Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3)

by Clay Griffith Susan Griffith

  He stepped in front of her, bringing her up short. “We both know with Cesare on the throne, the war will have a bloody and miserable end. I may be able to affect it otherwise.” His fingers entwined in her hair. “This war is wearing on you, and you are paying the price every day. You need my help, and this is how I can do it. You can't save the world by yourself.”

  “Well played, my dear,” she said with a deep breath. Then Adele suddenly froze as another thought occurred to her. “What about Flay?”

  “What of her?”

  “Whatever shall you do with her? You're going to use her to gain the throne, and then what? You've said yourself she's the most dangerous creature you know.”

  “So she is.” Gareth stroked his chin. “I don't know for sure. I'll need her to consolidate my rule, as I have no packs of my own. With time, I can create my own loyalists to replace the more troublesome clan lords. But you're right, I'll have to deal with Flay eventually. And so I shall. I'll destroy her.”

  Anhalt noted from the side, “You said you couldn't beat Flay.”

  Gareth nodded. “Not in a straight fight. I'll have to think of something else.”

  As he was talking about the fearsome Flay lurking next to the British throne and his obligations to the clan lords, an idea swirled into shape in Adele's mind. She saw it with amazing lucidity, and even though it was surrounded by ill-defined shades of risk, it was a plan that she, and only she, could accomplish. It allowed her to play a role in safeguarding Gareth during his dangerous journey, potentially removed Flay from a formative role in the coup, and it relieved any others from taking a terrible risk, which was the sort of plan she preferred.

  Gareth settled on the arm of a chair and leaned back, watching her obsessive gaze with uncertainty. “Whatever you're thinking now, I'm against it.”

  “I'm thinking of all the damned clan lords and all the kings of the vampire alliance trapped together under Buckingham Palace. All in one place. I'm thinking of a way that you wouldn't need Flay's packs to launch your reign.”

  Anhalt stood. “No, Your Majesty.”

  Adele didn't listen. “I can eliminate them all. Every bloody one of them. They will never see it coming.”

  Gareth rose also and took her by the shoulders. “Now you're talking madness.”

  “Was it madness in Grenoble?” she argued.

  “Yes, it was. But it happened to work.”

  “I could kill Cesare and every significant enemy leader. And just them.”

  “It isn't your place to kill Cesare,” Gareth said stiffly. “It's mine.”

  “But don't you see? I can end the war with one stroke. I have that power!”

  “At Grenoble, you had the support of an army. You're talking about London far to the north.”

  “I've been there before and survived, you may recall.”

  “Adele, I pray you listen to me. If you use your…ability, your power, again on that level, it could kill you.”

  “Oh, you don't know that!” she dismissed. “You're just trying to protect me. How can you be such a mother hen toward me when you're going up to face your entire clan alone? And you expect me to wait here for a telegram that you're just fine?”

  “I am trying to protect you, from yourself. I've tasted your blood, and I know how drained you are. I have never felt you so weak.”

  “Nonsense! I feel fine. Grenoble was weeks past. I'm completely recovered.”

  Anhalt came closer. “What is he talking about?”

  “Nothing.” She flashed Gareth an annoyed glance.

  Gareth didn't relent. “The power she wields is slowly killing her.”

  The general fixed her with a panicked stare. “Is this true?”

  “Of course not. I feel fine.” She glared at Gareth. “Don't bring General Anhalt into this.”

  The general said, “You didn't tell me about any risk to your health, beyond the normal danger of war. You inserted yourself into my tactics without informing me of this existing threat to your life? That is unacceptable, Your Majesty.”

  Gareth towered over the young empress. “Believe me, Adele. You are frail on a level that you cannot conceive. I know you in ways you can't.”

  Adele was annoyed that he tried to overwhelm her with his height. “None of that matters. I can do it. How can I stand here in Alexandria and watch the bodies of our dead soldiers be shipped back to their wives and children for years to come when I can prevent it?”

  “If I may,” General Anhalt said loudly, parting the glowering empress and the vampire prince with his sharp tone. “There is another way to accomplish the same objective without risking your life, Majesty.”

  Adele started to argue that perhaps she wanted to risk her life, but silenced herself and motioned for the general to continue.

  The sirdar said in a measured tone. “If we could determine the date of this coven—”

  “We can,” Gareth said eagerly. “It can't begin until I arrive in London, and I control my own progress.”

  Anhalt nodded. “Excellent. We could certainly arrange a traditional solution.”

  “What do you mean traditional solution?” Adele asked.

  “A fleet of bombers to kill the clan lords as they gather.”

  “But again, General, why should I put those airmen at risk?” Adele replied fervently.

  “I won't lose you for something so unnecessary,” Gareth shouted.

  Anhalt replied after him, “Your Majesty, there's not a soldier, sailor, or airman who would not give his life in battle for you.”

  Adele clenched her fists in exasperation. “Why won't you see the simple fact that I'm a geomancer and more than capable of succeeding?”

  Gareth took her fists in his hands. “You are a geomancer, true, but there is so much more to you. You are the guide for your nation. And you are the woman I love. You must relent, Adele. In this case, you must allow us to be what we are: loyal soldiers. That is all we do. That is all we are.”

  With gentle fingers, Adele brushed his temple and gazed into the crystal blue of his eyes. “My darling, I would've swooned for that speech last year. But I'm older now. Do you actually think for one second that I would allow you to be in London under the bombs of my own navy? Do you think I'm deranged?” She kissed him on the cheek. “The answer is no.”

  “But I won't be under the bombs.” Adele began to object, but Gareth continued, “Let me finish. Once the coven commences, I will kill Cesare. Then I will fly up to the approaching ships with the signal to attack. There will be no significant resistance because it's customary for all the clan packs to be sent away during the coven. When the bombs fall on Buckingham Palace, I will be with General Anhalt aboard an Equatorian airship. And then, I can even remain in London and take charge of the clan during its hour of crisis.” He pulled her close. “Adele, I have steered your army wrong with my mistakes. Cesare has made me look like a fool, and caused me to endanger your people on the battlefield. I must pay him back. I must pay you back.”

  Adele saw the flame deep in Gareth's eyes. He sensed the potential of this bold action, and it created a confidence and hope in him that was intoxicating. Even General Anhalt tensed like a racehorse straining for the gate to open. She felt a sense of relief and comfort that two such extraordinary men were at her side. And, perhaps, they were right. She couldn't deny she was still fatigued weeks past Grenoble.

  “Very well, gentlemen, draw up a plan.” She took a shuddering, nervous breath. “Oh, I wish you hadn't said anything at all now.”

  Gareth said with fervor, “It's brilliant. History will mark you as a great ruler.”

  “I don't care about that.” Adele kissed the palm of his hand. “I would still rather lose me than you.”

  He replied softly, “You can't feel that way, Adele. It's selfish. You are the empress, but I'm just the Greyfriar, popular elephant-riding hero.”

  “No. You're the future King Gareth of Britain.” Adele felt his arms around her, strong and full of purpose and recti
tude.

  “Simon! Stop touching that!” Adele slapped her brother's wrist as he reached to grasp the dead hand that lay on the unrolled oilcoth.

  “But technically it's mine,” Simon argued with typical disregard for reality, staring at the grey-fingered thing with boyish wonder. The thirteen-year-old was dressed in his usual Bedouinesque robe with linen trousers and soft desert boots. His face was flushed redder than normal under his close-cropped red hair. The boy rebelled against his sister's grasp and began to inch toward the hand again.

  General Anhalt laid a deep metal tray on the table along with a canvas bag that tinkled of glass. They were in Adele's private conference room. He pulled a jar of blood from the satchel and wordlessly began to pour the liquid into the tray.

  Simon blurted, “Can I put the dead hand in my blood?”

  “May I put the dead hand in my blood,” Adele corrected. “Yes, go ahead.”

  “Outstanding!” The boy giggled and gasped at the same time as he lifted the rubbery hand. He took one of the fingers and wiggled it, making a cute playful noise. He thrust the dead limb toward Pet, who sat on the table, ears pricked forward with interest. The cat sniffed the thing and tightened his face in disgust.

  “Just do it!” Adele shouted. “What is wrong with you? Show some respect.”

  Simon scowled and dropped the hand into the tray, raising red splashes that elicited a groan of annoyance from his sister. The empress ignored the scarlet spots on the boy's robe and her own golden gown, and asked Greyfriar, “How long must the thing soak?”

  The swordsman leaned over and looked at the lifeless appendage, now partially covered in blood. “I have no idea. Between the hand and the clothes, we should fool Flay.”

  Adele turned to General Anhalt. “How many people know anything about this blood or the hand? Other than the people in this room?”

  “None, Your Majesty.” The general cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There is, I fear, no shortage of dead boys in the military hospital. And I drew the blood of Prince Simon myself. Unfortunately, I have some experience with battlefield surgery.”

  Simon was studying the glass jar, watching the remnants of red liquid dribble in the bottom. “So this will make the vampires think that hand is mine?”

  “Yes,” Adele answered.

  “Vampires are stupid,” the boy said, causing Greyfriar to chuckle.

  King Msiri approached the table. He wore loose cotton clothing with sandals, and a leopard skin band around his head, a crown of sorts. Msiri glanced at the hand too with a sour shake of his head.

  “How you Equatorians manage your affairs is your own business,” he muttered, “but this is bad. I'm not a superstitious man, but the bodies of the dead are sacred. And this was a child.”

  Adele replied, “There was no other way, Your Majesty. But I thank you for helping us.”

  “Of course,” the Katangan said earnestly. “There's nothing I wouldn't do for you after how you served me.” He pointed at the hand. “And if this abomination is your wish, so be it.”

  The empress shook her head. “I find it distasteful too, but necessary. Are you prepared with a cruiser to take Simon to Katanga? With complete secrecy?”

  “Yes! I was mistaken before. This fellow is not my son. He is my brother!” Msiri put a rough arm around Simon's shoulder. The boy laughed. “I will pack him in a box so no one knows he is aboard ship. Except for me, of course.”

  Simon asked, “What if you forget and I starve to death locked inside a box?”

  “I shall write myself a note,” Msiri offered.

  The boy seemed satisfied with that glib response.

  “Good,” Adele said. “Keep him hidden and quiet, if that's at all possible.”

  Simon asked, “Why do I have to stay hidden? Vampires won't know what's happening here.” The boy pointed at Greyfriar. “Oh! I can wear a mask. I can be Whitefriar or Blackfriar! I can go with you and fight vampires in the north.”

  Greyfriar began to speak, but Adele interrupted, “You are not going to wear a mask and fight vampires, Simon!”

  “Why not? You get to go everywhere. You get to run around. And you're the empress! Why can't I do anything?”

  Greyfriar said, “It's very dangerous, Simon.”

  “I'm not afraid!”

  “No one said you were afraid,” Adele countered. “You clearly aren't afraid of anything, unfortunately. It's just that you aren't prepared. And you already have an important mission—”

  “Well, I won't do it, then. I won't pretend to be dead.”

  Msiri stood before Simon, grabbing his shoulders tightly. “Young prince, listen to me. What I have planned for you in Katanga will test you more than fighting vampires in the north. I am taking you to a place from which you may never return. In my country, there is a secret river valley in the most foreboding forests in the world. You cannot see the sky for the trees. It is a mysterious place where few men have set foot—and lived. The houses there are built of bone. It is the realm of strange, monstrous races. Men with no heads and five arms and tails like crocodiles. There are vicious beasts that kill and eat full-grown men as if they were small birds.” The king stared deep into Simon's wide eyes. “Young prince, if you can survive there, vampires will be like gnats to you then. You will be the mightiest of men.”

  Simon stared up at Msiri with mouth agape and trembling slightly.

  “But fear not,” Msiri continued loudly, “I am beside you. I will train you in the fighting arts of Katanga. You will become a warrior unmatched around the world. You will strike terror in the hearts of your enemies with gun or blade. You will be terrible to behold!”

  “Deus vult,” Simon breathed with excitement.

  Greyfriar added, “I asked Msiri to train me, but he said I wasn't ready.” The swordsman pulled his rapier from the scabbard and handed it to Simon. “But even if I can't be there, will you do me the honor of using a blade of mine? And when you become the weapon that Msiri has said, I hope I may join you in fighting vampires.”

  The boy took the sword with an awed grin.

  General Anhalt scowled at Greyfriar. “That trumps the dagger I gave him in Marseilles.”

  “Next time, you can give him an airship,” Greyfriar whispered.

  Simon looked up at Msiri. “When do we leave?”

  Adele breathed out and replied, “Soon. I will announce your death—” Her voice caught with unexpected emotion. She dropped to one knee, as she usually did, but then realized suddenly that Simon now was at least a foot taller. Biting her lip, she gathered Simon in an ironclad hug as she stood back up. The boy didn't fight back, but did roll his eyes. “I will announce your death in a few days. But I want you out of Alexandria before that.”

  “I can't even attend my own funeral?”

  “No! Don't be morbid.”

  “How am I going to die?”

  “Vampires kill you.”

  “How many? A hundred?”

  Adele laughed softly. “As prodigious as you are, a hundred seems a trifle much. It will be only one.”

  “One?” Simon snapped angrily. “I could kill one.”

  Adele took an exhausted breath, so Greyfriar stepped in. “It isn't any vampire who kills you, Simon. They send Prince Gareth of Scotland.”

  The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the floor. “Well, he's okay, I suppose. But he's no Flay.”

  Greyfriar made a disturbed sound. “That's true enough, but he is a fearsome warrior. Known far and wide as the deadliest hunter his kind has yet produced. In fact, Gareth is credited with the killing of—”

  Adele touched his sleeve as her lips quirked upward. “Um, yes. We get the point. Prince Gareth is a god among vampires.”

  The swordsman lowered his head with a rebuked cough. “Well, he is known to be quite impressive is my only point.”

  “Fine.” Adele waved her hand to stop that discussion. “So, yes, Prince Gareth of Scotland will be your assassin.”

  Simon asked,
“But won't the real Prince Gareth know he didn't do it? Why won't he just tell people, and your whole story will fall apart?”

  Greyfriar turned expectantly toward Adele with a bemused tilt of his head. “An excellent question.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Please. Simon, we've gotten it all worked out. Don't worry about it. There is no way it can fail.”

  The boy began, “But I don't think—”

  “Enough, Simon!” Adele shouted, and immediately leaned heavily on the table. Greyfriar, Simon, and King Msiri all moved to her side, but she waved them off with a weary shake of her head. “Please, trust me.”

  Greyfriar said, “Adele has planned this intricately. There is no chance of failure, Your Highness.”

  Simon nodded begrudging agreement. “What about my body? What are you going to bury? Oh! Can I design my monument?”

  General Anhalt spoke, “There will be no body, Your Highness. It seems that you, being an impetuous boy, sneak out of the palace tomorrow night. A foolish practice, but consistent with this royal family.”

  Adele gave an expression of mock offense at the sirdar.

  He continued the tale. “Being the most loyal of retainers, I note your absence and set out to find you. Your intention is to attend a public performance of questionable taste, but you are set upon by Prince Gareth. I intervene to defend you, but the vampire lifts you into the air and laboriously carries you over the Mediterranean, where you are dropped and lost in the embrace of the sea.”

  “You can't save me, General Anhalt?” Simon asked, a bit hurt.

  “I fear not.” The general's face was stern. “But take some solace that this is a work of fiction. If it were real, you would be safe.”

  Adele moved toward the sirdar. “General, if this part disturbs you, we can concoct another story.”

  “No, Majesty. It's only temporary, until it is revealed to the world that Prince Simon is alive and well, and living with bloodthirsty creatures in the wilds of Katanga.”