Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) (17 page)

Adele saw Greyfriar scanning the theater, but not out of concern for security. He was clearly fascinated by the melee around him, the movement and the sound. He rose from his seat for a clearer view of the orchestra as rows of arms pistoned in unison over violins and many fingers played piccolos and oboes.

“Look at that,” he said in wonder. “Look at their hands. They're all moving in harmony.”

“Shh.” Adele gently guided him back to his velvet chair. She took his hand and squeezed. With his other hand, he was mimicking the fretwork of the violinists. She couldn't draw her gaze away from him, caught up in his excitement and wonder.

The prelude thundered on with dramatic crescendos, achingly beautiful
passages, and hints of darkness. After a few minutes, the music calmed, the footlights brightened, the grand drapes parted, and the curtain scalloped up to reveal characters spread about the stage on a stylized set resembling the deck of an airship. A rosy spotlight hit a young woman in a regal gown and cloak.

Greyfriar sat forward. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Adele replied, and then suppressed a delighted squeal as a man wearing a martinet's uniform and turban came downstage toward the beatific princess. “It's General Anhalt!”

The music rose and the actor portraying Anhalt extended his arm and sang in Italian, “Your Highness would be safer below. It's getting dark. Vampires are very unpredictable.”

Greyfriar laughed a bit too loud as Act II began with Cesare alone onstage. The villain was a massive figure, broad chested, swathed in black and, like all the vampires in the production, brandishing long yellowish claws from his fingertips. He also sported a long black beard. He said, “Looks a bit like Senator Clark.”

Adele had to stifle a guffaw behind her fan.

Gareth scanned the cast list. “Where is Senator Clark? Isn't he in this show?”

“No. They never use him in plays about us. He complicates the plot.”

Gareth laughed again.

The onstage Cesare began to sing in a rumbling growl, “Behold, I am Cesare. I am the death of humankind. Bring me Princess Adele.”

Flay entered stage left, a tall beautiful woman with long black hair, clad in black robes. Princess Adele followed with her hands chained but her head unbowed. Other vampires, all in black, crouched or scurried around the stage, up and down the backdrop, in and out of torchlight. It was an extraordinarily disturbing effect and gave the real Adele chills to watch.

Cesare launched into an aria about vampires and their destruction of human culture in the north. It was a boastful, arrogant litany of vampire
successes, not at all untrue, if a bit long. The scuttling vampires around him provided a mournful, unsettling chorus.

Greyfriar asked, “Where's Gareth? Just Cesare?”

Adele whispered, “There's no Gareth.”

“I'm not important?”

“No one knows Gareth…yet. They know Cesare. And Flay. They're the villains. And besides, the opera is named after you.
The Greyfriar
. That's you.”

“Is it?”

Adele turned toward him. “Isn't it?”

He stared at the stage.

Act III drove forward with Princess Adele about to be sacrificed before the gathered British vampire clan. The proud young woman stood surrounded by black-clad figures, including the smug Cesare and sinister Flay. The princess sang a sad call to Greyfriar, whom she believed dead.

“Is Greyfriar even still in this play?” Greyfriar complained impatiently. “Where have I gone?”

Adele rolled her eyes and slapped his fidgeting leg with her fan. “Did you ever think the princess could save herself? She may not need a man to do it.”

“Then why call it
The Greyfriar
?” he muttered. “All these people paid money for this. I'd be upset if I had paid money for
The Greyfriar
to hear this much Cesare singing.”

Suddenly the princess's aria drew to a bittersweet end. As Cesare and Flay closed in around her, a trumpet cried, a spotlight shot out onto a black-cloaked vampire who threw off his shadowy raiment to reveal he was the Greyfriar. Mayhem ensued as Greyfriar fought to reach the princess.

The real Greyfriar gripped his chair arms with excitement.

Adele said, “There, you see. He was disguised as a vampire.” She paused. “How odd.”

The operatic swordsman engaged Flay in a choreographed battle. They moved across the stage and back, leaping, spinning, and twirling
with admirable athleticism. Although it was a fight to the death, it was an impressive ballet with two figures, man and woman, closing, touching, and drawing apart.

Adele sat back in the royal box with an annoyed huff at the almost erotic dance between two characters, but it was Greyfriar and Flay, not the princess. She watched the two colliding, pushing off, lingering together with deep emotional stares. Greyfriar's rapt attention on the duo below added to her aggravation.

Finally, onstage, Greyfriar struck down Flay and turned on Cesare. The evil prince threw his cape over his face and fled, vanishing into shadows. Swordsman and princess came together in a crescendo and began a song of love and redemption.

It was nice, but it lacked the passion and physicality of the ballet with Flay. There had been a raw emotion between the two rivals that was lacking in the traditionally proper lovers of Greyfriar and the princess. Not at all satisfying to Adele. The authors had missed the mark.

After their song, Greyfriar and the princess raced from the stage to make their escape from London. In the imperial box, Adele was ready to stand for the traditional intermission, but the music shifted into something new. A spot fell on the body of Flay, and the vampire slowly rose to her feet.

Flay began the most beautiful and horrifying aria that Adele had ever heard. It was full of passion and heartache and rage. Flay expressed her hatred for the princess, which Adele found enjoyable. Then the aria shifted again and Flay dropped to her knees, and wailed that she loved Greyfriar. They could never be together because of the fact that they were enemies. Flay knew Greyfriar was good and pure and true, something she dreamed but could never be. Flay's last wrenching note faded into tears.

The curtain dropped on the act. Adele's cheeks were wet and she realized she had crushed her fan in her fist.

The hours passed and characters came and went across the stage. Finally, the armies of Equatoria surrounded the unassailable walls of a London
castle, leaving only Cesare and his chief weapon, Flay, trapped. Greyfriar volunteered to enter the villains' lair, even though it was likely he would be killed. He couldn't bear for one more soldier to die if he could prevent it. With him standing alone, the grotesque set piece for Cesare's castle settled to the stage around him. It was physically disturbing. The lines were uneven. Doors were crooked. Floors slanted. It was disorienting to the audience.

Adele whispered, “So you're going to win the war all by yourself? Where am I?”

“Shh,” he replied. “It is called
The Greyfriar
.”

She was prepared to say something disgruntled when a burst of sound from the orchestra heralded the appearance of Flay onstage, who attacked the hero. Cesare appeared up from out of a trapdoor in the black floor, delivering a nightmarish aria above the struggle.

“Typical,” Greyfriar muttered. “Singing while others fight.”

When the stage swordsman was pushed close to Cesare by Flay, the vampire prince struck and drove Greyfriar to the floor, and his sword went flying. Flay rose up in clawed triumph, preparing for the death blow, singing that if she could never have him, no one would. Cesare bellowed a deep resounding note that rang for a long moment, then ceased abruptly in a gunshot.

Flay clutched her heart and fell.

The young empress appeared from the wings with a smoking revolver.

Cesare exclaimed in surprise, and Greyfriar leapt to his feet, drew a dagger, and raised it over his head. He plunged it into Cesare's chest while singing, “I strike for humanity. And thus humanity triumphs!”

The real Greyfriar suddenly twisted away from the stage. Adele reached out her hand, and he gratefully grasped it.

As the stage swordsman and empress joined hands and sang their final love duet, the army of Equatoria entered and surrounded them. The cast finale was rousing and patriotic, for country, for flag, for empress.

For humanity.

The curtain dropped. Adele was watching the troubled Greyfriar when she realized the theater was in silence. She looked down confused to see all faces glowing toward her. Waiting.

She rose and began to clap. The audience responded in kind, standing as a body, with thunderous applause. Cheers rang out. Greyfriar joined her, mimicking the act of clapping his hands.

“What happened to you at the end?” she asked him. “Why did you turn away?”

“I killed my brother.”

Adele turned to him. “I thought you want to kill Cesare?”

He continued to clap with his hidden eyes focused on the cast on stage. The masked swordsman below whipped off his disguise. “I don't want to. I will have to. And I won't do it as Greyfriar.”

“We are scheduled to meet the cast, but we can simply go, if you'd prefer.”

“No. They worked hard. They deserve to see their empress.” Greyfriar's chin bobbed with a sarcastic huff. “And the great hero of their people.”

A
S THE AUDIENCE
cheered at the couple in the high box seat, Empress Adele waved politely, her bright smile visible for all to see, the infamous Greyfriar stoically beside her. The ever-present mask and glasses prevented the crowd from seeing what emotion the show might have generated in the dark swordsman.

Sanah adjusted her dark plum silk burqa, the same one she had worn to the play where she'd first met Adele, and idly wondered how long the empress intended to play such a dangerous game with the vampire prince. Eventually the truth would come out. Already more people knew than should.

Sanah couldn't contemplate the idea of touching a living vampire with the intention of anything other than violence. Inwardly, she shuddered. Mamoru was convinced the Greyfriar was using Adele for some nefarious and deeper purpose. Of course that was the case. What else could it be? No vampire in the thousands of years they existed had ever looked at a human without bloodlust in its eyes. Why would this one be any different?

However, none of this was Sanah's primary concern tonight. She was here for only one purpose. When Mamoru told about Adele's doubt, it reminded Sanah of another woman who had stood in her place once. Although Mamoru guided Adele spiritually, someone was needed to
assist the empress in other things, things that only another woman or even a relative could understand. Perhaps if Adele had that additional guiding hand, matters wouldn't seem so confusing to the young woman.

The packed theater emptied out into the lobby, where a receiving line formed awaiting the return of the empress and her consort. Much to her consternation, Sanah was shuffled to the end of it. But she knew the empress would make time for all. A side door opened, and the White Guard emerged and moved with precision through the crowd, forming a path along the red carpet. Finally, in the close air of the crowded lobby, Empress Adele and Greyfriar emerged from the heavy doors to the polite adulation of gathered high society. People packed in tighter, but Sanah would not be moved or shoved past. Her dark contoured eyes locked onto Adele and pierced her sharply.

Adele paused from her cursory scan of the long line with her brilliant smile and tracked back to settle on Sanah. Her brow creased as she attempted to place the familiar woman. Sanah lifted a henna-covered hand in greeting, hoping to convey a memory, and closed her eyes to show the tattooed eyelids that stared at Adele from across the room. When Sanah opened them, Adele's eyes were wide in sudden recognition.

Abruptly, Adele excused herself from her place along the greeting line and left many shocked and indignant expressions on the grandees, including Lady Tahir, as she walked to the end and stood before Sanah.

The Persian blushed behind her veil and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

“So you did make it to the premiere. As you said when we met last year.”

“I wouldn't miss it,” Sanah replied.

“I thought you might have recognized me that night.”

“I admit, I did. I remember fondly our talk during the production of
Desire in the Dead North
.

Adele laughed out loud. “My art of disguise is awful, apparently.” She stepped aside. “May I introduce the real Greyfriar. Now you can see why no imitation would do.”

Sanah curtsied again and fought the urge to step back from what she knew lurked behind the cowled face. “Sir.”

The tall figure nodded in a semblance of politeness, his tone almost bored. “A pleasure.”

Knowing she didn't have much time with the empress's attention, Sanah grasped Adele's hand and slipped her a card. “We have much to talk about, Your Majesty. I knew your mother.”

“My mother?” Adele's expression was one of surprise. “May I ask your name?”

“It is written on the card along with my address. Send for me when you do not have more pressing matters to attend and we can talk more privately about her.”

“I shall. Thank you.” Adele allowed herself to be directed back to the receiving line, with a lingering glance over her shoulder at the Persian woman.

Sanah watched Adele return to the far end of the lobby where the expectant crowd waited to bestow their curtsies and salaams on the empress. Suddenly Greyfriar stiffened sharply. He shoved Adele aside and went for his sword. It released from its scabbard with a hissing scrape and then sang as Greyfriar spun around. The blade moved in a precise arc and struck a man in an ill-fitting tailcoat. It drew the barest amount of blood, but the coat burst open and something from his chest fell forward, straps dangling.

“Bomb!” a White Guard shouted.

People screamed around Sanah. Greyfriar was still in motion. He grabbed the device that had been strapped to the man's chest and flung it away. Then he grabbed Adele and shoved her to the floor, covering her with his own body.

The massive blast shook the establishment, filling the air with a sound so loud it punched Sanah in the chest as she was flung backward. The buzzing of a thousand angry hornets filled the air along with a sudden fierce flash that blinded her. Then everything went silent.

Smoke filled the high ceiling hall in a rolling wave. Sanah's eyes stung and watered, making it hard to see Adele or Greyfriar. Blood and wreckage were everywhere along with the palsied motions of the wounded and dying. Glittering crystal fluttered in the air as slivers of glass from an obliterated chandelier fluttered down like snow. Any sound was buried under a high-pitched whine inside Sanah's head.

She struggled to her unsteady feet and saw the still form of Adele,
covered by the bloody body of the vampire. Jagged shrapnel fragments lay imbedded in Greyfriar's back. He looked dead. Mamoru had his wish finally. However, they might have lost the empress along with him.

Sanah watched in awe as Greyfriar stirred, raising himself on arms that shook. Blood flowed from multiple wounds. He grabbed a semiconscious Adele, and for a panicked moment Sanah thought he was going to feed on her to save his miserable life. She shouted to a stunned White Guard captain who was rushing in from outside at the head of a line of troopers, but her voice was ragged and useless against the smoke.

Then, to Sanah's astonishment, the vampire called for help, cradling the dazed empress. His mask still hid most of his face, so she could not see his expression, but there was despair in his voice, so different from the cold greeting of just moments before.

“The empress!” he rasped. “Here!”

A young blond corporal from the White Guard grasped Greyfriar's arm as the captain and two other soldiers tended Adele. “You're hurt, sir.”

“Forget about me! Help her!” The swordsman shoved aside the aid and attempted to stand.

“Yes, sir. But you are a priority too.”

Greyfriar hunched over on one knee, trying to shake off the weakness. “There may be more bombs. We need to get her to safety.”

“We will,” the White Guardsman insisted, grabbing hold of the Greyfriar's arm. The soldiers already had Adele and were carrying her out of the theater. The empress twisted in the arms of the captain and turned back to the vampire, determined not to leave him behind. Greyfriar gained his feet with the assistance of the corporal, and at Adele's frantic urging, followed her outside.

Sanah stood staring after them, having a hard time comprehending the vampire's actions.

The creature had saved Adele with no thought of his own safety. From the blood trail he left, his wounds were grievous, more than capable of killing him. Sanah swayed on her feet and leaned against a wall to steady herself.

The implication was astounding. Mamoru was wrong! This creature did
love
Adele, enough to risk his life for her.

Even as Sanah tried to comfort the wounded and stunned, she couldn't shake the image of Greyfriar throwing himself on Adele.

A vampire saving a human.

A man saving the woman he loved.

This changed everything.