The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (22 page)

Cesare was bare-chested; he often removed his coat and shirt while
feeding. He claimed it reminded him of the old wild nakedness of pre Conquest times, but Flay suspected it was because he didn't want to
stain his clothing.

Cesare put on his white shirt and pulled suspenders over his shoulders. Flay held out a long grey morning coat for him to slip into. He
tugged at his cuffs and inspected his dark trousers for blood spots. "I'm
going to have King Dmitri call the clan."

"What? But you didn't want the clan lords interfering with your
plans."

"Plans change." Cesare buffed his shoes on his dying dinner and
muttered angrily to himself, "What is wrong with that Clark? Doesn't
he think I would kill her? Doesn't he know who I am?"

Flay watched Cesare's face. The young prince was obviously annoyed
by the situation, but there was something more. Cesare had assumed his
fearful reputation would terrify the humans into inaction. Senator
Clark's attack had been unexpected. For the first time, Cesare had lost
the initiative, and he seemed mired in doubt.

The prince continued, "That attack on Bordeaux is meaningless, just
a symbol for the people at home. Clark wouldn't dare start a major offensive. Even he isn't that idiotic. I will certainly kill her!"

The war chief didn't respond. She was occupied watching Cesare
fidget. The careless movements made him seem small and worried. Then
a thought occurred to Flay-a thought that astonished her. Cesare was
afraid of Clark. The senator was an unpredictable human.

Like Greyfriar, Flay thought sourly.

But no, it wasn't the same. Flay dreamed of destroying Greyfriar
with her own hands. Cesare seemed to want to avoid fighting Clark. He
would rather isolate the human than kill him. Clearly, the prince did not
relish the idea of coming to grips with the great vampire killer.

Flay sensed a gnawing emptiness in her stomach where her duty
used to burn. Cesare had never been her ideal as a male, but at least he
had seemed powerful and determined.

Until now.

She thought back to the Great Killing. She remembered seeing
Gareth in a frenzy, driving a regiment of human soldiers before him
through the gory snows of the Great Glen. Magnificent. Not a wasted move, not a lost opportunity. He was a machine of blood and claw. Flay
had dreamed of being Gareth's war chief.

Those had been heady days for the clan. Dmitri still had some sense
and was the most respected king in Europe. The future of the British
clan had seemed bright. Dmitri had two sons who were both capable in
their own way. Gareth had an aura of power and superiority. When the
Great Killing began, he threw himself into battle in his father's name
and showed his mettle with violence, demonstrating that he was in line
to be the next great king. Cesare, on the other hand, was a chilling
manipulator and a political strategist who would make a perfect advisor
to his brother. Over the last century, though, civilization had drained
the soul of the clan, of all the clans, and Dmitri had spiraled into
senility. The two brothers, who had never been close, gave up any hope
of coexistence. Surprisingly, it was Gareth who abdicated his natural role
as leader, wandering into his solitary wasteland of Scotland, barely
deigning to attend clan gatherings unless he was compelled to do so.
Cesare filled the void and became the king's right hand, which served
Flay well, as Cesare's war chief. The younger prince was cunning and
completely ruthless. He could be a skillful king, but he was no Gareth.

Cesare's voice snapped her back. "And why would Gareth choose
this moment to show his miserable face in London?" It was almost as if
he knew she was thinking of someone else.

Flay found herself secretly enjoying Cesare's discomfort as she
reclined on one of the long benches lining the Commons. The prince settled into a thronelike chair at the end of the chamber and crossed his
outstretched legs at the ankles. Several bloodmen dragged his bleeding
meal from the chamber as the vampire drummed his claws on the chair.
He began to pontificate, as he always did, thinking of himself as the
brooding lone genius, but in fact he found the sound of his voice intoxicating, no matter which language.

"If my brother had just stayed away, I could've maneuvered the king
into naming me heir. Father listens to me. And the lords fear me. I can
work the clan to my advantage. I had the princess to my credit and the
attack on Bordeaux to panic them, but now Gareth is here. The king and
the old lords are too spineless to shove my brother aside while he is looking at them. They pretend to respect tradition." Cesare paused, his
mind flicking through images of the outsider Gareth among the bloody
old clan lords. It was a jarring picture, but one he could twist to his
advantage. His brother had no proficiency in politics, and that would be
his undoing. Then a long, toothy grin spread slowly across Cesare's face.

"If I allow Gareth to reveal himself to be the coward and failure he
is, the elders will all see that he couldn't be their king, and the only
choice is me." Cesare looked at Flay and laughed. He pounded his hands
down on the chair arms with a thud that echoed through the chamber.
"Think of it! Played properly, I can destroy a century of progress by the
humans, throwing them back so far it will be another century or more
before they dare threaten us again. I will be the savior of our kind. I
could soon lead every major clan in the world." He rubbed his hands
together in expectation and leapt off the dais, settling to the tiled floor
with feather lightness. He was almost giddy. "How amazing! It's an
absolute boon that Gareth bumbled in here. This is the beginning of the
end for him. And the beginning of a new era for me. For us, Flay. Bring
my packs to order and lay them close by. I want the city firmly in my
hands when the clan gathers and I start the war chant."

As the prince passed, he reached out and stroked Flay's cheek. She
flinched with surprise, but managed an uncomfortable smile.

Cesare held her eyes with his. "Come. I'm off to tell the king what
to do. Believe it or not, Flay, it's possible to be too cunning. There are
times when killing is the only thing for it."

Flay smiled, but this time it was real. She believed much the same
thing.

After Gareth left Adele alone in the Tower, she was startled by a sound
from the corner of her room. Her hand went for the stone blade, but she
saw Selkirk detach himself from the shadows and step forward. He held
a finger to his lips and waited, giving Gareth time to withdraw.

After a moment, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Your
Highness."

Adele's whisper was barely audible. "Can I speak?"

"Quietly, if you please."

"How do you do that? Walk around in broad daylight without fear!"

Selkirk's blue eyes sparkled. "I assure you it's not without fear. But
as long as I stay near a ley line, I can shield myself from them. Of course,
it isn't foolproof. They could still tumble into me and I'd be dinner."

"Ley line?" Memories of some of Mamoru's more eclectic lectures in
geology and geomancy came back to Adele.

"Yes. They are lines of power that run along the surface of the Earth.
Dragon spines, they're sometimes called in the Orient. They're troublesome to vampires; they interfere with the creatures' senses for reasons we
don't quite understand."

Adele pointed at the odd astrolabe on his belt. "Does that instrument manipulate the power of these ley lines? Is that how you move
safely?"

"No." Selkirk paused. He looked hesitant. "I'm not at liberty to say
more. I'm sorry, Your Highness."

"Are you Equatorian?"

"Yes, Highness. I was born in Aswan. Educated in Alexandria and
Siwa."

"Then I could command you to answer my questions."

The man glanced at the ground, embarrassed. "I cannot. I'm sorry,
Highness. But I can tell you that I sent word of your location to Alexandria. It should be in Mamoru's hands, and no doubt the emperor's by now.
A rescue mission is on its way. Do you have your talisman?"

Adele touched her neck where the crystal pendant used to hang.
"No. The vampires took it."

Selkirk tried to suppress a look of concern. "I wish I had the power
to fashion a replacement for you, but I suspect you won't be here much
longer in any case."

Adele took a deep anxious breath at the thought of home. She
smelled the lemon tree in the courtyard outside her antechamber in Victoria Palace.

"Why can't I go with you right now?" Adele asked anxiously. "Can
you hide me from the vampires too?"

"No. That's impossible, Your Highness. I can cloud my presence
from vampires, but only with great difficulty. But I couldn't hide you at
all. I assure you, if it was possible, Mamoru wouldn't have suffered you
spend one extra minute in this place. But no, it's best to wait for a
proper rescue. In this case, trust your army to get you out."

Adele smiled to assuage the man's discomfort. Selkirk's belief that
she would soon be rescued buoyed her feelings. Adele realized with
delight that apparently Cesare was right to be concerned about "spies"
in his country. The power to hide in plain sight would be an invaluable
weapon in the coming war.

Selkirk said, "Your Highness, I must go. I don't dare remain in one
spot for long. It becomes more likely they will detect me with each
second. Hopefully you will be rescued before I see you again."

"Thank you, sir, for your help." Adele took Selkirk's hand, causing
him to start with surprise. "If you are ever in Alexandria, I hope you will
call on me. You will be welcome."

The man lowered his head with gratitude and slipped quietly from
the room.

When Cesare reached the throne room, he found the king already in conference-with Prince Gareth. Flay made a soft trill of surprise as Cesare
shook himself slightly, recovered his wits, stepped over several bloated
footmen sleeping by the door, and strode into the vast throne room.

King Dmitri squinted toward the approaching blur. Gareth sat back
slowly and crossed his legs, posed in the chair next to the throne, the
chair usually occupied by Cesare. The king demanded who it was that
neared, and the elder prince murmured to him.

"Greetings, Majesty." Cesare bowed to his father and then swept an
arm low to the floor in Gareth's direction. "And Prince Gareth. At least
I assume that is who you are, since I've so rarely seen you here. What a
delightful surprise. Father, I have something to discuss with you."

The king merely sat blinking furiously at Cesare.

Cesare said to Gareth, "Would you excuse us?"

Gareth didn't move. "Speak. There should be no secrets between
brothers in times of trouble."

"You couldn't be troubled to appear at court for nearly a century.
Father, we haven't time to explain details of state to him. Why should
we waste our time when he will simply return to Edinburgh when it
suits his whim?"

Gareth peaked his fingers at his chin. "I'm here, Cesare. I've taken
my rightful place at father's right hand. I am the heir, and have been
since before you were born." The elder prince smiled. "If you have something to say, say it."

"Father?" Cesare extended his hand at Gareth. "This is ludicrous."

"Stop this!" Dmitri shook his head irritably. "You are brothers. The
clan depends on both of you. I don't have time to create more to replace
you, although I would if I could. You both exhaust me."

Gareth chuckled comfortably at the old king's wit. Cesare stared,
annoyed as much by his father's sudden ability to jest at his expense as
by Gareth's presence.

Dmitri snapped, "What do you want, Cesare? Speak!"

"Very well." The younger prince inclined his head passively. "I
believe you should gather the clan."

Gareth stirred while trying to maintain an aloof calm. Cesare noted
the consternation with mute pleasure.

The king said, "But didn't you recommend against calling the clan
just the other day?"