The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (40 page)

"What is this?" Adele asked.

"The people call it Greyfriar's Kirk," Gareth answered with a gentle
smile.

She turned to him, pleased. "This is your namesake!"

"Yes. I like this place. It has history, and I like the stones."

"It's a graveyard."

"I know. The irony does not escape me." He pushed open the heavy
iron gates, and they entered the churchyard. Some graveyards were filled
with dread and superstition, but to Adele, and even to her brother, they
were places to explore. Her homeland was famed for its tombs and
homes for the dead. They captivated Adele. Strangely enough it was
something else she had in common with Gareth.

The stones of Greyfriar's Kirk were old and dark with age, some
worn almost smooth, but the ornate carvings on many of them were still
pronounced and beautiful. A majority of them were large and situated
right up against a stone wall that encircled the small churchyard.

Gareth gestured to a tombstone. It was scribed in Latin. "This is the
same language as the anatomy book I have. I can see names. But do you
know what the rest of it says?"

"I do." Adele had been taught Latin. "This is the person's namethe person buried here." Her finger brushed over the surname at the top
in large bold script. "The rest gives the family's lineage. A husband, a
beloved wife, and three sons, aged two, five, and seven."

"It says all that?" Gareth touched the deep etchings that had withstood the passage of time.

"What's inside the church?" Adele asked him.

"I don't know," he replied absently, still studying the tombstone.
"I've never been inside."

"Why?"

"I'd prefer not to enter."

Adele stared at him. "So it's true, then, that vampires are repelled by
religious symbols? You intimated as much in Canterbury."

Gareth gazed out over her head. "I would simply prefer to stay outside."

She didn't believe him. But she couldn't expect that he would confirm
his species' weaknesses to her. Even though they had forged a unique relationship, she was the future leader of his kind's greatest enemy.

"May Igo in?" she asked.

"Certainly. I'll wait for you out here."

Adele headed for the church's main doors. One hung off its hinges,
but the other stayed straight and true. She grasped the heavy iron handle
and gently pulled the door open. It was dark inside at first, but as she
made it past the first archway, the chamber opened up into a wide, long
cavern with high-set windows. Most were broken, allowing more light
to shine down on the vast stone floor. There were shards of colored glass
on the cold stones, and she bent over, trying to determine what picture
they had depicted at one time. She could make out a face or a symbol.

Finally she straightened and walked to the altar, where a glint of
silver caught her eye. It was a small cross on a chain, almost camouflaged
by grey dust. Smiling, she lifted it from its hiding spot. Deciding that
it was a sign, she knelt in front of the altar, offering up a small prayer of
thanks for the sanctuary afforded her throughout this trial, and a prayer
of hope for the future, wherever it led her.

Outside, Gareth reared back. His flesh crawled. He couldn't
remember feeling such power here before. Sometimes during the
people's rituals at the other church, St. Giles, he could feel waves of
warmth emanating, which he found uncomfortable. But nothing like
this. The power scorched him, and he found it hard to draw breath. Pressure grew in Gareth's head until it forced him to retreat from the
churchyard. As soon as he stepped outside the gate the distress waned.
He took a deep breath. Unconsciously, he began pacing, waiting for
Adele. After several minutes, when she had not come out, Gareth
stepped toward the large gate once more, only to feel the harsh discomfort rise again. He paused, a low growl passing from his lips. He was
about to plunge over the threshold regardless, worried at Adele's long
absence, when finally she emerged into the hazy sunlight.

She looked around anxiously, but calmed when she saw Gareth outside the gates. It took her by surprise when he shuffled back at her
approach.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, no. Everything is fine." He turned his head slightly. Her scent
was acrid, just as it had been in Canterbury when he found her barely
sensible on the cathedral steps. "You were gone a long time. I was ...
concerned."

"Oh, I just stopped to say a small prayer." She fingered the silver
cross tucked in her pocket.

"I see." There was a trace of pain and agitation in his stance.

"Are you all right?"

The prince nodded curtly. "Yes."

"Would you like to read more of the tombstones?" She stepped
toward the graveyard, but he didn't follow.

"No," he said, anxious to be away. "Let's go elsewhere."

Adele smiled. "I don't mind." She took his hand before he turned away.

With a hiss of pain that bared his teeth he yanked away from her.
His skin smoldered with red welts left by Adele's fingers.

"Gareth," she cried in alarm, instinctively reaching out for him
again.

"Please, Princess, stand back. Please do not touch me just now."

"How? What did I do?" Then Adele comprehended. She had prayed.
Her eyes widened in amazement. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize ..."

"Nor did I," he responded. "You wield great power, Adele. More
than anyone I have ever known."

"This comes as news to me," she admitted.

Gareth's brow furrowed deeper as the waves continued rolling off
her, and he tried not to reel back. "Let's return to the castle."

"As you wish. Perhaps we can come back another day and I'll read
more of the gravestones to you."

He graciously inclined his head, grateful that finally the discomfort
was beginning to ease. He wanted to be near her, but he kept his distance. They walked quietly for a bit, both absorbing the magnitude of
what had just occurred.

Adele was torn between feeling guilty about hurting Gareth and the
amazing revelation that she had discovered an exploitable weakness in
the vampires. Her crystal talisman. The standing stones in England. Canterbury. And now this cross. They were all related. It was magic. Or
religion. Or both. It was as Mamoru had taught.

"How am I doing this?" Adele asked. "Is it prayer? In the old days,
we thought religious objects repelled vampires. Do they?"

"No," he told her honestly. "The icons of your faiths are nothing to
me. The people of Edinburgh hold their religious services. Their prayer
troubles me slightly, but if it pleases them, so be it. It is no great
problem for me. But you are quite another matter."

"I feel bad about your hand."

"It is already healed." He showed her his hand, and the welts had
indeed all but faded.

"That's good. I'm glad."

That simple statement pleased Gareth.

Adele asked, "Aren't you at all concerned as to what this means?
Aren't you worried what I could do? What I might do?"

"Why? What can I do about it?"

"It could be a way to fight vampires, to destroy your kind."

Gareth stopped. "I trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't." His complacency was exasperating.

"If you decide that this is the best course of action for your people,
then I concur."

"Gareth, remind me to explain to you about power and politics."

"I prefer diplomacy." Adele laughed and Gareth smiled at her. "So
what did you think of Greyfriar's Kirk?"

She struggled to follow his example and bring her thoughts back to
mundane matters. "It must have been beautiful once. A lovely place for
weddings. But it's small compared to the palace I will be married in."
She sighed. "You know, I've lost track of time, but I think I might've
been married already if your brother had not kidnapped me."

The lines around Gareth's mouth tightened. In the beginning of this
adventure, he hadn't given much thought to Adele's impending marriage.
Now that he knew her, it weighed on him. For just a moment, he imagined a different life, one without the constraints of duty, politics, and prejudice. That was foolish and he knew it, but still, the thought of Adele not
marrying that braggart of a vampire killer warmed him.

The princess rolled her shoulders back so she stood a mite taller. Her
sad expression lifted and she regarded Gareth. She gave a smile as if to
banish her gloomy thoughts. She must be the only woman ever to be
depressed about her wedding to a great hero, but oddly it seemed like a
part of her past and not her future. A lifetime had passed for her in these
last weeks, and her old life was so very distant.

Adele said, "I'll tell you the truth, and you're the first I've admitted
this to, but-from all I've heard of my Intended-I am not enamored of
Senator Clark."

"Oh yes?"

"But our union is important for Equatoria. So my happiness doesn't
really matter."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. In fact, I'll have to say that you are the only
person trying to set things right." Greyfriar's pistols suddenly felt heavy
on her hips. They had offered protection and assurance when she had
needed them, but now with deft fingers she unbuckled the rig and
handed it to Gareth.

"I gave them to you," he said in confusion.

"I don't need them. I'd like to keep one pistol, though. For my own
protection. But the rest are yours. Thank you for the loan."

He reached to take the gun belt, gently brushing her soft, gloved
hand. He felt another shock of pain, lighter, more a warning than damaging. The power was still coursing through her, taking its time subsiding. He covered the shock and inclined his head graciously as he took
the weapons and tossed the belt carelessly onto one shoulder. He
couldn't help but smile; the bond between them that he had thought
lost forever had returned. Her scent was intoxicating.

Then another scent drifted on the wind and Gareth stiffened sharply, the
leather belt sliding from his shoulder and dropping from nerveless fingers to
the ground. Adele reacted in kind, her own hand slipping to the pistol in
the pocket of her skirt. She had learned to read both Gareth and Greyfriar
when they sensed danger. She swiveled her gaze about, but saw nothing.

"Run to the castle," Gareth commanded. He took to the skies in a
single leap. "Hunters are coming," were the words that trailed back.

Adele grabbed his gun belt from the ground and fled. Her eyes continued to look up as she ran across the cobblestones uphill toward the
looming castle. She saw no dark shapes in the sky. If she ran faster,
maybe she could send Baudoin to help. Her fear was back, and she
grasped the pistol rig tighter to her chest.

Soon she couldn't even see Gareth's silhouette. How far away could he
sense the hunters? Far enough out so that the hunters couldn't sense her?

It took forever to get to the castle. Adele shoved open the great
doors, letting them bang loudly against the stone wall. Only guessing
where Baudoin was at this time of the day, she ran for the kitchen. He
wasn't there, but Morgana was, and together they ran until they found
Baudoin. His face was like granite when they told him.

"Stay inside," he said.

"How can we help?"

"Stay out of sight. It's up to His Lordship now."

Adele and Morgana exchanged anxious glances. Morgana grasped
the princess's hand and squeezed. Adele's first instinct was to look out a
window, but she resisted the urge. Instead she made sure Gareth's pistols were loaded and ready. She could only imagine what was happening
over the skies of Edinburgh.

The air currents were fast, and Gareth rose quickly. Two distant specks
marked the arrival of hunters to his domain; the creatures were not
tracking vampires, so they would see him and discount him. Of course,
the hunters might be following the scent of the Greyfriar, but that's why
he wore human blood on his skin as the Greyfriar to mask his true scent
to his fellow vampires. Then he had a terrible thought. Perhaps he carried enough of Adele's scent to attract them. Sure enough, the hunters
veered and glared at him curiously as if trying to puzzle out why a vampire had a scent with faint resemblance to their prey. Finally they continued their flight toward the castle. They had Adele's scent. These were
well-trained hunters. Flay used the best.

Gareth waited until they flew beneath him. Then he drew his arms in to his sides and descended at an incredible rate of speed. He slammed
down onto the back of one of the unsuspecting hunters. It screamed in
surprise and pain as its spine cracked. The wind rushed as they tumbled
out of control. Even mortally wounded, the hunter tried to twist and
claw his attacker.

Gareth struggled to hold the hunter close to him. If he gave it room
to strike, he would be eviscerated. Gareth grunted as his skin was ripped
across his shoulder practically to the bone. The second creature was on
him already, but he had to ignore that. Gareth extended his fangs and
buried them in the back of the hunter's neck, ripping through its ropelike tendons and sinking into the spinal cord. Digging deep, he tore at
the base of the thing's brain. It thrashed before he felt a satisfying snap
and the creature shuddered.