Embracing the Shadows (10 page)

"Will he be at the Open Gathering?" I asked,
handing the goblet back to him.

"If Mr. Galloway has no concerns of being
found out, then he will attend for the sake of socializing. If,
however, he has paranoid tendencies, the Gathering is one of the
few places he is safe. To be clear, the Doyenne will declare the
location of any Gathering to be Civil Ground, if only temporarily.
Either way, Mr. Galloway will be there."

Viggo's angry shadows were fading, which was
a relief. I had a stupid question, but decided to ask it anyway. "I
guess that when I see him there, I'm not allowed to shoot him in
the face. A lot."

"Sorry, no," Viggo said with a hint of
regret. "Weapons are not allowed on Civil Ground, excluding the
Doyenne's enforcer. Violence of any sort will not be tolerated. The
use of any Gift, however innocuous, is also forbidden. These rules
have been in place for centuries. You will adhere to them."

"Of course, sir." I pulled my Ruger out of a
pocket and set it on the desk. "When are we going?"

"Mr. O'Shaughnessy will arrive at any moment.
We will ride with him."

Viggo and I started discussing Thunder and
the Gift of Fauna when a car honked out front. We walked out and
saw an oversized black cargo van, extended and with a raised roof.
Skin hopped out of the passenger door wearing a brown velvet
tracksuit and tan pageboy cap. I would have laughed at nearly
anyone else wearing that outfit, but the pimp/ridiculous mix didn't
look bad on him.

Skin first bowed his head to Viggo and then
said to me, "You sit up front with Kurt, kid."

While Skin opened one of the rear doors for
him and Viggo, I climbed into the passenger seat. Behind the wheel
was one of Skala's mammoth men, who stared at me indifferently.
"You must be Kurt," I said, trying to be pleasant. He only nodded.
I looked over my shoulder into the back of the van; it looked like
the inside of one of those mobile command units that police use.
Two chairs on casters sat in front of a bank of electronic
equipment and monitors that took up one whole side of the van.

I was about to ask what was going on when
Kurt held a piece of paper in front of my face. "I need route. GPS
ist scheisse," he grunted in broken English. "You know this
place?"

I looked at the address written on the paper
and . . . son of a bitch. "Yeah, I know it," I said with a sigh. It
was the Everett mansion.

CAMERA

"Mr. Skala's tie clip has been fitted with a
miniature recording device," Viggo began to explain as we drove
through the night. His understanding of modern technology was a
little sketchy.

"If I may, elder?" Skin said to him. I was
watching the road, so I assume Viggo gave him a nod to put things
in simpler terms. "It's a spy cam, and it picks up audio. It gets
fed to one of the receivers back here. Mr. Skala's limo is waiting
near the Everett place. When we pull up behind it, I'll go turn his
cam on and ride the last couple hundred yards with him to the
valets waiting out front."

"Leo, you and I will watch the monitor for a
time," Viggo told me. "When the Doyenne calls for a formal
convening, we shall join the festivities."

"Yes sir. Uh, what exactly is a
convening?"

"During a Gathering, a Doyen - or sometimes a
faction emissary - will call for all in attendance to congregate
for the purpose of bearing witness to decrees of various sorts.
Those decrees range from granting progeny to administering justice,
with many things in between."

"I've got this set to record," Skin said to
Viggo. "I'll have to watch it later on. The reactions to your scion
should be damn entertaining. And that won't be the best part!"

We made it to the upscale neighborhood. I
gave Kurt more instructions until our van finally pulled up behind
a limo parked a few lawns away from Everett's. Skin hopped out and
got into the limo. Viggo told me to come watch the monitor with
him. The camera came on just as I was sitting down. We couldn't see
much inside the dark limo, but the screen brightened when Skala
stepped out a minute later.

Two guards were waiting on either side of the
wide front door. Holy crap, they were Frank Cantrell and Carla
Dykowski, the detectives who tried to fuck with me a couple months
before.

"Do you know those people, Leo?" Viggo asked.
"You had a reaction."

"Yes sir, I know 'em. I told you about my
run-in with those two outside of a bar a while back. They were also
probably the ones who passed along my ties with Phillip Aoki to Le
Meur, although they actually work for Dominic Riva. I owe them one
for Phillip."

"Ah, I see. The path to your retribution may
be clear; I happen to know that Mr. Riva is currently out of
action. As for how much the Doyenne might interfere in the future .
. ." Viggo shrugged.

On the screen, Skala walked into the large,
chandelier-lit foyer. Moses Dupree stood there, most likely to
greet hemos and announce their arrival. Skala was evidently not
covering his true appearance; Dupree flinched, but composed himself
pretty quick. When Skala gave his name and title, Dupree looked
like he crapped himself. I was fairly sure that was impossible for
a hemo, but I liked the reaction.

"Is it another rule that your people can't
lie when on Civil Ground?" I wondered out loud. "Otherwise,
couldn't some other unknown Deviant claim to be Mr. Skala?"

"Fabrications are a part of gatherings,"
Viggo said. "Some of my own faction members revel at selling lies
at these social functions. I find them distasteful. Countering your
query is Mr. Dupree, whose Gift of Discerning is quite strong. At
his level of ability, knowing fact from falsehood is involuntary.
When my scion spoke, Mr. Dupree automatically knew his words to be
true."

Aldo Skala moved leisurely around the huge
house, muttering short hellos to everyone who bowed to him or gave
a respectful greeting. Barnabus Merritt came up to him a little
while later, offering a handshake and a monster's smile. They
started speaking in German, so I took that as my chance to talk to
Viggo again. "It seems like anyone who knows Mr. Skala is kissing
his ass, sir."

"As well they should," he replied. "Herr Aldo
Skala is nearly twelve hundred years old - an ancient Eidolon to
most. He led war parties for my people in the centuries after he
was brought into the night, although he was originally a
Pomeranian. Tiring of war as I did, he turned his interests to
espionage for profit. A few decades before the time of your
American Revolution, Herr Skala took to slumber deep in
Deviant-carved catacombs below Munich. An occurrence during your
Second World War stirred him; he claimed the city and has ruled it
well ever since. He is preceded by his age and his blood, which is
more potent than most active elders. The name of my scion is known
to many."

Unlike Viggo, who was busy keeping an oath
for the sake of my lineage, his own progeny had a chance to sleep
for a while. I tried not to dwell on the guilt and moved on. "There
are more people in there than I expected. I've seen some faces that
I recognize and a few I don't, but hardly any Deviants - only Skin,
Mr. Merritt and Roach so far. Does your faction avoid these parties
for some reason?"

Viggo pointed to the screen as Skala's cam
shifted one way or another. "Some in attendance are merely minions.
You will notice they never sit, and stay near their lords or
ladies. Some of us bring a minion to a Gathering on occasion,
although many do not. Attempting to bring an entourage is frowned
upon. As for the absence of some of my faction members, those not
presented to the Doyenne will not attend for obvious reasons. I
have yet to see Ragna or her scion, Mr. Vestergaard, but they may
have . . ."

He was distracted by something that the audio
picked up in the background - a crash and some yelling. Hmm,
something was amiss in the house of hemos. The view on the monitor
turned chaotic from all the sudden movement of people around Skala.
The scene began to steady as he pressed forward through a small
crowd of onlookers. Someone screeched. A male voice yelled, "Lady,
no!" And then a raspy bellow echoed through the mansion, a roar of
rage that formed one word: "YOUUUU".

I knew that voice. Ragna had made it to the
party after all, and no one was happy to see her.

OFFENSE

Skala's cam faced the center of the large
foyer. Thick chunks and shards of wood littered the marble floor. I
guessed that's what was left of the front door. Also down on the
deck among the debris was Moses Dupree, bleeding heavily from one
ear and scooting to the far side of the crowd.

On the left side of the screen, Enric
Tomasino held steady in a battle stance. He hadn't pulled his sword
yet, but I figured he was well-practiced at pulling it pretty
quick. Cowering behind Tomasino was Edward Galloway, whose
expression was a weird mix of satisfaction and scared shitless.

Barely in the camera's view on the right was
the Norse priest, Michael, who was trying to hold back his
wild-eyed lunatic of a matriarch . . . or dark mother, or bitch, or
whatever. Ragna kept her ice-blue glare on Galloway, snarling and
straining against Michael's desperate grip. Her scarf had come
loose, revealing her nightmarish chin and neck. Something had made
her go ape-shit, and she was holding the cringing Adept
responsible. Ragna and I finally had something in common.

"What made her snap, sir?" I asked as we both
kept our eyes on the monitor.

"Good question," he murmured. "I will have
the answer soon enough."

Ragna was just breaking free of Michael's
grip when Barnabus ran forward, tackling her. Together, they held
the dog-woman in place and spoke calmly to her. She stopped
straining, lying on the floor under two grown men, but still stared
daggers at Galloway. He was looking anywhere but back at her.

Tomasino said, "Mr. Merritt, please allow
elder Ragna to stand if you think it safe to do so. It is unfitting
to have someone of her esteem pinned to the ground, even with her
transgression."

I thought that was a very bad idea. Barnabus
thought so, too. "She is still beyond reason, Mr. Tomasino. If I
might suggest, do not meet her stare and please remove Mr. Galloway
from sight." I guess just the mention of his name set Ragna off
again. She shrugged off both Barnabus and Michael, getting to her
knees. Damn, that twisted cripple was strong. They reclaimed grips
on Ragna's arms, holding her in place and denying her the chance to
get to her feet.

"Vanquish her," came the command from
off-screen. I remember Le Meur's voice well; it was normally warm
honey, but right then the honey was cold and mixed with venom.

Skala shifted the cam in her direction. The
Doyenne stood three steps up on the wide staircase behind the
circle of onlookers. Coiffed hair, flawless skin, shimmering dress,
big amber eyes; it was tough to forget her. Wait, forget tough - it
was impossible. At least for someone with a working dick, that
is.

Frowning, Tomasino turned his head toward Le
Meur. "Milady?" he asked, apparently surprised.

"Doyenne," Barnabus called out, "elder Ragna
is subdued. There is no rea -"

"I gave an order," Le Meur said coolly,
interrupting him. "Stake the dog-woman, have her bound, and bring
her to me before dawn. See to it, enforcer."

Even from three hundred yards away, I could
feel the tension. It was thick in the van, too; shadows were coming
off of Viggo like creepy tendrils - pulsing, crawling . . .
yearning. I felt the urge to go sit back up front with Kurt, who
had a much smaller chance of making me piss my pants.

On screen, Tomasino reluctantly began to pull
the sword strapped to his back. The camera moved; we realized that
Skala had stepped out from the crowd, facing Tomasino and Le Meur.
"With all due respect to your worthy and earned positions in this
city," Skala said formally to them, "I request that you allow a
Deviant to deal with one of his own. Not to undermine your
authority, enforcer." Tomasino shrugged.

"You must be Doyen Aldo Skala," Le Meur said.
The audio picked up whispers of other hemos repeating his name.
"While I am honored to have a visitor of your status in my city,
why would I allow you to remove the offender? Your faction would no
doubt show her lenience. Justice would not be served."

"There is no contesting that elder Ragna has
violated one of the rules of Civil Ground. She will not be spared
fair and stern punishment. Her offense will be dealt with
accordingly. On that I give you my word. One of the reasons for my
presence in your city concerns her. Grant me the burden of Ragna's
penance; I am sure that equitable recompense can be negotiated for
your clemency."

"He's pretty smooth," I commented to Viggo.
He merely nodded, and then said, "You will notice that Lady Le Meur
did not ask the reason for Ragna's unhinging. I believe she already
knows why."

"It's pretty obvious it has something to do
with Galloway. Ragna wanted to rip him apart."

"Yes . . . the tool takes the blame for
damage done. The wielding hand can easily feign innocence."

The cam angle showed Le Meur standing there,
weighing her options. The crowd waited. Skala suddenly moved; the
camera swung and spun. I was pretty sure he bent over and turned
around. I caught a quick glimpse of Ragna's wide eyes and hands
gripping her shoulders. A few hemos gasped. Skala stepped back,
steadying the shot. Ragna was still kneeling, but a big shard of
wood was jammed in her chest. The dog-woman was staked. Her
previous expression of demented fury was replaced with one of
surprise.

The camera spun again. Skala turned back to
Le Meur and said, "I hope that satisfies your reservations."

She smiled faintly and nodded. Skala called
his other minion, Karl, to carry Ragna back to his limo and guard
her. Barnabus led the stunned Michael away from the scene. Le Meur
moved forward through the dispersing crowd and stood in front of
Skala. From the angle, I could only see from the bottom of her jaw
to just below her tits; most of the screen was filled with the top
half of a shimmering red dress.