Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (16 page)

“The triskelion is the seal of the Triumvirate. It represents the interlocked destinies of the Children of Magic: Nightwalker, Daywalker, and Sentinel,” Ana explained. She reached up and tapped the red sword in the circle on her lapel pin. “The circle divided between light and darkness is the symbol for Armistice Security. The sword is for Sentinels.”

Nick pointed to the symbol on his own badge. “For Daywalkers, the silver cross signifies the Grace, and the gold circles represent the Light. The Nightwalkers use a stylized black cross and circle, outlined in gold, to mark the possibility of redemption.”

She tapped the scroll against her fingertips, considering their words. “I will bring your arguments to the attention of the President and Congress,” she said finally. “If they choose to respect your desire for formal recognition, I will not stand in the way of accrediting the Triumvirate as a foreign government. I’m afraid it will be a hard sell, however, even if I, myself, were actually convinced of its legitimacy.”

“We hope you will give our offer serious consideration before making your final recommendation, Madam Secretary,” said Nick.

“You should probably move fast, though, if you want to discuss the matter with them privately,” Ana suggested.

Secretary Matthews turned to her, frowning. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“We sent both documents to the
Los Angeles Times
,
Washington Post
, and
New York Times
this morning, as well as the major Canadian and Mexican news outlets. We also sent documents relating to our legal analysis and defense of Triumvirate sovereignty,” said Ana. “As near as we can determine, they’re already going to press. The full story will hit the web by this evening, if not earlier.”

Secretary Matthews allowed herself to smile openly, but her voice was distinctly unfriendly as she said, “Pressure tactics. Not exactly a cordial diplomatic strategy.”

“Madam Secretary, our people have lived in a state of guarded peace, surrounded by enemies, for fewer than two decades after more than thirty thousand years of war,” Nick elaborated, his voice icy. “‘Cordial’ isn’t exactly in our tactical vocabulary.”

“I will keep that in mind when I make my recommendation to the President,” she answered. She stared at him thoughtfully. “Can I ask you a personal question, Mr. Jameson?”

“By all means.”

“Last week, in Los Angeles, if you hadn’t discovered Mr. Harkness to be one of you, would you have stood by and let the city burn?”

“I lived in L.A. for a long time, Madam Secretary,” Nick said quietly, standing perfectly still as he focused all of his attention on her. “I moved away less than a year ago, and it still feels like home to me. But our laws were specifically designed to prevent any of us from imposing our will upon major human events without invitation. We were not meant to be part of human history, just as human conflicts have not played a significant role in ours. It has been that way for tens of thousands of years. I had hoped that, somehow, I could provoke Medusa into giving me an excuse to intervene, but otherwise I had no legal or honorable basis to interfere once our people were evacuated and were no longer under direct threat. If she had not tried to kill Jeremy in front of me, then yes, I would have walked away and let them all die.” His eyes met her stare. “In a way, every person in the city owes Jeremy Harkness their lives.”

“I don’t think they see it that way,” she said coolly.

“That’s their privilege. It doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“We’re not human, Madam Secretary,” said Ana. “It would be a mistake to judge us by human ethics.”

“The Armistice is a constant balancing act between our instinctive need to fight, on the one hand, versus our desire to evade conflict and rise above our natures, on the other,” said Scott. “For that reason, our laws are fairly absolute, to keep the balance firmly in place. That’s why I had to publicly put Nick on trial after he stopped the bombing.”

A series of white symbols appeared on the right lens of Ana’s sunglasses. “Guys, we have to get going,” she said.

The Secretary raised an eyebrow. “Do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“Actually, yes.” Scott slipped his sunglasses on. “You kept us waiting a little longer than expected. We have a meeting in Ottawa in twenty minutes, with the Canadian Minister of Foreign Affairs and their Chief of Protocol.” He grinned at the Secretary in amusement. “Unlike your office, they didn’t hang up on us when we called for an appointment.”

From his breast pocket, Nick pulled out a blue business card stamped with the triskelion symbol in white, gray, and black foil and handed it to the Secretary. “This is the address and phone number of our local base of operations here in Washington. Let them know if you wish to discuss this matter further, once you’ve had a chance to speak with your government. I will get back to you as soon as possible. However, it would help if you also informed them of your protocols for contacting you directly. Alternatively, if you have any factual questions about Triumvirate policy or procedures, you can ask them. If they can’t help you themselves, they will pass your query up the line.”

The Secretary read the title embossed on the card. “Ambassador to Humanity?”

Nick shrugged as the two Sentinels moved to stand next to him. “It won’t be official until your government formally recognizes us, but in the meantime, I am your main contact for any questions you have regarding the Armistice. I expect the learning curve to be steep on both sides, Madam Secretary, but I’m hoping we can eventually come to some kind of accommodation.”

Scott subvocalized a command to his AI, and the three disappeared in a burst of incandescence.

The Secretary sighed. “And this began as such a good day.” She turned to one of her assistants. “Block me some time on the President’s calendar as soon as possible and get the rest of the Cabinet to join us, but give me at least an hour or so to prepare.” She broke the wax seal on the scroll in her hand. “First, I have some reading to do.”

February 2040; Chapel Hill, North Carolina; Three weeks after public exposure

Nick pulled the heavy raw silk curtain away from the front windows and looked out over the crowd of reporters, TV cameras, and gawkers camped out on his front lawn, their faces lit by the green glow of the defense screen that extended six feet from the walls of the house.
It’s been three weeks and there’s more of them every night. I wonder how long the homeowner’s association will wait before they get up the courage to evict me?

He was glad now that he’d had Armistice Security set up the high-level security system when he’d first moved here. Scott had done the same thing to his home years ago, reasoning that it couldn’t hurt to have a little extra protection around his family, even if there had been no reason to activate it until now. Nick had offered the same level of security to the rest of his family, but his mother wasn’t speaking to him, and his sister was still mulling it over.

He looked away from the window, at his brother sleeping on the couch. Toby was the only one who had readily agreed to take precautions. The Armistice engineers were still installing the technology in Toby’s San Francisco apartment after Nick had insisted upon a significant redesign so it could be operated without the need for an implanted AI interface. There was no way in hell he was going to allow his brother to be permanently tethered to Armistice technology, no matter how useful or benign. In the meantime, Toby was crashing with him. His lawyers were arguing with his record label and promoters over whether to drop Toby’s upcoming concert tour, the same way the Journeymen tour had been immediately shelved. Apparently, concerned parents didn’t want their children hanging out with unsavory creatures of the night.

The cancellation of his own tour was fine with Nick—he didn’t want his fans caught in the crossfire when the Court of Shadows finally unleashed their retribution for him revealing them to the world. But he was sorry Toby was being tarred with the same brush. Toby was a gregarious sort, reveling in the social circles that had opened to him as his career took off. That those same circles were now closing ranks against him had to rankle. At least the other members of his brother’s band were solidly in Toby’s corner, threatening to dissolve the group entirely if Toby was kicked out.

Toby didn’t seem to blame him for the whole mess, and he was bearing up under the knowledge of his own supernatural nature with admirable grace. Nick suspected his brother’s request to stay with him had less to do with housing and more to do with trying to bridge the gulf between them, now that he knew Nick was a vampire. Nick smiled as he glanced protectively at his brother’s sleeping form, profoundly grateful for Toby’s efforts to include him. His mother and his sister had been ambivalent, if not outright hostile.
Just one more situation I can’t control.

It had been a week since Nick had made the rounds of the three governments. As expected, they had all waffled back and forth without making any promises. The publication of the Armistice Declaration and the Rules of Engagement had sparked a firestorm of controversy in all three countries, which was also to be expected. The simulations being run constantly by Armistice Security were taxing the AI-driven predictive models beyond their limits; no one knew how it would all shake out in the end. They would have to press on and see where this road would take them.

He walked back to the wood-paneled kitchen and poured himself a glass of Triple Voice before returning to the living room. Taking a seat in the comfortable white leather recliner, he turned on the TV, keeping the volume low.
Is it Rory’s or Lorcan’s turn to be my friend tonight?
he wondered idly. With all his running around between the three embassies, he’d lost track. Better not to call either of them, just to avoid any hard feelings if he picked the wrong one. He had enough problems without getting his lover or his best friend in a snit. He flicked through the channels, avoiding anything that even remotely touched on the Armistice. News, news, news, news, cartoons.

Okay, not the most intellectually stimulating choice, but I can deal with cartoons.
He let his mind go blank, occasionally sipping his drink as he watched the brightly colored figures cavort across the screen.

About ten minutes later, he noticed the rustling of Toby moving around on the couch as his brother sat up and yawned. “Hey, Nick. Did I miss anything?”

Nick shook his head, took another sip of his bloodwine, and focused back on his cartoons. “Nada.”

Toby was silent.

Hearing his brother’s heart race, Nick looked up at him again.

The whites of Toby’s eyes showed as he stared at him—well, not at him, exactly. Nick followed Toby’s gaze to the glass in his hand, still half-full of scarlet liquid.
Shit.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll dump it.” He shifted in his seat to get up.

Toby waved him back. “No, you don’t have to. Really, I’m okay. It’s just a little freaky to watch you drinking blood. I’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Toby, I—”

“Nick,” Toby interrupted sternly, “would you please stop apologizing for being a vampire? It’s not like you had a choice about it or anything.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Now what did I just say?” asked Toby, exasperated.

Before Nick could answer, Rapier spoke to him. “Nicholas, Takeshi Nakamura is trying to contact you.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Put him through.”

A black rectangle appeared in the air in front of him, framing Take’s head and upper body, surrounded in the background by his office in Armistice Security Headquarters.

“Nick,” Takeshi said, his voice tired. He looked to the side. “Toby.”

Toby waved at him. “Hi, Take.”

“What can I do for you?” asked Nick.

“We’ve got a new security issue, and I’m not sure how serious it’s going to be, given the state of your negotiations.”

Nick shrugged. “No one is sure of anything these days. What’s the problem?”

“It’s me and Rory.”

Nick leaned forward. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know how I was invited to that big fashion show in New York, and I asked Rory if he wanted to tag along?”

“Sure. Rory was all excited.” He thought for a second. “Wait, wasn’t that supposed to be tonight?”

“It was tonight,” said Take.

“What happened, Take?” asked Nick, concerned.

“A TV reporter buttonholed us on the red carpet and started asking questions about you and Ana.”

“Aw, shit. Don’t tell me.” Nick put his hands to his temples and slumped back in his seat, trying to massage away his imminent headache.

“Yeah, you know how Rory is. When he gets pissed, he totally shoots his mouth off without any shred of caution or common sense.”

“How much did he tell them?”

“Enough, but that’s not the real problem.”

“It gets worse?” Nick asked in disbelief.

“The reporter said something insulting about you, and Rory lost his temper.”

Nick sat up straight in his seat, staring worriedly at Takeshi. “Exactly what do you mean he lost his temper?”

“He’s very protective of you, Nick. Always has been.”

“Takeshi,” said Nick sternly, “what did he do?”

“He vamped out. On camera.”

C
HAPTER 12

New York City, New York; Three hours earlier

Takeshi and Rory walked down the red carpet toward the fashion show, camera flashes surrounding them with flickering light. Take’s sharkskin suit shimmered in the spotlights. Rory had been ill-at-ease, departing from his usual all-black attire, but Take had insisted, and the emerald green suit made his eyes glow even without the need for magic. Obviously enjoying himself immensely, Takeshi waved to the crowd that strained against the maroon velvet ropes. Rory, more reserved, smiled shyly at the cameras.

“Lighten up, Rory.” Take grinned. “It’s a party, not a funeral. Live a little!”

Rory smiled at his lover’s enthusiasm. “I haven’t been to a real party in years. Give me a minute to remember what to do.”