The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith

by Clay; Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith

  The emperor's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Get this maggot out of our sight before we kill it."

  "By which," Kelvin added hastily to the ambassador from underneath him, "His Imperial Majesty means that negotiations are concluded for today."

  The envoy sat up slowly and disentangled himself from Kelvin. He said matter-of-factly, "You are making a mistake, Your Majesty. You should think of your daughter."

  Lord Kelvin scrambled to his feet and blocked the furious Constantine, struggling to maintain his professional manner while laying hands on his emperor. "I suggest we adjourn until tomorrow, Sire. I will escort the ambassador to its quarters."

  The emperor glared at the bloodman with chest heaving and fists clenched. "You're a filthy animal. They bred the human out of you!"

  The little man straightened his mismatched suit and without looking up muttered, "I am as human as you, Your Majesty. We all are in the north. How could you know from here?"

  Clark stiffened with anger, but Constantine raised a hand to still him. The emperor's furious breathing slackened, and his sunken, red eyes drifted over the little man before him. His brow knitted with rational thought for the first time in this incredible session.

  "You're descended from humans," Constantine allowed in a strained voice. "We will pay you handsomely for any help you can render us. And you can stay here in Equatoria."

  "I'm here to sign a peace treaty. There is nothing more I can do."

  The emperor clenched his teeth and reached out an imploring hand that trembled from both shame and fear. "Please. Help us save my daughter."

  The ambassador's eyes shone with the hint of tears. "I have a daughter too. And a son. And they are both in the hands of Prince Cesare. If I don't return with the peace treaty, they will be killed."

  "There can be no treaty," Constantine said simply.

  The man didn't react. There was no reaction suitable.

  Lord Kelvin said quietly, "Your Majesty, I suggest we adjourn the council for today. Everyone needs time to reflect." He led the ambassador back down the aisle without waiting for a response. Lord Aden stepped from the ranks of the Privy Council and fell in beside the prime minister and the British ambassador. After they slipped out, the massive carved doors closed with an unsatisfying click that echoed through the shadowy chamber.

  Constantine climbed wearily to his throne, where he collapsed with his face in his hands. The remaining Privy Councilors paid silent obeisance as they filed out.

  Senator Clark sheathed his saber. "You should have let me kill it, Your Majesty. There's no point talking to that useless rag."

  Constantine nodded sadly, but stayed silent.

  "Don't worry. I'll get Adele back if I have to slaughter every vampire in Europe to do it." Clark began to ponder the outline of his attack with restrained glee. "A strike on Bruges will give them something to think about and let them know our intentions are serious."

  Although the American frightened the emperor, Clark's intense confidence stemmed the old man's objections. At least the senator was doing something.

  "Your Majesty, if I may." The words came from the shadows.

  Both Constantine and Clark looked sharply into the corner. Even the imperial guards started. Mamoru stepped from the darkness wearing long silken robes with full sleeves and a lavish brocade pattern of cranes and bamboo in red and gold. He walked with a slow tigerish tread that betrayed strength and power.

  Constantine relaxed. "Did we send for you?" He was genuinely unsure.

  "No, Sire. I apologize for coming unbidden."

  "You saw, then. What did you think?"

  The samurai rested a hand on the hilt of his ornate katana. He rubbed his chin as he eyed Clark with frank openness and a faint smirk on his lips. Then he turned back to Constantine. "I admired your restraint in not killing the man. But I feel pity for the ambassador as well. We all have our duties."

  Clark bristled. "Pity? For that toad? Who are you, sir, if I may ask?"

  "I am Mamoru. I am Princess Adele's private tutor."

  "Really, Your Majesty, I see no reason for a schoolteacher to be here."

  Constantine was weary. "We value Mamoru's opinion. Or we wouldn't have him as Adele's tutor."

  "But these are affairs of state and war."

  The emperor said, "Mamoru led the Japanese assault on Kyoto to recover their imperial relics. He's familiar with both affairs of state and war. He chooses to teach."

  "But still, he's-"

  "Enough, Senator!" Constantine shouted, red-faced. Then he fell back into his chair with a narrow and impatient gaze, gnawing distractedly on his knuckle, like a father exhausted by bickering children.

  Mamoru offered, "Senator Clark, we have the same goal-the safe return of our beloved princess, Adele. And I believe I can help you."

  Clark put one booted foot on the dais and smiled sarcastically, inviting Mamoru to continue.

  The samurai priest made a slight bow. "I believe another unfocused assault by your forces will cost the princess her life."

  "Do you now?" Clark retorted. "Well, I believe different. Those creatures know what would happen to them if they harmed Adele."

  "More likely they do not care. If you attack, Senator, the princess will die. You must instead go directly into London and take her away. Quietly. Without pomp. If that is a possibility for you."

  "Well, here's a lesson for you, schoolteacher," Clark scoffed. "London is a big place. Maybe you know where she is?"

  "I do." Mamoru pulled a scroll from his sleeve. "And I have a map."

  Clark threw up his hands in disgust over this foolishness.

  Constantine sat up with a hungry gleam in his eye. "Mamoru, are you sure?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty. My sources are excellent."

  Constantine stepped down past the American and took the scroll. "The Tower of London?"

  "Yes, Majesty. She is kept in these rooms."

  Clark rolled his eyes. "How can we trust this? What are his sources?"

  Constantine said, "If Mamoru says she's here, she's here. When did you get this?"

  The samurai replied, "Only today it arrived by courier. The intelligence is barely days old."

  The emperor smiled. "Magnificent! We'll have her back right out from under their noses. Thank you, Mamoru. Thank you."

  Mamoru bowed deeply. "It is my honor to serve you and Princess Adele."

  Constantine slapped the map against the senator's brass-buttoned chest. "Go. Go today. Take whatever you need."

  Clark was nonplussed for the first time. He stammered, "Your Majesty, I need more than this scrap of paper to commit my boys to a mission so deep inside vampire territory. I don't know this Jap from Adam."

  Constantine glared at the American. "We could easily send our own troops. But we're giving you the honor of rescuing our daughter, the future empress and your future wife. Either go or don't. That is your judgment as a commander. But if you refuse, sir, you'll see the Second Coming before your wedding."

  "I have a treaty with Equatoria."

  "You are looking at Equatoria." Constantine closed his eyes for a few seconds as his aggression melted. He reached up and dragged the heavy crown from his head, standing bareheaded with his wispy hair askew and sweat-tipped. "And a father. Son, you can trust Mamoru's intelligence as you would the sunrise. So, I pray you, give me your answer. Will you help me?"

  Clark studied the emperor, who was now just an old man worn down by the loss of his daughter. No man could look into that worried face, the eyes filled with terror and faint hope, and not be moved. The senator was not made of stone, he reflected on himself. This was just a man asking another man for help. Plus, to have the greatest ruler in the world beg for his help was more than Clark could've hoped. If he brought Adele back from London, there was nothing he could not ask of the Equatorian court.

  Senator Clark had long known, for a certainty, that he was the only man who could accomplish the miracle of destroying the vampirs. To do so, he had agreed
to marry a woman for whom he cared nothing. He needed to control the power of Equatoria to forge a war machine sufficient to aid him in liberating mankind. It was a terrible burden, but he bore it selflessly.

  The American slapped the emperor on the shoulder. "Oh, never fear! I'll go, by God. I'll go. And I'll bring her back, if she's there. And if she isn't, I'll be back." He grinned and winked at Mamoru. "I'll be back to see you, schoolteacher."

  CHAPTER

  O O WITH ME, if you please."

  Gareth was not asking, despite his pleasant formality. For the first time, he was insisting. Still, unlike his brother, he did not brandish his claws or make a hint of violence toward Adele, but the princess had little doubt Gareth would seize her and take her if she refused to go. For a perverse moment, she contemplated forcing him to follow through on his implied threat. If she made everything difficult, Gareth would enforce his demands only when it was most important and merited the exertion. However, his manner seemed to pose no danger for her. And she needed to choose her battles carefully.

  Adele went to gather her cloak, although it was not cold outside. The sun was bright and the day warm. She felt hints of spring even through the constant aura of death. Perhaps she was growing accustomed to that aura now. She hardly smelled the decay.

  As she took the cloak from a hook, she quickly seized one of the razor-sharp stone blades she had chiseled and slipped it into her blouse. With her cloak around her shoulders, she charged past the waiting Gareth. The vampire caught up with her at the door and led the way across the yard, which was now carpeted with lovely yellow flowers. A few daffodils and crocuses waved in the shadows of the walls. One of the sentries lifted into the air and drifted away on the spring breeze.

  Gareth strode out the dilapidated main gate and into the city. Adele followed his black frock coat as his long legs ate up the cobblestone streets and muddy lanes. Occasionally, he turned to check on her, but she was always a few steps behind, maintaining a look of bland detachment although she was busy studying the street layout. Adele caught sight of a dark shape as it swooped between crumbling buildings and caught hold of a rooftop. It was Flay.

  Gareth saw the lurking war chief too. A small chuckle escaped the prince as he said over his shoulder, "Cesare's afraid you might escape from me."

  Adele felt the blade resting hard against her stomach. "Hilarious."

  Gareth laughed again and openly stared up at Flay as they passed beneath the vampire's perch. Several more times over the course of the silent stroll Flay appeared outlined against the bright blue sky like a gargoyle. Eventually, Gareth and Adele passed between two wrought iron gates and stood before a large domed building with a great colonnaded portico.

  Gareth asked, "Do you recognize this place?"

  "Should I?" Adele replied sharply.

  "It's the British Museum. My home in London."

  "Hmm. I imagine it is more pleasant than the crypt or hole in the ground where you lived before."

  Gareth smirked at her retort with real amusement, his angular face softening.

  The thought of a vampire making its nest in this great museum chilled Adele. This was a place that had been dedicated to preserving the valuable past and learning from it, a uniquely human activity that the vampires could never understand.

  She asked, "Do you intend to hold me here?"

  "You're welcome to stay here," Gareth replied very quickly, then added, "But you're also free to keep your rooms in the Tower. Come."

  Adele followed his tall, straight back along the gravel walk. Flay drifted high overhead as Gareth pushed open the massive bronze door, stepped aside for Adele to enter, and then closed the door behind them.

  His voice echoed in the empty space. "Don't worry about Flay. She won't dare enter. To violate my rights would mean her death. Not even Cesare could save her."

  Gareth stretched out his arms in a shaft of sunlight. He looked around the vast entryway with something like pride. "Come, walk with me. I have questions."

  Adele stood rooted to the floor. Was this it? Would he begin the interrogation proper now?

  Gareth pointed to his right, like a tour guide. "The books were through there once. Rooms full of them. Quite amazing. I didn't realize you had created so many." The vampire seemed apologetic suddenly. "They are gone now, I fear."

  "Yes, I know. Your kind destroyed them all."

  "We did." He nodded gravely. "But not completely. Many of them were used later by humans for fires. Still, no matter. There are other things I want to show you, and ask you about."

  "I have no intention of telling you anything. Ask your brother; I'm capable of prodigious silence."

  The vampire looked disappointed, then brightened. "And I told you I have no interest in the affairs of your state. Or your spies. Or the numbers of your ships or soldiers."

  Footfalls rang in the emptiness as Adele followed Gareth through dim chaotic galleries. She stepped carefully through the detritus of ancient societies, as well as the remnants of furniture and fixtures from the time of the Great Killing. When their path was blocked by toppled and smashed statuary, Gareth reached back to assist her, but she ignored his outstretched hand. He sighed softly but respected her independence.

  Great mute heads and muscled arms and torsos of marble lay useless all around them. From cracked wooden panels and terra-cotta vessels stared faces of peoples from distant lands, many now part of Equatoria, and Adele's future subjects. There were dusty clumps of shredded tapestries and portraits. Bronze helmets and weapons stood in piles. The princess noted several greening daggers that would serve her, but she didn't dare stop. They paused before a great winged lion, humanheaded, with a long curly beard.

  "Magnificent." Gareth ran his hand slowly along its massive stone flank. "But why make such a thing? I understand making tools and weapons. There is a purpose in it. But this? It must've taken enormous effort. To what end?"

  Adele didn't answer. Was he actually interested in human culture? He seemed sincere, and it was difficult for her to believe a vampire could pretend so well. It just wasn't in them. It would be like a cat feigning interest in intricate needlework techniques for the ultimate goal of getting its paws on the ball of yarn.

  Gareth didn't seem disturbed by her silence. The prince had too many questions to worry about one. He quickly cut through another doorway with Adele in his wake. As they stepped around an enormous stone head facedown on the floor, Gareth pointed up at a colossal Egyptian figure of a man, a red granite trunk and head, partially sheared off.

  "There," he said. "See? That is extraordinary. Why make it so large?"

  Adele recognized the monument instantly. An ancient pharaoh of her homeland, wasted here in London. It had no power in this place. It should be standing in Victoria Palace in Alexandria. After all, her father was the heir to the pharaohs. As was she.

  Gareth asked, "What was his name? Do you know?"

  "Ramses." Adele couldn't help herself. There was a certain amount of family pride involved. "He was the greatest ruler of his time. One of the greatest of all time. The king of Egypt."

  "Ramses was from Egypt," Gareth mused. "Why is his statue here? Did the British hold him in esteem? Did he rule here too?"

  "No. He is long dead. When Ramses ruled, Britain was peopled with savages. Like now. But when the British were civilized, they found the statue in Egypt and brought it here. All this material was brought here by Englishmen with an interest in mankind."

  "The Egyptians then had become savages?"

  Adele didn't answer. She stared at the immortal statue. Then she noticed on the stone pedestal, in faded red letters, perhaps even scrawled in blood many years ago, were the words "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair." How odd. How sad. And true.

  "How old are you?" Adele suddenly asked Gareth.

  "What?"

  "How old are you? Do vampires live forever?" She started to touch the granite base of the great pharaoh, but hesitated. "Were you alive when he was alive?"

/>   "Of course not. This stature is three thousand years old. There are no vampires alive from his time."

  "How can you possibly know how old it is?" Adele's eye fell upon a mildewing label posted on the stone pedestal, with the only legible information being a date listed for the colossus. "You can read!"

  Gareth replied defensively. "We know more about your history than you suspect. We know more about you than you do about us. Humans think that vampires are their own dead, risen to life. It's grotesquely vain."

  "Don't change the subject," Adele retorted. "Only ignorant people believe that fairy tale about the undead. We know what you are. Parasites. And I know your kind couldn't care less about human culture or history. Your brother, Cesare, made that clear. He wouldn't know Sulayman the Magnificent or Julius Caesar if he fed off them. But you're different, aren't you? You can read even though your kind holds reading and writing in great disdain. Cesare said so."

  "Perhaps you shouldn't believe everything Cesare says."

  Adele raised a bemused eyebrow. "I wonder what your brother would think if he knew the heir to the clan could read human writing? That doesn't sound like proper behavior for a king of vampires."

  Gareth stared at her for the first time with a look that scared her. Then he turned away, the long hem of his frock coat snapping with the movement. He strode off through collapsed funerary accoutrements, heels clicking loudly in the silence. Adele followed as the prince kicked his way through mummies without care.

  "Wait!" Adele called out. "I won't use it against you."

  Gareth kept walking.

  "Listen to me." She grabbed his arm. "Didn't you bring me here to talk?"

  Gareth spun around in a blur, his face angry at first, but quickly subsiding to mere annoyance. "Very well. You're right. I can read some of your languages. I do have an interest in your culture. And yes, there may be very few of my people who share my interest. Well, none most likely. We hold writing in disdain. As we do all things your kind has made. Art. Agriculture. Cities. Weapons. They're all nothing to us."

  "You mean like those clothes you wear?"