Dark War (7 page)

  Devona's father.

 
 

 
 

Like all the Darklords, Galm projected an aura of power, and his presence filled the room with a charged atmosphere like the air right before a thunderstorm. He moved with the liquid grace of a jungle predator, seemingly at ease but ready to strike at any moment.

  Servia and Varney kept their heads bowed and didn't move a muscle as their lord and master glided past. Devona didn't react to Galm with the same sort of subservience as the other two – he was her father, after all – but she looked shocked to see him, which was understandable, since the last time they'd spoken Galm had cast her out of the Bloodborn, told her that she wasn't welcome in his home, and – most hurtful of all – that as far as he was concerned, she was no longer his daughter. 

  I wasn't a vampire – at least not in this dimension – but I still felt the psychic impact of Galm's presence. I refused to let myself be intimidated, though. I'd dealt with Darklords before, Galm included, and while I respected the fact they were on top of the supernatural food chain, I'd be damned if I'd allow any of them to think they cowed me.

  "Hello, Galm. I'd say it's nice to see you again, but my mother taught me never to lie to bloodsucking monsters."

  Galm looked at me, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson, but all he said was, "Richter," before turning his attention to Devona. He crossed to her bed and stood beside it, on the opposite side from where I was. He didn't smile, didn't reach out to take her hand. His eyes – cold blue once more – looked at her without even a glimmer of affection. 

  "When you were admitted, the hospital staff contacted the Cathedral and told my people. I came as soon as I was informed." Galm's tone was reserved, each of his words precisely enunciated, almost as if it required extra concentration for him to speak. He was thousands of years old, and I wondered if he was so ancient and powerful that he sometimes had difficulty remembering simple things, like how to use language. As inhuman as vampires can be by their very nature, the older they get, the more alien they become – and no vampire is older than Lord Galm. 

  Devona's initial surprise gave way to anger, and she struggled to control her voice as she spoke. "I didn't know you cared, Father."

  Galm opened his mouth to reply, then stopped as if reconsidering his words. He looked at Servia and Varney, who remained kneeling, and said, "You two may rise."

  Servia and Varney did as they were commanded. Neither spoke and they stood very still, as if afraid to draw the vampire king's attention. Unfortunately for them, Galm did not take his gaze off them. 

  He pointed to Varney. "What is your purpose here?"

  Varney quickly – and without stuttering too badly – told Galm about the documentary he was filming. Galm looked at him a moment, and then said, "You may wait in the hall."

  Varney, looking very relieved to be dismissed, bowed his head once, and got the hell out of there. I half-expected him to leave one of his little bugcameras behind, but I didn't see him launch one. As much as Varney wanted to get good footage for the documentary, it seemed he wanted to risk angering Galm even less. I can't say I was sorry to see Varney kicked out.

  Galm then looked at Servia. "You are her doctor, I assume?"

  "Yes, my lord," Servia answered in a docile tone that contained no hint of her former haughtiness. 

  "Tell me about my daughter's condition."

  Servia did so, clearly and concisely, and then Galm dismissed her. She left with more dignity than Varney, but it was still obvious from her expression that she was just as relieved to go. When the doctor was gone, Galm turned back to Devona. 

  "I am glad to hear that you and your baby suffered no permanent ill effects from your journey." 

  "Let's skip the pleasantries, Father," Devona said. "Why are you here? It's not out of concern for me, so there must be something you want." 

  Galm's features were as composed as any statue's, but as I looked across Devona's bed at him, I thought I detected a slight softening of his gaze. If he had been human, I might have thought her comment had hurt him. But this was Galm; mere words could never harm a being like him. Could they? 

  "Devona… as you know, live births are rare events among our kind."

  That was putting it mildly. Vampires' primary method of reproduction was to exchange blood with a human who they'd drained near to death, hence the term Bloodborn. Vampires considered these converts to be their true children, normally carefully chosen and groomed to enter the realm of the undead. Sometimes, however, vampires mated with humans because their crossbreed progeny often possessed powerful psychic abilities that fully undead vampires didn't. That was the reason Galm had impregnated Devona's human mother, who had died during childbirth, as is often the case when human women bear half-vampire children, even with the help of the doctors at the Fever House. Galm had never demonstrated any love for Devona. He'd viewed her as nothing more than a useful tool, and when she was old enough, he'd put her to work in the Cathedral. In time, she had demonstrated an aptitude for understanding magic, if not casting spells herself, and Galm had made her the caretaker of his collection of rare and powerful artifacts. It had been her task to maintain the wardspells protecting the collection, and she had done so successfully for over fifty years before one of the objects was stolen and she'd hired me to find it.

  "Don't tell me you're becoming sentimental in your old age," Devona said. "You're not exactly the type to get all excited about being a grandfather." 

  Devona was being pretty harsh with Galm, and though the sonofabitch undoubtedly deserved it, I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. But only a bit.

  Galm continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And no half-vampire has ever become pregnant before. This is a unique occurrence in the history of the Bloodborn, so naturally I am interested in following its progress." He paused. "I have had some time to think about what I said to you when we last spoke, and I have come to the conclusion that I was too hard on you. You have twice saved the city from destruction…" He looked at me, and one side of his mouth curled in mild disgust. "With your help, of course, Richter." 

  "Nice to be included," I said.

  "And you have gone on to create a successful business for yourself. In only a few short months, the Midnight Watch has become the most soughtafter security firm in the city, with a reputation for providing protection equal to none. All most impressive accomplishments, befitting the daughter of a Darklord."

  I could feel Devona's emotions through our link. On one hand she was deeply suspicious of her father's change of heart – he
was
a Darklord, after all, and none of them are to be entirely trusted – but she also couldn't help hoping that what he was telling her was true, that if he didn't exactly love his half-human daughter, he'd at least finally come to see some value in her. Me? I didn't know what to believe, but I figured remaining suspicious was the safest bet.

  "Does this mean she's no longer outcast?" I asked. 

  Galm looked down at Devona and smiled, though the expression looked unnatural on him, as if it had been many years since he'd last attempted it and couldn't quite recall how.

  "You are once again a full member of the Bloodborn, my daughter, and you are welcome in my home whenever you wish to come." He glanced at me. "And as her… partner, you are also welcome in the Cathedral."

  "Does this mean I get to call you Dad?" I asked. 

  His ice-blue eyes flashed red and a low growl escaped his throat. "As the saying goes, 'Don't push your luck.'" His eyes returned to normal and he looked at Devona once more. "I… I don't know what to say."

  Galm smiled once more, and this time it seemed more natural. "You could always try 'thank you.'" 

  Galm hadn't exactly apologized for how he'd treated Devona, but he'd come as close as a creature like him could. Evidently Devona thought the same thing because she returned his smile and said, "Thanks."

  Galm nodded briskly, as if they'd just concluded a business deal. "Good! And now that the matter is settled, I urge you to consider moving into the Cathedral for the remainder of your pregnancy." 

  "What?" Devona looked shocked, and I couldn't blame her. For the last several months, she'd been an outcast among her people, and now not only had her father welcomed her back into the fold, he was asking her to move home.

  "The doctor advised you to avoid exposure to magic until you deliver your baby. In the Cathedral, I can arrange for the construction of a completely magic-free chamber for you. Not only would you be protected from mystical energies there, you could avoid some of the more, ah,
hazardous
aspects of your profession. You could still manage your business from the Cathedral, of course. I'd make certain you had whatever technology you require for your work: voxes, Aethernet access…" 

  "That's… very generous of you, Father," Devona said. "But I assure you, I'll be fine. Won't I, Matt?" 

  When I didn't answer right away, Devona scowled. "Won't I?" she repeated in a tone that said I'd better hurry up and agree with her if I knew what was good for me.

  "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you should give some thought to Galm's proposal." I hurried on before she could interrupt. "I know you hate the idea of being shut away from the world like some too-delicate thing that can't take care of herself. And I know that Galm and I sound like a couple of sexist Neanderthals for suggesting it." I glanced at Galm. "Although as old as he is, he probably can't help acting like a caveman since he literally was one once."

  Galm frowned at me but said nothing, so I went on.

  "Back on Earth, when a woman has a high-risk pregnancy, doctors often advise her to avoid strenuous activity and remain at home on bed rest. Not because they're patronizing her, but because they truly believe that's what's best for her health and the health of her baby. I'll support whatever decision you make – you know that – but I think you should make your decision based on logic, not emotion."

  Devona looked at me for a long moment. Not only was her expression unreadable, but I couldn't sense anything through our link, and I knew she was shutting me out, psychically speaking. 

  "That's good advice," she said to me at last, and then turned to her father. "That's how you always make decisions, isn't it? Logically. I'd almost started to believe that there might have been some scrap of emotion motivating your offer to have me stay in the Cathedral, but you never do anything unless it's in your best interest or that of the Bloodborn – and as far as you're concerned, they amount to the same thing, don't they? You created me because you hoped I'd possess psychic abilities you'd find useful. And while those abilities have grown and strengthened over the last few months, they aren't so powerful or irreplaceable that you'd rescind my exile just to get them back. No, there has to be another reason behind your offer, and since you don't want me or my powers, it must be my baby that you want."

  I felt a surge of anger upon hearing Devona's words, and I felt like kicking myself for being dumb enough to think that Galm might've actually cared about his daughter's health.

  For his part, Galm gave no response to Devona, but while his face remained as impassive and cold as an ice sculpture, there was something in his gaze that told me Devona had hit upon the truth. 

  "What makes my baby so special?" she asked.

  Galm didn't answer right away, but Devona just glared at him, and eventually he let out a surprisingly human-sounding sigh.

  "I don't know," he said. "But there has never been a child like it before in the history of the Darkfolk. It will be a blend of human, Bloodborn, and–" he glanced at me with obvious distaste, "zombie." 

  "But I was human when we conceived the child," I pointed out.

  "True, but that was only a temporary condition, brought about by a powerful token of death magic given to you by Edrigu. In a sense, the spell's effect was primarily cosmetic, and thus didn't alter your fundamental nature. It's why the change could not be a permanent one for you. Your child shall belong to three realms: the living, the dead, and the in-between. It is impossible to predict what such a child will be like – and what sort of power, if any, it might wield."

  "But if the baby does possess powerful magic, you want to be the one to control it," I said. 

  "Yes, and why not?" Galm said. "Edrigu may have given you the token that made conceiving the child possible, but I will be its grandfather. I have more right to the child than anyone."

  "You seem to be forgetting about the two of us," Devona said. Her eyes glimmered with crimson light and her canine teeth had grown more pronounced. More, I could once again feel her through our link, and I could sense her anger building. 

  "You are my daughter and one of the Bloodborn," Galm said. "Your child's magic
must
be made to serve your people's needs. It is your duty." 

  "
I'm
not one of the Bloodborn," I said, "and my child isn't going to serve anyone. Ever." I reached into my jacket pocket and took hold of my squirt gun. The mixture of holy water, garlic, and other chemicals inside would prove little more than an irritant to a vampire of Galm's power, but right then I felt like giving the sonofabitch a face full of the stuff. But I didn't draw the gun, though I was sorely tempted.

  "I want you to go, Father," Devona said. "Now." 

  Galm regarded her for a moment, and then inclined his head slightly. "As you wish. But regardless of what transpires between the two of us from this point forward, I pledge that I shall never again turn my back upon you. You will always remain a member of the Bloodborn, and you shall always be welcome in the Cathedral."