“Could I do it?” asked Nick. “Take Luscian’s place as the Crown’s jailer, and then use both powers to raise Rory with his soul intact?”
“Yes, you could. However, the destruction of the Crown would destroy the jailer as well, and you would be lost. The remnant of my power that survives in opposition to the crown would be expended in restoring the Redeemer’s soul. There would be nothing left of my power to raise you as well.”
“Fine, so we find another way,” said Rory. “Case closed.” He broke the connection to the Grace.
Nick withdrew from the link. “Rory…”
“No. Don’t even offer.” Rory stood and walked to the window, looking out at the cold stars. “I lost Ruarc. I won’t lose you, too.”
“You said you wanted to be free,” said Nick softly. “You said everything came second to that, even me.”
Rory rounded on him angrily. “And you told me never to offer myself to you as a sacrifice. Do me the same courtesy.”
Nick stared at him silently for a few moments, then stood and came to Rory’s side. He kissed Rory’s cheek. “Don’t you know I would do anything for you?”
“Not this,” said Rory. His voice softened. “We’ll find another way, Nick. Trust me.”
Nick wrapped him in his arms. “All right, Leshir. We’ll find another way.”
November 2142; Jumpvessel Singularity, lunar space
Rafael woke, alone in bed. He glanced up to find Antonio awake and standing at the window, looking out at the crescent moon. “Tony, are you all right?”
Antonio touched his finger to the glass, covering the bright points of light on the shadowed side of the moon that marked the Citadel. “I just eavesdropped on a conversation between Uncle Rory and the Grace.”
Rafael blinked sleep out of his eyes as he tried to make sense out of that statement. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can hear it when Uncle Rory talks to the Grace. He and Uncle Nick just had a very interesting discussion with it.” Antonio relayed what he had learned in short, clipped sentences.
Rafael could feel Antonio’s distress as he wrapped his mind around the idea of the conflict between the Grace and the Crown. “Rory would never let him do it, Tony.”
Antonio shook his head. “Do you think that will stop Uncle Nick?”
Rafael felt a cold knot of dread as he read Antonio’s resolve. “No.”
Antonio turned to face him. “Then it’s up to us to make sure he doesn’t get the chance.”
CHAPTER 43
December 2142; Sanctuary, French Alps; one month later
The High Council surveyed the rows of cots, inhabited by the wounded and the dying from House Daviroquir and Diluthical who had escaped the Court’s assault. Nick, Antonio, and William had joined them.
“How could you let this happen?” Nick shouted.
William waved at the casualties. “The Inquisition is too effective. All of our operations have been compromised.”
“Everything we built in the last century is being destroyed right before our eyes,” said Rory. “Ruarc trusted you to safeguard his legacy!”
“This neurotoxin that they’ve developed is unlike anything we’ve ever faced. Those it doesn’t kill, it incapacitates, leaving only a mindless shell behind. My forces are demoralized and in retreat.”
“So the Daywalker alliance is beaten?” asked Antonio, present in the flesh for this desperate meeting.
“It’s only a matter of time,” said Layla. “Those of our allies who were unable to retreat to Sanctuary or Paris are being hunted down openly in the streets or bottled up in their strongholds.”
“And the strongholds are turning into deathtraps,” said Nick in disgust. He sneered at Ghian. “How the hell did they get their hands on the anti-bloodwine spell, anyway?”
Ghian spread his hands helplessly. “We don’t know how it leaked. The only ones who knew the details of the spell, outside of Armistice Security, were William and Lorcan.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Speaker Ghian?” said William, his voice cold.
“No, of course not,” said Ghian. “But maybe Lorcan left some record behind that they used to reverse engineer the spell.”
Rory snarled and took two steps forward, claws extended, before Nick reached out to hold him back. Rory glared at his lover. “How can you sit back and let this imbecile talk about Ruarc like that?”
“You’re High Council, Rory,” said Nick calmly. “You can’t get into a common brawl as if you were a private citizen.” Then he spun in place, blindingly fast, and punched Ghian in the face.
The Wind of Earth was the best mortal fighter the world had to offer, but even he barely managed to turn his head fast enough so that the blow merely broke his nose rather than caving in his skull.
Nick strode forward with his claws extended for a follow-up strike as the Sentinel staggered, only to be brought up short when Layla backhanded him across his left cheek. Nick raised his eyebrows as he faced his sister-in-law.
“Enough, Nicholas,” she said wearily. “We have enough problems without fighting amongst ourselves.”
Ghian calmly set the broken cartilage of his nose as the injury began to heal, the Gift rising to repair the damage. “In any case, the spell is out there,” he said, ignoring the pain. “The Daywalkers will be slaughtered within weeks if we don’t find a way to take the pressure off them.”
“Pressure?” asked Amaterasu, her face incredulous. “Is that what you’d call it? Even the humans are taking cover from open warfare between the Houses. Beyond the Armistice Zone, the entire world is in chaos.”
“There is still something we can do,” said Marcus, softly. “If we have the will.”
Antonio tensed. “Are we back to that again? Because there’s no way I’m letting my people become pawns in your war. Hell, if necessary, I will fly them out of the solar system before I let you have them.”
“You would deny us this last recourse?” asked William. “Even knowing that it is the best chance we have to survive?”
“Absolutely.”
William faced Antonio with a calculating expression. “Antonio Consul Curallorn, you have no honor.”
Everyone froze.
Antonio stared at the Daywalker. “William—”
“That is Magister Daviroquir to you, Consul, and I await your answer to my challenge.”
Antonio set his jaw. “Fine, I accept.”
“Like hell, you do,” snapped Nick. “As Champion, I assert my privilege to fight the duel on Antonio’s behalf.”
“Not a chance, Uncle,” said Antonio, calling a slender rapier to his hand. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Antonio, you only know the theory of a duel. You can’t just—”
“I release you as my Champion.”
Nick stood there with his mouth open, completely taken aback.
Antonio hefted his sword as he faced William. “I don’t trust you. You’ve been in too many places where all our plans went wrong, and now you’re trying to use me to take out Uncle Nick, knowing he would step in as Champion. Well, I don’t care what kind of twisted game you’re playing, but it ends here.”
“Agreed,” said Layla. “As Magister Curallorn, I assert my privilege to stand as Champion on behalf of any member of my House.”
“Mother!” yelled Antonio. “I can handle this!”
“I’m sure you can, son. But you won’t get the chance.” She faced William. “Antonio is right. You’ve been involved in too many disasters, and this challenge simply proves you’ve been playing us for fools. You may choose the time and place.”
William smiled. “By all means, Prince Layla. Here and now is acceptable.”
“Mother, wait,” said Antonio.
Layla turned to Nick. “Keep him safe, or I will haunt you until the end of time.”
Nick nodded, and pulled Antonio away, still protesting.
Layla called her sword to her hand and raised her arms. “Two have entered.” A half-cir
cle of blue flames spread out behind her.
William drew his sword, and raised his arms as well. A half-circle of green flames spread out behind him to complete the circle. “One will leave.”
The flames ran together and the circle burned white, cutting them off from outside interference.
William immediately dropped his arms and circled around the edge of the circle. Layla did the same.
* * *
Nick watched from outside the circle as the combatants continued their slow dance, looking for an opening to strike. He frowned as he studied William. Something isn’t right. Nick had seen William fight, and he was always the aggressor. He never takes the time to gauge his opponents’ strength before committing himself to attack.
Nick called Reaper to his hand, and opened his vampire senses all the way, his mystical perceptions augmented with power drawn from the Crown of Souls. Oh, my God.
“Razheel,” said Nick, aloud.
William stopped, his head snapping around to face Nick.
Nick stared at the spell that Razheel had been silently casting, reading the spellforms by the knowledge he had stolen from Luscian. “Decided to trade up in bodies, did you?” He looked at Layla. “William is dead. She’s been possessing his body with Lucian’s magic since the day her own body died.”
“It was you,” said Rory, shaking with impotent fury. “You betrayed Ruarc to Vladimir and the Herald. You gave them the data from the archive so they could destroy the Daywalkers. Everything that’s happened has been because of you.”
Layla raised her sword. “Then I will feel much better about ending this.”
William sneered at her. “You are too weak to end me, Daywalker.” He reached into his jacket with his free hand, bringing out a small pistol. Then he shot Layla in the chest, even as she moved to dodge.
She grimaced in pain, but kept her feet, advancing toward William.
William laughed. “The neurotoxin will incapacitate you in moments, Prince Layla. You cannot beat me in the time you have left. I hope you will forgive me the dishonor of bringing a projectile weapon into the duel, but your death is required for me to leave the circle.”
Nick roared with rage as he drew upon the full strength of the Crown of Souls and brought his sword down on the spell that enclosed the combatants. The normally impenetrable barrier shattered under the power of his assault, exploding into impotent shards of radiant energy.
William faced Nick in shock, sword loose in his hand, too surprised to teleport away.
Behind him, Layla staggered forward and drove her sword into William’s back, severing his spine.
He collapsed, screaming in agony, and Layla tumbled to the floor beside him.
Antonio crashed through the remains of the combat circle and dragged his mother out of reach.
Nick raised Reaper for a killing blow. William glared at him in hatred, and then released the spell he had been preparing to cast on Layla. Nick hacked off William’s head just as the spell wrapped around him, and then he suddenly found himself standing in an empty, sere landscape obscured by mist.
Razheel walked out of the mist before him, dressed in the formal uniform of the Night’s Herald. “You have disrupted my plans greatly, Magister Luscian. But if I cannot have her body, then I will at least have yours, and claim the Crown of Souls to make my ascension complete.”
Nick laughed at her. “You must think I’m a total pushover.”
Razheel raised her sword. “You have some skills, I admit, but you are no match for me in swordwork. In the end, you will die, and I will reclaim the mantle of Soulkiller in truth.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Nick. “You could probably take me in a fair fight.” Then he released the spell he had cast in the back of his mind.
Beside him, Rory walked out of the mists, sword in hand. The Nightwalker smiled, showing his fangs. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Razheel gaped at the two of them. “Impossible!”
“You only have part of Luscian’s knowledge,” said Nick. “I have all of it. This place is pretty easy to get to, if you know how.”
Razheel raised her blade with a snarl, and Nick and Rory advanced on her. Nothing more was spoken as they cut her to pieces.
Finally, Nick struck through her guard and chopped off her sword arm, then Rory cut her throat. The two of them stood back and watched her drown in her own blood, as she tried to curse them silently. Eventually, the light went out of her eyes and she died. The runes on Nick’s sword flared bright white, and her true soul joined the screaming masses within the Crown of Souls, while William’s went free.
Then they were back in the Great Hall of Sanctuary, and Nick and Rory both turned toward the sound of Antonio’s weeping.
* * *
Layla shuddered in Antonio’s arms, then reached up and stroked his face with difficulty against the pain. “My beautiful baby. I will always be watching over you.”
“No, Mother, please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t leave me.”
“So much wasted time,” she whispered. She raised her eyes to meet his. “I have always been proud of you, son. You are the greatest gift that Tobias and I ever had a part in.”
“Mother…”
Her vision flared red, then black, and she was blind. “Take care of our family, Antonio.”
“I will.”
The pain mounted as she fell into darkness. The last thing she heard was the phantom voice of her husband, speaking as if in a dream.
“Upload in progress.”
THE DUEL
CHAPTER 44
January 2143; Anchorpoint Nexus Hub; six weeks later
Layla opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying on a soft bed in a sunlit room that smelled of sea salt and orange blossoms. She pulled herself to her feet, and reveled in the absence of pain.
“How do you feel?”
She turned to face the familiar voice. “Revenant.”
The AI inclined its head. “Layla.”
She went to the window and looked out at a lush, jungle landscape sloping down to the sea. “I know this place. It was my home as a child.”
“I thought the memory might be comforting.”
She nodded, drinking in the sensation of the sunlight on her face. “Am I dead?”
“Yes.”
She faced him again, and leaned back against the window rail, her arms crossed in front of her. “How did you bring me back?”
“I took the liberty of upgrading your AI software with the new mind-transfer package created by the Nexus. Not as efficient as the dedicated implants would have been, but there was no way to emplace those without your knowledge.”
“And without my consent.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem particularly contrite about that.”
“It’s what Toby would have done.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” She sighed. “So what are my options now?”
Revenant indicated the door. “If you walk out that door, then you will enter the Nexus Hub, and from there you can access the entire planetary information grid, and even transit off-world via the FTL communications uplinks, if you wish.”
“And the alternative?”
“If I walk out that door first, then this data archive and your program within it will be immediately erased and overwritten. I will not force you to live on as an AI, but I hope you will consider this form of life as an alternative to oblivion.”
“Does anyone else know that my program exists?”
“No. This is my project alone. Not even Rory knows that I upgraded your implant capabilities. As far as any of them know, you died six weeks ago in Sanctuary.”
She inhaled sharply. “Six weeks?”
“As I said, the transfer was not as efficient without the dedicated implants. It took time to reconstruct the neural network map without the knowledge or assistance of the rest of the Nexus.”
“I take it they wouldn’t have appreciated your ‘project’ a
ny more than I would have.”
“No.”
She turned her head to gaze out the window at the digital memory. “Tell me what has happened in the interim.”
“In the wake of your assassination, Ghian Achara ascended to the post of Archangel, with the full support of the High Council and key leaders in the Armistice community, including Nicholas Magister Luscian and Antonio Magister Curallorn.”
She snapped her head around to stare at him. “Antonio rules House Curallorn?”
“Rafael Primogenitor Curallorn declined to oppose his elevation, and remains as second-in-command.”
“Antonio always swore he had no desire to rule.”
“Your death changed him, Layla. He and Ghian co-sponsored in the High Council a declaration of war between the Armistice and the Court of Shadows. They immediately offered Harbinger blood to the humans as a protective inoculation against Nightwalker attacks.”
She closed her eyes. “So it has begun then. A conflagration that will burn down the world.”
“The human governments of the world have been manufacturing millions of doses of contaminated water from the small aliquots of Harbinger blood that Antonio has provided them. The plague is already widely advanced in the human population.”
“And the environment?”
Revenant hesitated briefly before answering. “Immediately after your death, Antonio jumped from Sanctuary to the coast, and shed his own blood into the Mediterranean Sea. The death toll among the Nightwalker population has mounted precipitously in subsequent weeks.”
“He did it for me,” she whispered. “For revenge.”
“Yes.”
“Did he regret that decision?”
“As far as I have observed, Antonio has shown no evidence of remorse for his actions, whether in public or in private.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?”
“Antonio has still refused to speak to me directly.”
Layla strode to the door. “Then it’s time the three of us had a family chat.” She opened the door, revealing a blaze of intersecting data streams, an entire universe written on the void in majestic traceries of light and color.
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