The Geomancer (38 page)

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Authors: Clay Griffith

BOOK: The Geomancer
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“Yes, but they were still there. They are always there whether they are hidden or not. They will be there forever.” Yidak stared into his mirrored eyes and leaned close to him, whispering, “Son of Dmitri.”

Greyfriar took the Demon King's hand. “Thank you. I think I know what you mean.”

“Good.” Yidak pushed away from the side with a laugh. “Someone should.”

As they returned to the center of the deck, Hiro darted forward and collided with Adele, hugging her tight. She leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Stay here,” he demanded. “Must you go?”

“I wish I could stay, but I must go and see to the safety of my people.”

“Can I come with you?”


May
I come with you,” Adele corrected him instinctively, as she had done to Simon a thousand times.

The boy turned to look at Yidak pleadingly. “May I go with them?”

Yidak shook his head sadly. “Not this time. Perhaps there will be another chance.”

Greyfriar nodded. “We'll come back. There's still much we can learn from each other.”

Takeda and Anhalt climbed the companionway to the quarterdeck to join them. The samurai pulled the katana from his sash and turned to face the Gurkha, bowing at the waist. “For you.”

Adele drew in a sharp breath.

Anhalt took it reverently in his hands. “You bestow a great honor on me, Takeda.”

“This blade never leaves the side of its master. May it watch over you.”

Anhalt bowed, holding the sword out as he did so. He fumbled with his own sword belt with one hand, unbuckling it, and held up the belt and his Fahrenheit saber. “For you. It's seen me through a lot of troubles.”

Takeda bowed again, receiving the sword and scabbard with both hands. “Perhaps one day we will meet when we won't need to carry weapons.”

Anhalt grinned. “If I last so long, I'd enjoy that.”

“Men such as you last forever.” Takeda wrapped the belt around his robed waist and buckled it on. He grasped the hilt of the saber and smiled at the touch of it.

Yidak's hand lifted in farewell to Adele and her companions. “You are always welcome here.”

Greyfriar's hand rose also. “And you are welcome outside.”

“Good. Someday I will make that journey. Just to see what becomes of you.” The old vampire reached into his robe and pulled out a copper cylinder. He offered it to Greyfriar. “This is your memory. It isn't much. But it is a start.”

Greyfriar took the cylinder carefully, running a gloved finger over the marks on the copper surface. “Thank you.”

Yidak bowed. “You are welcome.” Then he raised his head and let out a cry as he rose from the deck.

All around the ship the monks in their colorful robes lifted into the air. They floated beside the
Edinburgh
in a glorious armada of yellow and red. The vampire monks swirled about in a vibrant display. To Adele, they looked like a second sun cresting the mountain in their bright mantles. They circled the ship twice, wheeling in exquisite formation, and then descended to the Earth as the
Edinburgh
lifted higher into the sky.

Greyfriar pulled Adele closer and whispered, “Back to the real world.”

“Wasn't that the real world?”

“Depends on the two of us, I think.” He stared at the vanishing vampires drifting back to their hidden home.

C
HAPTER 36

The coming of spring was a time of sadness among vampires. They relished the cold and dark of winter. This spring seemed especially morose in Paris. As the riotous scents of fresh growth swirled and clumps of color appeared along the decrepit avenues and tumbled buildings, the warmer weather brought the human army stirring in their camp in Nevers. The Equatorians stretched their stiff limbs, shouldered their weapons, and assembled their columns to march north. Equatorian airships appeared overhead to launch bombing sorties. After the vampires concentrated their forces in the air over the city and numerous ships were torn from the air, the sorties stopped.

No vampires offered opposition to the Equatorian ground forces, even while endless swarms of packs from around France streamed into Paris. So within mere weeks of breaking winter camp, the distressing clank of Equatorian machines drifted over the southern limits of the city, fueling the already frantic atmosphere around the Seine River. Smoke rose from human campfires in nearby Fontainebleau where the Equatorians had established a base that sprawled for miles south of Paris.

From her home exile at the Tuileries, Caterina had no knowledge of why Lady Hallow filled the city with packs while allowing the human army to march virtually right up to the Seine River. When Hallow had been banished from the palace, the power simply went with her. She and Honore ruled from their nest across town at the Hotel de Ville. The pack leaders and clan lords swarmed there. The Tuileries became a backwater, forgotten and ignored.

Caterina smelled the end coming before it arrived. The balmy evening breeze brought warning of Honore and Lady Hallow. The Witchfinder was with them, along with a fourth scent, a strange frightening harshness that Caterina almost recognized but couldn't place. Everything told her to flee, gather the children and get out of Paris. Leave everything behind because there was nothing here any longer.

However, Caterina was the queen. To run meant that the world had crumbled. She refused to believe they had come to that place.

Honore and Hallow entered Caterina's private room without requesting permission. The queen stiffened with pointless indignation. Behind them came the Witchfinder, with a confident expression that no human in the north should have. He was almost insulting in his calm demeanor. The Witchfinder paid no more homage to the queen than her son had. Caterina waited for the disturbing fourth, but no one else entered the room.

“Mother,” Honore said, “the time has come.”

“Has it?” Caterina put her balled fists on her hips.

“I'm taking the clan. The packs will support me. The clan lords will stand by and do nothing. Father is finished.”

The queen eyed her son with unrestrained rage. “So you're going to kill him? Is that the monster you've become?”

“Yes.” Honore seemed to vibrate with nervous energy. “There's no other way to save the clan.”

Now Caterina turned her attention to Hallow. “This is
your
doing. He isn't cunning enough.”

Lady Hallow remained calm. “It's the king we want. We have no qualms with you, despite your attempt to assassinate me.”

Caterina laughed, but the sound froze in her throat as another figure slid into view. A shudder shook her body at the sight of Flay in the doorway, a horrible specter of her former self. The old war chief of the merciless Cesare stared coldly into the room. The shadowy shapes of more vampires crowded behind her.

Lady Hallow continued, “Your Majesty, you will testify before the clan lords that Lothaire aided the traitor Gareth. In return, we will forget your indiscretion with that mob of dissolute children to take my life. Then we will schedule the king's execution and the assumption of Honore to the throne.”

“Are you insane?” Caterina let her claws slip from her fingertips. “You can kill me then. I will never say anything against Lothaire.”

Flay shook her head with a disgusted glare. “Just kill them both.”

Hallow barked over her shoulder, “Quiet, Flay! We need
proof
that the king is a traitor. We want the queen to provide that proof. Honore must assume the throne in a completely proper fashion.”

Flay cast a quick, savage glare at the pale female, then slipped back into the hallway.

Honore smiled at Caterina with failed charm. “Mother, please. Do as we say. It's for the best. Father isn't suitable for this crisis. When I'm king, I'll take care of you.”

Caterina felt sick. Surely she hadn't borne this pathetic creature. “I can't believe you're Lothaire's son. Look at you. You're weak. And a liar. I could understand if you simply wanted power. But you're doing this because you're afraid of
them
. Those outsiders. I can't even hate you, Honore. I just never want to see you again.”

Hallow said, “We can arrange that, Majesty.”

The Witchfinder exhaled in annoyance. “Oh please, Hallow, just do whatever it is you're doing. I'm behind on my work. I've hardly slept preparing Paris in case Empress Adele comes to call.”

“She will,” Flay murmured from the shadows.

Goronwy ignored the vitriol in her tone. “Perhaps. I've spent
my
valuable time insuring that the empress can't burn you all to cinders like she did my former employers in Britain. I should be at Notre Dame positioning my crystals, not here listening to children bicker over who does what. So will the lot of you just sort it out?”

Hallow waved her hand toward the queen. “Flay, take her.”

Honore blocked Flay. “Don't lay hands on her!”

The old war chief reacted on instinct and seized the Dauphin's arm with her claws. Snarling, she brought Honore to his knees. He shouted in frightened alarm and Hallow gasped.

Caterina ran for a window and leapt out. She caught the wind, propelling herself around the corner. She clutched the wall tightly, crawled down, and swung inside one of the countless open windows. She knew there was a wide gap in the floor in this chamber. She dropped through it into another room, then quickly pressed into a crack in the plaster. She slid between the interior walls before falling to her knees and wriggling into a long unused back corridor. There were very few holes in the Tuileries she didn't know because she had chased her children through all of them.

Inside the nursery, Lothaire sat with the toddler and the two whispering twins when Caterina shoved her way through a gap in the ceiling. They all looked in amazement as the queen rose, shedding chunks of plaster and splintered wood. She ran for Lothaire, trailing a cloud of dust.

“Run!” She grasped her husband's arm and pulled him to his feet. “You must run.”

Lothaire clutched the baby with one arm and tried to steady his wife with the other. “What's wrong? Are the Equatorians in the city?”

“No.” Caterina wrestled the small child away from him and put him down on the floor with a gentle shove toward the twins. “Please, Lothaire, just run. They're coming for you.”

“Who's coming? Caterina, please calm yourself.”

“Honore has turned against you. He and Lady Hallow want you dead.”

“What?” Lothaire instinctively comforted his wife. “Are you sure? Tell me what happened?”

Caterina continued to pull him toward a window. “Flay is in Paris. I saw her. She is with Hallow and the Witchfinder.”

“Flay! You must be mistaken. You're delirious. Calm down.”

“They're all in league. All of Cesare's old cohorts. They want Paris. If you can stay alive, they'll never be able to do it. Please run!”

“What about you? What about the children? I can't just run away.”

Caterina cupped her husband's cheek in her palm. “They want me because they think I will betray you. They won't hurt the children if they have any prayer of me cooperating. I can buy time. So go. Across the river. Quai du Voltaire. Left from Pont Royal. The next block down. There is a blue door. Find Kasteel. He can hide you and get you out of Paris.”

“Out of Paris?” Lothaire drew himself up. “I won't abandon my family.”

“Your Majesty.” Honore stood at the door with mercenary fighters behind him. “Stand where you are.”

Lothaire stepped in front of his wife. “Is it true, Honore? Have you given the clan to those outsiders? To Hallow? And Flay?”

“They're
my
retainers. I'll be king.”

“No.” Lothaire raised his claws. “This can't happen.”

Honore smirked. “Do you want to fight me? You're old and fat.”

“Don't,” came Flay's warning voice from outside the window. “Hallow wants a public execution, not a murder in the shadows.” She lit on the sill and grinned at the royal couple, who stood just under her terrible figure.

“Run!” Caterina shouted to Lothaire as she pulled a surprised Flay to the floor, wrapping her in a tight grip. The mercenaries rushed forward, while Caterina caught a glimpse of Lothaire plunging out the window.

The queen now snarled and lashed out, battering Flay against the floor. She was fueled by the image of Lothaire dying at the former war chief's claws. Caterina tightened her arms around Flay's chest, wishing she could crush the monster to death. Flay threw her head back, cracking against Caterina's forehead.

Many hands seized Caterina. She fought back, straining to hold Flay, trying to bite her in the throat. Fingers ripped through the queen's hair and tore at her face. She screamed as her grip was pulled away from Flay. The war chief cursed and smashed her fist against Caterina's jaw. She kicked the queen in the stomach and pushed herself free. Caterina continued to fight against the many claws that strained to hold her.

“Damn you.” Flay staggered upright. She pointed at several of her mercenaries. “Why are you standing there? Go after the king, you imbeciles!”

When some of the hands released Caterina, she nearly broke free. Strong arms clenched around her throat. Feet crashed into her knees, knocking her to the floor, and she was pressed under ruthless arms and legs. The twins had stopped whispering and the baby wailed.

Honore pulled the mercenaries off his mother, cursing and shoving them away. Then he nearly lost his hold on the queen as she surged toward Flay, snapping again with her teeth. Honore wrestled his mother under control. She glared up into his face and slapped him. Then she suddenly felt spent and collapsed with a sorrowful exhaustion under her son's stunned expression.

Flay smiled at the charming family tragedy while she pushed loose strands of hair from her face. “Bring your mother along, Dauphin.” The war chief spit blood on the floor of the nursery and left the room.

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