The Rift Walker (11 page)

Gareth sighed with disappointment; how foolish to even suspect Cesare was capable of some level of self-criticism. But Cesare was right, again.

Two humans below actually repelled an attack, making another vampire rear back in surprise, but not for long. The vampire pushed through its mild shock and backhanded one of its prey as the other ran. The vampire staggered after him, although it didn't appear as if he would catch the human.

Gareth could only hope the human would escape. He pointed out the obvious to his brother. “We are soft. War with the humans is a terrible mistake.”

“I agree. The humans are lean and hungry. Just look at Senator Clark. I took his mate and he attacked me.” Cesare smiled. “Like a vampire.”

On the street, portly King Draken fell on an elderly man, raking with his claws once, twice, three times. The man continued to pound the king's chest and scream curses.

Cesare rolled his eyes. “Look at that spectacle. That sack of guts can't even kill an old man.”

Gareth pressed. “How do you intend to prevent the war from occurring? How will you strike at Equatoria's heart?”

Cesare didn't answer, muttering angrily, absorbed with the surrounding carnage.

“Cesare. I should like to come into your inner circle.”

Now the young prince raised an eyebrow and glanced at his brother.

Gareth continued, “Of course, I have no intentions on the throne, as you know. I will make that declaration to the clan, if you wish. But I would like to participate more in clan affairs. I feel as if I let our father down, and I want to make amends.” The taste of bitterness welled in his mouth, but he maintained an earnest and supplicant stare.

Before Cesare could respond, Gareth saw a young boy on the street. The lad was alone and crying, wandering aimlessly among the dead and wounded. Then the prince's attention was caught by the sight of thin King Ashkenazy, airborne, but rolling into position to strike the boy from above. Gareth launched himself down the slope of the roof and slammed into the street like a stone, landing jarringly in a cloud of dust. He laid a hand on the bawling child's shoulder just before the Hungarian king dropped hard beside him with an imperious glare.

Gareth kept his grip on the panicked boy, but smiled pleasantly at the king. “Ah, Your Majesty, I had no idea you were—”

“That is my kill,” Ashkenazy snapped.

“Who? Oh this? I had no notion you were interested when I laid hands on him first.”

“Surrender it.”

Gareth's smile vanished. “I will not.”

The young king went wide-eyed with disbelief. “I don't think I heard you correctly.”

Cesare settled beside them, followed by Lady Hallow. The young prince was all solicitous host, asking cheerfully, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Your brother,” Ashkenazy said, “stole my kill.”

Gareth pulled the struggling and screaming boy closer.

Cesare swiveled to Gareth. “Surely there are others you could take. His Majesty has a fancy for this one.”

“I've taken rather a fancy to him myself,” Gareth replied.

His brother glared coldly. “The king desires it.”

Gareth was silent. The sounds of terror had diminished around them, replaced by the forlorn moans of the injured and dying, and the laughter of the nobles. With none left to attack, the vampires had begun to gather around the main square, attracted by Cesare, Ashkenazy, and Gareth, none of whom looked very happy. The growing audience whispered to one another about the unfolding tableau.

“Gareth,” Cesare intoned quietly, “yield to His Majesty.”

“I will not. This is my kill by right.”

The younger prince reached out suddenly and took the child's arm. Gareth snarled and, in the blink of an eye, seized his brother's wrist and nearly flung Cesare to the ground. The collected mob froze in alarm and anticipation. Lady Hallow audibly gasped and eyed Gareth with surprise.

Cesare rose to his full height and straightened his jacket, trying to gather control of himself. His features twitched. “One last time. Yield the boy.”

Gareth clearly enunciated, “No.”

King Ashkenazy waved a twitching hand in the air. “Never mind, Prince Cesare. This isn't worth further discussion. Let your brother have his magnificent kill. Likely it's the first one he's managed in many a year.” The king laughed, but he stared at Gareth with a mix of fury and confusion. “I don't want Prince Gareth's deplorable behavior to color your delightful diversion.”

Relieved by the king's generosity, Cesare bowed to his young ally, then paused briefly to whisper to his brother, “Get out of my sight, Gareth. Stay in your museum. Go back to Edinburgh. Do whatever you choose. But don't let me lay eyes on your face again until I call for you.”

Cesare resumed his grand persona and led Ashkenazy back toward a crowd of nobles as if the matter had been a mere trifle. As the group began to drift away, many of them gave Gareth disdainful glances over their shoulders.

Gareth knelt in front of the child, who stood with quivering lips and blank eyes. “Shh. Stop crying now. There's nothing I can do to help your people, but you are safe, I assure you.”

Lady Hallow stepped closer. “What's wrong with you, Prince Gareth?”

“Why do you tarry?” Gareth snarled over his shoulder. “Your prince is departing.”

She stared down at him with her face full of confusion and anger. “If the boy is your kill, why don't you kill him? If you're going to create a scene over it, then kill him and feed.”

“Why don't you be quiet?”

“You've earned the ire of King Ashkenazy. And completely alienated yourself from Cesare. For this thing?”

“The child seems a fair trade.” Gareth turned and walked from the village on foot with the boy by the hand. Hallow jerked as if slapped, watching him go, shaking her head. She then raced to catch up to Cesare.

From the shadows, Queen Fen smiled, quietly enjoying the entire show.

Gareth stared at the giant stone trunk and head of Ramses the Great looming above him in the British Museum. He was grateful to be indoors away from the death and decay outside. At least inside he could reminisce in solitude. In his mind, he could see Adele reading the hieroglyphics to him. She had been a prisoner in the hands of mortal enemies, yet she maintained her dignity and humanity.

Now the vast museum felt empty. The artifacts that had once crowded him seemed like flat background scenery. Without Adele to teach and tease, his home in London was dead. He drew no pleasure from it.

Gareth heard a pounding sound from the distance. As he wandered toward the reverberations they stopped, then resumed more forcefully. The prince reached the rotunda before he realized the sound came from the imposing front door. Gareth grasped a brass handle and pulled the door open.

There stood Queen Fen with cane raised to beat the door further. When she saw Gareth, her immediate reaction was sour displeasure.

“Prince Gareth,” she croaked, “if you're going to close your doors, can't you at least have a trained chamberlain standing by to open them to visitors?”

“My chamberlain is in Edinburgh, standing by my doors there,” he remarked dryly. “I'm surprised to see you here. I sent a request to meet with you, but I expected to attend you at your convenience.”

The queen huffed and started to enter, surprised that Gareth didn't instantly move back. With disdainful shock, she asked, “Well, may I enter?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Gareth stared out beyond her into the thin light of dawn to see who might have followed the queen, but there was no one. He noted how the crone leaned on her cane as she shuffled inside. A vampire using a cane, and not even realizing how odd it was, given that their species never used any sort of tool. In the old days, the feeble Fen would have been killed long ago, but in this era of gracious living, she thrived beyond her time. As did his own demented father, he thought sadly. Gareth shut the door after the queen's noisy gown. She stared at him with complete disinterest in the magnificent surroundings.

She attempted a smile, creating a fearful gash in her leathery face. “I felt it would be more useful to meet here, far from your brother's toadies. I wanted to say how impressed I was with you at the meeting. And in that beastly little village. It's easy now to see who got Dmitri's intelligence, and his backbone.”

“Thank you.”

“And his looks,” she added with a terrifying lilt in her voice.

“Oh?” The prince suddenly pretended to hear a noise in the distance—anything to avoid looking at the queen. Her intent was becoming obvious, much to Gareth's discomfort.

The rustling of her silks drew near. “You know, young Gareth, I knew your father quite well…in my youth.”

“Oh?” He felt a claw on his forearm.

“Yes. He was a magnificent specimen. As are you.” “Oh?”

“I do not waste time with words when I see what I want.”

“That's a pity.”

“I would like to feel Dmitri's touch again, but he is old and infirm and, I suspect, quite disgusting. You are not.”

Gareth forced himself to look down into the dewy eyes of the old queen, swallowing his anger. “I am a poor substitute for my great father, Your Majesty. Now Cesare—”

“Cesare!” she hacked. “Don't mention that little jackal! Pompous little upstart! He needs to be killed. Why don't you kill him?”

Gareth almost grinned, but kept a dutiful demeanor. “He is most able. Far more suited than I. He is a master of political intercourse.”

“No doubt.” The queen stroked Gareth's chest lightly with a palm like sandpaper. “He is pure politics and no conviction. He makes deals with humans. Shameful!”

“I agree.” Gareth tried to avoid her gaze. “Do you know what sort of deals he is making?”

Fen arched her caterpillarlike eyebrows playfully. “Perhaps we can discuss it…after.”

“Your Majesty, I need to know anything that could call Cesare's loyalty into question.” Gareth drew closer and narrowed his eyes at her dramatically as he slowly extended his claws from long fingers. “In case I have to kill him.”

The queen shuddered with dredged-up excitement. She breathed out through her nose with a long wheeze meant to be sensuous.

“It seems,” she began with a husky voice, “that your brother has witchfinders scouring the herds looking for those who know magic.”

“What good could that possibly be to him?”

“Cesare believes he may be able to find some weakness in their magic.” She laughed. “Imagine that.”

“Does he have such knowledge? Is that how he plans to strike at Equatoria?”

Queen Fen cleared her throat. “But come, my prince, all this talk of human slaves is becoming tiresome. Won't you offer me something? Where's that boy you took from that little eel of a king?”

“He's gone.” Gareth left it at that. She could well think he had killed the child when, in fact, the child was on his way to Edinburgh. Gareth still had enough power to have a single human taken safely to Edinburgh by couriers. They knew their lives would be over should any harm come to the boy.

“Oh. Well, we can eat afterward.” She twirled her fingers in her brittle hair, causing clumps to pull out of her scalp. She giggled playfully as she tossed the locks at him.

Gareth caught the hair instinctively and tried not to look horrified at the wads of wirelike locks in his palm. The queen gazed expectantly at him, so he pushed the hair into his pocket.

“Thank you,” he said. “I'll certainly treasure it. Now, I wonder if you might tell me something of Cesare's plans in Equatoria?”

“I'd rather tell you of my plans for the next several hours.”

“Um. Yes, I'm eager to hear them, Your Majesty. Please, business before pleasure. I must know what Cesare is planning. Only then can I concentrate on…other things.”

“If we must.” Queen Fen smiled like a long-dead coquette. “Your brother seems sadly fixated on that little girl from Equatoria and her murderous mate.”

“Adele?” Gareth blurted quickly. “Princess Adele?”

“Who can remember the little creature's name. She's the one whose union with the American war chief will signal the beginning of the war from the south.”

“What are Cesare's intentions toward her?”

“What do you think? He's going to kill her.”

“When?” Gareth began to squeeze the queen's arms in brutal concentration, much to her misguided excitement.

“Prince Gareth,” Queen Fen purred and pretended to struggle. “You are hurting me.”

“I said
when
?” he shouted.

The old female now looked askance at him. “Don't take that tone with me, young prince.”

“When does Cesare intend to strike? Tell me!”

Queen Fen's slight blush paled to her normal cold marble. Her eyes sank with disappointment at the crumbling façade of a man before her, typical of all males in her eyes. “Apparently the humans perform some ceremony before they mate. It will take place in only a few days. Cesare has forces in place to kill both the girl and the butcher Clark during that ceremony. Your brother has extensive contacts among the humans of the south. It seems that humans will betray their own kind for mere objects.”

Gareth froze in horrified contemplation.

Fen stared at him in curiosity. “What is the girl to you? Are you and Cesare both hypnotized by her?”