The Greyfriar (Vampire Empire, Book 1) by Clay & Susan Griffith;Clay Griffith;Susan Griffith (44 page)

DINBURGH CASTLE WAS filled with vampires.

It made Gareth ill to see it. He had given strict orders to his brother
to keep the Pale confined to the wretched airship hovering over the
courtyard. A bristling Flay had gone to deliver the message.

"You live like a pauper here." Cesare sneered at Gareth over a goblet
of rich thick blood. "You are more foolish than I believed. Here I
thought you had the life of a god in this desolate kingdom. Your herds
live better than you."

Gareth hid his vehemence with nothing more than a flush of pink
on his linen cheeks. "I prefer them to present company."

"You are no more a prince than that ridiculous creature." Cesare
waved a hand at a slinking cat.

Gareth forced a cold smile for his brother, drumming long fingers
impatiently on the tabletop.

"You know, Gareth, I've been thinking about the princess." Cesare
leaned back in his chair.

Gareth's heart skipped, but he didn't miss a beat in his finger patter,
and his face remained tired and bored. "Do tell."

"I think her usefulness is at an end. London has already been
attacked by the humans." He now smiled at Gareth's raised eyebrow.
"Oh yes. Apparently you were away or hiding at the time. The princess's
mate dropped out of the sky and slaughtered a few helpless wanderers.
Flay drove him away with little trouble."

"She didn't kill him, then?"

"No. He was obviously looking for his female. But she was running
loose by then, thanks to that ... that ... man."

"Greyfriar," Gareth offered a bit quickly.

"Yes. Greyfriar." Cesare took another long draft of blood. He swirled
the vintage with disapproval. "Bit thin, I think. Still, Greyfriar. Did you
encounter him when you found the princess?"

"No. The princess was alone." Gareth laughed derisively. "Perhaps
Flay killed him."

"No, she didn't." A bitter look crossed Cesare's face. "She didn't."

"Mm. Well, I never saw him."

"How fortunate that you happened on the princess wandering alone
in the wilds."

"Quite."

Cesare straightened. "As I was saying, the war has begun, for all
intents and purposes. We have been bloodied, first in Bordeaux and now
in London. Obviously the madmen in Alexandria will not hesitate to
pursue their war. So their precious princess means nothing to them." He
stared at his brother. "Therefore, she now means nothing to me."

"And so?"

"And so she needs to die."

Gareth stopped drumming his fingers and stopped breathing for a
moment. Then he recovered his blase countenance. "Interesting logic.
Unfortunately, she is my prisoner. So I say what happens to her."

"For now. Once in London, she is the king's property and he can dispose of her as he wishes. I wonder who he'll give her to? You or me?"

Cesare laughed like a wicked child as Gareth stood abruptly and
went to the cold fireplace. He could face his brother no more. Traces of
ash remained in the hearth from the dinner days ago, the first time it had
been used in over a century. It seemed like a century since that exciting evening. Baudoin attracted his prince's eye as the tall servant strode from
the room bearing an empty tray.

Gareth followed him out. "What is it?"

"Prince Cesare's pack won't stay on the ship for long. They'll want
to prowl soon."

Gareth nodded. "The townsfolk have been warned to remain in their
homes. But I'm afraid you are right. Eventually they will be hunted."

"The longer the delay, the greater the risk."

"We should be gone by morning."

"What will you and the princess do?"

Gareth regarded his old friend and saw nothing but sincere concern.
A weary shrug was the response. "I'm not sure yet."

"I will stay with the princess tonight to watch her."

Gareth smiled. "Thank you. Though I suspect she may be the safest
one of us all. Cesare won't dare harm her here in this place. One thing
Cesare still respects is protocol."

"Protocol." Baudoin spat. "I will stay close to her. You may need to
help the rest of your subjects, should any of our brethren steal away for
a late-night repast."

Gareth chuckled despite the grim situation. Baudoin always had a
succinct way of stating the obvious. "Thank you. I don't know what will
happen after I return to London. I leave my realm under your care."

Baudoin bowed deeply.

Gareth climbed to the ramparts of his castle. He glared angrily at
Cesare's dilapidated airship moored to his home. He thought he saw Flay
wandering the deck. The sky was overcast, as was the norm in this land.
Dismal and dark. The clouds hung low, almost to the parapets. His
home was enshrouded like a cocoon, safe from the outside world.

So it came with some shock that another airship dove out of the
clouds, flying the American flag and unleashing a thunderous salvo from
its cannons. The ground shook, and vampires scattered. Flay flung herself toward the nearest cover, one shot coming close enough to leave her
trailing smoke.

Cables dropped from the sleek frigate like jungle vines, and heavily
armed commandos poured forth. The soldiers were out for blood and vengeance; they cut through Flay's disoriented guards. The Pale fell
back from the humans' fury.

As the fight on the ramparts raged, Flay left the ship and rushed to
Cesare's side. "We are under attack!"

Cesare had heard the booms of cannons, but he still found it hard to
credit such unbelievable audacity. Then a terrible thought struck him.
"It's Clark! How is that possible? He's come for the princess!"

Let the Butcher have her, Flay thought. The human female had been
nothing but trouble from the start. But her lord still deemed the prisoner important to the future of their kind, so the war chief only nodded
and they started for Princess Adele's room.

A small squad of human commandos appeared in the way, surprised
to encounter the onrushing female. Flay extended her claws in twin arcs
and killed them all. Cesare smiled as he waded through the corpses in
her wake. The rest of the way was clear. Flay kicked open Adele's door
and Cesare stepped in. The room was empty.

"Where is she?" Cesare shouted, incensed that his prey was gone.

Flay stood to the side, her fingers dripping red onto the pristine
white fur rug by the fireplace that still glowed warm. "She's gone. Let
me go and I'll destroy the Americans."

Cesare heard her but did not respond, lost in thought. Flay grabbed
her lord's arm to pull him from the room. "Release me! You dare!"

She snarled, hoping to break through to his fearful reason. "Forget
the princess! The human war chief is here. Now! Let me go and I will
decapitate the human war machine!"

Cesare muttered, "I can't lose the princess. Then I will look foolish
to the clan lords. You must find her, Flay, and we will escape to London.
This is no time to worry about the humans."

"This is the perfect time! They are far from home. They have no
reinforcements. Let me destroy them! The war will be over now!"

Cesare raised a fist. "Do as I say! Find the princess. Do you think I care
about killing humans? I won't have Gareth making a fool out of me!"

Flay bowed her head in defeat and slammed out of the room with a
fierce growl.

Prince Gareth and Princess Adele ran along the ramparts. The moment
the attack began, Gareth had raced to Adele's room. He knew this castle
and all its hidden passageways. It didn't take a tactical genius to realize
Cesare would try to secure the princess. As they ran, Adele caught her
first glimpse of the sleek American warship that floated over the great
castle. Ranger had come for her. From the deck, riflemen and machinegunners poured a murderous fire into the courtyard. The port cannons
raked Cesare's ship with a deafening broadside. The high pitch from
shriekers sliced through the air, causing Gareth to wince.

His grip on her hand tightened, and he shouted over the pain, "You
must escape with Senator Clark. I will keep my brother from pursuing."

"But ... I ..." A concussive blast shuddered through Adele, and
thick, oily gas enveloped her. With her ears ringing, she instinctively
covered her mouth and nose with the inside of her elbow. Harsh smoke
stung her tightly shut eyes.

Something knocked Gareth back against the stones. Through the
roiling smoke appeared the indistinct figure of a man wearing a blue
uniform with bright buttons. His face was a leathery mask with lifeless
round brass eyes. He had a rifle to his shoulder, aimed at the prince.

Adele instantly turned and jumped in front of the rising Gareth. She
felt a hard punch to her shoulder that slammed her into Gareth's arms.
They tumbled to the ground together. She was lying on her back, staring
up, gasping for breath in the purplish smoke. Gareth rose and placed a
hand on her. Through the haze, she saw his confused, terrified face staring
down at her. She wanted to tell him she was fine, but couldn't speak.

The smoke clung to Gareth like a second skin. He could barely see
or smell, and the distant shriekers ripped at his ears. But he was near
enough to Adele to scent the blood oozing between his fingers from the
wound in her shoulder. He seized her slumping body, sensing her life
leaking out over his hands. Amid the chaos, horror gripped him at the
realization that he would lose her. After everything they had been
through, she could be taken in mere seconds.

A sturdy wind parted the stinking smoke, and now Gareth saw the faceless man. He knew it was Senator Clark, who had shot him and then
Adele as she tried to protect him. Gently, Gareth lowered Adele's body
to the flagstones. Then in a blur that no human eye could track, the
vampire prince charged.

The senator fired point-blank at the grey motion, then felt as if a
cannonball struck him. His rifle shattered, still clutched in his hand, as
the senator slammed against the stone battlements.

Gareth's sharp talons shredded flesh and cloth; he was desperate to
take retribution because nothing else was left for him. A devastating
blow brought Clark to his knees, but he swung the smashed rifle barrel,
snapping the prince's head to the side. The unfazed vampire spun back,
teeth bared. The senator had never seen such an expression on a vampire's face; it was almost emotion and not hunger. For a second Clark
knew something akin to fear.

A rigid claw of a hand darted out for Clark's throat. Nails that had
turned into razors dug deep into frail human flesh, and Gareth lifted
Clark, who writhed in a desperate attempt to dislodge himself.

The prince stepped to the battlements' edge. Far below were dark
rocks to dash this murderer's bright blood upon. Gareth wanted to see
it. Maybe that would take the pain away for a second.

A voice called out-one he had never expected to hear again.

"Ga ... eth ... stop."

He froze in his killing. A glimmer of hope retraced its path to his
soul. He turned.

A bleeding Adele reached out toward him as the last tendrils of
smoke slipped away from her. "Please ... don't."

Gareth cast the man roughly aside and rushed to Adele's side. He
held her once more, burying his head against her cheek.

With his hands Gareth tried to stanch the blood that slowly leaked
out. He gently pushed hair from her eyes.

"You mustn't ... hurt him," she murmured.

Gareth couldn't understand what he was hearing. Was it love? Loyalty to her kind? Mere kindness? It didn't matter anymore. The princess
was dying. He spared a glance at the crumpled man on the stone path,
knowing what had to happen.

"You have to go with him," Gareth whispered to her. "He can save
you. "

"Gar ... eth ..." She reached a shaking hand to a face no longer
savage and cruel.

"I wish we had more time...." His voice trailed off. He brushed his
lips over her cheeks. "I'll never forget you. Promise you'll never forget
me."

Gareth stood. Adele tried to cling to him, but he pulled away, and
the edge of his coat slipped through her fingers. The prince regarded the
miserable Clark with his inhuman false face, sitting up now, holding his
bleeding throat. Clark's other hand was fumbling for something at his
waist, but he was still too dazed to move with any true coordination.