Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3)

by Clay Griffith Susan Griffith

  “Your Majesty? I did not expect you. What did the doctors say? I rejoice that you appear uninjured.”

  “Did you think I wouldn't find out?” Her voice was low and quiet, a desperate attempt to remain calm.

  “Find out?”

  “You tried to kill him,” Adele stated harshly. “In the tombs while I lay in surgery.”

  Mamoru showed shock. “No, I was aiming for Flay.”

  “Oh please. If your geomancy is that shoddy, perhaps I need a better teacher. You knew full well what you were doing.”

  “Who told you that? Your pet vampire? Of course, he did.” He waved aside the entire conversation. “He is paranoid.”

  “Being that Gareth bears the scars of your geomancy, while Flay escaped scot-free, pardon my skepticism. Gareth said that you were looking straight at him when you cast the runes. Not at Flay, who murdered my father!”

  “You believe a vampire over me?” Mamoru's words were cold.

  “I didn't think I needed to. I thought I could trust you both! You swore to me you wouldn't hurt him!”

  “I promised loyalty to you.”

  “Don't bandy words with me. Not after all we've been through.”

  “All we've been through? You have no idea. You are naïve about that thing. It has you under its sway. You are a fool to think I would allow that creature leave to do with you as it pleases.”

  Mamoru's hatred of Gareth, and his disrespect of her, scalded Adele. “Nothing occurs between he and I that I do not wish.”

  Mamoru threw up his hands, increasingly livid at her words. “Yes! I don't need to be reminded of that! You are as mad as everyone says. You see nothing. Because of that thing! It's made you complacent to everything it does.”

  “Gareth is an anomaly. Where every other vampire is trying to kill us, he is helping us, forsaking his own kind. He is something to protect, not destroy. He could be the future of vampires.”

  “The future of vampires is death. There will never be peace between us so long as they drink our blood!”

  “He drinks my blood, and I am fine.”

  “Are you?” Mamoru stepped close to her, his face ablaze with unusual anger. “You are weakened by what it does to you! You must know that!”

  Adele was taken aback by his fire, and stammered, “The geomancy is what weakens me. Gareth's feedings are fitful, hardly affecting me at all.”

  “It hampers your control.”

  Adele rallied her argument, once more sure of her facts. “My control is better than yours apparently, better than most, you keep telling me.”

  “You don't practice when it is here. Precious days of training are lost because of it.”

  “The few days lost are inconsequential. I do it to protect him. And he is with me little enough thanks to the war.”

  “Yes, off it runs to the warfront with new information,” Mamoru sneered. “Only with whom does it confer? Us or them?”

  “You don't know him,” Adele replied succinctly. “You refuse to admit there may be something in this great world that you don't already know.”

  “Why don't you think for a moment? What could it possibly gain by acting this way? It wants you, Adele. The empire falls without you and it knows it! It orchestrated the attack on Alexandria, murdered your father, ruined the American coalition, and steers us on a losing war!”

  “That's rubbish!”

  “It has used you from the start. You are just too blind to see it. Cesare may be devious and bloodthirsty, but your vampire is the greatest mastermind of them all. With one stroke, it has disarmed the sole weapon that would lay its kind to ruin.”

  “He didn't even know I was a weapon when we first met. Neither did I, for that matter.”

  Mamoru's eyes were wild with desperation and fury. “Can you not see how everything has fallen into place for the vampires since it found you?”

  “All I see is scores of dead vampires, by my hand. I see our empire has the strength of true allies, and is not under the rule of a foreign nation. Tell me how that plays into the hands of the vampires!”

  Mamoru shouted, “Adele, you are blind beyond compare! And every day its hold on you strengthens. Soon it will have you darting off into vampire territory again, from which you will not return. It will make its final play and you will be murdered, and the one chance we have will be gone.”

  “You are absurd! If that was his plan, then why the big charade? It's ludicrous to go to such great lengths when all they need do is kill me, which Gareth could have done at any point since we met. Trust me, a great planner, he is not.”

  “It will kill you, Adele. That is their nature.”

  “And you will kill him before he does such a thing, I suppose.”

  Mamoru remained silent, but his eyes told everything.

  Adele's mouth settled into a hard line. She hadn't intended for this moment to occur, but there was no turning back. Terror filled her at the precipice she now stood upon. “Dear God. Then you leave me no choice. I can't trust you. You are confined to quarters until I deem fit to set you free.”

  The expression on Mamoru's face became one that frightened Adele. It held something dangerous. “You wouldn't.”

  “You've pushed me to drastic measures! Your network is far too vast for me to allow you to walk free. All I asked was to keep this one vampire safe, and you failed me. I trusted you, Mamoru.”

  “No. You trust it.”

  “At least I know I can.” Adele turned and strode from the room. Her breath became ragged in her chest as she closed the door behind her and signaled Captain Shirazi, who stood with several White Guardsmen down the corridor. The men jogged to her side, clearly alarmed by her frantic demeanor.

  “Majesty, are you well?”

  She gathered herself, looking into the faces of her captain and his soldiers. With a deceptively steady voice, she said, “Master Mamoru is confined to his quarters. Station a watch at every potential door, and even at his windows. Do it quickly. He is to have no contact other than myself. No visitors. He is not to speak with anyone, including yourself and your men.”

  Shirazi leaned forward in surprise. “Ma'am? Master Mamoru?”

  “You heard me, Captain. Post your guard.” Adele strode off, head up, outwardly calm, but digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Bitter at Mamoru for his hatred. Furious at herself for letting her emotions drive her. Heartbroken at what she had done.

  THE EMPRESS, THE sirdar, and the Greyfriar walked into Iskandar Hospital. Anhalt had rushed to Alexandria after receiving word of both the bombing and Mamoru's fall from grace. The halls were lined with soldiers. Staff bowed and curtsied. She had to slow her step several times as Greyfriar lagged behind. The warmth of Alexandria was taking some small toll on his ability to heal from the damage caused in the bombing. They took the stairs to the top floor, the fourth, rather than trust an elevator. The hospital director, Dr. Turabian, met them outside a heavily guarded ward.

  “Your Majesty, General…sir,” the doctor said to each of the three, “the assassin is conscious, but has yet to speak. He's in decent-enough health. Bit anemic. I don't believe he's from Alexandria, or even Equatoria. But that's just my opinion.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Adele replied. “I apologize for the disruption to your hospital. If my reign lasts much longer, you'll need to build a new wing to hold my would-be assassins.”

  Dr. Turabian coughed with embarrassment that she might have heard that now-common joke in the halls of his hospital.

  She held up a calming hand. “You and your staff have performed heroically in the aftermath of the terrible opera bombing. We thank you.” She indicated for him to lead the way into the ward.

  The four pushed through the swinging doors into the gaslit chamber that had been designed for many patients, but only held one. This was the same ward where Selkirk had been confined after his attempt on Adele's life last summer. They marched across the green-and-white tiles toward a bed. A squad of soldiers came to noisy attention. />
  “Leave us.” Anhalt saluted, and the troopers escorted the doctor from the ward.

  Adele looked down at the bruised, battered face on the pillow. “Good afternoon. My name is Adele. What is yours?”

  The man stared at the ceiling with lost eyes. He turned slowly to look at her with an expression of regret. “When will you kill me?”

  “Soon enough,” General Anhalt snapped.

  The prisoner actually smiled and lay back.

  The sirdar gave a snort of bemusement. “Well, that seemed to please him.”

  “He's Undead,” Greyfriar said coldly. “I'm sure now. His voice. He's from London. He's disappointed he wasn't killed in the bombing. There is only one fate sufficient for him. He must be kept alive for a very long time. Let him die the natural death of an old man, the death of a failure. The death from which there is no escape.” The prisoner glared at Greyfriar with terror in his face. The swordsman leaned over the frightened man, and said, “Or tell us what we want to know and we will kill you.”

  “Do you swear it?”

  He repeated, “Tell us what we want to know, and we will kill you.”

  The man looked from him to Adele to the intense Anhalt. He nodded.

  Adele asked, “Who sent you?”

  The prisoner hesitated, and then said, “Prince Cesare is my master. I am General Montrose, commander of Cesare's Undead Legion.”

  Adele silenced Anhalt's scoff with a look before asking the prisoner, “What was your mission here, General Montrose?”

  “To kill you.”

  “How many Undead are in Alexandria?”

  Montrose replied confidently, “Many. We are everywhere. Our faith is spreading.”

  Greyfriar whispered in Adele's ear, “Those bombs did not come from Cesare. I've never seen anything like them in London.”

  Adele asked Montrose, “Where did you get the bomb?”

  “From an ally. The one who brought us to Alexandria.”

  “His name?”

  “I don't know.”

  “That won't do, General,” Adele said tersely. “You can't earn resurrection for such feeble information.”

  “He didn't give his name and I couldn't see him well,” Montrose asserted. “He must have been one of your Undead, now risen. He seemed very much like a vampire.”

  Adele glanced at her companions, eyeing Greyfriar curiously. Then she turned. “I've heard enough, General. You may rot here forever.”

  “No!” Montrose croaked. “You promised to kill me. I must be reborn.”

  The empress continued walking, followed by her two men.

  “Wait!” the Undead general screamed and struggled to rise. “If I give him to you, will you kill me?”

  “You said you didn't see him clearly,” General Anhalt said suspiciously. “Suddenly you can identify him?”

  “I didn't see his face,” Montrose retorted. “He brought us here as if we were refugees from the war because he knew you were soft and would take us in. He was a man of position and wore a ring, a large golden ring with a stone.”

  Adele crossed her arms. “Many men wear rings. That's not helpful.”

  “It had a symbol on it. Give me a pencil and paper, and I'll draw it.”

  The empress gave her companions a glance of suppressed excitement. Anhalt shook his head, unconvinced. She slid back the panel in the door and called for pen and paper. After a few minutes, the door opened and Corporal Darby handed her several sheets of heavy rag stationery and a silver inkwell with an ornate pen.

  Adele smiled. “Well, I'm not drafting a formal letter, but thank you.” The door was closed again and she took the material to the eager Montrose.

  He dipped the pen and starting scratching awkwardly across the paper, pausing frequently and cursing. “I long for the day I won't have to use my hands for things like this.”

  Adele stared at the man as he concentrated on the page. He was so focused and sincere. He was the enemy and had blindly tried to kill her, murdering nine people rather than her, and wounding scores more. He fascinated her. He was no mindless bloodman who served out of habit. Montrose believed he was part of the vampire culture. He would rise from the dead and inherit the Earth. All his suffering in this life would be repaid in the next.

  Adele could tell from Greyfriar's posture and tone that he loathed the prisoner. No doubt much of it was the bombing, but there was more to it. The swordsman held an unexpected sense of disdain for this mere slave who was so gullible as to believe the slavemaster's promises. Or perhaps he felt disgust that Montrose thought he could ever be like Gareth, or wanted to.

  “Here,” Montrose announced. “I didn't see it clearly for long, but it looked like this.”

  Adele took the sheet with a flush of dread and excitement. The design on the paper was a stylized “A” with vague bordering lines. Under the letter was a shape, rudely drawn, but clear enough. It was a gear.

  The empress silently held out the paper to General Anhalt. The sirdar took it and, at first, turned it several directions as if he could make nothing of this foolishness. But then he looked at it for a second and his face froze. Slowly his eyes grew dark.

  He breathed, “Your Majesty, this is nonsense. It's just something he saw.”

  “Saw it where?” Adele replied quietly. “We both know what that is.”

  Anhalt folded the paper as if not to see it. “You can't possibly act on this thing's evidence. He's a lunatic at best. And we know he's an agent of Cesare.”

  “I'm not going to act, per se.” Adele stepped to Greyfriar's side. “But I am going to investigate.”

  Greyfriar asked, “What is it?”

  The empress took the sheet and held it up. “This is the seal of Lord Aden. And he does, in fact, wear a ring with this symbol emblazoned on it.”

  The swordsman said grimly, “Let's have him then.”

  “Wait!” Anhalt exclaimed.

  “Easy, General,” Adele said. “I'm not going to do something rash.”

  Greyfriar snarled, “I'll do something rash. If he tried to kill you, let's finish him.”

  “No, no,” Adele cautioned. “We have a little thing called law. This sketch is hardly evidence. It is suspicious, however, and we can't ignore it.”

  Anhalt said, “Lord Aden is the master of our war-building program. Why would he conspire with vampires?”

  “I have no idea,” Adele replied.

  “Coal,” came a word from Montrose.

  “Beg pardon?” the empress said.

  “Coal,” the Undead said with a conceited smile. He enjoyed parading his knowledge of the great court in London in front of these southerners. “Cesare arranged for this man to extract coal from clan territories. I've heard His Highness speak of it. In fact, Prince Cesare's arrangement with the clans on the continent for this human to take coal was one of the first elements of the Grand Coalition.”

  There was a long silence until Anhalt said, “Your Majesty, we must proceed cautiously with this. Lord Aden is popular with the old powers of the capital.”

  “Yes, yes, General. I know all that. Trust me to act in my usual thoughtful and diplomatic manner.”

  Anhalt took a frightened breath.

  “What are you going to do?” Greyfriar asked.

  Adele cleared her throat demurely and started for the door. “I'm going to take a company of soldiers and pay His Lordship a social call.”

  Montrose sat up with a rattle of chains, reaching for Adele. “You promised! Kill me!”

  Greyfriar smashed a hand against the prisoner's chest and slammed him back into the cot. “Welcome to the human race.”

  The gatekeeper at Lord Aden's mansion was no doubt surprised to hear a carriage roll to a stop on the street at three in the morning. Roused from his comfortable cot in the gatehouse and wearing a liveried cloak, he trundled into the blustery night. He was taken aback to see a soldier standing on the other side of the wrought-iron gate backed by a company of mounted lancers in their smart dark gre
en tunics with brass buttons and white trousers with high black boots. Their lances, held straight like fence posts, sported imperial pennants whipping in the wind, and atop their heads were dress turbans. Then, amidst the shuffling hooves, he noted with shock a black brougham with an imperial crest emblazoned on the door.

  “Open the gate,” the soldier commanded. “Her Imperial Majesty to see Lord Aden.”

  The gatekeeper stared dumb for a moment, then stammered, “It's late.”

  “Open this gate, damn you! Or we'll take it down!”

  The gatekeeper jumped with shock and yanked a ring of keys from his waistcoat. Unlocking the gate, he drew it open. The soldier leapt onto the rear of the carriage as ten lancers trooped in, two abreast on horses prancing in unison, followed by the brougham, and then another ten soldiers in red jackets and khaki helmets, all staring straight ahead. As the dour parade clattered up the macadam drive between gas lamps toward the gloomy house, the gatekeeper scampered for his booth, where he scrawled a note with an unsteady hand. He stuffed it into a cylinder and let the pneumatic tube propel it ahead of the approaching riders.

  The company drew to a practiced halt before the shadowy portico of the sprawling mansion. Captain Shirazi turned from his spot on the carriage and barked orders to his mounted White Guard, who all slipped from their saddles and withdrew carbines from scabbards. They fanned out around the brougham, rifles at the ready. Shirazi jumped down and opened the carriage door. Greyfriar leapt out, with a hand on the hilt of his rapier, and preceded Empress Adele quickly up the steps to the front door.

  The captain was soon at her side and insistently rapped the heavy brass knocker. Adele was calm and collected, her hair covered by a silk scarf, and dressed in a fashionably long navy skirt and heavy topcoat. Shirazi slammed the knocker again, and through the opaque glass in the door, a faint light appeared wavering inside the house. It grew brighter until finally the sound of bolts being thrown back came from the other side.

  A blinking face appeared. The butler had done a creditable job of rapid preparation, but he still looked somewhat undone and confused. His thin white hair was askew, and his bleary eyes widened in astonishment at the figure of the empress a mere two feet away.