The Geomancer (41 page)

Adele muttered a curse. “He's inside my dead zone. He knew I was coming.”

“Is he in the palace?” Gareth asked.

“No. He took the old church on the island.”

“Notre Dame,” Adele whispered. “The cathedral sits on a major rift. It will make it easier for him to extend his power anywhere around the world.”

With the rising sun, Adele and Gareth led their small crew of fifteen back out into the city. They paralleled the Seine, but stuck to narrow alleys that afforded Adele some cover. Kasteel and his rebels traveled above them, slipping through the black cloud that swarmed over their heads. Eventually they turned for the bridge that would take them to the Île de la Cité. The wide avenue ahead of them made Adele pause. The air above undulated with vampires. Gareth grabbed Adele a bit roughly and dragged her after him.

“Keep your head down,” he commanded. “Act like a meal.”

She gave him a sour look but immediately obeyed, hunching her shoulders and stumbling after his quick pace. Shadow after shadow swept the ground around them. Some loomed large, as vampires swooped down to inspect the duo. The small of Adele's back twitched, knowing that hundreds of eyes watched them.

They stepped onto the bridge. It was a terrifying open expanse littered with corpses. Adele's heart drilled in her chest as a great cloud darkened their path. The frantic collisions of their countless voices awakened echoes of the chanting of Yidak's Tibetan monks. The memories of those near musical recitations slicing the clean, frigid air and its similarity to the wild gurgling of violent animals she heard here in Paris nearly brought tears to Adele's eyes.

“Don't look up,” Gareth snarled, jerking her nearly off her feet. His gruff demeanor seemed to send the right message to the vampires circling them.

“Leave your meal and join the pack,” came a hissing voice from behind.

“I will as soon as I see to my duties,” was Gareth's sharp retort. He didn't stop walking.

More growls sounded nearby. Gareth pulled Adele close against his chest, his arm pinning her there. “This one knows where the rebels may be hiding. The Dauphin will want to
talk
to her.”

“Then I will take the human there.” A vampire landed in front of them and reached for Adele.

Gareth swiped with his claws, ripping open the vampire's forearm. “The glory will be mine. I found her.”

As the vampire jerked back his bloody arm, Gareth took a warning step forward, dragging Adele with him. With the sharp tone of a general expecting to be obeyed, he commanded, “Go back to your duties.”

The vampires obviously didn't recognize Gareth but hesitated at his authoritative presence. They fell back, then lifted and veered eastward.

Adele and Gareth raced the last few yards off the bridge and into a stand of trees with enough budding foliage to hide them from vampire eyes in the air. Gareth's grip eased and he drew Adele into his arms.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, I'm fine,” she answered breathlessly. “You do the dominant male quite well.”

Kasteel and his rebels dropped through the branches. “That was close.”

“I'm glad you didn't engage them,” Gareth said. “Well done. There are far too many.”

Kasteel beamed at the praise. “It won't be any easier at the cathedral. It's crawling with them.”

“Of course it is,” Adele muttered.

“This way,” Gareth ordered, already in motion. “We're almost there.”

They ran toward the towers of the cathedral. The buildings they passed were once magnificent structures, but no more. Gareth took them through another natural area where the city was being reclaimed by tall, gnarled trees and a carpet of grass. To their right was a massive dilapidated structure with overgrown courtyards barricaded behind crumbling walls.

To the south, Adele heard the bellow of Equatorian gunfire grow more intense. It wasn't just the howitzers now. She recognized the heavy shoulder guns of the Galahads. The armor battalion was marching. The invasion of Paris had begun.

The living cloud veered suddenly. Thousands of vampires flew together in a chaotic and ever-changing pattern, transforming in an instant into wild geometric abstraction across the sky. Twisting and turning into a dense swarm and then spreading thin, they swooped down beyond the river.

Gareth and Adele approached as close as they dared to Notre Dame with Kasteel and his rebels, staring across an open square at the behemoth. The ground was covered with the dead, the fruits of mass vampire feeding. The magnificent façade of the cathedral should have brought a sense of awe, but it only filled Adele with dread. Kasteel had been right. From the gothic gables and flying buttresses clung multitudes of dark shapes. The cathedral was crawling with a thousand living gargoyles.

“Damn,” Adele cursed quietly. “We won't make ten yards.”

Gareth looked around to gain his bearings. “Which is why we are going back underground.”

“They might have fighters down there also,” Kasteel pointed out.

“Perhaps, but they can't swarm us down there. We stand a better chance.”

The thought of returning to the silent ground chilled Adele, but Gareth gave her no time to contemplate the matter. He used his claws to pry up a rusting manhole cover. Damp muskiness rolled out of the inky pit. Gareth jumped down the shaft. Adele gulped several deep breaths while the rebels filed after their leader.

She grabbed the iron rungs and climbed down. The Earth swallowed her like a giant snake. Her foot touched the bottom. The small ring of light from above illuminated her and she hesitated to step out of it.

Then it hit her. Nausea flowed into Adele and her knees weakened. Horror gripped her. Her gut contracted, pushing acid up into her throat. She struggled to keep her balance, fighting the vertigo that tried to drive her into a senseless spiral.

A hand reached out. She knew it was Gareth.

“You're shaking,” he said.

As Adele was drawn into the darkness, she gasped, “It's beginning.”

C
HAPTER 40

Queen Caterina stood on a scaffold in the northwest corner of the Place de la Concorde. She felt very alone although Flay and Lady Hallow were beside her and thousands surrounded the platform staring up at her in the light of the early morning sun that filtered around the Tuileries Palace to the east. It was already a warm day, which made her feel sluggish, as it would to all of them. There was little breeze but it brought the constant, distant booming of the human guns to the south. Vampires thronged the grounds and swarmed the buildings and trees. They perched on vine-covered statues, crawled over the smashed fountain and the cracked Egyptian obelisk in the center of the square.

Flay eyed the crowd. “Where's Fanon? I don't like that he isn't here. I don't trust him.”

Hallow smiled serenely. “Don't worry about him. The packs are loyal to me.”

“To
you
.” Flay snorted with derision.

“This day will end badly for all of you,” Caterina said. “It's already warm and this mob is annoyed that you couldn't do this at night. No doubt you had to hold it to accommodate the Witchfinder. Humans love sunlight.” She laughed, which unnerved the crowd. The queen seemed awfully self-assured to be under the thumb of her pointless son and his sinister advisors from the dead clan of Britain.

Hallow ignored the queen and murmured to Flay, “Watch for Lothaire. And keep yourself under control. This is a dangerous game we're playing up here.”

Flay sneered at her.

Caterina added, “Do you think Lothaire a fool? He knows this is a ruse to draw him out.”

“He'll come.” Hallow surveyed the crowd. “He won't allow you to be humiliated. Nor can he take the chance you could be harmed because I hate you or Flay is an unbalanced lunatic. He loves you. I know how he'll act.”

“How would you know that? You've never had anyone love you.”

Hallow gave a slight twitch, which was the only sign that Caterina had struck the target.

A figure in long regal robes appeared in the crowded sky. Flay tensed, but it was only Honore. The mob followed the Dauphin's arrival as one until he settled lightly onto the scaffold. He faced the crowd with his arms out and a pompous grin of triumph. Caterina tried to catch his eye, but he purposefully avoided looking at her. After absorbing enough attention from the clan, Honore swung around to Lady Hallow.

“This had better work,” he hissed. “I can't stand here like a fool all day.”

“Don't fret, Your Majesty. We'll have your father and the end of the war before noon.”

Flay whistled sharply and two of the mercenaries rose onto the platform and took positions beside the queen. The scarred war chief eyed Caterina with the precision gaze of an executioner, evaluating the resistance of her body and exactly how much effort it would take to tear open the queen's chest and crush her heart. Judging from the bland expression, Flay didn't imagine it would require much.

Hallow stepped in front of Caterina. “This is the last time. You will either denounce the king's traitorous relationship with Gareth now, or we will pass sentence on you for attempting to kill me.”

“How many last times will you give me?” Caterina feigned surprise. “You won't do anything because you can't.”

Hallow didn't smile. She nodded to Flay, who was laughing at the comment but then snarled a command. The two mercenaries seized Caterina's arms and roughly pulled them taut. The queen grunted from the pressure. Flay seized the collar of Caterina's worn gown and, with a single motion, tore the front of the dress away leaving the queen's breasts and stomach exposed. The action caused many in the crowd to laugh and jeer, winning back the moment for the new regime.

Honore showed a flash of anger before turning away with embarrassment. It wasn't the nudity that was hurtful—many vampire females went bare-breasted—but the blatant expression of insolence for Caterina as queen upset her son. He snapped at Hallow, “This event was for the king. Not to humiliate my mother.”

“Start speaking, Honore,” Hallow said. “The clans are waiting. The king will be here.”

“How do you know? I'm not sure that you're right.”

“We've come too far to quarrel now.” Hallow remained calm, and even a little subservient. “Do as I say and I will make you the king who sets the humans back hundreds of years. Cesare couldn't dream of what I will do for you.”

The Dauphin let his gaze linger along Hallow's elegant form as he tightened his fists. “Is that so?”

Hallow gave a faint smile of promise. “The sooner you start, the sooner you can finish.”

Honore spun back to the crowd and raised his hands above his head for silence, although the crowd was relatively quiet. “I come to you today on a mission . . . an unfortunate mission. I must denounce the queen. She attempted to assassinate Lady Hallow, whom you all know is my chief advisor. I must lay this tawdry affair before you, the clan lords.”

A line of old vampires stood near the scaffold, whispering to each other. None of them could bring themselves to look at Caterina, but the oldest of the crowd, a walking fossil named Lord Marais, croaked out, “We leave the fate of the queen to you, Dauphin. What of the king? Where is Lothaire?”

“Hiding!” Honore stood at the edge of the scaffold, towering above the ancient lords. “He's a failure. He has done nothing to stop the Equatorians, who are practically wading across the river. It is time for a change.”

Marais said, “Since we hope there are no more refugees from Cesare's clan to blow into our city and take positions of power, we assume you will confirm us all in our possessions without any sort of quarrel.” He left the final word hanging, letting Honore know that he was risking civil war if the status quo wasn't respected.

“Of course, Lord Marais. The old lords such as you are the backbone of our clan. I look forward to decades . . . years at least, of the same loyalty you gave my father.” Honore turned around to Hallow and, with a clever grin, whispered, “Hopefully better, the old traitors. They are the first for Flay to visit when this is over.”

“Quiet,” Hallow said, with the same officious look on her face.

“They're old and deaf as stones.”

“Do as you please, Dauphin,” Lord Marais called out, “but do it soon. It's hot. You have our permission to set the royal couple aside.”

Flay growled deep in her throat. It wasn't in response to Lord Marais's statement. In fact, she was hardly paying attention to the farce at the front of the scaffold. The war chief turned her head, listening to the distance. Caterina realized the human guns had stopped. The nonstop sound of cannons that had dominated the city for the last few days was gone. In the silence that no one else noticed came a rumbling and grinding of metal.

“Damn it,” Flay stared toward the south, clearly agitated.