“That’s good to hear,” Rebecca said, picking the pen up from off the desk. “I want us to get along, Henry. I really do. I don’t suppose you’d agree to a little empathic probe, just to make certain of your honesty?”
“You overstep your bounds, Director,” Sofia said, her cheeks flushed. “We have our rights!”
“As my wife said,” Henry said. “I will not agree to such an outrageous accommodation. If you will not reveal your source, then you do not have enough to even make an accusation. Launch an Inquiry if you must, Director, and we will see whose career survives. I am secure in my innocence. Is that a clear enough response for you?”
Rebecca tapped then pen on the desktop, thinking it over.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’m going to believe you, Henry.”
“You have no reason to do otherwise,” Sofia said, furious. “I will remember this affront, Director.”
“I suppose you would,” Rebecca said, nodding to Michael, who passed the documents to her. “I wouldn’t like hearing that sort of thing about my husband either. If I had a husband, I mean. I did say that you might want to leave, Sofia.”
Sofia Morales-North glared at Rebecca. Henry put two fingers on the inside of her wrist, and her posture relaxed slightly.
“I’m going to sign, because I really don’t have a better option to protect all those people at the Far Shores,” Rebecca said, eyeing the signature line reluctantly. “If you don’t live up to your part of the bargain, or if I find out you told me even the tiniest little lie today, you should know that I will kill you,” Rebecca said. “Director, Auditor, or just an everyday civilian, it’ll make no difference. You won’t be able to stop me, and your wife won’t be able to protect you. You got me?”
“Absolutely, Director,” Henry said, watching her sign with a discreet smile. “No one likes a liar, now do they?”
***
“Mistress,” Renton said, with a stiff and unusually formal bow. “I’ve returned.”
Anastasia regarded him indifferently. He was intensely aware of the crowd watching them, milling about in the ruins of the Thule compound or standing at attention behind Anastasia. Lord Gao loomed at her right hand, where he should have been, and Mai stood beside her, where Timor belonged.
“As we have, Mistress, courtesy of Emily Muir and the Far Shores apport station,” Simeon said, gesturing at Ksenia, Brandon, and Matheus, who stood just behind him. “I apologize for our tardiness.”
“Indeed,” Anastasia said, surveying them all coldly. “You are all quite late.”
Serafina Ricci walked over to Anastasia and embraced her, scandalizing Mai and her retainers.
“Oh, Ana, I just heard the news yesterday,” Sara said, squeezing her. “I’m so sorry!”
Anastasia said nothing, but for an instant, she leaned against Sara, her head resting in the hollow of the taller woman’s shoulder.
“Poor, poor Pavel,” Sara said tearfully. “How could they do such a thing?”
“An excellent question,” Anastasia said, regaining her composure, and restoring an acceptable distance between Sara and herself. “It is very good to see you again, Serafina. I feared for your safety.”
“I am alive thanks to your people. Simeon and Brandon and Ksenia, and Daniel. They risked everything to save me. That’s not all they did, either. They saved a bunch of refugees, not to mention Chandi Tuesday. I have to say that it was all rather heroic. They acquitted you well, cousin.”
“That is good to hear,” Anastasia said, looking them over more tolerantly. “You have my thanks for saving my friend. I will see you all rewarded appropriately.”
“No reward is required, Lady Martynova,” Simeon said, bowing. “I regret that we have been thus far unable to take direct action against the Thule Cartel, but despite our best efforts, the opportunity never presented itself.”
“Perhaps it did not happen because you waited for opportunity,” Mai suggested, “as opposed to seizing it.”
“As Mai says,” Anastasia said. “We have heard that opportunity was not entirely lacking for all of you. Where is Maxim Yurchenko?”
“Maxim was badly injured in a clash with the Anathema,” Simeon explained. “He regained consciousness this morning, but he is still fighting infection and unable to walk. He sends his apologies.”
“I see,” Anastasia said. “Is it true that he encountered Gabrielle Thule, and took her prisoner?”
“It is true,” Simeon said. “She was his prisoner for a brief time.”
“And?” Mai gave him a stern look. “What happened from there?”
“Maxim was crippled by Alistair in an engagement at the old Muir estate,” Simeon said. “Alistair was driven off by Leigh Feld and our combined efforts. He took Gabriela Thule with him when he fled, for unknown reasons. We attempted to stop him, but did not react in time or sufficient force, to our shame.”
They were all quiet while Anastasia considered it.
“I don’t think you need to be ashamed of your efforts, which were more than adequate,” Anastasia said finally. “I do think you need to ask yourself if you have done enough to impress me, Simeon.”
He caught his breath, then lowered his head.
“Renton Hall,” Mai said. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been doing my job,” Renton said. “I’ve been among your enemies, milady. I have the information that you requested.”
“Is that true?” Mai asked. “We had heard that you were captured by the Thule Cartel.”
“How better to get access to our enemies?” Renton said boastfully. “I arranged direct access to Lóa Thule, and then I’ve spent my recovery among Emily Muir’s forces at the Far Shores.”
“Where is Lóa Thule’s head, then?” Mai demanded. “Why does she yet live?”
“I thought she was dead when I last saw her,” Renton said. “I cannot imagine how she survived.”
Anastasia sighed and put aside her veil.
“First Gaul, and then Lóa. It is the same story with all these Thule deviants. Are they so difficult to kill? You are an arrogant and troublesome servant, Renton,” Anastasia scolded. “How could you be so reckless?”
Renton quickly bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he said. “I was only trying to do your will.”
“You put yourself through unnecessary suffering,” Anastasia said. “Worse, you put me through unnecessary worry. I believed that you were lost to me, Renton.”
“I did not mean to worry you,” Renton protested, his cheeks hot as a kitchen stove. “I was simply trying to…”
“Do you truly expect me to be pleased with you?” Anastasia demanded. “Was it by my desire that you were taken captive?”
“No, Mistress,” Renton said, chagrinned. “It wasn’t exactly my intention, either, but I made the best of it.”
“You disobeyed my most important and singular order to you,” Anastasia said, glaring at him. “Have I not instructed you to be ready to serve me, for all of your natural life?”
Renton’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he could not speak.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said quietly. “You have.”
“What services do you think you could offer me, then, as a dead man?”
“None, Mistress.”
“Then you will remember in the future that my instructions are not to be disregarded, even in the direst circumstance,” Anastasia said. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course,” Renton stammered. “I do.”
“Then return to your place, servant,” Anastasia snapped, beckoning. “Where you are meant to be.”
He hurried over, stepping between her and the towering vampire. Lord Gao gave him a mild look and a lukewarm smile, but he stepped aside. Mai was impossible to read, by face or telepathy, but that was always the case with the maid.
Anastasia inspected him closely, the corner of her lip turning down.
“It seems that you were treated poorly in captivity,” Anasta
sia said softly. “Is that true?”
Renton looked away, ashamed.
“It’s true,” he admitted.
“I have already resolved to destroy the Thule Cartel, of course,” Anastasia said. “Still, I will not forgive them for mistreating you. I withdraw the mercy that I planned to offer,” she proclaimed. “There will be no quiet deaths for any of them, to pay for the abuse of my diplomat. I promise to make them suffer in recompense for the suffering they have inflicted on my family and my treasured servant.”
Renton bowed as deeply as he could.
“Come along, now, my friends,” Anastasia ordered, putting her veil back in place. “We have much to do.”
***
Alistair spent hours in the bathroom, showering repeatedly between debilitating bouts of diarrhea and vomiting. He felt at first as if he were expelling the fantastic colors and haunting music that had assailed him in the dark, filling the toilet with strange hues and reams of sheet music.
As the toxins left his system, his suffering became more mundane.
He had just finished his third shower when it occurred to him that he had no idea how he had made it out of the dungeon.
He remembered lying on the pedestal, likely where he started, and giving himself wholly to the hallucinations.
His memory was faded as if it had been scrubbed with scalding water and bleach, his mind flailed with spectacle, pummeled with revelations and grandiose visions until his thoughts acquired the texture and consistency of a soft-boiled egg.
It was hard to say when that torment had ended, but it must have.
He woke in a bathroom like a drunk after a blackout, only able to recall the bare edges of the binge that had put him in such a sorry state. About how he had made it to the bathroom, or where that bathroom was, his masticated memory was entirely unhelpful.
He had a guess or two, though.
Alistair brushed his teeth while he dripped dry on the bathmat.
He drank water from the tap, and promptly vomited it back up.
He brushed his teeth again, and then took a more cautious drink, hovering near the toilet while he waited. He nodded a minute later and returned to the sink.
There were toiletries laid out, his preferred brands, and clothes that could have come from his own closet folded neatly on a chair beside the bathroom door.
He shaved and slicked back his hair before dressing.
The shirt was a touch too long at the wrist, but the trousers and jacket were perfectly fitted.
Alistair wiped condensation from the mirror so that he could examine himself.
“I won’t change so easily,” he said, mostly just to hear his own voice. “Don’t think that any of you can look down on me.”
Except for Gabby, he added silently, grinning at himself in the mirror.
He would prefer that she respect and admire him, of course, but it worked for him the other way, too. The way she flinched from his touch and the hint of reluctance in her smile didn’t bother him a bit.
That was cute.
He attached his cufflinks and paused to admire the Blancpain nautical watch that had been left for him before slipping it on. He put the tie in his jacket pocket, stepped into the shined brown leather shoes that were a bit pointy for his taste, and then left the bathroom, feeling as if he had spent a lifetime or so inside of it.
He emerged into an office. Gaul Thule waited for him beside a window at a small coffee table, an IV plugged into one arm and a fresh set of bandages on the back of his shaved head.
“Come and sit,” Gaul said. “Have some coffee.”
Alistair took his advice, helping himself to a scone as well from a small basket.
“Traditionally, we leave our candidates down there much longer,” Gaul said, turning his teacup absently as he spoke. “Based on the limited time available to us, I had you taken out well ahead of schedule. I think it should have worked, regardless. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Alistair said, swallowing. “What am I meant to feel?”
“No matter,” Gaul said. “We will find out soon enough.”
“Fine by me,” Alistair said, sipping his coffee. “Where is Gabby?”
“Gabriela is elsewhere, and she will remain as such until I have come to a decision,” Gaul said. “I considered your proposal while you were sequestered.”
“How long was I down there, anyway?”
“Little more than a night,” Gaul said. “Not even a full day.”
Alistair did his best not to let on, but that shook him.
He had thought at least the better part of a week.
“So? What did you come up with, boss?”
“Your performance in the trial was impressive enough,” Gaul said, “but I expected no less of my former Chief Auditor. You were always at your best under duress.”
Alistair nodded in simple acknowledgement. Few had ever disagreed with his mastery in the field, and even fewer of those were still alive to argue the point.
“I want you to work for the Thule Cartel, under an official contract. I want you to work for me again, Alistair, and then, after I die, I want you to work for my nephew Egill, who will take over the cartel.”
“You make it sound imminent,” Alistair said. “Is that head injury really so bad?”
“I should be dead already,” Gaul said indifferently. “Only my talent for psychic surgery and an aggressive treatment regime are holding that eventuality at bay. I cannot last more than a few days.”
“The Changeling and the Anathema aren’t the only ones on a deadline, then,” Alistair said, helping himself to another scone. “How interesting.”
“I will grant you permission to court Gabriela if you do this,” Gaul said. “You must agree to serve the Thule Cartel for the remainder of your career. I know that my cartel would be in good hands under your watch, but your ambition concerns me, Alistair. You betrayed me once before, because you felt your role was beneath your station. Can I truly count on you not to do the same again, in a humbler role?”
Alistair smiled unexpectedly.
“There was no way I would have gone for that, even a month ago,” Alistair said. “I wanted nothing less than the whole world. I wanted to control my own destiny, and everybody else’s, too.”
“Am I to believe that my niece really had such an impact on you, in just a few short hours?”
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Alistair said. “But here we are. See for yourself.”
Alistair opened his mind.
Gaul’s scan was clumsy, but it seemed to satisfy him.
“I will not dictate her fate unilaterally,” Gaul said. “I can offer my blessing, but the choice remains her own.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alistair said. “You will speak to her, however?”
“I will state my case in your favor and declare you the choice of the family and the cartel,” Gaul said. “The rest is up to your own initiative.”
“That’s just how I like it, boss. Let’s make it happen.”
Gaul stared at him for a long time, but Alistair remained composed and relaxed.
“Very well,” Gaul said, pushing the documents across the table. “You will sign the contract then?”
“I don’t even need to read it,” Alastair said, taking the pen he offered. “Just so you know how serious I am.”
Alistair scribbled his name across each page in turn.
His last name felt unfamiliar, and logically so, since it had been more than a decade since he had written it.
Gaul inspected the pages gravely and then nodded, and that final gesture betrayed his exhaustion so completely that Alistair felt a little bad for the former Director, who seemed to have suddenly become a much older man.
There was fresh blood on his bandage, Alistair noted. Just a little spot of red, reminding Alistair vaguely of the Japanese flag, but still.
“Very well,” Gaul said. “Welcome to the Thule Cartel. Despite everything, it is still g
ood to know that you will be here, to watch over the cartel and its interests, when I am gone.”
“I’ll look over your family as if they were my own,” Alistair said knowingly. “Better, actually.”
“Let us hope so,” Gaul said.
There was a knock at the door, and then Gabriela let herself in.
She wore a long dress and subdued colors, her hair curled, and her nails painted. She kept her eyes demurely on the tips of her shoes and her hands folded at her waist. Her compliant body language appeared to belong to someone else entirely.
“You called for me, Uncle?”
“I did. Gabriela, I believe you are familiar with Alistair, my longtime colleague and confidant?”
“Of course, Uncle.” Gabriela’s eyes flicked over him briefly, and he saw confusion there, and did not mind it. “He was instrumental in my return.”
“As I have been told. I’m afraid we have little time for social niceties, Gabriela, so I apologize for this being so abrupt. We must all do what our cartel requires of us, niece. You know this as well as any other Thule.”
“I know, sir,” Gabriela said quietly. “I know what you gave up, when you were called upon.”
“As we will all be called upon, in time,” Gaul said. “Your engagement to Grigori Aushev is terminated. You have no further obligation to him or his family, and will neither engage in, nor receive any further contact with him or his family. Is that clear?”
Gabriela stole a glance at Alistair before nodding.
“Yes, Uncle,” she said meekly. “May I ask why?”
“You certainly may,” Gaul said. “A better candidate has presented himself, offering a superior match for you, and for the cartel. My associate here,” Gaul said, nodding at Alistair, “has made an impassioned and persuasive plea for your hand, and I have granted my permission.”
“I see,” Gabriela said. “I am to be married to this man, then?”
“You are to allow him to court you, and to take his offer into consideration,” Gaul said. “You will look upon it favorably, if possible.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Gabriela said. “I will do so.”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 58
