizered, the Huntmaster of the Council since the fall of Luscian, stood from his place at the High Table before them. “Nicholas Magister Luscian,” he said in a heavy Russian accent, “you have destroyed one of the largest Nightwalker communities in the world and poisoned the entire territory against us. Why should we not execute you where you stand to eliminate the threat you pose to our people?”
Nick placed his hands on either side of the lectern. “My Lord Imperator, perhaps a better question would be whether it is already too late?”
“Explain your meaning, Magister Luscian,” demanded the Huntmaster.
“It took six months of relative time to design the necessary spellform and prepare the containment circle, but only because it was the first time and I was doing it by myself. The reason it took so long was the careful execution of the containment circle so that it would last forever. If forever hadn’t been an issue, a much simpler circle could have been cast, without the need for blood magic, designed to dissipate under the strain after a few passes of the standing wave. The purification spell would have rippled over the city several times, killing all Nightwalkers within, and then collapsed as the perimeter ward failed. The city would have been cleansed, but would then have remained open for immediate reoccupation.
“In effect, my Lords, I created a clean, first-strike, anti-personnel weapon that will destroy the Nightwalker population of an entire territory, and then dissipate with no further consequences. You should consider well before you ever again invoke my wrath, or I will see to it that the weapon is deployed.”
Aleksei came forward from behind the High Table to stand before Nick. The Russian Magister was tall, burly, with a ruddy complexion, and pale blond hair. “Do you think the simple threat of genocide will save you, Magister Luscian? We would be better served to kill you before you have a chance to strike any of us again.”
Nick bared his fangs. Aleksei carried his authority like a club, but that was only a facade. The Huntmaster was known for subtlety and deception, and he played up his coarse appearance to allow his enemies to underestimate him. Nick wasn’t fooled. “And that, also, would be too late, my Lord Imperator. I have no intention of casting this spell again, but I have made it possible for others to do so. I’ve created two diagrams of the spellform, straightforward enough that any group of Master Spellcasters can invoke them. One is designed to be cast by five Nightwalker sorcerers acting in concert. If that information is released to the various houses of the world, the Court of Shadows will effectively cease to exist. The houses will all return to warring upon each other, as they did before Luscian forced them to meet in the First Council to settle their differences.
“My Father created the Court of Shadows to impose order on your culture, and I have created the means to erase the last vestige of his legacy from history. Provoke me again, and I will set in motion the collapse of Nightwalker society, without guilt or remorse. Think carefully before you test my resolve.”
“And what, pray tell, is the purpose of the second spellform you have described?”
A man Nick didn’t recognize had entered the circle and stood at the Challenger’s lectern. “Who is that?” Nick asked Lorcan, struck by the newcomer’s hate-filled glare.
“Alejandro Magister Tervilant,” said Lorcan. “He was Praetor rank, before Paris. They inducted him this afternoon, before the sun had even set.”
Nick turned his attention to the Challenger. “Magister Tervilant, the second spellform is designed to be cast by seven Fire Sentinels. If, for any reason, House Luscian is attacked, or is destroyed by non-conventional means, that information will be automatically released over the human Internet and television broadcast systems, easily reaching the entire unaffiliated Sentinel population of the world. That is my failsafe protocol. Should I be taken out of play, I’d die knowing the Children of Darkness wouldn’t survive me for long. If you don’t destroy each other, fighting among yourselves, the Sentinels would certainly wipe out any survivors.
“My Lords, I have put in place all the elements for an entirely new phase of the war between Sentinels and Nightwalkers—one that will guarantee your defeat. My goodwill is all that stands between your survival and complete extermination. Defy me at your peril, for I am not inclined to be merciful.”
The Magister Tervilant slammed his fist on the lectern in front of him. “All of this is irrelevant! Huntmaster, whether he has this new weapon at his disposal or is just bluffing, the fact remains that he destroyed the Seat of House Tervilant and all of its senior leadership in an act of war. We demand repayment from House Luscian for this effrontery.”
The Huntmaster glared contemptuously at the Challenger and then turned his attention to Nick. “What say you, Magister Luscian? What restitution do you offer House Tervilant for your unprovoked attack on their lands and leadership?”
“France has belonged to House Luscian since the beginning of the Second Age. House Tervilant is trespassing on my territ
ory. I merely removed an intruder from my lands.”
“This is farcical!” raged Alejandro. “Those lands are ours! House Luscian’s claim on that territory lapsed when it fell, and the Court of Shadows ratified our claim in the absence of any opposition. The time to challenge our occupation of France was seven years ago, Magister Luscian. You have no right to anything in our lands but what we give you, and that is precious little.” The new Magister’s face darkened with anger.
Nick smiled in response. “I agree with you, Magister. By my reading of Court of Shadows protocol, the window of time allowed to challenge the hostile annexation of territory by another house is five years from the moment the aggressor formally serves notice to the defender house of their actions.”
The Magister Tervilant drew himself up and smiled, showing his fangs. “Then your challenge is dismissed by your own words. The territory of France belongs to us.”
“Alejandro Magister Tervilant,” Nick said pleasantly, “you formally informed me of the actions of House Tervilant in invading my lands less than two minutes ago, when you entered the circle as Challenger. Until that moment, no legal basis for any claim on my lands had been put forward by House Tervilant. Prince Xavier’s occupation of Paris was an unsanctioned act of aggression, and I was completely within my rights to expunge him and his entourage from my city. By law, it is I who am owed compensation for your incursion into my territory. What do you intend to offer?”
“Outrageous!” screamed Alejandro, banging a clenched fist down on the lectern. “You dare to—”
“Prince Alejandro,” the Huntmaster said wryly, “the Magister Luscian’s analysis of the law is correct.”
Alejandro stared at him incredulously. “My Lord Imperator, surely you jest? House Luscian was dead. There was no one to inform when our expansion began. When should we have found time to prostrate ourselves before this miserable Daywalker?”
Sunset (Pact Arcanum) Page 30
