Deathstalker Honor (18 page)

His cousin Finlay was actually looking quite civilized, now that Evangeline had arrived to calm him down. One day that man was going to run wild, and even Evangeline wouldn’t be able to stop him. And then there’d be blood and death and a scandal no amount of influence could hope to clear up. Finlay was just a disaster waiting to happen. And as the Campbell and head of the Clan, Robert was going to have to decide what to do about that. Whether he should take . . . steps. He sighed gently and shook his head. Military training was fine for most things, but it was no help at all when it came to dealing with wild cards like Finlay Campbell. There was a sudden presence at his side.

“Don’t worry about Finlay, boy. Better men than you have tried to deal with him, and they’re all dead and cold in their graves while that bastard Finlay goes on untouched. There is no God.”

Robert turned and smiled at Adrienne Campbell. “Then why did you marry him?”

“It was an arranged marriage, as well you know. My father arranged it. He never liked me. I’d divorce Finlay in a moment if it wasn’t for the children. I don’t suppose you could arrange a nice, quiet assassination for me, could you, dear? It would solve so many problems.”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Robert. “Besides, who could we send against him? Owen Deathstalker? Kid Death?”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Adrienne. “No, let him live. If only because his death would upset Evangeline so much. I’m very fond of Evangeline, except for her appalling taste in men. . . .”

They grinned at each other. Adrienne Campbell had a sharp, fiercely determined face under a mop of curly golden hair that was the only angelic thing about her. Regarded by all as the most ferocious intriguer in current politics, and the most dangerous, Adrienne had few real friends, and so many enemies there was a waiting list to join. Hardworking, frighteningly intelligent, and too damned honest for her own good, while not actually elected to any official position, Adrienne represented a number of very influential pressure groups, and could be relied on to have an acerbic opinion about absolutely anything.

“So, how are you settling in as Captain?” said Adrienne.

“Slow but steady. It helps that the crew are familiar with my record, and know I earned my position through my abilities rather than my sudden fame. It’s been quite a jump from Navigation officer to Captain, but it’s not like I’m taking anyone else’s place. The Fleet’s desperately short of experienced officers. If only we were short of enemies . . .”

“Now, don’t you start,” said Adrienne firmly. “I hear that every day in Parliament. There just isn’t the money or the resources at present to build the Fleet up to what it used to be. The factories are running twenty-four-hour shifts just to produce the ships we need to keep supplies moving between the worlds, and people starving now have to take preference over possible future threats. The rebellion was long past necessary, but sometimes I can’t help thinking we could have timed it better.”

“It’s the birth of a new order,” said Robert. “And birth is always painful.”

Adrienne sniffed. “Don’t you quote propaganda to me, boy. I helped write most of it. Oh, hell, look who’s coming over. As if I didn’t have enough problems.”

Robert looked around and hid a wince as he saw Finlay and Evangeline approaching. Evangeline looked friendly, and Finlay was doing his best. Robert sensed Adrienne seething at his elbow, and leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Take it easy. It won’t kill you to be nice to him.”

“Want to bet? Still, you and he should meet, Robert. I know you don’t care much for each other, but you are Family. That still means something, even in these confused days.”

“He ran away from the Family to join the rebels when the Clan needed him the most, leaving me to take over as the Campbell. A privilege I never expected and had no experience in.”

“He had no choice. He had to follow his heart, and go where Evangeline went.” She snorted suddenly. “I can’t believe I’m actually defending him. Even if he did save my life once. Look, he never wanted to be the Campbell. He knew he’d make a mess of it. You were much better suited to the job. You’ve kept the Family alive when Finlay would have had them go down with all guns blazing. Accept what happened and move on. Try to mend some fences. These days we all need all the friends we can get.”

The four came together in a small space that seemed to open up around them. Everyone in the vicinity recognized a potential flashpoint when they saw one forming, and prefered to put a little distance between them and whatever unpleasantness might occur. If only so they wouldn’t get blood on their best clothes. Evangeline and Adrienne greeted each other cheerfully, with much clasping of hands and kissing of cheeks. Adrienne had never begrudged Finlay his mistresses, not as long as he continued to turn a blind eye to her many amours, and had been delighted when he finally chose someone she could approve of. The two women had developed strong links during their shared time in the underground, and discussed Finlay scandalously behind his back. Finlay and Robert nodded formally to each other, faces utterly impassive, and then Finlay abruptly stuck out his hand. Robert shook it, after a moment’s surprise, and the two men relaxed slightly.

“Congratulations on your new command,” said Finlay. “First Campbell to make Captain in three hundred years.”

“I’ll do my best to do the Family honor,” said Robert. “ You’re . . . looking very sharp, Finlay.”

Finlay shrugged. “You want to play with the big boys, you have to dress the part. It’s been a while since I fought my battles with sharp words and barbed bon mots rather than cold steel, but I think I’m getting the hang of it again. We’ve . . . been too distant, Robert. Friends and allies come and go, but Family is forever.”

“You’re the one who never had much time for the Family.”

“I’m trying to change that.”

Robert looked into Finlay’s steady gaze and then nodded slightly. “You were the one who kept a distance. And I was too busy holding the Family together and serving in the military to search you out.”

“I know that. I’m grateful for what you’ve done. We were on opposite sides during the rebellion, but that’s all over now. We need to stand together, or our enemies will drag us down.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “And what enemies might we have in common, exactly?”

“People like Blue Block maybe. People who want to turn the clock back, make things the way they used to be again. You’ve no reason to love the old order. You suffered under it more than most. Blue Block stood by and did nothing to stop the Wolfes when they butchered our Clan.”

“And my Letitia died on what should have been our wedding day. Murdered by the Shreck in the name of Family honor. While you stood by and did nothing to stop him.”

“I was wrong,” said Finlay. “I still believed in the Families then. In the honor I thought held us together. I had to learn I was wrong the hard way. But I didn’t fight and bleed in the rebellion just to see the Families take control again behind a different mask. I’ll do whatever I have to to stop them. Can I count on you to help? Parliament may not be much, but it’s the only hope we have.”

“I never thought of you as a politician, somehow,” said Robert.

Finlay shrugged. “It’s the new battlefield. And I had to learn a new form of fighting, or die of boredom. So, will you stand with me?”

“I’ll think about it, and we’ll talk further. See if we have as much in common as you think. If we do . . . I think I’d be proud to have the legendary warrior Finlay Campbell at my side.”

“Same here,” said Finlay, smiling for the first time. They shook hands again.

“God help us, they’ll be bonding next,” said Adrienne. “Getting drunk in disreputable bars and telling each other those jokes that only men think are funny.”

“I think it’s very sweet,” Evangeline said firmly.

“Hello, Adrienne,” said Finlay, putting on his best polite face and voice. “You’re looking . . . very you.”

“I suppose that’s the nearest you’ll ever get to a compliment,” said Adrienne. “I see you’re still using the same tailor. Did I hear he’s got himself a new guide dog?”

“You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself one of these days. You and Evangeline have a good gossip, have you?”

“I hear you’re trying to get into mainstream politics, Finlay. One word of advice. Don’t. I’ve no doubt you mean well, but the last thing we need is another enthusiastic amateur raising everyone’s hackles and muddying the waters. Especially someone with your temper. You can’t kill your opponents just because you’re losing the debate. They have laws against that sort of thing now. Though admittedly that might add a little excitement to the budget debates . . . Look, Finlay, I know you, though I often wish I didn’t. You’re too soft-hearted for politics. It would mean too much to you. You couldn’t bear to lose one argument so you could win another later. You get out of hand in this business, and I won’t be able to save you. Nor will anyone else, for all your great exploits in the rebellion. Heroes are ten a penny these days.”

“You’re sounding very you as well, Addie,” said Finlay. “One of these days you’ll say something nice to me, and I may faint from the shock. I survived everything the Empire could throw at me, and the horrors of Haceldama. I think I can handle a few politicians. Don’t worry, if I have to kill anyone, I’ll be sure and do it when no one’s looking.”

“The trouble is, he means it,” said Adrienne. “That’s his idea of being diplomatic.”

“In the meantime,” said Finlay, “I want to see our children.”

They all looked at him in surprise, including Evangeline. Adrienne shook her head slowly. “Finlay, you’ve never wanted to see the children. Not even when they were born. I have to remind you to send them birthday presents. They only know what you look like from watching the holos. And where the hell were you when Gregor Shreck was threatening to have them killed to get at you? Give me one good reason why I should let you anywhere near them!”

“I’ve been . . . feeling my mortality lately,” said Finlay. “When I’m gone, all that will be left will be my reputation and my children. I look at what the news people and the docudramas have made of my past, and I don’t recognize myself at all. That just leaves my children, and I’d like them at least to have some idea of who I really was. I know I’ve done . . . questionable things, but I always thought I had a good reason. In the past I was busy living two lives at once, and I told myself there was no room for children in either of them. They would only have got hurt. They were safer with you. Besides, I didn’t know what to do with children. Not sure I do now. But I’d . . . like to try to get to know them now. If they’d like to see me . . .”

Adrienne was taken aback for a moment. In all their years of marriage, she’d never heard Finlay open up like that before. “I’ll ask them,” she said finally. “But it’s up to them. I won’t put in a word one way or another.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Finlay.

The four of them talked a little more, but they didn’t have enough in common for small talk, and they’d taken care of all their business. Eventually Adrienne and Robert made their excuses and moved off into the crowd, and Finlay and Evangeline were left together.

“We’ve never talked about . . . children,” said Evangeline quietly. “Given the lives we were leading during the rebellion, it just wasn’t possible. We were always racing off into danger and sudden death, never knowing for sure whether we’d live to see the morrow. And afterward . . . you never raised the subject.”

“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things I never did before,” said Finlay. “I never wanted children with Adrienne, but my father required it for the Family. Things are different now.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to raise the subject,” said Evangeline, not looking at him. “I was always afraid you never said anything because I was just a clone. You’re an aristocrat, but I’m not. Not really. Some would say I’m not really human. And even in our marvelous new order, the marriage of an aristocrat and a clone would be a scandal, their children an outrage. If anyone found out . . .”

“You’re more human that most of the people I have to deal with,” said Finlay. “You’re worth a hundred of them. A thousand.” She sank into his embrace, her face pressed against his shoulder so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. He knew they were there anyway, but carried on as though he didn’t, his voice carefully steady. “I can’t marry you, Evangeline. Not because you’re a clone, but because divorcing Adrienne would distance me from people I need to be close to. Politics in our circles are still largely dictated by old Family connections, and my position is precarious enough as it is. But you are my love, my life—the only woman I’ve ever cared for. Of course we can have children, if that’s what you want. People will make allowances. They always have.”

Evangeline hugged him so tightly she thought she must be hurting him, but he never said anything. When she was sure her eyes were dry, she let go of him and stepped back. And then someone came and called Finlay away on urgent business, and Evangeline was left alone again. She watched him go with a brave little smile on her face, but inside, her thoughts were churning furiously. Before she could even think of starting a family with Finlay, there was a lot she had to sort out in her life, most of it things Finlay didn’t know about, and must never know.

Finlay knew Evangeline had been cloned from a dead original, but he didn’t know why. Gregor Shreck had loved his Evangeline as a man rather than a father, and finally murdered her in a fit of rage when she tried to run away. To cover up his crime, and have his daughter in his bed again, Gregor had the clone made in strictest secrecy, and she became the Evangeline that Finlay came to know and love. He rescued her from her father and helped her make a new life of her own. But he never knew just what he rescued her from, and Evangeline could never tell him. If he ever found out, he would murder Gregor, not giving a damn for the consequences. She couldn’t let him do that. She wanted Gregor dead, wanted it with a deep, despairing sickness of the heart, but Finlay must never know. Because it would hurt him so much. And perhaps because, deep down, she feared he’d never feel the same way about her again once he knew the truth.