"Griffin is well—physically," Dragon replied. He'd allowed Adam and Kiarra to sit in the two chairs before Merrill's desk. He remained standing, his expression shuttered and his dark eyes enigmatic.
Merrill didn't show his concern, but it was mounting. "What do you mean, physically?"
"What we mean is that Griffin is an emotional wreck," Adam said, his gray eyes revealing nothing. He could wear the vampire mask if he wanted; he'd been vampire before being chosen by the Saa Thalarr, after all.
"Tell me," Merrill whispered.
* * *
Wlodek's fingers shook slightly as he toyed with his favorite gold pen. He and Merrill had held a private meeting; Adam Chessman, the former Chief of Enforcers stayed to verify the information. Dragon transported Kiarra away; she'd been visibly upset and unable to stay. Merrill was completely numb over the news brought to him, and now he and Wlodek waited to pass that news to Gavin and Anthony. Charles and Radomir were also brought in—this news would be a terrible blow to Charles, and Merrill waited to place compulsion on Gavin and Tony. Wlodek feared it would be required should they become violent.
"You asked to see us, Honored One?" Gavin walked inside Wlodek's temporary office, followed by Tony. He'd taken Tony as his child and was training him as best he could. Gavin waited for Lissa's return, however, to teach some of their lessons simultaneously.
"Please, sit," Wlodek pointed to the chairs before his desk. He was still working out of Merrill's basement, but would return to his manor soon. Lissa had managed to eliminate Xenides and the remaining threat that he'd presented, so it was safe to return home. But that was before. Wlodek heaved a shaky sigh, making Gavin's head jerk up in alarm. Tony heard it as well and turned to his surrogate sire, fear crossing his features.
"Child, we will wait for the news," Gavin's mask dropped into place. Wlodek knew Gavin was afraid; he merely refused to show it. It was only going to get worse.
"I do not have good news," Wlodek announced. "You know what Griffin is. He took Lissa into the future with him; her help was needed three hundred years from now on a very distant world," Wlodek looked at his gold pen and not at the others in the room. "He knew, as did Kifirin, that something terrible would happen. We fear, too, that he also knew the price to be paid in order to make things come out right in the end." Wlodek found it difficult to understand Griffin's actions. How had Griffin made this sacrifice? Had he ever truly loved her? It was beyond Wlodek's comprehension.
"You have never seen the Ra'Ak," Wlodek went on, glancing at Gavin and Tony. "I have only heard them described. They are terrible monsters resembling giant serpents, and carry the deadliest of poisons. Adam Chessman informed me that more than four thousand of these attacked a world simultaneously, along with other creatures that held a might of their own. Griffin knew there was only one who might hold them at bay and keep that world from falling. Adam tells me that had that particular world fallen, all the other worlds would fall like dominoes stacked in a line." Wlodek wanted to shake his head in disbelief; he still could not bring himself to accept the news. And this was the greatest blow to the vampire race—they'd gained a Queen, only to lose her again.
"Lissa killed more than thirty-five hundred of the giant serpents by misting inside their heads and blowing them apart," Wlodek continued. "She also destroyed many of the other creatures in the same fashion. The final monster she killed required the last of her strength. When she blew her mist outward that time, she no longer held the power to call her mist together again. She, along with her enemy, is now scattered across the universe. Lissa is gone and will not return to us."
Charles wept as he dropped to the floor against the far wall. Tony blinked at Wlodek in shock. He couldn't be hearing the Head of the Council properly. This information could not be truth. Gavin, however, rose shakily from his seat and began keening wildly, his grief evident in the high-pitched wail that came from his throat. Radomir joined with Gavin, his own keening forcing Wlodek to wipe tears away. Merrill strode silently from the room. Compulsion wasn't needed and he had grieving to do in private.
* * Present * *
"Wait! Here's another one!" The search had gone on for four days after the attempted coup. Mostly the search and rescue teams were finding bodies of common demons. Few in this sector were found alive, and those were discovered within the first two days.
"Dead?" Wendevik, High Demon of the House of Greth, led the search detail of common demons through the streets of Veshtul. He rode the ox cart beside his common demon driver, while a dozen commons walked around it, searching through the debris for bodies.
Horoth, his uniform covered in blood, dust and debris from a lengthy search, knelt beside the body he'd uncovered to check for signs of life. Trooper Horoth normally worked with Wendevik's guards in one of two common demon cohorts, and it was his duty to police the marketplace and the residential sections of Veshtul. Horoth didn't expect to find anything—this one was pale and unmoving. Dutifully he held a small mirror to the mouth and nostrils, blinking in shock when he saw the faintest misting on the reflective surface.
"Alive!" Horoth shouted and six common demons rushed to help.
* * *
"There is some swelling at the base of the skull," Darvul pointed out the injury to his assistant. The unconscious common lay on a bed shoved inside a small room; they'd placed other patients together to give this one a quiet space. Darvul, stooped slightly from years of service and his once dark hair threaded liberally with silver, had lived more than five hundred years and worked as a physician in the city of Veshtul. He and sixteen other common physicians had been working nonstop since the attack and near takeover of Kifirin—the High Demons' planet.
"Has the common regained consciousness?" Nedil, another common physician, walked over to confer with Darvul. Nedil was showing signs of aging, just as Darvul was, and the attack had placed a heavy load on a small and already overburdened health care community.
"Not yet," Darvul sighed. "We are giving fluids as you can see, but there are no signs of waking. We remain hopeful."
"What are the other injuries?" Nedil was giving the small common a cursory examination as well, placing his hands on the head injury.
"Some bruising and swelling in the chest area, two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and twisted right leg. I'm sure the building collapsed on this one while he was hiding from the attackers."
"There was no place for these to run and no safe place to hide," Nedil said softly. "We have the heaviest losses from that section of the city. If my information is correct, we lost more than eight thousand in that area alone. And they are still finding bodies. Who knows where the count will end?"
"We will do our best to keep this one alive, then," Darvul nodded. He'd already made that vow to himself, but he wanted Nedil to know he was seeing to this one personally. "What word on the Drith and Croth captives?" The rogue High Demons that still lived were now imprisoned and waiting judgment.
"They are being held in makeshift stockades outside the city; the Larentii helped erect them," Nedil's voice held wonder. He'd never seen a Larentii before, and the tales he'd heard of them said they never intervened in the troubles of any world. Yet he'd seen two in the past four days, and they were helping to gather and contain rogue High Demons.
"When the Raoni and Raona finish with them, Croth and Drith will wish they'd never been birthed," Darvul muttered.
"Has there been any word on those who came to help us?" Nedil witnessed the taking down of four thousand Ra'Ak, along with many rogue High Demons by an unseen hand. They'd exploded—or at least their heads exploded. The Ra'Ak had all dusted afterward, and he'd tended many injuries from flying Ra'Ak debris. The High Demons who'd died had splattered bits and pieces of bone and tissue everywhere, leaving the rest of their Thifilathi to fall headless to the ground. Before the attack four days earlier, Nedil would have said the only thing capable of killing a High Demon was another High Demon. He knew better now, he just couldn't explain it.
&
nbsp; "Keep cold compresses on the head injury," Darvul instructed his assistant, who barked orders to other common demons waiting to help. "This one doesn't look to be completely mature; I would guess the age at seventeen turns or so. He has not gotten his full height, yet," Darvul estimated. The bones were still small, the hands and feet slender and fragile-looking. "I hope his parent survived and comes looking for him." He leaned down and stroked the reddish-gold hair. "Wake to us," he said softly. "We will care for you."
* * Past * *
William Winkler sat in his kitchen, having a cup of coffee with his Second, Trajan, as they waited for Director Bill Jennings to arrive. Winkler knew at least one of the vampire agents was coming, in addition to a werewolf agent he'd met once before—James Renfro. Bill said he had news that should be delivered in person.
Winkler sighed—he couldn't imagine what Director Jennings might say, and worried about it. He and Trajan had both been up with the twins the night before—he'd hired a nanny, but he and his Second were always up and awake quickly whenever the babies cried to be fed. They'd fed Wynter while the nanny took care of Wayne; Winkler decided to call his son by his middle name. Kellee, well, she was packing to go to her mother—she'd refused to stay and breastfeed the twins. Winkler growled low, just thinking about it.
Winkler might have felt sympathy for Kellee if she hadn't collaborated with her father to plot his death and the subsequent takeover of the Dallas Pack. Only Lissa's intervention had saved him and his Pack. Karl Johnson would have taken over had things gone the other way, and Weldon informed Winkler afterward that he would have split the Dallas Pack—it was much too large for Karl Johnson to handle. Some of Winkler's wolves would have torn their new Packmaster apart at the earliest opportunity, and Trajan might have been one of them.
Winkler answered the doorbell when it rang, inviting Bill, Ken White and James Renfro inside. He offered coffee, soft drinks or juice to his guests when he led them into the kitchen; Bill asked for coffee, the werewolf asked for a soda.
"We've already spoken with the Grand Master," Bill ran hands through his hair. Winkler noticed the Director's face looked older and more worn, although his biggest terrorist threat, Rahim Alif, had been eliminated weeks earlier. Some new worry now rested on Director Bill Jennings' shoulders.
"Is there a problem?" Winkler asked, staring into his cold cup of coffee.
"It's not a problem," Ken White said. "It's just the worst possible news." Winkler's head jerked up at the vampire agent's statement, his dark eyes searching Ken White's face for clues. In the usual vampiric convention, it contained nothing helpful.
"What news?" he asked.
"We offered to deliver it in person, in case, well, just in case," Bill sighed.
"What he's trying to tell you is that the little female vampire is dead." James Renfro wanted it out in the open quickly. Open the wound and let it bleed out, that was his philosophy. Even he wasn't prepared for the howling and grieving that came as soon as the words left his mouth.
* * *
"Child, there is nothing we can do; they're both gone from us now." Merrill rocked Franklin against him while Franklin wept. This had gone on for days and Merrill was beginning to think he'd be forced to place compulsion on his human child. Kyle was flying to London as quickly as he could; Merrill placed a call, asking him to come. Of Merrill's two remaining vampire children, Kyle had the closest bond with Franklin. He was hoping Kyle's presence would help; otherwise, it would be compulsion or medical intervention.
Gavin moved out of the manor the day after he'd received the news, taking Tony with him. Tony seemed lost and helpless as he'd loaded bags into Gavin's car. Lissa's things had been left inside her bedroom; Merrill closed the door on all of it and neither he nor Franklin had the strength to walk in there now. Charles wandered through the manor like a ghost, only doing what was necessary to keep Wlodek's office running smoothly. Radomir had taken the news harder than anyone suspected he might; Wlodek hadn't heard from him for three days and that worried his vampire sire. Flavio arrived and was now making sure important things were attended to so his sire could have time alone.
* * *
Bill Jennings, Director of the Joint NSA/Homeland Security Department, stood with Weldon Harper, Thomas Williams Jr. and William Winkler, next to a grave in Oklahoma City on a sunny October afternoon. The casket was empty, except for a few letters and a dozen red roses. The President had asked for a twenty-one gun salute. Normally, that honor was reserved for a president, but it could also be performed for a foreign head of state or a member of a reigning royal family. Lissa, as a Queen Vampire, was given the honor. Bill, Winkler, Thomas and Weldon stood straight and still while the ranking officer barked the order and seven soldiers, in perfect unison, fired their rifles three times to honor the fallen.
* * *
Four weeks after Greg's death, Franklin walked into the empty second floor bedroom to clean it. He couldn't recall when he'd last been inside it to dust and straighten. It appeared sterile to his eyes; not even a mote of dust remained on the nightstand or the dresser. The closet inside the spacious bath held empty hangers and nothing else. Franklin hadn't recalled that Merrill had it decorated in a feminine style—the pillows and shams on the bed weren't suitable for a male.
It didn't matter; Franklin had nothing to do, here. He'd gone to this bedroom first, putting off going through Greg's personal belongings. That was pain waiting to happen. Franklin sighed as he closed the bedroom door behind him and walked toward the suite he'd shared with Greg. It was time to say a final goodbye.
* * *
"Fortune smiled upon us when we managed to destroy Xenides so easily," Merrill pushed a wineglass toward Wlodek. Wlodek was moving out of Merrill's basement—Charles, Rolfe, Radomir and Russell had come to help load equipment and records into waiting trailers.
"I find it fortunate that you were able to get close enough to lay compulsion," Wlodek sniffed the wine before tasting. "After that, it was easy to destroy him. I believe I enjoyed handing him his death more than any other."
"We lost many in the battle," Merrill pointed out.
"I have Charles searching the records already, looking for suitable replacements. The Aristocracy will be complete again for next year's meeting."
* * Present * *
"I don't know whether he will wake," Darvul was beginning to lose hope that the unconscious common might live. Nine days had passed and still the young common had not moved or wakened. Darvul and his assistant, Noff, had finished bathing the young one. He might have been older than Darvul thought, Noff decided; the common demon had pubic hair, which normally arrived at age twenty or so. Common demons were slow to mature, since they lived six hundred years or more. Still, they had no genitalia, although they had pubic hair. Should a Vampire Queen ever come to rebuilt Le-Ath Veronis, the common demons might have a chance of becoming something other than the comesuli they were.
"The tale is spreading that Kifirin woke from a long sleep and in his grief at seeing his planet nearly destroyed, he caused Baetrah to erupt. Thousands from the Southern Continent are fleeing northward," Darvul said softly at Noff's side. Noff heard that rumor as well and nodded at his master, his dandelion-fluff hair shining in the early morning sunlight.
"Raoni Jaydevik and his eldest brother, Gardevik, are already executing rogue High Demons," Noff offered information he'd gleaned earlier while searching for herbs and other medicines in what remained of the marketing district. The common demons were scrambling to rebuild, but so much of their city was destroyed in the attack. The smaller cities and farms outside Veshtul were shipping in extra supplies as quickly as they could, but it was taking time to collect and transport the items to the capital city.
"What happened to Rorevik?" Darvul asked about the former High Demon monarch. Rorevik had taken the throne after Lendevik's death, while Jaydevik, Lendevik's designated heir, had gone missing for centuries. Once Jaydevik returned to Kifirin, Rorevik had stepped aside in favor of hi
s older brother.
"Rorevik is dead, I hear," Noff sighed.
"He allowed Kifirin to get away from him," Darvul nodded. "He was inexperienced and perhaps too lenient with the High Demons. Jaydevik has not held back in his punishment of the High Demons who have broken the laws. Gardevik too. Garde should have been advising Rorevik all along. Perhaps the oppression of the common demons would have been less."
"Perhaps they realize now what we do for them," Noff snorted softly, his dark-brown eyes narrowing in contempt. "The latest death toll stands at fifteen thousand, and even the palace is short-handed."
"So many of our kind gone," Darvul shook his head sadly.
* * *
Glindarok, member of the Saa Thalarr and Raona of Kifirin, sat on a comfortable chair in her suite, absently rubbing her belly—Karzac had already announced she was having twins, something unprecedented in High Demon history. It was too early to determine the babies' gender, however. "Three more weeks," the Saa Thalarr's chief physician said. She'd been left behind in her suite, feeling useless. She wanted to be with Jayd and Garde while they questioned Drith and Croth rogues. She wanted to question them herself concerning their knowledge of the treason committed by both Houses. Few had been innocent or unknowing of the alliance with the Ra'Ak.
"Raona, you must trust the Raoni in this," Roff came to sit beside her, little Toff in his arms. Toff was a scant four weeks old and slept peacefully in the crook of Roff's elbow. Glinda reached out and gently stroked the child's head—he had the barest bit of fuzz there—a promise of Roff's thick, dark hair, perhaps. Giff, Roff's oldest child, had lighter hair. It often happened that way.
Glinda sighed as she studied her sumptuous prison. That's what it was to her—a prison. Rich hangings on the walls and windows, rare marble on the floors, beautiful fabrics covering the chairs and the bed—all hid invisible bars. Jayd was overjoyed at the news of her pregnancy, and then became an autocrat in his worry to keep her safe. Too many Drith and Croth still lived for his liking. Jayd and Garde left the palace, grim-faced each morning, to question more traitors.
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