Sunrise(Pact Arcanum 2) (32 page)

Lorcan made a shallow bow. “Prince Nicholas, I greet you on behalf of the Court of Shadows. What is your answer to their proposal?”

“I do not seek to take up my position within the Court of Shadows at this time. However, I accept their request to have you serve as my liaison to the Court, on the condition that you swear allegiance to me as Praetor Luscian for the duration of your stay and agree to defend my interests and the honor of my house as long as you hold that rank.”

Lorcan smiled. “An inventive solution. I agree to your terms.” He went down on one knee. “Nicholas Magister Luscian, I swear my honor to your service for the duration of my duties. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

“I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own.” Nick held out his hand. “Welcome to House Luscian, Praetor.”

Lorcan stood and shook the proffered hand. “I thank you, my Lord. Shall we be seated? We have much to discuss.”

“Not yet. First I should introduce you to your superior.”

“Superior?” Lorcan blinked. “I was told that no other Luscian vampires survived the Burning.”

“They did not. I’ve had to improvise.” He waved his hand toward the empty room and a shroud of invisibility dropped away, revealing Scott.

“Lorcan Praetor Luscian,” Nick said with a predatory smirk as he noticed Lorcan’s eyes widen, “I would like you to meet Scott Phillips Consul Luscian.”

Lorcan found his voice. “A Sentinel? You consort with a Sentinel?”

Nick smiled and his fangs protruded. “He is my Consul, Praetor, and you will report directly to him.”

“My Lord, please. You must be joking. Sentinels have no honor. How can you allow one of them to speak for you?”

A menacing growl escaped Nick’s lips, and his fists clenched. Reaper coalesced in his right hand, the azure flames hissing angrily. At the sight of Luscian’s sword, Lorcan froze.

“He is not a common Sentinel, Praetor,” said Nick. “He is the Wind of Water, and he knelt at my feet and said the words, just as you did. His honor is my honor.” He raised the sword delicately so that the point almost rested on Lorcan’s shoulder. “Are you questioning my honor?”

“No, my Lord.” Lorcan swallowed, the only sign of his fear at the near touch of the Sword of Nightmares. “I was merely unprepared for his presence. Please forgive my discourtesy to your councilor. It will not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Nick pointed with his left hand at the chairs arranged in front of the couch as the black sword faded from his right. “By all means, sit. As you said, we have much to discuss.”

Lorcan sat, facing the two Journeymen on the opposite couch. He studied the Sentinel. “The Wind of Water? Truly?”

Scott nodded silently.

“That is unexpected. We were not aware of your emergence.”

“Zachariah Consul Daviroquir kindled his Gift when he attacked me in a restaurant in London two weeks ago,” Nick replied. “I punished him for his presumption. In any case, we need to discuss matters of house security with you.”

Scott leaned forward intently. “If you’re going to be seen with us, we’ll need to arrange a cover identity for you.”

Lorcan smiled—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It has already been arranged.” He withdrew a number of laminated cards on a lanyard from his shirt pocket and passed it to Scott.

Scott flipped through the plastic-coated cards, all carrying the name Lorcan Kildare. “These are press credentials,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “They almost look real.”

“They are real,” Lorcan said, shrugging. “I work freelance, but my writing serves as a diversion from my house duties on occasion. It also gives me a legitimate reason to be traveling outside my home territory when my duties take me elsewhere in Europe.”

“What’s your home territory?” asked Scott.

“Is that relevant, Consul?”

“You’re here to learn about us. Isn’t it fair to ask about you?”

Lorcan’s eyes flickered to Nick’s, then back to Scott. “House Diluthical has held the territory of Ireland for seven thousand years. I was born in Belfast in 1504. I died in 1525. I have held Consul rank in my House for more than one hundred years following my successful negotiation as Praetor Diluthical of the current treaty between House Diluthical and House Daviroquir, which holds the rest of the United Kingdom.

“I was chosen for this assignment because of my diplomatic credentials and because my house is not party to any current disputes between the five houses whose territories you’ll pass through on the remaining fourteen days of your European concert tour. There is nothing else about my life or death that need concern you directly, Consul. Do you have any other questions related to the task at hand?”

“No,” said Scott.

Nick could see with his vampire senses the Sentinel’s amusement at Lorcan’s dismissal, but Scott’s actual thoughts remained masked from him.
What are you hiding, Scotty?

“What exactly do you need to know from us for you to do your job, Praetor?” Nick asked.

“I will need to know the terms you wish me to set in my negotiations with the other five houses and what you will actually settle for.”

“No hunting at our concerts,” Scott said quietly.

“No hunting of our staff or the fans outside our hotels and venues,” said Nick.

“No interference with us, either at our hotels or at the venues and fan events,” said Scott.

Nick couldn’t resist adding one more, watching as the Nightwalker’s frown deepened with each new condition. “Or at dinner.”

“That will be difficult to arrange,” said Lorcan. “How many of those conditions are negotiable?”

Nick looked him dead in the eye. “None of them.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Lorcan’s irritation was obvious. “Very well, I will try to invent some additional outrageous demands that I can negotiate away. Is there anything else?”

“One thing more, Praetor,” Nick said softly. “I am a signatory of the Armistice Declaration of 2021. As long as you are a member of my house, you will abide by the terms set forth in Article One of that document.”

Lorcan’s jaw dropped. “My Lord, you cannot ask that of me!”

Nick returned Lorcan’s angry gaze without yielding an inch. In the end, he didn’t care whether Lorcan stayed or went, but this was non-negotiable. “You will take no human life. You will not kill, except in self-defense, defense of another, or in defense of your honor. You will not feed except on what is freely offered. You will not use magic on human beings with hostile intent without their consent.” He drummed his fingertips on the coffee table. “Four simple rules, Praetor. If you can’t show that much restraint for just two weeks, then what good are you to me?”

“My Lord, this is not the Armistice Zone. We are at war here. I have no willing donors to sustain me.”

“Then find some,” suggested Nick.
I won’t stand by and let this miserable vampire kill anyone else as long as I have the power to force him to behave. Anything less is a deal-breaker.
He surprised himself with his own intransigence.
Damn, when did I grow scruples? Still, maybe it’s time for a little carrot to balance out the stick.
“Alternatively, I can share my supply of bloodwine. It meets the requirements of the treaty.”

“You are speaking of Tiamat, are you not?” Lorcan appeared intrigued at the thought of access to Sentinel blood, which was a delicacy in Court circles. “I have heard of it.” He paused momentarily, thinking. “Very well, my Lord. If this is your will, I shall abide by it.”

Scott handed back Lorcan’s press credentials, then reached into his shirt pocket and added another plastic card. “This gives you limited access to our hotel and venues, as long as we are present in those locations. Our security staff will be instructed to bar your entry when we are not there.”

“I have already warded our staff against mental and magical influences,” said Nick. “I will immediately detect any form of tampering. We’ll book you a room on the same floor as ours. But for safety’s sake, since we’ll usually be traveling by day, we think it would be best if you found your own transport from city to city.”

“Last, but most important,” Scott said, his voice cold, “you are not, under any circumstances, to have any contact with the Magister without me being present.”

Nick blinked. Without changing his expression, he addressed Scott over the link.
“What are you doing?”
he demanded silently.
“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him?”

“Nick, trust me. I don’t want him to get any ideas.”

“Do you really think this is necessary?”

“I do,”
thought Scott.
“Let me handle him.”

Lorcan watched them intently. “Fire and Darkness!” he hissed.

Nick and Scott snapped their attention back to him. “What’s wrong?” asked Nick.

“You’re one of
them
—one of Luscian’s hybrids.” Lorcan stared at Nick in undisguised horror. “The two of you are linked, aren’t you? You’re a dyad.”

Nick looked at him sourly, realizing they had somehow given away their primary tactical advantage. “Yes, we are,” he answered. “Is that a problem, Lorcan?”

“No, my Lord.” The Nightwalker continued to stare at Nick. “If there’s nothing else, I will begin negotiations immediately and report my progress to you tonight after your concert.”

Nick tried to make sense of the dominant emotion he could feel boiling off the other vampire’s psyche. “By all means, Praetor. You are dismissed.”

Lorcan bowed to Nick as the Daywalker opened a window in the jumper block that surrounded the building. “My Lord.” Lorcan nodded at Scott. “Consul.” Then he jumped away, leaving Nick to wonder at the emotion the Nightwalker had been unable to conceal before he left.

Pity.

CHAPTER 41

August 2034; Paris, France; Two weeks later

Nick, wearing nothing but white sweatpants, relaxed on the couch in his room, enjoying a glass of Tiamat after signing off the video link Rory’s AI had set up. They had talked every night for the past two weeks, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours, but Rory always called before Nick went to bed. He smiled to himself as he took a sip of bloodwine.

He had planned on resuming his relationship with Rory at a slower pace, but Rory was insistent. They talked about everything, from the daily events of Nick’s tour to Rory’s slowly thawing relations with Anaba. It was like old times again, but without the secrets and lies Rory had been forced to tell to protect him. Nick had forgotten how much he missed the sound of the other vampire’s deep laugh. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Nick looked up at the sound of a quiet knock. Putting down his glass, he covered it and the bottle of bloodwine with a shroud of invisibility before pulling on a faded blue T-shirt as he walked to the door. Extending his senses into the hallway beyond, he saw who it was and frowned. He opened the door, leaving the ward intact and sealing the threshold from entry. “What do you want, Lorcan?”

Lorcan, dressed in a gray silk shirt and black slacks, gazed intently at him across the invisible threads of the ward. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No. I need to speak to you alone. If I wait until morning, Scott won’t allow it.” He smiled. “He’s been quite an effective chaperone.”

“That’s his job. Why would I possibly want to speak to you alone?” Nick asked coldly.

“Because I can almost guarantee you won’t want him to hear what I have to say.” He took a deep breath. “Nicholas, I swear on my life, on my honor, and on the honor of House Diluthical, that I mean you no harm tonight. Please let me in. It’s important.”

It was the first time the Court of Shadows vampire had addressed him by name without a title attached. Nick considered Lorcan suspiciously. The Nightwalker’s words contained an earnestness that hadn’t been there before.
What the hell,
he thought.
If he tries something, I can take him.
He laid his hand on the solid wall of air between them. “The way is opened.” The ward dissolved and he moved aside to allow Lorcan across the threshold.

Lorcan came in and sat in the chair across from the couch. Locking the door, Nick reactivated the ward, careful to enable his dyad brother to cross it at will. Then he walked back to sit on the couch, removing the shroud of invisibility over the bottle on the table, and picked up the half-full glass of steaming red liquor.

Lorcan looked at Nick’s glass and licked his lips. “Would you mind sharing?”

Nick pushed an empty glass toward him and Lorcan filled it then warmed the bloodwine. He sat back and took a sip, savoring it. “Triple Voice?”

“Yes.” Nick nodded impatiently. “You said you had something to say to me, so go ahead and say it.”

After another sip, Lorcan placed the glass on the table and laced his fingers together in front of him. “Tomorrow you will perform the last concert of your European Tour, and you will then return to Armistice territory. My negotiations on your behalf are already complete, so I will depart tonight as soon as we’re finished here. We will most probably never meet again. But before I leave, there’s something I want to speak to you about privately. Not as Court of Shadows to Armistice, not as Nightwalker to Daywalker, but as one immortal to another.”

Nick listened with growing irritation.
Talk, talk, talk. Get to the point already, so I can go to bed.
“Go ahead.”

“Scott Phillips Consul Luscian.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”

“Is he your lover?”

Nick felt like he had been dunked in ice water. “No,” he whispered.

“Do you want him to be?”

Nick couldn’t find the words to reply. He was drowning in the frigid fear of discovery, which masked the deep, burning pain he never allowed himself to acknowledge.

Lorcan watched him intently then sighed. “I was afraid of that. I noticed how you watch him when he isn’t paying attention, the way your scent changes when he touches you. I hoped I was wrong.”

Nick shook himself. “What business is it of yours?” he demanded angrily.