Incarnation (39 page)

The Protectors did not hesitate but moved forward swiftly, the wolves on their heels. Mordred was faster still. He appeared out of the shadows, his cloak streaming behind him and went directly for Blanche.

In an instant, the battle was joined.

The initial clash was furious as the sides came together and foe met foe. Vampires went at one another, fangs tearing, with the same ruthless savagery that I had witnessed at the Bagatelle. But they were far from the worst of it. The wolves hurled themselves at their ancient enemy, the thud of bodies seeming to rock the ground. Through it all, the Protectors advanced
relentlessly. I saw one go down when the vampire heart he wielded was knocked from his hand. Blanche’s followers would have fallen on him had not a wolf leaped to his defense. A moment later, I gasped as a vampire exploded suddenly into what Marco had so aptly described as a shower of stars. I wondered if anyone would think to recover his heart.

Throughout, I stood frozen, torn between the need to enter the fray and the promise I had made to Marco. The promise won out, if only just. I picked up my skirts and raced back toward the palace. My intent was to find the head of the household guard and warn him, but before I could do so, I ran straight into de Vere. Too late, I realized that he must have followed me.

Gripping my shoulders, he demanded, “What is going on out there? And why are you in such a hurry?”

“Get out of my way!” Without pausing to think, I brought both my arms up and broke his hold with such force that he staggered backward. Wincing in pain, he thrust his hand under his shirt and drew out the glowing red heart that he had concealed there. Holding it up, he advanced on me.

“You will regret that, vampire!”

For all that he had turned his back on his duties as a Protector, de Vere had been trained as one. He knew how to direct the energy of the heart in the most lethal way possible. Even as I recognized the deadly danger that I faced, the air between us rippled. I saw the blast coming, felt it move through me, and then . . . nothing.

De Vere shook his head in disbelief that was equaled, did he but know it, by my own. Again, he raised the heart toward me. Again the air rippled and . . . nothing. “This cannot be,” he said. His brow furrowed in calculation. “How could you be unaffected . . . ?”

I had no idea how long it would take him to realize that I was different in some way from other vampires or what he would do once he understood that. But now was not the time to find out. While he was still staring at me in blank amazement, I ran.

Outside, a battle raged, but inside the Crystal Palace the privileged elite chosen to share the final celebration of the queen empress’ Diamond Jubilee were enjoying a first course of scalloped oysters. Conversation was robust, no doubt aided by the steady flow of champagne. The music still played; I could just make out Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” one of Her Imperial Majesty’s favorites.

While most of the guests had no idea that anything was amiss, at least a few knew better. Gladstone saw me as I entered. With a quick word to his sovereign, he stood, looked in my direction, and left the dining hall. I followed. He was waiting for me directly beyond.

“Our own troops are reinforcing those outside. From the report I just received, the enemy has come but not in great number. There are no more than a hundred or so.”

“A hundred or so vampires,” I said. “Have you truly no idea of what they are capable of doing?” Belatedly, it occurred to me that Mordred had kept the balance between the species for so long that neither side really understood how dangerous the other could be.

“You presume,” I continued, “that you will be able to destroy Blanche and her followers, but if you are wrong, those people in there will meet terrible deaths. I do not fault the queen empress’ personal courage, but she’s using her court as nothing more than bait.”

I thought he might dispute my characterization of the
situation but he was too intrinsically honest for that. Frowning, he said, “Every man and woman in there is a loyal subject of the crown and as such is expected to defend it. Moreover, they have benefited from the best that Britain has to offer in opportunity and freedom, not to mention hereditary privilege. Who do you think should protect her? Those poor benighted Brownshirts who are out there right now, by the way, fighting a foe they didn’t even know existed? Is it all right for them to die while we hide behind them?”

“No,” I said, “but no one should die for their country without knowing why they are doing it.”

“You may be correct,” he allowed, “but that must be a subject for another time. All any of us can do is make certain this comes out right.” He looked at me gravely. “We are counting on you, Miss Weston. If Lady Blanche does get through, can you stop her?”

“She won’t . . . Mordred—”

“If she does, what will you do?”

Straightening my shoulders, I gave the only answer I could. For Marco, for my family, for the legacy of all those who had gone before me. Whatever doubts I harbored about my own powers, I kept to myself. Quietly, I said, “I will defend my sovereign.”

I remembered those words a short time later when I finally managed to find Amanda. She was seated at a table of other young people whose company she appeared to be enjoying. I started toward her only to stop abruptly when I saw the young lord with whom she was conversing.

CHAPTER 30

M
y stomach clenched as I recognized Edward Delacorte, the golden-haired vampire I had encountered outside the Bagatelle the night I had arrived there and who had tried more recently to sniff out my intentions on Lady Blanche’s behalf. I, in turn, had done my best to sow doubts in his mind about her ability to survive the return of a vengeful Mordred. Whatever concerns he might have had about that, his presence at the Crystal Palace left no doubt which side he had chosen.

He was there, past all the guards, within hand’s reach of my sister. My only thought was to wrest her from his side at once, but the moment I moved to do so, I feared what his reaction would be. He was so much closer to her than I was, and he could move as quickly and lethally as I could myself.

I needed a ploy, a diversion, something to gain me even a few seconds in which to reach her. But before I could even begin to think what that could be, a grenadier burst through the side door into the dining hall. Blood sputtered from a great wound on one side of his neck, splattering the gowns of the ladies and causing the gentlemen to stiffen in shock.

The screams began just as the lights went out.

In the mad scramble in the darkness, I tried to reach
Amanda, but the panicking crowd racing for the exits held me back. By the time I was close to where she had been sitting, she was gone. So was Delacorte.

I had absolutely no doubt where he had taken her or why.

“It was a diversion,” I said a few minutes later as I stood outside with Marco. The fighting was over, Lady Blanche and her followers having withdrawn as suddenly as they had appeared. Gladstone was helping to restore order within. Word had been passed around that the grenadier had been attacked by a Brownshirt who was in custody. Why the attack had occurred was not explained, but the queen had gone so far as to reassure her guests that the fine young officer would recover fully. At her insistence, dinner was continuing in the glow of candlelight as the sabotaged Faraday generators were repaired.

“The intent all along was to seize Amanda,” I said. “And to make certain that we all knew she had been taken.”

Despite the warm evening, I was very cold even for me. Since realizing the truth, a terrible rage had been building that was matched only by my fear. I saw the stone table . . . saw Amanda . . .

“She is of the same blood that I am, the blood of Morgaine, Anne Boleyn, and Elizabeth Tudor. None could serve Blanche’s purposes better.” Why hadn’t I realized it sooner? Lady Blanche had even sought out Amanda, but so great was my preoccupation with myself I had assumed that was only because of her interest in me. Loathing threatened to choke me as I considered what my folly had led us to.

“We will find her,” Marco said. He had suffered a gash down one side of his face but was otherwise unhurt. Nicolas was also well. Felix, too, was unharmed and helping to care for those of Mordred’s followers who had been injured. What
casualties had occurred among the defenders were mostly survivable. Only a few Brownshirts had died.

“I promise,” he added, and opened his arms to me. I went into them gladly, needing his warmth and strength as I had never needed them before. But as much as I longed to, I could not tarry.

I stepped back swiftly. “Where is Mordred?” Unspoken was the question of why Lady Blanche had been able to get away from him. Why hadn’t he destroyed her?

“He’ll be here,” Marco said. “I think he may be a little hesitant about facing you.”

The idea that the king of the vampires would feel any such qualms surprised me, but I had my suspicions as to the cause. “Why didn’t he kill her?”

“He intended to, but he . . . was distracted.” Marco looked at me, his eyes dark and shadowed. “De Vere suddenly appeared. You know what he did to Mordred. What man—vampire or otherwise—would be able to resist going after his torturer? Unfortunately, that gave Blanche the opportunity to escape.”

I could have killed de Vere the moment I realized that he could not harm me. Instead, I had let him go while I tried to protect Victoria, who had never been a target.

“And de Vere? What happened to him?”

“He got away.” It was Mordred who spoke, his voice low and husky. At a glance, I saw that the battle had cost him much of what strength he had managed to regain. “He turned that damn heart on me, screaming all the while about it having no effect on Lucy.”

“What does that mean?” Marco demanded. He looked at me. “De Vere tried to kill you?”

“Tried and failed, so what does it matter?”

“He will be interested in you now,” Mordred said. “He won’t rest until he discovers what makes you different.”

“I don’t care.” Truly, I did not. Nothing mattered except finding my sister. “They have taken Amanda to the Bagatelle, I am certain of it.” At the thought of what would happen to her within those walls, I shuddered. “I am going in there and I am bringing her out, and do not either of you dare to tell me why I cannot.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear girl,” Mordred said. He lifted into the air. Looking down at Marco, he said, “I’d offer you a ride but I’m not quite up to it at the moment.”

“Never mind,” Marco said. He put his arms around me again, touched his hand lightly to my face, and smiled. “I’m sure that Lucy can manage it.”

I did, if with a great deal of nervousness lest I drop him. I hadn’t flown very much, after all, and never such a distance, let alone carrying another person. Yet I managed it well enough, no doubt fueled by a combination of terror and anger that casts out all weakness.

Certainly, I could afford none of that as we set down on Fleet Street near the griffin statue. “Blanche will be expecting a frontal assault,” Mordred said. “She is wrong to do so. As much as I’ve avoided the Bagatelle, I know this area very well from long ago. The buildings that used to stand hereabouts form the foundations of those that are here now, and they are linked by buried passages that at one time were alleyways running between them.”

“How do we get into those passages?” Marco asked.

Mordred managed a faint smile. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

The Serjeant’s Inn was closed for the night but Marco’s
key unlocked the side door to Nicolas’ office. He had yet to return, but at least I knew that he had survived to do so. We descended quickly into the passage where Cornelia had left me sitting in a circle of salt. The flecks of dolomite in the stones shone dimly in the light of the electric torch Marco took from his brother’s desk. I spared a moment to wonder how well Nicolas and his pack knew what lay beneath them.

“This same stone was used throughout this area,” Mordred said. “People thought it would protect them from vampires. Actually, all it does is protect us from each other.”

“As long as we remain surrounded by it, we can’t be sensed?” I asked.

“That’s right, and if my memory is correct, we will be able to follow these passages right into the Bagatelle.”

“Lady Blanche knows nothing of this?” Marco asked.

“I neglected to mention it.”