Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4) (2 page)

Lorcan said nothing; he just turned to face the altar and the wooden board with Takeshi’s family seal. “I know they’re keeping the names of the dead quiet, but I’m surprised that the fact that he was on board never came up in any of the news coverage.”

Rory’s anger burned out, leaving only the ashes of emotion. Nothing aroused his passions for long these days.
In the end, what does it really matter?
“I asked Nick to erase his name from the passenger manifest before Armistice Security turned the records over to the press. The funeral was private, attended only by our trusted friends. No one talked about the timing.”

Lorcan’s jaw clenched. Just for a moment his shields slipped, and Rory could read his emotions.

Grief. Pain. Humiliation.

Lorcan turned to go. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

Rory grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Lorcan jerked his arm free. His anger was plain to see now. “Why? Are you going to tell me my invitation got lost in the mail? You made yourself perfectly clear. We’re not friends, just allies.”

“Ruarc, try to understand.” Rory reached out and brushed his fingertips against Lorcan’s cheek. “The Huntmaster of the Court of Shadows attending the funeral of a Wind of Earth? Your people would line up to challenge you for the affront to their honor.”

Lorcan snorted. “Right. You excluded me for my own protection. I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I lied earlier. You
are
a friend, and a good one. You would have come if I needed you. I couldn’t let them kill you for my sake, not after…”

Lorcan frowned at him. “After what?”

Rory took a deep breath and let it out. “Not after Take died because of me.”

Lorcan took a step back, surprised. “What are you talking about? The gravity drive malfunctioned, and the
Orion
hit the lunar surface at two hundred meters per second. How is that your fault?”

Rory didn’t meet his gaze. “The trip was my idea. Sentinel genes make for relatively long lifetimes. It was only the war that makes them die young. He was fit and healthy, so we traveled around the Outer Colonies for almost a year, just to say we did it. We were finally on our way home when the ship crashed.”

Lorcan stared at him. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Rory shrugged. “I am the Redeemer. There’s almost nothing in the world that can actually kill me. So, I walked away when no one else did.”

“Christ, Sean.” Lorcan seemed truly at a loss for something to say. “You actually rode the ship into the ground?”

“I held his hand right up to the end.” Rory turned back to the shelf and picked up his bundle of flowers and incense. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my visit.”

Lorcan nodded. “Of course. I’ll leave you alone.”

He’ll leave. Isn’t that what I wanted?
“No, you can stay.”

Lorcan looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Rory placed the flowers in the vases on either side of the altar. He lit the incense sticks and placed them in the holders. He left Lorcan’s white rose where it was. Then Rory knelt on the floor and said a prayer from his youth. Finally, his ritual complete, he gazed at Takeshi’s marker, and emptied his mind.
Love, I hope you’re in a better place. Someday, I’ll find my way to join you.

* * *

Lorcan watched in silence while Rory meditated. He was immortal. He could wait. In the meantime, he studied his old friend, seeing the tension in his shoulders and the lines on his face that grief had put there. Rory looked
old
, tired in body and spirit, for all that he remained the same physical age as he had been for over sixty years.
Nicholas, how could you let him face this alone?
But then, Rory had always been private, and Nick would have seen the tragedy as a reminder of his own lover’s mortality.

I should have been here.
It would have been politically disastrous, he knew. Rory was right about that, but he would have come anyway.

* * *

After the incense had burned out, Rory opened his eyes and got back to his feet. “I’m sorry I was so defensive when I first saw you. Nick arranged to have this part of the tunnels cleared of visitors when I come down here each month.”

“I know. I persuaded him to let me through the cordon, so we could speak privately.”

Rory looked at him in confusion. “Why didn’t you just come by the house?”

“Because you don’t let anyone past the perimeter wards anymore. Nick said you’ve been holed up behind your defenses this whole time, and your AI is screening your calls. I thought you’d turn me away.”

Rory stood frozen by the revelation.
Is that true? Granted, I didn’t want any visitors, but Nick had come by several times and … and come to think of it, I talked to him at the door every time and didn’t invite him in. Damn, when did I become a hermit?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Well, you’re here now. It’s been what, almost two years? Let’s go for a walk in the gardens, and you can tell me what you’ve been up to.”

* * *

The meditation gardens were softly lit by lanterns carrying mystical white flames. They wandered for a while and talked about Nightwalker politics and the demands of Lorcan’s position. Rory listened through most of it, and gave Lorcan little insight into his personal life. Then they came to the clear lawn surrounding the fifth obelisk, one of sixteen spires of lunar basalt that surrounded the cathedral, and Rory paused as he noticed the numbered plaque at the base. He walked away from Lorcan to the base of the monument and stared at the deeply engraved stone surface, lost in thought.

Lorcan stood at his side and read the memorial plaque:
We were trapped in the city, waiting for death. To the one that saved us, we are grateful. So long as we live, you will never be forgotten.
Above the plaque, line upon line of names was chiseled into the stone in Roman capitals, each followed by the symbol of that person’s race. The text ran up the surface of the monument as high as Lorcan could see.

Rory tapped the surface of the plaque with his fingers. The plaque lit up, and a large glowing square appeared above it on the engraved surface of the stone. The writing on the plaque faded away, replaced by a view of the text within the square.

“Line 497, third and fourth names,” he said.

The square rose up along the surface of the marker until it came to rest about fifty meters above the ground. The text visible on the plaque showed two names in the center: Takeshi Nakamura Leshir Jiao-long and Sean Rory Brennigan Magister Jiao-long.

“He wouldn’t leave,” whispered Rory, almost to himself. “We argued as the missile approached, and I demanded that he survive. I knew I would probably live through the blast, but I couldn’t stand the thought of living without him. He was so stubborn. If the rest of his people couldn’t escape the fire, then he wouldn’t abandon them.”

Lorcan read the other vampire’s sadness with his senses fully open. “You think he loved them more than you?”

Rory continued to stare at their names. “He was a Sentinel. Sacrifice came naturally to him.”

Lorcan laid his hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Sean, have you considered that maybe he wouldn’t abandon you either?”

Rory turned to face him. “I knew it was coming. He was almost ninety years old. But I never thought it would be this sudden. I wasn’t ready.”

“Sean, even if you’d suffered through a long decline as his strength failed, even if he died cursing your name for your immortality, it still wouldn’t have prepared you.”

Rory growled. “Are you saying you think I should be grateful it was quick?”

“No, of course not.” Lorcan tried to think of some way to explain without dredging up his own memories, but there wasn’t any way to avoid it. “Connor and I, we made so many plans. He wanted to be the same physical age as me when I turned him, so we would be equals for eternity. I thought it was a harmless gesture. Another year and he would have joined me in the darkness. Then the human wars intruded, and I lost him.” He held out his hand and summoned his sword, which appeared in a flash of green light. He raised the blade, tracing the intricate scrollwork etched into the steel, chased with gold. “He could have lived forever. Instead he died on the point of a sword.” Lorcan raised his eyes to meet Rory’s and allowed his irises to shift to red as he remembered the rage of that day. “This sword.”

Rory took a step back. He stared at the sword in Lorcan’s hand. “You don’t know that.”

“His blood was on the blade. I knew its scent better than any other. The bastard officer who led the raid put Connor down personally. I repaid the favor, with interest.”

“So why did you keep it?”

“It took my lover’s life. It was tangible proof that he existed outside my memories. And it was a reminder not to waste time, because life’s too short, even for immortals.” Lorcan willed the blade away and it disappeared. “I forgot that lesson over the centuries, until Nicholas reminded me of what I had lost.”

* * *

Rory studied him, hearing the wistful note in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we talked about Nick.”

“Nothing has changed. I still love him, and he’s still in love with Jeremy.” Lorcan took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak of that while you’re grieving.”

Rory shrugged. “I asked.”

“Why have you kept him at arm’s length? He’s worried about you, that you’ve suffered through this alone for the last half a year.”

Rory sat on one of the stone benches that flanked the obelisk. He rubbed his hands together as if for warmth. “I can’t be around Nick. It makes me feel dirty, like I’m being unfaithful just talking to him.”

Lorcan sat next to him. “Sean, I know it seems unimaginable now, but someday you’re going to want to seek out companionship other than your memories.” He reached out and squeezed the Nightwalker’s hand. “If you can’t stand to be around Nick, then find someone else to talk to, someone who understands.”

Rory chuckled. “Are you volunteering?”

Lorcan let go of Rory’s hand and draped his arm over the younger man’s shoulders. “I am, if you want me to.”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” Lorcan pulled Rory closer. “If you stay here, you’ll only wallow in your loneliness. I know you have some roots in Ireland. Come stay with me for a while, as my guest, and I’ll show you around.”

Rory looked up at the white dome of the cathedral, capped by a beacon of white flames. “I can’t leave. There’s so much—”

“No there isn’t,” said Lorcan, cutting him off. “You’ve hidden out for months, and nothing changed. I told you, don’t waste time. Just for a little while, leave the memories and come with me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is.”

Rory hung his head. “I can’t leave Take.”

Lorcan sighed and drew his arm back. “Would he have wanted you to live in his shadow? Come with me, Sean. He’ll still be here when you get back.”

Rory said nothing, and the two of them sat in silence as the sky grew lighter. Finally, Rory looked up at the sky, expertly gauging the time left before sunrise. “When do we leave?”

C
HAPTER 2

December 2082, House Diluthical Stronghold, Belfast, North Ireland

Rory sipped at his glass of bloodwine and turned another page in the book he was reading. He looked up at the soft knock. “Come in.”

The door opened and Lorcan stepped into the room. He frowned at Rory’s t-shirt and sweatpants. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Rory put the book aside. “Why should I?”

“Sean, it’s Christmas Eve. Surely you’re not going to just lie in bed all night?”

Rory shrugged. “I don’t see any need to celebrate this year.”

Lorcan sat beside him on the bed. “How do you usually celebrate?”

“Take loved Christmas, even though it didn’t square with his own religion. We always had a tree and presents. He even found a group of carolers near our neighborhood in San Francisco, and we would make the rounds on Christmas Eve after attending at least one party with our friends. Then we’d stay at home on Christmas day, just reminiscing.”

Lorcan’s expression remained unreadable. He stood from the bed. “Get dressed. Wear something nice.”

Rory raised an eyebrow. “I’m honestly not interested in parties, right now, Ruarc.”

“Not a party.” Lorcan grinned. “Let me show you how
I
celebrate.”

* * *

The deacon dismissed the congregation, and Rory stood with the others, the final words of the mass coming easily to his lips though he hadn’t spoken them in decades. He felt oddly at peace, the elements of his childhood beliefs conspiring to offer a measure of comfort he had forgotten as an adult. He started to leave, but then Lorcan’s hand on his arm held him back.

“Wait,” said Lorcan. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Lorcan led Rory down the aisle to the rectory. Their bodyguards trailed behind them. The security officer at the back door inclined his head to Lorcan and let them through while their guards took up position on either side of the door. Inside, they found a comfortable receiving room with a roaring fire in the grate.

The far door opened, and the priest who had led the service entered. He smiled at Lorcan and held out his hand. “Welcome, Imperator. A pleasure to see you as always.”

Lorcan knelt before him and kissed the ring on the priest’s finger. Then he stood and turned to Rory. “Sean, this is Archbishop Padraic. He’s spearheaded the movement in the Church to reach out to the local vampire communities.”

Rory reached out and shook the priest’s offered hand. “A pleasure to meet you, your Grace. I wondered why a section of the church wasn’t consecrated.”

“Please feel free to call me by name, my son,” said Padraic with a smile. “There was some resistance at first, but in the end, there is no one in greater need of our services than those who are lost to God. The Holy See was eventually swayed by my arguments and granted us an indulgence. Not many of the Children of Darkness choose to join us in prayer, but there are enough who come that I am hopeful that at least some of their souls might be reclaimed into the light.”