by Ariel Tachna
A yawn forestalled Martin’s answer. “Perhaps I should get some sleep and think some more about it later,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your day. I’m hoping a short nap will set me right and I can attend the afternoon session with the wizards, since I haven’t met any of them yet.”
“Sleep well,” Raymond said, “and I’ll look for you this afternoon.”
Martin nodded and left Raymond alone in his office.
Raymond finished his coffee and picked up the phone to call Fabienne, his former assistant, who worked for Anne-Marie Valour now. She would understand the importance of his call and find a way to work him into the president’s busy schedule.
Chapter 6
Denis waited in the shadows outside the musée Rolin, where he had directed the other vampires in the Cour to meet. Autun was not a large city, not by Parisian standards, and the Cour was similarly small, but while Denis could have invited the full complement of vampires to his home, he wanted the more formal setting for a meeting of such importance. At barely ninety years old, he was little more than a baby in the eyes of many vampires. His successful bid to take the Cour d’Autun from a much older, established vampire mitigated his age to a certain extent, but only to a certain extent. Only time and effective leadership would do the rest. Time he did not have at the moment.
To that end, he had taken great pains with his appearance tonight, doing everything he could to play down his age and highlight his authority. The black three-piece suit he wore fit perfectly, the austere lines making him appear taller, the somber color and conservative cut a throwback to the time of his turning but also a subtle declaration of his authority. He kept his black hair short, slicked into submission rather than tumbled around his face as it would be if he let it grow. The look appealed at times, but not when he faced a possibly hostile Cour. Tonight it was all about control of himself and of the others.
He kept count as the vampires slowly arrived. He did not expect all forty members of the Cour to attend, but he hoped for a majority at least. When the count reached twenty-eight and he saw no one else moving in the night, he made his entrance. Never mind that he had arrived well before any of them. He was the chef de la Cour. Le Jeu des Cours dictated he wait for no one.
The other vampires stood in groups of twos and threes around the room, mostly in silence. They turned as Denis walked to the front of the room. He faced them, keenly aware of his youthful appearance and relatively young age, but they had chosen to put their trust in him six months ago when he had challenged Renaud for leadership of the Cour. He would have to hope that trust continued a little longer.
“Bonsoir, chers amis,” Denis said by way of greeting. “Thank you for coming out tonight with as little explanation as I provided. I know you have little reason to trust my leadership yet, but I would not have convened the Cour if it weren’t a matter of importance.” He was taking a risk, acknowledging the short duration of his tenure as chef de la Cour, but it was on everyone’s mind, he was certain. If he put it out in the open, they could not blindside him with it later.
“I received a call last night from Jean Bellaiche, the chef de la Cour of Paris, who is, as some of you know, very involved with l’Institut Marcel Chavinier in Dommartin. He called because he had gotten word of a newly turned vampire from Château-Chinon.”
“You summoned us to tell us there’s a new vampire?” Auguste Chambertin, one of the prickliest vampires in Autun, demanded. Denis had known to expect a challenge from that quarter. Auguste had challenged Renaud the same way every time the Cour gathered. The vampire did not want to be chef de la Cour himself, but he had no patience for any other leader either. “What a waste of time!”
“No, I summoned you because the new vampire was turned against her will,” Denis replied, keeping his voice level despite the roil of anger at being challenged so soon. Expecting it did not make it any easier when it happened. He knew the way le Jeu des Cours worked. He had used it on Renaud, challenging him subtly in gatherings such as this, slowly undermining his authority until he was positioned within the eyes of the Cour as the logical successor for a man who had lost their confidence. Now he had to play the game to keep his position, and any show of anger or discomfiture would weaken him in the eyes of his peers. “She didn’t see her attacker, and I am not accusing any of you, before you jump to another false conclusion. However, the actions of the vampire who did turn her put us all at risk. I’m not asking any of you to account for your whereabouts Sunday evening. I’m not investigating the crime because that is the purview of the local police, who have been notified and who are working on the case. If they come to me for more assistance than I’ve already given, though, I will give them all the information in my possession.”
“What are you threatening?”
“Absolutely nothing if you weren’t the one to turn Pascale Auboussu against her will,” Denis replied, keeping his smile as hidden as he had his anger. If they felt threatened, then they still recognized his authority. By the time Denis had challenged Renaud, the former chef de la Cour had resorted to wild threats of banishment or worse for anyone who did not follow his dictates. Army experience aside, Denis had never been one to yield easily to orders. “The vampire who did this is extorris, which is what I summoned you to announce. By his actions, he endangered not only the vampire he turned and abandoned, but also all vampires who do their best to function as law-abiding citizens. Bellaiche will make the same announcement to his Cour in Paris, although suspicion is far more likely to fall on us than on his Cour simply because of proximity. Our hope is that other chefs de la Cour will make the same announcement as well, but our decision stands regardless of their action or inaction on the matter. If a detective comes to ask you questions, I suggest you cooperate. Human justice may be less harsh than vampire justice, but they are far pickier about what you do to begin with.”
“And until you know who the extorris is?” Auguste demanded. Denis thought he heard a change in the other vampire’s tone. Auguste might still be making demands, but he had gone from being hostile to wanting Denis’s assurances. If Auguste had backed down, Denis was probably safe from a fight to hold onto his position.
“Until we know the identity of the extorris, I will defend all members of my Cour equally,” Denis said. “I will not have my Cour persecuted, but neither will I have innocent vampires endangered by the actions of someone who has stepped outside our laws. If you were not the one responsible for the involuntary turning, I will protect you with every ounce of authority in my position and every bit of cunning and strength I possess. We are not facing this alone. Already, l’ANS is drafting legislation to address the crime that was committed and to protect the rest of us from being tarred with the same brush. The same political force that ended l’émeutte des Sorciers and brought about the equality legislation that has improved things for all of us is working to make sure we don’t lose ground because of this now. We owe it to ourselves and to them to do nothing that would impede that process.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“First, by giving all assistance we can to the authorities,” Denis said, meeting the eyes of every vampire in the room as he spoke. “Secondly, by showing a unified front in condemning the actions of the extorris in any setting where it comes up.”
“We have survived for centuries because we have always defended our own,” Auguste protested.
“We have,” Denis agreed, fully aware of his youth in comparison to the others in the room, not merely because he had been turned at nineteen, but because his turning outside Amiens at the height of World War I made him by far the youngest vampire in the room. “That mentality protected us for years. I don’t have the experience that some of you do, but I wasn’t turned yesterday either. I’m fully aware of our history. I’m also aware of what has changed in the past two years and why. We have rights we could never have imagined possessing because a few vampires dared to break our kind’s tradition of isolation and self-interest only, but
if we handle this situation poorly, we could lose those rights as quickly as we gained them. Six months ago, you trusted me to challenge Renaud because you believed my leadership would better serve the Cour in these changing times. These events prove once again how important it is to be proactive in dealing with our new situation. If we wait for them to come to us, if we wait to defend ourselves after public opinion has turned against us, we will lose ground. Every one of you is thinking about le Jeu des Cours, but this isn’t about status within the Cour any longer. This is about our status in society as a whole. We are masters at turning things to our advantage. We have played this game among ourselves for centuries. The time has come to turn those skills outward to our advantage rather than fighting among ourselves.”
The room erupted in a rumble of mutters. Denis let them talk among themselves. Their lives were so steeped in le Jeu des Cours that the idea of setting it aside, even in the face of a common danger, would take some adjustment for many of the vampires.
“So what exactly do you propose?” Camille Faurie asked when the whispers died out.
“The man who did this, whether he is in this room or out doing who knows what, has forfeited the right to our protection,” Denis said. “Turning a human into a vampire is no crime, but Pascale Auboussu had no desire to be turned and no help once she was turned. When the detective found her, she was about to throw herself off a bridge. If the fall had not destroyed her, daylight undoubtedly would have. The vampire who created her and left her violated our most basic tenet of not harming another vampire. Do we at least agree on that matter?”
The others nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but no one dissented.
“Then all I propose is separating ourselves from him,” Denis said, “not only privately in our internal declaration of him as extorris but publicly. We need to denounce what he did every time we hear it mentioned. In my role as chef de la Cour, I will handle a public statement, but it isn’t what I say on the news or in print that will sway people. It’s hearing that average vampires are as horrified at what happened as they are.”
“We’ve never talked about Cour business with mortals,” Auguste reminded Denis.
“I’m not suggesting you bring it up,” Denis said. “I’d be perfectly happy if no one not directly involved ever heard about what happened, but I don’t expect that to be the case. I expect word to get out, and when it does, people will talk about how horrible it is. If you hear someone say something like that, agree with them. Make it clear you’re a vampire and that you’re as unhappy about it as they are. If you get the chance to mention that most vampires aren’t like that one or that we’re doing all we can to find him and bring him to justice, that’s even better, but that isn’t necessary. That’s my job, and I’ll do it. Are we in agreement?”
Denis let the silence stretch after his final question, standing with loose-limbed grace as he waited for the assent of his Cour or the next challenge. He had made his position clear. A challenge, if it came now, would be a physical one.
“Your plan could backfire on us,” Camille said finally. “If we draw attention to our vampire natures and public opinion swings against us, the crazies will know exactly who we are and where to find us.”
“I know that,” Denis said, “and if it happens, it may mean leaving Autun for some period of time, but the risk of silence is greater. As long as we have protection under the law, we can fight back against the crazies, as you call them. If we lose that protection, we have nothing but our own wits.”
“We have survived by those wits for centuries,” Auguste said.
“We have, but never as openly or comfortably as we have in the past two years,” Denis said. “Do you really want to go back?”
“No,” Auguste said after a moment.
“No,” Camille agreed.
“Then help me—help us keep our new rights by helping people see we aren’t monsters,” Denis entreated. “We all have stories to tell of how we were turned, of people we have turned rather than watch them die. Share those stories when you can. I think it would surprise people if they realized a vampire came to me as I lay dying on a battlefield and offered to speed my passing if that was my wish or to give me a different kind of existence. When mortals had left me to die alone, a vampire offered kindness, companionship, and most importantly help, and all around me on the battlefield, other vampires did the same.”
“That is how people should be turned,” Camille said, her voice so soft Denis could barely hear her. He kept his face neutral, but inside he crowed with delight. He had won.
“Then tell people that,” he said just as softly. “They think we are damned. Let them see this other side of us. We won’t convince everyone, but if we can sway the majority, the others can go jump in a lake for all I care.”
The meeting finally adjourned, Denis walked through the empty streets toward home. He needed to feed. Not desperately yet—he could wait until tomorrow night—but soon. Letting himself into the dark cottage he called home, he switched on a lamp and collapsed onto the nearest chair, heedless of his suit now that he was alone with no one to impress.
The meeting had gone better than he had feared it would. He had half expected to have to fight for his position before the night was over, but logic had won the day. He would have to talk to Bellaiche and see when they should schedule a press conference. They did not want to create panic instead of appeasing it, but Denis still thought a preemptive strike would serve them better than defensive action later.
That could wait until tomorrow night, though. He doubted Bellaiche had managed to meet with his own Cour yet, and until that occurred, the rogue vampire was only extorris in Autun, which was not much of a statement. Denis had no illusions as to his status among the other chefs de la Cour. Autun was too small, Denis was too young, and his leadership was too new for him to have any pull with the other chefs. Jean, on the other hand, as the chef de la Cour of the capital, as a vampire over a millennium old, as one of the heroes of l’émeutte des Sorciers and one of the activists for equal rights, would be able to bring others around if this spread beyond le Morvan and they needed the help of the Congrès des chefs.
Denis sighed and rubbed his belly, hunger beginning to make itself felt. A quick glance at the clock showed he had two hours until dawn. He could go to Dommartin. During the week, Sang Froid kept business hours at an auxiliary location for the vampires at l’Institut, but that would only give him a short time to feed given the distance there and back. It was that or wait until tomorrow night, though. He could wait. He was not a newly turned vampire in need of constant blood.
He missed Noël. He missed the companionship, the ease of always having someone to feed from when he needed it. Not for the first time since Noël’s death, he considered the advantages of finding another regular source of blood even if he did not invite that person into his home and his heart as he had with Noël. He was no monk. At times, he had found release in the arms of those he fed from since Noël’s death, but none of them had touched him the way Noël had. Next to Noël’s, their blood tasted flat, and that was why Denis rarely went back for more. His lover had spoiled him for everyone else. The strength of his character and his love had carried through their feeding, giving Denis a sense of well-being and satiation that he had not felt since the last time he had fed from Noël before his death. If he fed more often, perhaps he could recapture some of that sense of wellness, but he could work up no enthusiasm for that undertaking.
That did not stop him from dreaming, though. He had no particular interest in a partnership such as the ones he saw among the vampires and wizards he had met at l’Institut, but he did envy those vampires the companionship they had found with their partners. Other vampires had told him to give it time before he looked for a new companion. They assured him it was possible to find another intimate, even another love eventually, but everyone he had asked warned against rushing into something before he was ready. Looking at the picture of Noël on the table next
to him, he knew he was not ready.
Chapter 7
David groaned as Angelique settled against him, having driven him to a mind-shattering orgasm as she fed and rode him to oblivion. He wanted to hold her, but the ties around his wrists made that impossible. Whispering a spell he could not have done a year ago, he released the ties and wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders.
“You’re getting better at that,” Angelique murmured. “I’ll have to find something more complicated to tie you up with before long.”
“I’m not about to say no to anything you suggest,” David said, thinking of all the ways he and Angelique had made love since the end of the war. He had never imagined some of the delights she had shown him. “But you know you don’t need to. I enjoy what you do to me far too much to actually try to get away.” He shifted on the bed, rubbing one hand over his smarting backside. “Although you could have picked a day when I didn’t have meetings all morning. Sitting down is going to be a bitch.”
Angelique grinned and kissed her wizard as she smacked his cooling arse one more time. He moaned and undulated against her so beautifully she was tempted to give him a few more swats, but it was nearly time for him to get ready for work. “I didn’t want you to forget about me during the day.”
