The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (15 page)

"Hope." Nzingu shook her head derisively. "All our work and planning in jeopardy. Simon is nothing to us. There is no substitute for the
princess. And if she is in Cesare's claws, she is dead. The London clan has
always been the worst. Many of the other clans already kowtow to
Cesare. And he wants to rule all his kind. Even if the princess is still
alive, what are her chances of escaping on her own?"

"Unlikely, I fear." Mamoru swirled the wine in his glass, watching
the red liquid in the flickering gaslight. "The distances involved-"

The Zulu sorceress pressed him. "But what of her vaunted skills?
Your training?"

The Japanese man looked at her from under downturned brows, his
lip curling into a sneer for the first time. "Princess Adele's training has
not progressed as you might have wished, it is true. But you must recall
that the court's official policy is that anything spiritual is a useless relic
of a dark past. We have our own witchfinders here, Nzingu. Transforming the imperial heir into a magician is a very complicated undertaking, and not one that can be rushed."

Sir Godfrey said, "My dear lad, we all understand the difficulties
from the technocrats in the imperial court."

"Indeed?" Mamoru replied with cold formality. "None of you have endured as much time in the court as I. In my four years here, I have
been watched very closely. I was questioned and disciplined by the court
five times, including two interviews and stern rebukes from Lord
Kelvin, who was most displeased that I was not reinforcing the official
doctrine that religion is worthless superstition, and that the power of
science and technology is humanity's sole solution. Only the emperor's
personal intervention allowed me to weather the attacks from the court,
and that only because the Most Serene Emperor in Singapore is our great
patron.

"Only in the last six months have I managed to bring Her Highness
to magical practice of any sort. I intended to accelerate her practicum
after the marriage to Senator Clark. The court's attention would have
been consumed with the war, and the senator would become like the
steel-minded male heir that Lord Kelvin always desperately wanted
rather than a weak girl like Adele. The princess is the most extraordinary adept our world has ever seen, and properly trained in matters of
magic and faith, she will wield prayer like lightning. She will rid the
world of vampires. But, alas, I do not think she is yet skilled enough to
engage or elude the creatures. I must confess, I had not yet trained her
to master such specific skills. I beg your forgiveness for my failure."

Mamoru bowed deeply and already regretted explaining so much. It
made it seem as if he needed to justify his actions.

Sir Godfrey smiled and refilled Mamoru's glass. "All unnecessary, I
assure you, dear boy. If there is any blame to ascribe, it belongs to the
bloody fools at court who sent the princess north. Certainly, no one questions your abilities, my dear Mamoru."

Nzingu remained conspicuously silent. She turned quickly, and the
bone beadwork on her gown rattled.

With proper detachment, Mamoru said to the Zulu witch,
"Although I have no right, I would ask that you not despair just yet."

Sir Godfrey rubbed his hands together. "Quite. So clearly you have
someone in Britain to search for the princess?"

"Selkirk," Mamoru replied. "An excellent geomancer."

Sir Godfrey pursed his lips, trying to conjure a face to the name.
Failing, he shrugged with acceptance of Mamoru's characterization. Nzingu was lost in her own thoughts of ruin. Only Sanah now locked
eyes with Mamoru. Clearly she recognized the name Selkirk, and just as
clearly she was not pleased.

Mamoru ran his hand along the edge of the basalt coffin, feeling the
texts carved into the stone. "I have every confidence that we will have
our princess back. Our resources are vast. And despite our animosity
toward the Empire, Equatoria's reach is long and can be exploited for our
own purposes. I feel certain that once this difficulty is past, our plans
will go forward. As they must."

"Hear hear," Sir Godfrey murmured, and tapped his hand on the sarcophagus, filling the chamber with the clang of his gold signet ring.

Sanah closed her almond eyes, revealing on the outside of the lids
henna markings that looked like eyes. She turned the eternal sight away
from Mamoru, raised her face, and softly began to pray.

Two mornings later, Senator Clark appeared on the reviewing balcony of
Victoria Palace in Alexandria. He carried Prince Simon in his arms like a
loving father. Prince Simon's actual loving father was not present, it
having been decided that Emperor Constantine should stay out of the
public eye to highlight his concern for the continuing gravity of the situation. The crowd was exalted by the sight of Prince Simon alive and
well. And they were stirred by the tableau of Senator Clark as rescuer of
imperial fortunes. Now they sensed the vampires would be sorry they had
ever resorted to such a cowardly act as attacking the imperial children.

The night that had looked so dark to the Alexandrians now dawned
brighter as the rays of the sun sparkled off Clark's brass buttons. After
fifteen minutes of roaring adulation, Clark carried Prince Simon inside
and deposited him on the marble floor without another thought. The
boy naturally sought the side of Colonel Anhalt, who lingered in the
shadows of the vast corridor.

Clark said to the properly attired prime minister, Lord Kelvin, "I
want two cruisers-forty-four guns at least, but primarily with
bombing capabilities. They must be fast. I want them to carry five com panies of marines experienced in vampire fighting. No household
guards. Persian units if available; I hear good things about those boys
campaigning around the Caspian. And I want them ready to move in
two days. We've wasted too much time already."

Kelvin didn't blink because that would betray the shock he felt. He
looked up at the broad American shoulders towering above him. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to bloody the enemy. I want those monsters
worrying about me and what I might do." The senator clamped a cigar
between his teeth. He held a flame to the end and drew heavily. "My
wedding is only a month away, Mr. Prime Minister. It's high time I
killed some vampires, or I might not get to walk down the aisle."

T WAS A blustery evening when Greyfriar saw a few lights shining
in the familiar skyline of Edinburgh with the sharp edge of Arthur's
Seat on one end and the brooding castle on the other. He could tell it
was cold from the many plumes of inky smoke rising and the cloying ash
in the air.

He had made his way swiftly north from France in only a few days.
Fortunately the sharp winds of the North Sea had allowed him to fly.
Even in a brisk wind, it was difficult to accommodate his heavy sword
and firearms, plus the rucksack containing his massive and precious
book.

Greyfriar settled to the ground several miles from the center of
Edinburgh. He removed the smoked eyeglasses and the cloth that
masked his face. He rolled his weapons into his cape and carried the
bundle as he walked toward his city. Most people were inside because it
was dark, and they craved the protection and warmth of a fire. The peasants who saw the swordsman greeted him with obvious affection. One
offered up his lone loaf of bread, but Greyfriar waved it aside politely.

Greyfriar made his way up the rough cobblestones through the open
gate of the great castle. There were no lights here. And no fire. He
opened a small wooden door set in a massive stone wall and went inside. The sounds of movement echoed throughout the rambling castle, and a
strange stampede of soft padding came closer.

From out of the darkness a herd of cats appeared. They galloped
toward him and crashed about his ankles like a furred wave. The mass
of yellows and blacks and whites slipped around his legs. He reached
down and stroked several of them, even though he could barely feel their
small bodies beneath his fingertips.

Then a man entered the room, stepping awkwardly through the
flood of cats. The man was tall and wore a heavy brocade shirt with a
red-and-green kilt, an old regional fashion. "Did it go well, my lord?"

"No, Baudoin. I failed." Greyfriar opened the rucksack and removed
the book. He inspected it for damage.

"She's dead then?"

"No. Flay took her."

"Flay?" Baudoin's face twisted in revulsion.

Greyfriar smiled slightly. "And I had my chance at Flay, but failed
that too."

The servant glanced accusingly at the bundle of blood-caked
weapons. "You were using those, then?"

"Of course."

Baudoin held up a hand, and his fingernails lengthened into sharp
little daggers. "Next time use these."

"The whole point is not to use those." The swordsman laughed as he
pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside, adding casually, "The
princess killed some of us."

"What? How?"

Greyfriar stared into the distance, remembering the sight. "With a
sword. It was perfect. A thing of beauty."

"Just luck, most likely." The servant placed the swords and gun belt
on a long wooden table.

"Perhaps. She seemed surprised too." The swordsman sank gratefully into a chair.

Baudoin hung the mask and long grey cape on a peg. "You know
where she is, then?"

"No doubt in London. With Cesare."

Baudoin busied himself cleaning the sword to cover his sudden agitation. After a moment, he asked, "So what will you do?"

"Go there."

"And what happens when Cesare has you killed?"

Greyfriar laughed again from his place at the table perusing the
anatomy book. He had to be very careful not to tear the pages when he
turned them.

Baudoin turned from the basin where he scrubbed awkwardly at the
dried blood on the rapier. "That's not an answer, my lord." He struggled
to grip the weapon. The sharp blade sliced his deadened fingers, but he
gave the gashes only the barest glance of annoyance.

The swordsman grunted noncommittally and continued looking at
the amazing plates of dissected vampires. He held up his own hands
with their clawed nails and tried to imagine the intricately drawn network of tendons and muscles under his pale skin.

He said to his servant, "Bring some water to clean the blood from
me. I have smelled like a human for too long." It was a tedious method
of masking his true scent from other vampires, but effective.

Baudoin huffed with disdain and tossed the sword down with as much
dissatisfied vigor as he dared given how much his master loved the weapon.
Then he left the room, hissing at cats scampering around his feet.

After Greyfriar washed the caked bloody disguise off his body, he
returned to the study of the book, unaware of the passage of any time
until he heard a throat cleared above him. Baudoin stood with a teenage
girl. The girl's eyes were averted to her feet. She trembled.

Baudoin said, "My lord. Dinner."