After Daybreak (10 page)

Chapter 11

T
he Vampire Council. I’m staring at it. The heart that moves the world is right in front of me. Thirteen vampires sit around a large, wooden table, a single chandelier hanging from the ceiling. On the walls, misaligned portraits of their ancestors, painted by some long-forgotten artist in an era left to history books. Thirteen Old Family vampires. Some are elderly, ancient even, with straggly gray hair that hangs on only by some miracle. Others are younger and appear to be Clive’s age, even though they may be pushing five hundred. At least one is the same age as Victor but not nearly as handsome, his plump body giving way to a rotund and almost-teenish face.

And one woman. She must be Lilith. She’s intimidating, reflecting an aged beauty that is timeless yet frightening. Her stare is stern and cold, as though she’s uninterested in things that don’t bleed for her. I’m reminded of a school mistress from classrooms that could only be found in a child’s nightmare. I guess I was hoping for someone a little, I don’t know, softer.

None of them stand up or offer us seats. They simply turn as little as possible to get a view of their new guests. It doesn’t even seem like we interrupted anything, and I can easily imagine this group gathering dust while waiting for some important news to come their way.

“Forgive my absence,” Victor says. “I should have reported immediately once my father was no longer head of the family. But I trust you received word from the messenger I sent.”

Victor is speaking more formally, melding into the world in which he’s lived for four hundred years. For his efforts, he receives a bored pause, while each of the Old Family look at each other, wondering who will bother speaking first. One of the oldest finally does.

“Yes, we were informed by your messenger that changes were afoot. Not exactly proper, but that isn’t unusual for the House of Valentine.”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Paxton?” Victor asks, a calm but immensely powerful tone in his voice that demands everyone be held accountable for what they say in front of him.

“Your father chose to abandon his post here and live near that
city
.” He says the last word with disgust, as though it tastes bad on his tongue. “A very, very disrespectful thing to do.”

“Perhaps he chose to spend time at a place that he could mold, rather than sitting in a room, waiting for the world to mold him.”

“I never expected you to defend your father.”

“I’ll defend who I choose and it will be no business of yours.”

“Watch your tone, young Valentine,” a vampire who looks familiar says. “My grandson stands at your side. I would not have him painted with the brush of your impudence.”

Now I recognize that he has Richard’s eyes, his sharp features. He’s the head of the Carrollton family: Montague Carrollton.

“Apologies, my lord,” Victor says. “I would do nothing to disrespect your grandson or your esteemed family.”

“Apology accepted.” Lord Carrollton glances around. “Shall we speed these proceedings along? I wish to have some time with my grandson.”

“Very well,” Lord Paxton says. “Young Carrollton, you stood as witness to this Valentine’s rise?”

“I did, my lord.”

“Was it an honorable battle?”

“It was, my lord. No one interfered. It was father and son. I give you my word.”

“Lady Faith, were you also in attendance at your father’s passing?”

“I was.”

“Did you find fault with it?”

“I did not, my lord,” she says, her confidence matching her beauty. “My father brought on his own demise by challenging my brother. In fact, he taunted him, forced him to take action.”

“Then it seems, Victor Valentine, that you have earned the right to take a seat at this table, to be named the head of the Valentine house.”

“Do not be so hasty,” the chubby-faced Old Family says, “to give such power to such arrogance. Barging in here after a long absence is perhaps forgivable. But to have the audacity to bring a human in here as well, I’m afraid, is intolerable.”

“Lord Asher, in this instance, tolerances must be given,” Victor says.

“Is that so?” he scoffs.

“It is.” Victor stares at Asher, daring him to challenge him, to say anything else. But Asher simply leans back, as if bored with this conversation. I’m surprised he retreated so easily.

“Who is this young woman, then?” Paxton asks.

“Allow me the honor to present Dawn Montgomery.”

I hold my breath, waiting for their reaction. There’s a slight murmur at the sound of my last name from the oldest council members. They may be wondering: Is she
the
Montgomery? The fifteenth family of myth? Or does the name mean nothing at all to them, eradicated from their memories just as my ancestors were removed from life?

“She was the delegate for Denver,” Victor says, and the whispers die down, my position as nothing more than common human reaffirmed in their eyes. “She, along with Richard, Faith, and myself, has uncovered information of grave importance. A plan that could threaten all of vampire-kind is already unfolding. We need the Council’s help to stop it.”

Over the next half hour, we tell them everything: Sin, Day Walkers, the Chosen, Los Angeles. Victor speaks with confidence and often passes the explanations to me. Whenever I begin, I hear the groans of the Old Family, as if disgusted by my human breath in this room. But then I realize that I once dealt with the Bloody Valentine, I’ve faced down Sin, I’ve spoken to the oldest vampire in the world. And when I remember these things, I’m not worried anymore, and I become a delegate again. Not a delegate for Denver, but for all of humanity.

“Using the V-Process, Sin is creating powerful monsters that he could use to gain control of all the territories.”

Lord Carrollton sighs. “I see the boy holds a grudge.”

“I should think the humans would welcome a change in leadership,” Lord Paxton says.

I shake my head. “He’ll reduce our lives to a despair worse than what we now endure. I’ve seen the Chosen. Victor fought one, and it nearly killed him before he—we—were able to destroy it. Richard has dealt with them as well. Sin’s plan is to have five hundred. Humans can’t defeat Sin alone. We need you; we need to all be on the same side if we’re going to stop him.”

“This is nothing but myth and conjecture,” Asher says. “If you had come by yourself, Victor, perhaps we would have believed you. But to bring a human with you to bolster your case, I’m afraid that you have lost all credibility with this Council.”

“Do not speak so quickly or harshly,” Lord Carrollton says. “Human words carry no weight here, but Los Angeles is Carrollton territory. Richard, what do you know of this?”

“The Thirst is rampant outside Los Angeles. The Infected hordes are rampaging through the countryside. I went to see Father. We—Faith, Dawn, and I—went to see him. I’m sorry to report, Grandfather, that my father was killed long before we arrived. All his Lessers are Infected.”

Lord Carrollton closes his eyes for a moment and sighs heavily. “I should have followed Murdoch Valentine’s example and overseen the territory of Los Angeles myself.”

“With all due respect, Grandfather, I don’t think it would have made a difference. It is as Dawn has indicated. The Chosen are formidable foes.”

“Let us assume that this is all true, just for the moment,” the eldest-looking vampire says. “What do you propose we do, Victor?”

“Lord Delacroix, in times of great danger, the Old Families will each send one child to fight for the whole. I ask that now. We need to go to Los Angeles and destroy the V-Processing center.”

“Wasn’t it
your
duty to get rid of the V-Process?” Asher asks.

Victor wastes no time with his response. “This one was built without my knowledge. Had I known, it would have been destroyed with the others.”

“Your lack of knowledge is no concern of ours. This is your fault, not the Council’s. Now you ask each of us to send a child to fight for you, a fight that is yours and yours alone?”

“You fail to see the larger picture,” Victor says. “Unsurprising coming from the Asher family. Perhaps I should have brought a coloring book so you could busy yourself while I discussed serious matters with the Council.”

“How dare you!”

“Enough!”

It’s Lilith Ferdinand. Her tone is powerful, slicing through the bickering. Everyone holds silent for her.

“You have made your case, and a very good one at that,” she says. “And you are correct: In times of great danger that affect us all, the Old Families will band together in such a way, but we do not go to war lightly. If that is your proposal, then it is time we vote on it.”

My heart thumps and I’m sure they can hear it.

“All those in favor of Victor Valentine’s proposal that we each send a child to fight with him, to destroy the V-Processing center in Los Angeles, in order to stop this army of Day Walkers and Chosen from growing any further—raise your hand.”

Some do.

“All opposed?”

The others follow.

“The Council has spoken,” Lilith says. “Seven to seven. I’m sorry, Victor, but we cannot help. The Council is divided, so we may take no action.”

No. This can’t be.

“Perhaps we didn’t make our case well enough,” Victor says, taking a step forward. “We can’t beat him alone. If we lose, all is lost.”

“You’re a bit dramatic,” Lord Asher says.

Am I going to do this?

“You are forcing us to take on this darkness by ourselves.”

“We did not create the darkness,” Lord Paxton says.

Am I really about to say this?

“You spoke,” Lord Paxton continues. “We listened, we voted—”

There’s no choice.

“The house of Montgomery didn’t vote,” I say. “As its representative, I vote yes.”

Everyone around the table looks as though they were just blinded by the sun—except Lilith. She is studying me, perhaps seeing me clearly for the first time.

“There is no longer a house of Montgomery,” Lord Asher says.

“There is. And I, Dawn Montgomery, descendant of Octavian Montgomery, claim my family’s seat on the Council.”

Chapter 12

V
ictor is immediately at my side, taking my hand. With that simple touch, I feel his support and belief in me. I know he didn’t want me to reveal my heritage, but now that I have, he won’t let me stand alone. My love for him grows and I squeeze his fingers.

I wait a moment, gauging the Council’s reaction. There isn’t one at first, but slowly a smile appears on one of their faces. And then another. And another. Soon, the smiles turn to laughter, polite and soft at first, before becoming loud and boisterous. They turn toward one another, enjoying the joke in front of them.

All except for Lilith, who gives the smallest smile as she arches an eyebrow. She’s holding my gaze, communicating with me.
They’re all fools
, she seems to be saying.

“Whoever said the Valentines had lost their sense of humor a thousand years ago?” Asher asks.

The laughing continues, but I know what will make it stop.

“I am Dawn Montgomery.
The
Montgomery. The very last. I am Old Family.”

Reaching into my jacket, I pull out the Confirmation Decree, the vampiric family tree, the modern records and place them on the table, carefully, with all the respect they deserve. With them, I have the power to turn the tide.

Before I can pull my hand back, the closest vampire, Asher, grabs my arm tightly. I see the anger in his eyes and the fangs beginning to lengthen in his mouth. But if he was fast, Victor is faster, and much quieter. His long lean fingers are clutching the man’s wrist.

“It’s bad manners to touch an Old Family member without permission, Asher,” Victor says. “Some have been killed for less.”

“And yet you touch me as well. What is this game you’re playing, Valentine?”

“There is no game. See for yourself.”

Victor releases his hold after Asher lets go of my wrist. Even though it hurts badly, I don’t rub it. To reveal any weakness is to put us all in danger.

If Victor is nervous about me speaking so boldly, he doesn’t show it. I have no doubt that he’d throw his life down right now if it came to it. He isn’t holding me, but I can feel his presence so strongly that he might as well be. Stealing a glance at him, I see pride and admiration.

One of the men eagerly grabs the parchment and reads. When he flips the page, I can tell he’s going over the signature again. And again. And again.

“Do you care to explain yourself, Lilith?” he asks, tossing the paper toward her.

She glances down at it before passing it to the Council member to her right. That man reads it, is left in stunned disbelief, and then passes it along. So on and so on, until Asher gets his hands on it. Somehow it angers me that his grubby little fingers trace the story of my lineage. And his eyes stop on Lilith’s signature, just as Victor’s had.

“What. Is. This?” he demands, flinging the parchment to the center of the table, where it lies stranded.

With a calm, collected voice, Lilith finally speaks. “Have you never seen a Confirmation Decree, Byron Asher?”

“Of course I have! But not one for a family that was eradicated a millennia ago. Do you realize the damage you’ve done to your family by signing such lies as these!”

“You dare question the authority of my signature?” she asks, ice in her voice. She’s clearly used to dealing with men just like Asher. “In front of the Council, in front of all the families, you
dare
to question the honor of the Ferdinand family?”

“I question
your
honor, not your family’s—”

“I
am
the House of Ferdinand and have been so for five hundred years, longer than you’ve lived.”

Asher says nothing, perhaps realizing he can’t win this one alone.

So it is Lord Delacroix who speaks, his tone measured and controlled.

“Lilith, no one here would think to question your loyalty or honor, but we must also inquire as to why you have signed a Confirmation Decree for a family that also has a death warrant signed by all of us.”

“By our ancestors,” she corrects. “And I have to explain myself to no one. If anyone here wishes to challenge the legitimacy of this document, and of Dawn Montgomery’s claim as Old Family, then they must challenge the legitimacy of the entire House of Ferdinand. Here and now.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” another says. “Lilith, you may explain yourself in due time to all of us. But until such a time, and for the integrity of the Council, I must insist that Dawn Montgomery remain, as it were, a human, and unable to take seat at this Council.”

“No,” I say. “I demand the seat that was stolen from my ancestors.”

He looks at me, and his reasoned voice has given way to a cold stare. “Child, need I remind you that there is still a death warrant on all Montgomerys. That name, perhaps, may not be one whose weight you are ready to bear.”

“Oh, enough of this!” Asher says. “Have you all gone mad? Are we seriously entertaining the thought that this girl—who contains but a single drop of Montgomery blood—should be allowed a seat on the Council?”

“That’s exactly what we’re entertaining,” Lilith says. The room goes silent again, which seems its natural state. As time passes, Lilith looks for challengers, and when no one speaks, she does. “We’ve been very rude to our guests. Please, Dawn, Victor, Richard, and Faith, if you would be so kind as to join me in my study, we may discuss this further without constant interruption.”

She stands, and in her movements I can see the obvious grace of Old Family women. Faith has it, but Lilith’s is even more refined, as if each step were practiced a thousand times before letting it show in public.

She leads the way out of the chamber and back down the stairs, all four of us in tow. In the room where all the companions wait, I see an incredibly striking young man stand up as his mistress enters. Lilith simply waves him down and he obeys, knowing it isn’t time for him yet.

Her study is down a hall and up another staircase, and when she pulls back the door, I’m impressed by all the worldly objects crammed into a single space. Paintings and tiny sculptures and strange artifacts from across the globe line shelves and desks. At the far end is a great Gothic window that looks out onto the night, and I realize then just how high up we are.

“I knew you would come eventually,” she begins, turning toward us. “As soon as you stepped through that door, I knew. You look like a Montgomery; I could place you anywhere.”

“Lady Ferdinand,” I say, giving a little curtsy, “I thank you for your kind words in the council chamber.”

“Oh dear, there’s no need to curtsy for me. You are Old Family after all.”

“Is it true?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m sure you have so many questions, but first, let me tell you my role in this bizarre drama.”

We listen as Lilith tells us about the Montgomery family, words that I can hardly imagine I’m actually hearing, but they seem only to confirm everything I’ve always known was deep inside me. I clutch Victor’s hand and scoot up to the edge of the seat, not wanting to miss a single syllable she utters.

The Montgomery family could produce dhampirs, she tells us. Half human, half vampire. This ability, as well as these unusual creatures, was feared by all the families and a death warrant was signed, led by the Valentine house.

“My great-grandfather, Errol Ferdinand, refused to sign the death warrant,” she says. “And it was of such importance that until it was signed by everyone, excluding the Montgomerys of course, it could not be acted upon. So Errol was murdered by his own brother.”

“And there was no witness,” I say.

She smiles, strokes the necklace she wears, the Ferdinand family seal secured at the bottom. “I see you’ve been getting some history lessons. There’s a bit of a debate as to whether a witness was involved. I doubt it, but others in my family would disagree. Nonetheless, our clan was torn apart after that. Errol had not yet become ash when the death warrant was signed by the new Lord Ferdinand.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Thank you, child.” Lilith walks over to a painting of a very handsome young man, whose features are much like her own: strong, confident, and at the same time chilly.

“Errol’s son, my grandfather, Gustav, hated what had happened. The death warrant issued for the Montgomery family represented to him all that was wrong with us: our fear of anything different. The other families’ obsession with blood purity was so great that they would eradicate an entire family. And for what? They placed such value on blood yet were willing to spill it so easily. Centuries passed, and Montgomerys were killed. Gustav eventually ascended the throne, killing the vampire who killed his father.”

Lilith traces her hand over a long, metal dagger just below the picture, and I wonder if it was with that very weapon that Gustav reclaimed the throne.

“After that, Gustav made it his life’s goal to find any remaining Montgomerys and protect them, just as his own father would have protected them had he been given the chance. It took him a century of looking, but he found him. The one Montgomery who had escaped. Gustav visited him in the loneliest cabin in the deepest woods, so far from all things. Around a small table a pact was made: The Montgomery line could continue. One son each generation, to be born to a human mother. In that way the blood would become diluted, but the name would always remain.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask. “Going against the death warrant would have been a crime. Right?”

“Yes, and punishable by death. Which is what happened to him one night. Killed by a Valentine who suspected the pact had been made. I’m afraid that’s where the rift between our two families began, Victor.” She nods toward him. “I hope we may close that chasm.”

Victor nods in return.

“Even two thousand years ago,” she continues, “the Ferdinands knew that one day there would be a war between humankind and vampires. Our differences are too great. But when they heard of the Montgomerys’ ability to conceive with humans, the Ferdinands saw their salvation. The Montgomerys could act as a bridge, bringing together both sides. In such a way, a war could be prevented. But when that death warrant was signed, my ancestors felt that we had in fact sealed our own deaths. We always thought that if we could save the Montgomerys, perhaps we could save ourselves.”

In the painting, Gustav’s eyes speak something else now. I think the painter captured it: hope that he’d made a difference.

“So it was that the Montgomery line continued, albeit slowly. They were always in danger, but as time passed, their name was forgotten by most families as sons killed fathers to acquire power—we are a bloodthirsty lot. All the original signers eventually perished. Those who came after began to think the Montgomerys nothing more than a myth. But the Ferdinands had made one more promise: They would forever remind the son of Montgomery of his lineage and of his pact to carry it forward. It has been my duty, for five hundred years now, to visit the son of the Montgomery line and to tell him of his true heritage.”

“You mean—”

But she holds up her hand before I can continue, knowing that what I was going to say would pain me too much.

“I never met your father,” she says. “I was unable to reach him in time, and for that I’m deeply sorry. But I did meet
his
father and told him the truth. It’s amazing. Every time I spoke to a Montgomery, they were rarely shocked. In many ways, I think they’ve always known. Even more telling is their ability to hold it forever, to keep it secret.” She sighs deeply. “Now
that
is the mark of Old Family.”

“And that’s why you signed that Confirmation Decree.”

“That’s part of the reason, yes. But there’s another, and this is where our little tale takes an interesting twist: No doubt you’ve seen the Montgomery family tree, and no doubt you’ve seen the branch that held two children. Maximillian Montgomery had a son and a daughter: Esmerelda. The first female Montgomery ever born. With her, I saw the chance to finally bring the Montgomerys back out of the shadows. I thought enough time had passed since the warrant was signed; I hoped that the Montgomerys would be embraced. Already the fear of war was growing.

“And so I played matchmaker as it were. Esmerelda was quite simply beautiful, and she had enough Old Family blood in her that she was irresistible. And so I persuaded her to pursue one Murdoch Valentine.”

At this she gives an incredibly wicked smile, and I give one back.

“Your father, Victor, was notorious for taking human companions. Imagine his surprise when he took Esmerelda and found several months later that she had become pregnant with his child.”

He would have been floored. With the exception of the Montgomerys, humans and vampires can’t have children. But Esmerelda had enough Old Family in her that she could carry Murdoch’s son. A son who would grow up to become . . .

“Sin,” I say.

“That’s right. A horrid name given to him by Murdoch. He hated the child from the outset. And he hated him even more when I arrived at his doorstep with the Confirmation Decree, showing that Esmerelda was part of the Montgomery family. Imagine his anger at knowing that he helped to continue that blood line by complete accident, a family his own ancestors had tried to eradicate.”

“No wonder he hated Sin.”

“Yes, and his hatred only grew when he found the child’s gift of day walking. He hated him so much that he did away with the boy’s mother.”

I cringe at that. Victor puts his arm around me.

“I’m so sorry, Dawn,” Lilith says. “I had no idea Murdoch would do that to her. The Valentines were the most powerful family, and they led the charge to compose the death warrant. I thought that if Murdoch’s son were a Montgomery, he would have to do the only honorable thing: embrace the Montgomerys, call an end to the destruction of their family. I thought, at the very least, he would protect Esmerelda. But I was wrong on all counts.”

I think back to the family tree I saw but now fill in the lines myself. Esmerelda Montgomery and Murdoch Valentine, the parents of Sin Valentine. But there was another branch to that tree.

“Esmerelda’s brother,” I prompt.