Romani Armada (31 page)

Kieren studied her for what felt like a very long moment. Then he nodded. “Very well, ma’am. I accept.”

Cáel let out his breath and leaned forward. “Let’s hammer out the details right now.”

Kieren gave another small smile. “Let’s,” he agreed. “One of the first things I’m going to need is men dedicated to defense and security. That will be their only function and they will all report directly and exclusively to me.”

“You want to rebuild the Wardens inside the Agency, Kieren?” Nayara asked softly.

Kieren snorted in derision.

“He wants to build an army, Nia,” Cáel amended.

Nayara looked startled, then thoughtful. She nodded. “We are at war, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are,” Kieren replied. He did not hesitate over the pronoun and there was a determined light in his eyes as he studied Nayara.

Cáel knew then that he’d found his lever: The vampires’ vulnerable, human side. Kieren had just seen it and now wanted to protect it.

He had capitulated.

Cáel leaned forward just as Kieren was. “I can help you find your army,” he said. “What else do you need?”

Kieren laid his hand flat on the table and looked at Nayara. “You might want to take notes.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Liping Village, East Yunnan Province, China, 2054 A.D.:
Her tears had dried a long time ago, but Deonne continued to talk. It felt so
good
to be able to speak aloud all the worries and concerns and pathetic little fears and paranoia she had held inside for far too long.

Santiago sat unmoving in the big chair, his gaze never leaving her face, while she sat, lay or sprawled on the bed, as she told her story. He questioned her here and there but mostly, he stayed silent. Prompts weren’t necessary. Now she had breached the barrier of silence, it was all pouring out of her.

But finally, after what felt a very long time, she had nothing left to tell him, except the last.

“Your name,” Santiago said, his voice deep and rumbling from the dark corner where he sat. “Your real name. What is it?”

“Deonne,” she told him. “Deonne Rinaldi.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “And your lover’s name? It is not Edward, I know that.”

“It is, actually. That is his middle name. Justin Edward Kelly.”

He took that fact in like all the others; in silence and deep contemplation. “You love him very much?”

Deonne plucked at the wicking on the counterpane, shyness stealing her voice. “I…don’t know,” she replied truthfully. “I
think
I love him, but with Justin, it is complicated.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Santiago said dryly, standing up.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing more than what you have told me,” he assured her. “That he is vampire and you are not, and that he must remain in your time while you are hiding here. That does not allow for a fruitful relationship, especially when one of you is human.”

“Why does being human make a difference?”

Santiago sat on the bed next to her. The mattress dipped under his weight. “Because you do not live very long,” he replied. It was a matter-of-fact observation. “Months, even weeks, apart is a much greater loss than it would be between two vampires.”

“You have had relationships with both?” Deonne asked curiously.

“I have not had a relationship with either for a very long time,” Santiago replied. He was studying her again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Deonne demanded.

“Not for the reasons you are thinking of,” Santiago told her, with a smile. “I am fighting temptation in that regard. Your Justin is entitled to your attention, not me.”

But he was sitting very close, all the same. Deonne wanted to move away, across the bed, or onto the chair he had just vacated.

“You are the something new I have been searching for, Deonne,” he said quietly and she forgot about moving away. She looked at him, startled. “Me?”

He nodded. “I could go a millennium and not learn all there is to learn about you and your time. It is an almost overwhelming goad, to learn what you know.”

His gaze wouldn’t let her go. She was trapped, staring into his pitch black eyes with their thick lashes.

Deonne swallowed. “I won’t live a thousand years,” she pointed out, retreating to the banal.

“I would turn you,” he replied calmly, “So that you could live forever and the world would not lose the benefit of your presence.”

Her heart stuttered to a standstill and she pressed her hand against her chest. Such simple words, but they held such power.

Such temptation.

Her gaze fell to his lips, which were full and looked soft.

“Why is it I have the sensation that you want to kiss me?” Santiago asked, his voice very low.

Deonne tore her gaze away from his mouth and lifted it to his eyes.

Bad mistake.

* * * * *

Detroit-Rocktown Supercity, 2264 A.D.:
They would have hurried along what remained of the cracked and blasted sidewalk, except that Ryan couldn’t hurry. He moved fast enough despite the cane, but speed was out of the question.

Cáel beat down the fear and despair that want to break from him every time he glanced at Ryan as he toiled forward.

Both Kieren and Brenden had failed to comment on Ryan’s progress or even look at him sideways, that Cáel had seen. They moved along as a group and both Kieren and Brenden had their hands held out at the peculiar, taut angle that told Cáel they had weapons stashed on them and were half-an-inch from reaching for them. They just needed cause.

Well, this
was
Detroit Supercity. It was the first time Cáel had ever dared step inside its borders and it was only something he risked because of the company he was in. Two vampires and one of the best the Wardens had ever produced gave a man a certain confidence.

He didn’t let it go to his head, though. Ten minutes on the ground, walking along these forgotten and desolate streets, was enough to explain at full volume the endless questions that were raised in the Assembly over what to do about the city.

It was a lawless zone. Police had long ago abandoned their attempts to maintain any sort of law and had withdrawn to guard the borders. Now the law was one simply of survival.

Because of the lack of monitoring, laws and authority, every criminal, psychopath and ID-less human ended up here. It was much worse than the fringes of Washington City, which were at least swept regularly for the worst offenders.

Brenden had warned them before they had climbed into Cáel’s rental that he couldn’t guarantee their safety if they chose to come. Given the depth of Brenden’s resources and abilities, the warning was dire, indeed.

“If your friend is living amongst…this,” Ryan said, shifting his cane to step over a man lying half-across the pavement, either asleep…or not. As per Brenden’s orders, no one stopped to check on him or slow their progress. “If he has been thriving among this, he has skills we could use.”

They moved down the street, which was becoming steadily more built up, the buildings whole and more-or-less livable. There were others out on the street, too. Nearly everyone looked dirty, badly dressed and suffering from some sort of infection or disease. They shuffled along with their heads down, coughing, spitting and breathing heavily.

“He’s not a friend,” Brenden growled.

“Acquaintance, then,” Ryan amended easily.

“This way,” Brenden said, turning down the side street and changing the subject at the same time.

The street was as narrow as an alley, with buildings rising up on both sides like canyon walls. There was no pavement to walk upon, just broken and pot-holed bitumen where vehicles with wheels had gashed two curving trenches over time. There was only room for one vehicle at a time.

“I don’t like this,” Ryan muttered, stepping carefully over a puddle, then pausing to negotiate a deep rut.

“Your friend keeps strange quarters,” Cáel agreed.

Brenden scowled.

“Acquaintance,” Cáel corrected himself.

“What better way to blend in?” Kieren said, his tone even and completely without judgment. “Living in luxury here would make one a very big target.”

“Blend in?” Ryan snorted. “What self-respecting vampire would allow himself to live like this when there are so many other possibilities?” He sniffed. “I smell alcohol and lots of it.”

Brenden pointed ahead. “He’ll be in there.”

“There” was a dark, recessed door, the only entrance in either building, anywhere along the length of the street. There was a light fixture mounted over the door, but it wasn’t switched on...or wasn’t working. The afternoon had turned cloudy and was threatening rain, the black clouds hunkering down low over the city, which made the street dim and the doorway even darker.

“Looks promising,” Ryan muttered as they got closer. He was the only one to make an observation. Everyone fell silent, the atmosphere evaporating conversation.

Brenden rapped sharply on the blank door and waited.

After a long moment, the door opened and a man in his sixties, with wrinkled cheeks and silvery growth around his chin peered out at them carefully. “Only humans allowed,” he growled.

Kieren stepped forward smoothly. “I’ll vouch for these two.”

The man studied Ryan, who was leaning heavily on the cane, more than he had all day. Then the gatekeeper looked up at Brenden, and scowled. “You can keep this one contained?”

“I’ll stay contained if you open the bloody door,” Brenden growled. “We’re here for Rhydder.”

“Cade Rhydder?” The man pushed the door further open. “Well, why didn’t you say that to start with? We’ve been waitin’ for you for over an hour.”

Brenden shrugged. “I stopped for reinforcements.” His glanced flickered toward Ryan and he gave a microscopic shrug. He was as baffled as the rest of them.

“Damned good idea,” the gatekeeper replied, stepping back and holding the door aside. “Although that one looks like he won’t be much help at all with that leg. Still he’s vampire, and there’s no telling with you folks. Come on, come on. Rhydder’s in the main parlor.”

They stepped in through the door, crowding together just inside the doorway, taking their bearings. Keiren’s arm, Cáel noticed, was resting against the side of his thigh, flat and taught. Ready for action in tight quarters. He quartered the room with his gaze, a sweeping assessment.

He nudged Brenden’s side and pointed with his left hand. Downwards.

They stood at the top of a set of basic, raw wooden stairs. Real wood, as far as Cáel could tell, but he hadn’t seen enough real wood furniture to know what the difference was. The landing was about six foot square, and a slender grab rail ran from the landing to the floor, twenty feet below. The side of the stairs jutting into the room below was open and unprotected. It was the crudest set of stairs Cáel had ever seen.

The basement room was forty feet deep and about twenty wide. At the end closest to the stairs, a bar had been set up.

There was nothing crude about the bar. It had the appearance of polished and waxed oak, with a carved front that curled into lions’ heads, holding up the jutting bar top. It was a throwback to another era.

There were two barmen behind the bar, and a range of bottles and glasses on the shelves behind them. None of the bottles had labels.

There were perhaps eighteen tables and chairs spotted around the room. Some of the tables were round and small. Four men clustered around the edges of the table would make it cozy.

The other tables were bigger rectangles and these had benches sitting on either of their long sides. They were the party tables.

“A speakeasy,” Ryan breathed. “I haven’t seen one of these since the twentieth century at least.”

“Everyone who is allowed entry here comes in peace,” the gatekeeper told them, shutting the door behind him. “We let everyone leave the same way, but sometimes we have to coax them into it.” He nodded down at the tables below. “Like Rhydder. He’s an ornery young man, that one. He has...” He pursed his lips together. “Issues,” he finished.

One of the long tables sat almost in the middle of the room, level with the end of the long set of stairs. A man sat at the table, bowed over with his head on his arm, the other hand clutching a nearly empty glass of some amber liquid.

On either side of him, sprawled on the floor and over the ends of the table, lay comatose men. Humans, clearly. There were bruises and blood showing on all of them.

The gatekeeper sighed. “He’s been here since last night. Some of the lads took exception to his looks and tried to pick a fight, even though we warned them to leave him alone. He was too far down in the rye to think anything through.”

Kieren nodded. “Thanks. We’ll see him home.”

He glanced at Ryan, who drew in a breath. “Let’s sort this out. We’re going to have to straighten up timelines before we can talk to him.”

“I think you’re going to have to sober him up before you do aught else,” Brenden observed and started to climb down the stairs. “But that’s Cadeyrn for you.”

Ryan paused on the very brink of the stairs as Kieren clattered down behind Brenden. His eyes widened. “Cadeyrn? The one they call The Shard...
that
Cadeyrn?”

Cáel grabbed his arm and nudged him toward the stairs. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “There’s no rail.”

Ryan glanced at him fleetingly, and Cáel saw mortification and relief mixed together. “I noticed,” he said, his tone flat and monotone. As they worked their way down the uneven steps, he gritted his jaw. “I am going to beat this if it kills me, Cáel.” He spoke as low as Cáel had done.

“I know you will,” Cáel assured him.

They stepped onto the flat concrete of the basement and straightened up.

Kieren stood over the still figure of Cadeyrn Rhydder, studying him with his head bent. He looked like he was trying to figure out how to start. “He’s still breathing,” he observed.

Brenden was busy lifting bodies and laying them out on tables or the floor. There were no other patrons in the bar.

“Where is everyone else?” Cáel asked.