Dark Studies (Arcaneology) (17 page)

“We made charitable donations to the survivors of an earthquake. It had nothing to do with politics.”

“So it was just a coincidence that he broke diplomatic ties with my realm shortly after your donation.” He emphasized the last word with a sneer.

She said nothing.

“Five years ago, just before the Four Corners Province seceded from the Southwestern Territory, did you arrange for its Lord to enter into negotiations with the Monarch of the Southern California Territory?”

“Lord Maria Elena Vasquez requested we set up a meeting.”

“Because Morgan suggested it might be to her advantage.”

Silence again.

Romero sauntered away. He looked out over the spectators and kept his back to her when he finally said, “I’m finished with this witness.”

Here and there, pairs of vampires inclined their heads toward each other to murmur a comment. Sarah noticed some nodding. Couldn’t they see what Romero was doing? Did they think Antonio hadn’t actually committed the crimes he’d been accused of? The judges said they had evidence. Maybe these vampires didn’t think it mattered as much as the political considerations. That made sense to her. When had she ever seen a vampire who gave a damn about a human, other than as a source of amusement or food? Never. Except Vanessa and her friends.

There was no way for James to undo the damage, not when he was being accused alongside her. When the judges turned to him, he shook his head. “No questions.”

The accused was allowed to return to her seat, where she sat stiffly, not looking at her creator or anyone else.

After conferring among themselves, the judges sat back and their chief rose to her feet. “All the testimony has been heard. All the evidence has been presented. You may each make one final statement before we deliberate.”

Romero took the stage first. His voice echoed through the auditorium as he performed for his audience like an actor.

“Your Honors, do not be distracted by idealistic rhetoric. The facts are these—Vanessa Van Sickle trespassed on my son’s home, and when he returned to defend his keep, she murdered him. Her excuse is that she wants to compel the Covenant to enforce the new laws it has set forth. But the treatment of humans is not our only concern. The other goal of the Covenant is to end our petty squabbles and build stability. It is for this reason we have also made laws against assassination, acts of aggression between nations, and coup attempts from within. If we are to enforce our laws, we must enforce all of them. Do not allow her and her creator to get away with this blatant undermining of the power of a Monarch.”

With a flourish, he gave the stage over to the advocate for the accused.

James Morgan took a moment to look each of the judges in the eye. Then he spoke in his firm, quiet tone. “It is true the new laws were written with both of these purposes in mind—to stabilize our nations and to change our relationship with humans. But political maneuvering is not illegal. Only open aggression between states or individuals. Among the nations that have joined the Covenant, stability has already been accomplished, for the most part. Attitudes and behavior toward humans, however, have changed very little.

“The members of the Covenant agree things must change if we are to survive the evolution of humankind, yet we do not take the steps necessary to make it so.” A note of anger entered his voice. “It will not happen on its own. We must do what is necessary instead of simply making proclamations. It is our lack of action that has given rise to vigilantes such as my child. I do not agree with her methods, but she is trying to do what her elders will not.” His anger softened into gentle reproach. “Ladies, Gentlemen, the abuses committed by vampires like Antonio Romero cannot go unpunished. The accused did not plan to kill him, only to expose him for making a mockery of the Covenant and so endangering our very survival. It is tempting to hide behind the fear of upheaval among our nations rather than face the fact that we cannot continue to ride the fence on the matter of humankind. I ask you, do not give in to that temptation.”

James bowed his head respectfully and returned to his seat. The judges glanced at one another. The one in the middle nodded; then they all stood and filed off stage through a back door.

Sarah looked back and forth between her guards. “What happens now?”

“We wait. When they’ve made their decision, they will return,” the one on her left answered.

“Can I sit with Vanessa?”

The guards exchanged a shrug, then stood. Sarah walked with them down the aisle, uneasy about her own feelings, unhappy to be having them at all. The world was a much better place when she felt nothing.

Chapter Fifteen

I'm for absolute autonomy of the individual, and an adult, competent woman has absolute autonomy. It's her choice.

—Jack Kevorkian

“We’ll go to my haven tonight,” James informed Angie, indicating a helicopter waiting nearby. The pilot began his flight check as the three of them approached, and the helicopter’s blades were turning by the time they had settled inside and stored her luggage securely.

“Do you think I was followed?” She had to shout to be heard over the noise.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Vanessa shouted back. “And if you were, all they’ll learn is that you’re going to James Morgan’s haven. Unless they can get someone here fast who doesn’t mind sunlight, they’ll lose your trail when you leave at dawn.”

In less than an hour, they landed at the haven overlooking Dungeness Bay in Sequim, Washington. It was a compound consisting of a main house and two guest cottages situated on twenty-five acres of land. The chopper set down on a broad expanse of lawn and took off again as soon as they had disembarked. A security team met them on the way to the house. Once inside, James’s human companion, Ivy, took the bags. He murmured something to her, and she left.

As soon as she was gone, he turned to the head of his security team. “We’ll be in my study. Put someone outside the door, and see we aren’t disturbed.”

His study was a soundproof room lined with bookshelves and furnished like an early twentieth-century men’s club with leather furniture, an antique desk, thick Persian rugs, and a wet bar. Once inside, he picked up a phone and dialed.

“My agents in Reno called as soon as you were in the air,” Vanessa explained to Angie. “They reported what they’d seen, but we need to hear it from you, starting at the beginning. James is putting together a conference call with all the Council members we can reach on such short notice. It’s only an hour until dawn on the East Coast, so we have to hurry.”

Angie went to the bar and helped herself to a glass of scotch. The prospect of talking to the Covenant Council unnerved her more than her encounter with the two Monarchs. She reminded herself that the timbre of her voice had changed along with speech patterns and accent; the chances of anyone recognizing her from hearing her speak were a million to one. Besides, if Steffen Scott hadn’t figured out who she was, it was highly unlikely anyone else would.

A hand touched her arm. Angie looked around to meet Vanessa’s gaze and held it for several moments before downing the contents of her glass.

Of the Covenant’s thirty-three members, twenty-seven sovereigns or their representatives joined the conference call. Angie recognized some of the voices that announced their presence on the line: Ah-set, the chairperson, with her soft, imperious tones. A Texan’s drawl from Sutherland, the Ruler of Dallas. Delacroix, the Lord of the Southern Louisiana Province, who had twice employed her services. There were others she did not recognize. Some were representatives she had never had cause to meet. Others were new sovereigns, having taken over the lands of those she had known before. Once everyone was on the line, James explained the situation, and then nodded for her to speak.

“Time is short,” she said, “So I’ll be brief and you can ask questions afterward. It started with a phone call from Evan Samuels, Soul Killer’s human companion. He mentioned one of my former clients as a reference, and I neglected to verify that this was true. Obviously, that was careless on my part.”

She went on, explaining how the Monarch wanted to offer a session with her as a gift to the Monarch of the Rocky Mountain Territory, and how she had been pressured into meeting with Soul Killer if only to turn her down in person. Angie outlined the discussion she and James had had and the plan they’d formed to drive a wedge between the Monarchs, then at last described in detail the meeting in Reno.

There was silence when she finished. Steffen Scott broke it, his voice low and furious. “Are you two insane? James, what the hell were you thinking? You knew the risk, how could you let her—”

“He didn’t
let
me do anything,” Angie interrupted. “It was my decision, and I knew the risk.”

“She will hunt you, Ange—Miss Devereaux. And who knows what Rimbeau will do? You will probably need protection until the day you die.”

“Or until Soul Killer does,” Vanessa muttered.

“Lord Scott,” Angie said, “the work I do is not without its dangers. I have taken measures for my safety. Vampires know me under this identity, but it is a cutout, a dead end. My true name and my life outside the services I offer your species is a well-kept secret. The threat she represents is real, but not as dire as you believe.”

“It is done,” the chairperson cut in. “Morgan, we need to discuss the ramifications among ourselves. I would ask that Miss Devereaux leave now; this matter is not for an outsider’s ears. Miss Devereaux, you have taken a great risk on our behalf. You have our gratitude.”

“I hope I’ve helped avert a crisis that would have cost lives. Good night, Chairperson Ah-set.”

She rose to go. From his desk, James motioned for her to wait and wrote something on a piece of paper, which he held up for her to read:
You’ve earned the right to stay, whether they think so or not
.

Vanessa went to the door, opened it, then closed it loudly enough for the Council to hear over the phone. She nodded to Angie, and they both returned to the couch.

“This changes things,” one of the representatives said. “We suspected she was planning something; now we know she’s making a move.”

Ruler Sutherland spoke up. “James is right about what they’ve got to offer each other. Rimbeau has money, but not numbers, and the Lower Plains Territory’s been threatenin’ to annex part of his realm. We still don’t know how many vampires Soul Killer has, but I reckon it’s a lot. Too bad we haven’t been able to get our spies into the reservations where she’s hiding her havens.”

James’s lips thinned. It galled him that he had failed.

“Why hasn’t Rimbeau joined the Covenant?” another asked. “It’s to his advantage. With us behind him, he wouldn’t need to worry about Whitehall.” She named the Monarch of the Lower Plains Territory.

“He hates being told what to do,” Morgan answered. “Rimbeau is a control freak. His numbers are small because he wants absolute power over them. If he joins the Covenant, he’ll have to obey the rules we’ve made, and he won’t do that. Even if he agrees with those rules.”

“Which he prob’ly does,” Sutherland put in. “He runs his territory a lot like the Covenant nations do. Bein’ a control freak means he enforces his edicts ruthlessly. I bet our own people could learn a few things from him.”

“We have,” Vanessa answered. “I’ve modeled some of our tactics after his.”

James said, “Miss Devereaux has created a rift between Soul Killer and Rimbeau. They may eventually heal that rift, but she’s bought us some time. The question now is what do we do with it?”

“Let us think on this and reconvene after Hawaiian sunset tomorrow night,” Ah-set suggested. “Dawn approaches here on the East Coast.”

“Agreed,” Scott said. He stayed on the line, however, after the others signed off. “Damn you, Morgan. I don’t care how good her cover is, she needs protection twenty-four seven. If you don’t provide it, I will.”

“The lady may have something to say about that,” Vanessa told him.

There was a pause.

“She’s there, isn’t she.” Steffen made it a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” James answered. “She stayed through the meeting.”

“You trust her that much.”

“I do.”

Silence stretched out, during which Angie closed her eyes and sipped the single-malt scotch. For a creature who did not drink anything but blood, James showed a surprising talent for finding the best wines and spirits.

“Angeline.”

“Yes, Steffen.”

“Soul Killer must have resources outside her territory; all our sovereigns do. She’ll find you eventually.”

“If it becomes necessary,” she told him, “I can disappear without a trace. I have planned for the possibility that a disgruntled client or someone I turned down might hold a grudge and put a contract on my head. If she gets too close, I’ll simply vanish.”

This was not entirely true. She did have detailed contingency plans, but for a different reason. Twelve years ago, Sarah Miller had become infamous among the vampires of North America. One of them was still willing to pay a great deal of money to see her dead, and even now if anyone discovered who she was, scores would be vying for the chance to earn that bounty. James had helped her shed the name she’d been born with and given her a new identity: Angie Clark. She’d paid close attention to how he went about it, so she would know how to disappear again.

“You could leave everything behind?” Steffen asked, his voice quiet.

“If I had to.” Even as she said it, she realized how painful it would be to cut herself off from this life. She would not be able to continue her research. She would never see James or Vanessa again. She would never see Steffen again. “I’d rather not,” she admitted. “But I can start over if it’s the only way to stay alive.”

“Bodyguards are another way to stay alive. Use them instead of disappearing. I can provide you with around-the-clock protection.”

She knew this quite well. He’d done it before, though he didn’t realize it. Sarah Miller had lived that way for months, constantly surrounded by security people. She never wanted to do it again.