“My Lords and Ladies,” Scott spoke up, “I am Scott Phillips Consul Luscian, called the Wind of Water. For thousands of years, Sentinel history has been passed on by word of mouth, written records, and the memories of the Gift, while Nightwalker history has been passed on by telepathic memory transfer. Tonight, that changes.”
“The Arcanum Project grew out of a conversation several years ago between Scott and me,” Ana explained. “We wondered whether telepathic memory transfers could ever be mimicked by technology, as means of recording historical events directly from the minds of the witnesses. After a great deal of work, we announce tonight that it can. Together, we have designed a new form of magical artifact—one that will allow the permanent storage of a recorded memory. We have also created AI software that will allow those memory records to be viewed audiovisually.”
“What you are about to see,” said Scott, “is a composite simulation of memory recordings. This way, the same events can be seen, from the most informative perspective, in an integrated presentation. For this occasion, we have chosen two events to demonstrate this technology, which will become available for general use within a year. The first is the founding of the Armistice—the events that have brought us here today.”
Applause filled the gap in the proceedings as Anaba and Scott stepped to either side of the screen. A picture of Jiao-long’s sanctum appeared, the images drawn from both Rory’s own memory and the memories of Jiao-long that he had absorbed, depicted Rory and Jiao-long confronting each other. The audience watched spellbound as the events of that evening played out, seeing Rory’s transformation and his bargain with the White Wind, followed by his first use of the Grace on Layla and the start of the truce.
When the screen finally faded to gray, Scott and Anaba stepped back in front of it to thunderous applause. Holding up her hands to quieten the audience, Ana spoke again. “The second piece is a cautionary tale, a reminder of what we are and what we have tried to leave behind. This is the story of the Burning, the day the Armistice was breached and we all went back to war.”
They stepped aside again and the screen lit up to show Rory facing Luscian for the first time across the coastal defense barrier. Silently, the audience watched Luscian’s deception to pass the barrier, Nick’s final moments, the battle for Castle Night, the astral confrontation between Rory and Luscian, and the explosion of the Grace into the bloodline. They saw Take’s fight with Luscian, Nick feeding from Rory to absorb his power, and the final battle between Nick and Luscian. Then they viewed Anaba’s confrontation with Nick as the Daywalker was possessed by the Crown of Souls, and the fall of the Citadel.
When it ended, Scott and Anaba stepped forward again. The applause was more subdued this time, but when it died down, Scott said, “We have seen the history of where we’ve been.”
“We know the price of peace,” added Ana.
“It is up to all of us to make sure we learn from it, so that those who sacrificed so much did not do so in vain,” Scott said.
“Thank you for your attention, and goodnight.” The gray screen faded back to the night sky hologram as the two walked back to their seats at the head tables.
Ms. Bradshaw turned numbly to her camera crew. “Tell me you got all of that.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Every frame.”
“You people are more dangerous than I thought.” President Daniel’s expression was grim.
“Yes,” said Nick. “Never forget that, sir. We walk a finer line between hope and savagery than humans. We have offered you the hand of friendship, Mr. President. Our peoples can travel this road together if you choose to lead them in that direction; if not, we will find our way alone.” Standing, he reached out and put an arm around Jeremy. “And now, we have to say goodbye to the rest of our guests. Thank you very much for coming. I hope the evening was enlightening.”
“It was an education, Ambassador.” The President and the First Lady stood and shook Nick’s hand.
Nodding, Nick turned and walked down the aisle toward the teleport gateway, his Consuls rising to follow.
Jeremy lagged behind. “Goodnight, Mr. President, Madam First Lady. Perhaps if my situation changes someday, we might meet under better circumstances.”
Daniels frowned. “Agent Harkness, you threatened the lives of the people I am sworn to protect. That choice has consequences. As President of the United States, I can assure you that your situation will never change. You will remain a fugitive from justice until you pay the price for your actions.” He turned to face Nick, who was watching them from the teleport gateway. “However, as a man living in extraordinary times, I can say that from what I have seen, your lover has walked a hard road to get where he is. That is a heavy burden to carry. If you can ease that weight in each other’s company, so be it.” He held out his hand to Jeremy. “Good luck to you both.”
Jeremy reached out slowly and shook the President’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered. “I won’t let him down.”
CHAPTER 38
Central Intelligence Agency, Langley, Virginia; One week later
Andrew Kensington clicked off the raw footage from the Armistice Day event. He hadn’t even bothered to watch the edited version with the reporter’s commentary, which continued to be broadcast by the major news outlets. No, he wanted to see the nuances, without missing anything. Putting the remote down, he leaned back into his desk chair. The President is a hell of an actor, he thought, if that were a strategically cordial performance. The only time he showed a hint of anger was when he slapped down the fucking terrorist, and even then, he recovered nicely.
His musings were interrupted by one of his team members, who yanked open the door and hurried inside.
Kensington frowned. “Don’t you knock?”
“You’re going to want to see this, sir, right away.” He handed over a file.
Slipping his glasses down off his forehead, Kensington started to read. Coming to the end, he read it again. “This has been verified?”
The other man nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. Our Fire Sentinels have confirmed the results. The technology is a viable delivery system.”
Kensington put down the file and picked up the phone, dialing an internal number.
“What is it, Kensington?”
“We did it, sir. We are finally ready.”
PART VIII
CHECKMATE
CHAPTER 39
October 2041; House Diluthical Stronghold, Binn Mhadagáin, Belfast, Northern Ireland; Twenty-one months after public exposure
“Enter.” Lorcan stood and tossed the book he had been reading onto his desk.
“Master,” Siobhan said as she entered and knelt before him, “my life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”
“I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own. Rise.” Lorcan waited while she stood. “Why are you still up, Siobhan? It’s almost noon.”
“I could ask the same of you, my Lord.”
Lorcan returned her smile. “What brings you to me so late in the day then?”
“My Lord, I have been investigating incidents that have taken place at different sites across our territory.” Her expression turned pensive. “It took some time to collect the facts to my satisfaction.”
“What kind of incidents?”
“Several members of our house were attacked last night by teams of Sentinels operating in concert.”
Lorcan tilted his head, puzzled. “What makes you think they were acting together? Sentinel tactics generally spare their limited manpower. Eliminating single targets doesn’t rate the involvement of more than one grouping.”
“That’s just it, my Lord,” Siobhan said. “They didn’t eliminate our people. In each case, they captured lone hunters and then released them to deliver a message.”
“To whom?” Lorcan frowned.
“To you, my Lord. All of the messages were addressed directly to you, by name.”
He stared at her. “What did they say?”
Reaching i
nto her pocket, Siobhan withdrew five rolled slips of paper. “See for yourself, Master.” She held them out to him.
Lorcan took them and opened one at random.
To Lorcan Magister Diluthical Primogenitor Luscian, called the Prince of Subterfuge,
We desire an audience with you to discharge a debt of honor we owe to your master, Nicholas Magister Luscian. We will wait for you at St. Patrick’s Rock at Cashel, tomorrow night at nine p.m. Bring whatever forces you deem necessary to maintain your security, if you wish. We have no desire to fight you at this time. If you do not meet with us that night, your master will most likely die.
The letter was unsigned.
Lorcan stared at the text for several seconds, then opened each of the other messages in turn. They all said the same thing. He slowly looked up at his Primogenitor. “How many of our house members are in the vicinity of Cashel?”
“Forty or fifty. How many do you wish to accompany you?”
Lorcan crumpled the letters in his fist. “All of them.”
St. Patrick’s Rock, Cashel, Ireland; Nine hours later
By late evening, House Diluthical soldiers had secured the historic site, while Lorcan waited impatiently outside the ruined church on top of the hill. At precisely nine o’clock, a white haze formed in the churchyard in front of him and a group of twenty Sentinels appeared. The Nightwalkers and Sentinels regarded each other soberly.
“Lorcan Magister Diluthical.” A middle-aged woman among the Sentinel group regarded Lorcan with distaste, “I am Sentinel Gabrielle Dupont.”
Recognizing her accented English, Lorcan lifted his head. “Greetings, Sentinel,” he replied in French. “To what do I owe this meeting?”
“You have sworn your house’s allegiance to Nicholas Magister Luscian, Nightwalker,” she continued in her native language. “Was that an empty gesture or are you prepared to follow it through?”
Lorcan frowned. “We will abide by our word honorably given, Madame. What is your business with Nicholas?” He gazed at the other Sentinels. “Are you Armistice?”
“We are not.” She scowled. “The Armistice is a mockery of everything we hold dear.” Drawing herself up, she said proudly, “We represent the Sentinel community of Paris.”
“I was under the impression the Sentinels of Paris had dispersed or retired after Nicholas cleansed the city.”
“For the most part,” she conceded. “However, until after the Armistice Day event one month ago we were not aware of the true nature of the Magister Luscian’s involvement.” She stared pointedly at him. “We do not wish to be beholden to a vampire, not even a Daywalker, but it seems we owe him for the freedom to live our lives as they were before. For that reason alone, we have chosen to take up the sword again in his defense.”
“You said Nicholas would die if I didn’t meet with you.”
She nodded. “We wish to discharge our debt to Soulkiller’s Bane. Therefore, we will do what must be done to prevent what is about to happen.”
“And what is about to happen?”
“The fall of the Armistice.” Her voice was cold.
Lorcan’s jaw dropped as she continued to stare at him calmly. “I beg your pardon?”
“For more than a year, the American intelligence community has been reaching out to unaffiliated Sentinels worldwide, trying to recruit them as spies to enter the Armistice Zone. Armistice Security has been foolish enough to allow them entrance and they have been relaying information back regarding the tactical weaknesses of the Armistice and the Hidden Cities.”
“That’s impossible. Sentinel candidates are barred from entering the Hidden Cities unless they have vampire sponsors. Their spies couldn’t have built that level of trust in a single year with any significant number of Armistice sponsors.”
“They did not,” she said softly. “They were sponsored by sleeper agents of the Court of Shadows.”
The assembled Nightwalkers muttered in disbelief.
“The Court is cooperating with humans and Sentinels?” Siobhan interrupted.
“From the documents we recovered from the vacant House Tervilant facilities in Paris, the Americans made contact with them first. The Court has been sending intelligence their way since last spring.”
Lorcan clenched his fists in fury and leaned back against the cold stone of the church. “You said the Armistice is about to fall,” he queried above the angry muttering of the rest of his house.
“When we learned of your Master’s involvement in exterminating the Nightwalker presence in our city, we decided, after much debate, that it would be dishonorable to let him be killed while we stood by and did nothing.” She took a deep breath. “Armistice Security has grown lax in their precautions, too dependent on their advanced technology to protect themselves. Those among our people who have been cooperating with the Americans inform us that the humans have developed a weapon they believe will circumvent that technology and bring down the Armistice. We are told they have been preparing to move against the Triumvirate for weeks. It may already be too late.”
Lorcan moved to stand just a foot away from her. “What kind of weapon?” he growled.
She returned his gaze levelly. “That we do not know. We were hoping the Court would have more information, so we sought you out.”
Lorcan shook his head. “No one in the Court would be so foolish as to disclose this knowledge to me, given my ties to Nicholas.”
“We did not expect that they would.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, out of reach of the persistent wind. “But we thought you might know who to ask.”
“Siobhan, I must know immediately if you and the others are loyal to me,” Lorcan said. “Are you willing to follow me into war? Because otherwise, I will do this on my own.”
Siobhan’s eyes narrowed. “My Lord, you are a child. Brilliant, yes, but still a child. Your heart is blinding you to the realities of this situation. We cannot go to war against the Court. We would have no chance at all.”
“We would,” Lorcan said softly, “if the Armistice stood with us.”
“You would have us join forces with the Triumvirate?” she asked, aghast. “Are you mad?”
“Think about it, Siobhan.” Lorcan looked around at the other members of his house. “Hundreds of thousands of our people have chosen to live under the strictures of the Armistice Declaration and have thrived even so. If we join with the Triumvirate, we will be able to draw on their strength, their knowledge. We could rise to dominance over the other houses of Europe, no longer second-class citizens, a lesser house restricted to this one island while the other houses snicker at our weakness.”
Siobhan glared at him. “Lorcan,” she warned, “you are going to get us all killed.”
“Is this life so precious, century after century in the dark? What do we have to look forward to but more of the same? The Armistice is the future, Siobhan! The hope we have had to live without for our entire existence. Isn’t it worth the risk—for the chance to be more than we are?”
She swallowed. “Do you actually believe any of that or are you just saying what you think we want to hear? What you need to say so we will help you save your lover?”
In answer, Lorcan unbuttoned his shirt and drew it up over his head. Standing before them bare-chested, he allowed the spell of concealment to fade. The assembled Nightwalkers shrank back as the white glow of the cross brand shone over his heart.
“You know me,” Lorcan told them. “I have walked beside you for five hundred years. You know I am loyal to House Diluthical. I am loyal to you. Will you trust in me? Will you let me lead you beyond what we have been?”
The Nightwalkers regarded him silently.
“My Lord.” One of the most junior Nightwalkers stepped forward and knelt before him. “I am only a fledgling, but you have been an inspiration to me for decades. If this is the path you choose for us to walk, I will follow, even if you lead us all into the sunrise. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”
The
silence stretched on. Then, one by one, the others moved forward to kneel before him and speak their allegiance. Lorcan turned to Siobhan. “Join me, Siobhan. There is so much we could do together.”
“Lorcan, I am two thousand seventy-eight years old. I will not be swayed by inspirational rhetoric.” She regarded him soberly, staring directly into his eyes. “Do you honestly think you can win?”
“I don’t know. But in the end, does it really matter, as long as we simply try?”
With a deep breath, she, too, knelt before him. “My Lord, I will follow. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”
Lorcan pulled his shirt back over his head and turned to face Gabrielle. “House Daviroquir will have the knowledge we seek,” he told her. “Their Magister’s name is Alastair, and he is currently at their headquarters in London. One of my Praetors is on site and has a code for their jumper block. If we join forces, the soldiers we have here already may be enough to penetrate their defenses and abduct him. His mind will provide us with all the answers we need.”
Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “And when do you wish to attempt this attack?”
Lorcan smiled. “The longer we wait, the greater the chance they will learn of our alliance. Give me ten minutes to set it up, Sentinel. We go tonight.”
Gabrielle stepped back among her sentinels and began quietly issuing orders.
“Siobhan,” Lorcan instructed, “contact Aislinn in London and get her code for the jumper block.” He turned to the other soldiers. “My Children, are you ready to fight?”
They all stood, showing their fangs.
“My Lord, if you had told us you planned to attack House Daviroquir, we would have been with you from the beginning,” said the soldier who had first sworn allegiance, smiling widely.
Sunset (Pact Arcanum) Page 37
