“Why?”
“Don’t ask why to everything. Give me your hand.”
Gareth raised his hand, swathed in a dark leather glove. Yidak pressed his gnarled talon into Gareth’s palm. Yellowed claws barely reached the tips of Gareth’s long fingers.
Gareth stood quietly with their hands together. Finally, he said, “What is the point of this?”
“You don’t see it?”
Gareth stared at their hands more intently, waiting for inspiration. There was an obvious size difference, but that seemed unimportant. And clearly Yidak’s claws were always extended while Gareth’s were retracted into sharp fingernails. Or it would’ve been clear if he hadn’t been wearing gloves.
He was wearing gloves.
Gareth hadn’t been Greyfriar for days, perhaps weeks; it was difficult to follow time here. Yet, he still wore gloves out of habit. The cold didn’t bother him, he simply felt comfortable wearing them around Adele.
Gareth feigned ignorance, preferring to believe that couldn’t be Yidak’s point. “I don’t see it.”
The old vampire grinned with kindness. “You’ve been human for a long time now, haven’t you? With your gloves and mask and firearms. You’re good at it. You write and read. You watch clocks and count hours.”
Gareth pulled his hand away angrily. “You do the same with robes and chanting and your idiotic library.” His stomach clenched as he instantly recalled the first night he had shown Adele his own library in Edinburgh Castle. He had pulled her to the room with giddy pride, knowing he could appeal to her human love of knowledge. He showed her the trunk containing the pitiful few books he had gathered from vampire-wrecked northern Europe and stepped aside for her approval. The look on her face had nearly killed him. Her eyes betrayed a stunned disbelief that this measly collection was what he had been lauding as a library. He realized later that he had misread her expression. However, in that moment he stood exposed, having granted her alone access to the grandest of his secrets, the most prideful aspect of his hidden life, and her unintentional shock showed how false it was. It only served to drive home just what he was, despite the masks and swords and great library consisting of seven thin volumes.
Yidak showed no such embarrassment at Gareth’s insult. Rather, he was confused by the pain that washed over Gareth’s face.
The old vampire said, “You hate our kind, don’t you?”
Gareth started to refute the question as ignorant and simplistic. Yidak had no way of knowing his heart, his life. There was no way the old vampire, hiding away on his mountain, could understand what Gareth had gone through. Instead, he merely said, “Yes.”
“Why, Gareth? What did we do to you to make you hate all of us?”
The wind howled around him. “We killed my father.”
Anhalt shouted against the gale, “But Cesare killed King Dmitri.”
Gareth stared into the distance at the swarm of countless vampires. “Cesare just put an end to his dying. I murdered him when I joined the Great Killing. I knew he was right about it, but I did nothing.
“That night, one hundred and fifty years ago, when the packs first struck, I saw the fear in his eyes. I ignored it. For years, I thought he had been frightened because I was going off to war, as any father would be. Only later did I realize the truth. He knew the path we were embarking on; he knew it was a disaster, and there he was, casting his beloved son out into the terrible world he couldn’t prevent. My father never recovered from the shame. The more territory we took, the more humans we slaughtered, the more my father retreated into the howling wildness of his own mind.” Gareth ran his gloved hands over his arms. He could still feel his father’s strong fingers clutching him. He could hear the cracking voice bidding him goodbye on that starry winter night and see his reflection in those frozen blue eyes. “That was the last time my father truly saw me.”
Yidak quietly interlaced his claws over his red and yellow-robed stomach. “What are you doing now to save him?”
Gareth barely heard the nonsensical question. He was still trying to recapture the memory of that last night with his father.
Yidak lifted into the air and hooked onto the decorated eaves of a temple. “That is why you’re lost. He may be dead, but his memory is not.”
Gareth watched Yidak crawl up the roof and vanish. He gave Anhalt a quick glance to excuse himself from the general’s company. The man nodded with understanding and limped back toward their quarters. Gareth strode off across the crowded monastery grounds. He felt leather stretch tight across his hands as he clenched his fists.
Adele stood in the center of the frightful room of the Tear of Death. Her glimmering khukri sent long shadows of stone arms and torsos writhing around her. The black stone dagger lay at her feet. It looked so simple. It didn’t glow or quiver or throw off waves of powerful energies. It didn’t call seductively to her nor whisper threats. It merely sat in the dirt as it had for centuries.
She had contemplated the thing for the last twenty-four hours, wrestling with her uncertainties as well as the worries about Goronwy’s army scuttling just outside the walls. There was something horrible about the phurba. It couldn’t be understood or controlled. There was nothing inside it.
Utter emptiness.
Adele knelt beside the phurba and set her glowing khukri on the ground. She dug into her pockets and brought out two objects. One was the sharp metal tool that Yidak used to inscribe the copper cylinders. The other was a heavy mallet she had acquired from the pilgrims. She slowly placed the awl over the center of the stone artifact. She waited for some reaction, half expecting the phurba would suddenly spring to occult life to defend itself. It did nothing.
Adele touched the tip of the tool to the stone with an audible click. She took a deep breath and raised the hammer high over her head.
“Adele,” came a soft voice from behind.
She spun around, instinctively raising the sharp tool as a weapon. Gareth stood in the doorway. Adele lowered the awl with a twinge of embarrassment. Under Gareth’s steady gaze, she felt suddenly childish. Perhaps it was worse than childish. It made her wonder if she was acting out of pure fear. Or perhaps jealousy. She was down here alone in the dark without anyone else’s knowledge.
Adele said, “I am going to destroy the Tear of Death.”
Gareth glanced over his shoulder and stepped inside. “Does Yidak know you’re here?”
“No.” She gripped the awl tighter. “I assumed he would try to stop me.”
Gareth knelt next to her in the dirt. “Here, give those to me. I’m far stronger.”
Adele hesitated, then handed the instruments to him. He placed the sharp point of the tool in the center of the stone dagger. Then he raised the hammer and brought it crashing down on the butt of the awl, snapping the steel shaft in half with a sharp crack. There was no mark on the phurba.
Adele cursed. Gareth immediately pressed the jagged tip of the awl against the stone and pounded it again. The steel pick caromed off to the side. The black dagger remained unaffected.
Gareth looked at the blunted shaft of the awl. “Do we have anything stronger?”
Adele shrugged. “Not here. Maybe if we dropped it in a blast furnace, but we’re far from that. How did they carve it in the first place if it’s so hard?”
“What about your geomancy? Can you destroy it from inside?”
She stared at the black stone again. It didn’t seem like a small object any longer, but a hole into the endless night sky. Nothing but untouchable emptiness. “When I went inside it, I couldn’t sense anything. There were no facets to touch. There was nothing I could change.”
A scuffling sound from the door brought both Adele and Gareth to their feet. Yidak stood in the dim archway with an unreadable look on his face. The Demon King said, “You cannot simply destroy your fears.”
“Oh shut up,” Adele muttered. “You’re starting to sound like Mamoru.” She spat the name like a curse.
The old vampire strolled forward
. “You must fight them as best you can.” His eyes went to the awl in Gareth’s hands. “Oh. I was looking for that.” He took the tool.
Adele said, “Did the old monks ever tell you about a way to destroy this thing?”
“No. I’m sure it never occurred to them as something that should be done.”
“Well, it occurs to me.”
“Obviously.” He held up the broken awl.
“I had to do something. Goronwy won’t wait for long. He wants this thing and he knows it’s here. He’ll send his packs to get it.”
Yidak smirked as he regarded Gareth. “A human giving orders to vampire packs? I suppose it’s not too unbelievable.”
Adele stepped toward him. “You have no idea of his power. And I’m telling you, if this thing falls into his hands, the results will be catastrophic.”
“Catastrophic for whom?” Yidak glanced at the stone artifact lying helplessly on the floor. “I could likely make my problems go away by delivering the Tear of Death to your enemy out there.”
Adele narrowed her eyes at the old vampire, her fists tightening. “Is that your choice?”
Yidak stared back evenly at her. “Let’s go back up, shall we? The weather is changing. If your prediction is right, we have much to plan.”
Adele didn’t move for a long moment. Her breath clouded in the faint emerald glow. Gareth stood next to her, ready to fight no matter what move she made. She stooped toward her khukri and noted that Yidak twitched slightly before recovering his immortal calm. She motioned toward the doorway with the blade.
“Shall we?” she said.
Yidak hesitated, then turned his back to her and walked out. Adele and Gareth followed, leaving the Tear of Death lying in its place.
CHAPTER 30
Caterina waited in the catacombs. Hundreds of dead eye sockets stared at her from every wall. The passageway to the outside gaped in front of her and a smaller tunnel for escape opened behind, should something go terribly wrong. She wasn’t stupid enough to box herself into a corner. Caterina stood motionless, with her hands clutched penitently in front. A shape appeared in the passageway. Hallow cautiously entered the chamber of bones.
“Lady Hallow,” Caterina said, not trying to hide her nervous voice. “Thank you for coming.”
Hallow’s eyes darted around the skeletal remains before settling back on the queen, satisfied. “I’m grateful you called on me. I knew we could make peace for the good of our clan.”
Caterina noted the our with a frozen smile. “You and I have been at cross purposes since you came to Paris with the Witchfinder. In some sense, Honore was already lost to us thanks to Cesare, so your attachment to him was no surprise. However, I now see you have intentions on my entire family.”
“Majesty, I—”
“Please let me finish,” Caterina interrupted forcefully. She still didn’t move, keeping Hallow’s attention locked to her. “I don’t care if the human armies are coming. I don’t care if we have to abandon Paris and flee. I won’t have you interfering with my children. Do you understand me?”
Hallow adopted a calm, sympathetic demeanor. “I do, Majesty. It isn’t my intention to vex you. I know you understand the threat that we are under.”
“Yes. And if you had skill in meeting it, your old clan wouldn’t consist of a large pile of bones now.” Caterina slapped the wall of skulls behind her. “Your intellect failed in Britain. Cesare is dead. Flay is dead. Gareth alone survives.”
Hallow couldn’t hide the flinch of pain before letting it change into a sneer of anger. “You have no idea what you’re facing. You have no clue how to combat it. We are on the edge of the apocalypse and all you care about is that I am stealing your children from you. You are pathetic. Your husband is a soft failure and you are a shrill idiot. Your son, Honore, isn’t much of a leader, but he’s something at least. I suspect Isolde might serve better, but I’ll find that out in time. Frankly, I couldn’t care less what you think of me, or of anything. The time when your opinion matters is fast coming to a close. Now, are we done here?”
Caterina extended her claws. “You are.”
Hallow regarded the queen, sure that Caterina would never attack physically. Her threat was baseless, just another pathetic ploy. The tall consort shook her head at the immobile queen and spun on her heel.
Caterina struck in that moment, fueled by the memory of her daughter treating her with scorn. Hallow shouted in alarm, flailing at the queen with strength but no skill. Caterina felt blood on her hands when suddenly she was seized around the waist and pulled back from her target. Her arms were pinned and she was forcibly pressed against the wall of bone. Shouting curses, Caterina saw Fanon behind her with a look like he wished to die. But still he held her firmly. Several mercenaries stood behind him, grinning at the sight of the queen being manhandled.
“I’m sorry, Majesty,” Fanon mumbled as he fought to contain her. “Hallow suspected you would try something desperate. I’ve been waiting in the tunnel beyond for hours now. I wish you hadn’t done it.”
“Take your hands off her!”
All eyes turned at the strange female voice. In the entrance of the passageway stood a group of vampires. Caterina recognized Kasteel and Nadzia, who stood with claws out, glaring toward the queen and her captor. Behind those two were a clutch of their rebel comrades.
“What are you doing?” Caterina ground out through clenched teeth. “Get out. You will be killed here.”
Nadzia raised her claws toward Fanon. “I said take your hands off her.”
Fanon grunted in confusion, while the mercenaries behind him laughed.
Kasteel stepped into the chamber, crunching over loose bones. He stared at Hallow. “I’ve killed vampires. Many of them.”
Hallow had recovered her composure from Caterina’s attack. Blood soaked into the neck of her silky gown. She stared at the rebel in disbelief, and glanced at Caterina to scoff at Kasteel’s childish boast. Then Hallow laughed. It was genuine amusement, not a pose or a misdirection. Her slight frame shook as she doubled over with silent, shuddering laughter. When Hallow finally looked up, her porcelain face was ruddy and tears welled in her eyes. She could barely speak.
“Oh my,” Hallow gasped. “Thank you. I haven’t laughed that hard since the Age of Enlightenment. Truly, I am delighted by all of you.”
The rebel leader glowered at the still-chuckling Hallow. “The revolution that began in Britain continues here. For Prince Gareth!”
Hallow froze with a look of shock at Kasteel’s cry. She pressed against the skeletal wall, suddenly disconcerted and shaken.
Nadzia leapt for Fanon. She caught the old fighter in the face with a surprising blow. The deep gashes broke him from his shock and he released Caterina to engage the girl. They slashed at one another. Nadzia was far faster and more nimble, but Fanon was much stronger. However, speed and agility had its limits in the small chamber. The old fighter would eventually corner her and beat her down.
Meanwhile, four mercenaries stormed at Kasteel and the rebels behind him. It was a blur of violence as the rebels were driven back into the passage. Suddenly more mercenaries appeared, charging down the passageway, falling on the overwhelmed rebels from behind. Clawed hands raked, cutting shoulders and backs. The rebels struggled to turn and meet the attacks from both sides.
Stunned, Caterina realized she had been trapped. She couldn’t allow her own stupidity to doom these innocents. She lifted herself off the ground and ran headlong between Nadzia and Fanon. They both saw her and disengaged to avoid injuring her.
“Run!” Caterina shouted at Nadzia as she threw her arms around the stunned Fanon. “All of you! Run!”
The rebels broke. Some smashed their way through the fighters in the passageway to make for the outside. Kasteel cut across the bone chamber to grab Nadzia by the arm and they ran for the rear tunnel. Fanon tried to pull himself free from the queen but she fought with all her strength. Hands fell on Caterina’s shoulders and Hallow attempted to
drag her away from Fanon. Caterina drove her elbow into the pale female and propelled her into the wall with a rattle of bones. Fanon freed himself from the queen’s grip and ran alone into the tunnel after Kasteel and Nadzia.
After he disappeared, Hallow seized one of the mercenaries nearby before he could take off in pursuit of the rebels. She pointed at Caterina. “Keep her from me! The queen’s gone mad.”
Caterina didn’t run; there was no reason. There was nowhere she could go, and there was nothing more she could do to help Kasteel and Nadzia. She saw three rebels lying at the mouth of the passageway. Two were dead; the other was badly wounded and moaning softly. Caterina knelt beside the wounded rebel and put a helpless hand on his shuddering chest.
Hallow stared at her with an impassive countenance, safe behind her mercenary, until Fanon returned after several minutes. He crossed to where Caterina waited by the injured rebel. The queen rose at his grim visage, unsure what he intended. Without pausing, Fanon dropped and executed the wounded vampire with a sharp snap of his neck. Caterina stood with mouth agape.
Fanon turned back to Lady Hallow. “They escaped.”
“What?” Hallow snarled. “How is that possible? Why didn’t you run them to ground?”
Fanon eyed her with suppressed anger. “There are many passages. I returned here so you didn’t come to any harm at the hands of the queen. Why didn’t you tell me that Her Majesty would have forces here?”
Hallow worked to recover her composure. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize how great a traitor she is.”
Light crunching footsteps announced one of the mercenaries returning along the front passage. He was spattered with blood. “We killed two. We are in pursuit of the rest.”
Lady Hallow stepped away from the skulls. “We have the most important one.” She pointed at Caterina. “Fanon, escort the queen back to the palace. The war chief will want to hear about tonight’s events.”
One of the mercenaries sneered at the queen until Fanon shoved him into the wall with a growl. Then the old soldier faced Caterina with downturned, apologetic features. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty; please come along.”
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