Sunrise(Pact Arcanum 2) (29 page)

“How did you do that?”
demanded Scott.
“You shouldn’t be able to teleport that far in one jump.”

Nick shrugged.
“The Triumvirate set up a network of fixed-point gateways and teleport relays. Anyone can use them if they have the proper codes. They’re useful for transporting cargo or teleporting to unfamiliar locations.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully.
“A fixed-point relay network. Yes, that would greatly extend your range. I wonder why I didn’t think of that.”

“The Gift only provides a basic understanding of the physics of teleportation. It took Sentinels and vampires working together to figure out the details.”
Nick looked at him carefully. “So I guess this means you’ve opened your eyes, then?” he asked, out loud.

“Yes,” said Scott. He squared his shoulders. “I want us to stay together and make a go of it, Nick. But I’ll need you to be honest with me. You know a lot more about current events than I do, and it looks like the world has changed a lot from what I learned from the Gift.”

“I can do that.”

Scott glanced at Nick’s torn white shirt and tan cargo pants from the night before, now rumpled and creased, as well as stained with ground-in ash and dried blood. “First, though, you’re going to have to clean yourself up; unless you were planning to go out in public like that.”

Nick stared at him blankly, then looked down at his clothes. “Crap. I must look like shit warmed over.”

“Something like that,” said Scott, grinning at the break in the tension. “Why don’t you go take a shower while I dig out something fresh for you to wear.”

“Oh, bless you, Scotty.” Nick headed toward the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head on the way.

So this is the vampire Nicholas
. Scott opened Nick’s suitcase to search for some clean clothes.
I don’t see the difference, honestly.

THE JOURNEYMEN

CHAPTER 36

August 2034; Milan, Italy; Two weeks later

“Okay, great.” The audio engineer clapped his hands. “Soundcheck’s perfect. Good luck with the concert tonight.”

The Journeymen nodded, not bothering to talk. Setting aside their instruments, they grabbed their gear and headed for the cars to return to the hotel. As they emerged into the bright sunlight, Scott felt Nick wince and reach for his sunglasses. Scott suppressed his reaction, not allowing it to rise into his surface thoughts; it would be just another reminder of the gulf that yawned between them. Their good intentions of the first day had quickly paled before the reality of their situation.

Every night, Nick partially unshielded his aura in front of Scott so the Sentinel could get used to Nick’s presence under controlled conditions. It wasn’t going very well, to say the least. The night before, Scott had immediately shifted form into a mountain lion and attacked. If Nick hadn’t been fast enough to leap out of reach, they would have had to clean his blood off the hotel upholstery. Again.

Scott had become proficient at that bit of minor spellwork, but he was deeply ashamed of his inability to adapt to Nick’s true nature. He could feel Nick pulling further away from him each day, as the vampire suffered through the Sentinel’s instinctive hatred of what he was. Nick didn’t even attempt to deepen the link beyond Scott’s surface thoughts anymore, not wanting to know what he was thinking in the privacy of his own mind. They walked mechanically toward the waiting limousine, ignoring the greetings of their roadies, who were busy setting up for the next concert.

Their stage show, at least, hadn’t suffered too much. They were still professionals and knew how to fake the easy camaraderie and banter their fans expected of them. Only their closest coworkers knew something was definitely off, but the musicians continued to deflect inquiries with practiced skill.

They reached the vehicles to find Don sitting on the hood of one of the cars, whittling a piece of wood with a pocketknife. The other bodyguards were chatting away while awaiting their charges. At Nick and Scott’s approach, Joey banged his fist on the hood to get the other bodyguards’ attention, breaking Don’s concentration. “Ow, damn it!” he hissed as he accidentally sliced open his finger. He glared at the other bodyguard and tried to staunch the bleeding. “What the hell did you do that for?”

Apologizing profusely, Joey pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it into a makeshift bandage around the wound. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Don. Maybe you’d better go over to the first-aid station and get that looked after.” He glanced over at the musicians. “Can you guys wait a few minutes?”

Scott nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak while his thoughts were gripped by a violent sensation—sharp, alien, and primal. He struggled to focus, trying to make sense of the sheer, unadulterated need he felt clawing at his psyche. It took him a moment to identify what he was experiencing.

Hunger.

He turned to Nick but was unable to see the color of the vampire’s eyes behind the opaque sunglasses. Silently, they watched Don walk away, cursing up a storm, toward the two EMTs they employed in case of emergency. The intense desire began to fade, only to be immediately replaced by something else. Something equally as terrible and even more seductive. It filled him with sadness—simultaneously hollow and empty, yet weighing on his soul like lead. This time he recognized it more easily, remembering the sensation intimately from when he lost his grandmother the year before.

Grief.

Nick felt Scott’s eyes on him and a mask descended over the link, deadening their psychic connection. “You go on ahead, Scott.” His voice was hard and cold. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Joey frowned at Nick’s uncharacteristic tone. “Okay, I’ll come with you, then.”

“I would really rather be alone, Joseph.”

Joey shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“Fine. Come then, but don’t talk.” Nick turned and walked stiffly away, Joey marching a step behind him.

Oh, my God. Is that how he feels
when he’s alone in his head?
Scott was shaken.
Has he been like that for a whole year, and I never noticed?

He put it together silently.
He died. No
—
worse than that. He was murdered, in the prime of his life, and
he got dragged back to face that obscene hunger. He’s been carrying the weight of it alone, all this time, while mourning for the loss of his own life. And there was no one he could tell, not even me.

You’ve made it worse, haven’t you?
asked his conscience.
He finally had the chance to open up to you about what he’s been going through, and you’ve been punishing him for what he is—the one thing he has no control over. You’re killing him. You have to find a balance between the two of you or you’ll crush what’s left of his spirit.

I can’t do it alone,
thought Scott.
I don’t know enough about what happened to him to have any hope of helping. The Gift doesn’t begin to cover this. I’ll need more information if I’m going to deal with a vampire on an equal basis, and I don’t even know any of Nick’s contacts.

Then you call every single person he has ever met,
answered his inner voice.
Someone must know something. You have to try.

Don returned, his finger bandaged. “Well, at least I don’t need stitches.” He peered around. “Where are Nick and Joey?” he asked.

“They went for a walk. We’ll meet them back at the hotel.” Scott marched toward the car. “Come on, I have work to do,” he said, as they piled into the limousine.

Two hours later, Scott was back in their suite, crossing the most recent dead end off the list in front of him before dialing the next number.

“Hello?” said a woman’s voice.

“Is this Anaba Nizhoni?”

“Yes. Who is this, and how did you get this number?”

“It’s Scott Phillips, from the Journeymen. I got the number from your recording studio.”

“Hi, Scott. Feel free to call me Ana.” She paused. “Is Nick there too?”

“Actually, there was something about Nick that I wanted to ask you,” said Scott by way of an answer. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”

“I know what he is, Ana. Do you?”

All the previous calls he had made had ended at this point, as each of Nick’s friends expressed their confusion. This time, however, the silence on the other end of the line was profound. Finally, Anaba spoke. “Yes.”

Scott mentally snapped to attention. “I need your help, Ana,” he said, sitting bolt upright. “I want to help him, but I don’t know enough about what he’s going through. Everything I do just seems to make things worse. I was hoping that maybe you would know what to do, or you could put me in touch with someone who could help.”

“Do you have something to write with?” Ana asked.

Scott picked up the pen he had been using to check off names. “Yes.”

“I’m going to tell you a number. Write it down and read it back to me, so I know you got it right. Then hang up and dial it, exactly as I gave it to you.”

“Ready.”

Ana reeled off a fifteen-digit string of numerals, which Scott wrote down and read back.

“Good luck to you, Scott. You’re going to need it.” Ana hung up.

Scott hit the disconnect button then dialed the number.

CHAPTER 37

Armistice Security Headquarters, Anchorpoint City, Colorado

Rory was only half listening to Takeshi and Layla discuss the final stages of Citadel reconstruction in the wake of the Burning; the rest of his mind was occupied with watching the evening lights of Anchorpoint as the mystic torches atop the towers began to glow. Suddenly, he felt Ana touch his mind.

“Rory, there’s a phone call coming your way. Answer it.”
Then she was gone again.

Rory blinked and turned back to Takeshi, who raised his eyebrows, having overheard. Before either of them could say anything, they were interrupted by Rory’s AI. “Rory, you are being contacted over the telephone exchange tap.”

“Who is it, Cutlass?”

“The number is registered to a hotel in Milan, Italy.”

Rory stood straighter. The Journeymen were performing in Milan that night. He’d looked up Nick’s schedule when the Daywalker had disappeared on him, thinking he might find him, but Takeshi flatly refused to let him step outside the Armistice Zone without security. “Put it through, Cutlass.”

A soft tone signified the call was connected. “Hello?” asked the voice on the other end.

Rory swallowed his disappointment. He recognized Scott’s voice from their first and only meeting, at Nick’s thirtieth birthday party. Maybe now he’d get some answers, if not directly from Nick. “Hello, Scott. This is Rory Brennigan. What can I do for you?”

“Rory? Great! I was actually trying to call you earlier today, but I couldn’t find your contact information after you dropped out of public life.”

“Ana just told me that you were going to call, but not what it was about. Talk to me.”

Scott hesitated. “It’s about Nick. I thought maybe he confided in you, and I need advice.”

Rory closed his eyes, blotting out Take’s hurt expression. “What about him?”

“I know what he is, Rory.”

“And what’s that?”

“A Daywalker,” said Scott. “Do you understand what that means?”

“It means he’s in trouble.” Rory sighed. “From what I understood, he was going to try to keep you out of it.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“Here’s what I know. Two weeks ago, after more than a year with no contact, Nick showed up on my doorstep out of the blue. He was drunk out of his mind, weeping uncontrollably and fairly incoherent. He had apparently been in a fight, and he kept repeating that he was sorry. I gave him a shoulder to cry on until he passed out, and then I put him to bed. He was gone when I woke up. Would you care to fill me in on the rest of the story?”

“The Court of Shadows found him. They sent a group of Nightwalkers to pick him up.” Scott paused. “They came for him while we were out having dinner. Nick killed them all, right in front of me.”

Rory’s voice dropped an octave, and he growled into the phone. “And what happened after that?”

“I kindled.”

“God damn it to hell!” Rory took a deep breath and his voice returned to its normal register. “So now he’s traveling around Court territory with a raw Sentinel. That’s just great. How have you kept from killing each other?”

“We’re trying to find a way to make it work. But we don’t know how. Rory, he’s in so much pain. I can’t help him if I don’t understand what he’s going through.”

Rory frowned. “What do you mean, ‘he’s in pain’? He said that?”

“No. I felt it,” answered Scott. “Through the link.”

Rory tried to keep his voice level. “Wait, you’re linked? Are you saying you’re an actual dyad, even though he’s not a Sentinel anymore?”

“He’s my Second, Rory. My other half,” answered Scott. “And I don’t know how to function around him. We need someone to show us what to do.”