Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (20 page)

Nick straightened. “There’s always a choice, Mr. President,” he said. “If you wish, you can reject our overtures of peace, try to lock up the people you think you know about, and do everything in your power to destroy us.” He glared across the desk. “Rest assured, however, we will not take such actions lying down. Magic requires sacrifice. If you declare war on us, keep in mind that your people are in a much more exposed and vulnerable position than mine. But the decision of how to proceed is yours.”

“Very well.” Daniels folded his arms and watched Nick carefully. “You said you would answer my questions. You can start by telling me what you are.”

“I am a Child of the Dawn, or a Daywalker, one of three metahuman races known to exist on Earth.” Nick relaxed a little, now back on familiar ground. “The others are the Nightwalkers, or the Children of Darkness, and the Sentinels, called the Children of Twilight.” He smiled briefly. “Humans are sometimes called the Children of the Day in Nightwalker literature. Nowadays, it’s more of a poetic term than a practical one.”

“You actually have your own literature?”

Nick frowned. “Of course. Our cultures have existed for thirty thousand years, Mr. President. Sentinel history is somewhat fragmentary, having had to pass on their knowledge by oral tradition and caches of their writings, but the Nightwalkers have an unbroken historical record dating back tens of thousands of years. It is maintained by telepathic transfer of memories and testimony to multiple curators for safekeeping. Vampires don’t forget, Mr. President. We remember everything we’ve ever experienced with perfect clarity—forever—even the memories of when we were mortal. We may have been at war all that time, but even the best soldier can’t fight every hour of the day. Sooner or later, he has to find something worth fighting for or he doesn’t survive. Even without souls, the Children of Darkness have had a long time to develop the finer points of their civilization. It would be a mistake to sell either side short.”

The President frowned. “You said the Nightwalkers don’t have souls. Exactly what do you mean by that?”

“Where do I begin? I guess I should explain what a vampire is, the way I learned it.” He settled down in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, ordering his thoughts. “All living creatures are composed of three parts: the body, the soul, and the spirit. The body is the physical vessel for the soul, while the spirit is the animating breath of creation that moves the body and gives it life. The soul is the essence of individuality, the embodiment of choice, the instrument of free will. At the moment of death, the three separate. The spirit dissipates, the body dies, and the soul moves beyond time to face judgment and its final reward.

“When a human dies the first death and rises as a Nightwalker, a new form of spirit takes up residence—a demonic power of the lower planes called the Red Wind. The soul is cast out from the body, but it doesn’t progress to judgment. It wanders in torment, earthbound, until the body is destroyed and the Red Wind dissipates. Then, and only then, does the soul ascend, carrying the scars of both the first and second life.”

He paused, glancing at the President to ensure he was still following. “The existence of the Daywalkers is a much more recent event. Toward the end of 2020, a Nightwalker, now called the Traveler, repented what he’d become. He invoked an ancient ritual that dated back to the start of the war, the same ritual that created both Nightwalkers and Sentinels. It allowed him to project his soul beyond time and speak to an agent of the higher planes directly.”

“What exactly do you mean by an ‘agent of the higher planes’?”

“An angel, Mr. President. He bargained with an angel and walked away with an ability that we call the Grace, which is the power to raise the dead.” Nick laughed at the President’s incredulous look. “You’ve seen me use magic, sir. You saw me when I showed my true form. Is it so hard to accept that all the things you want to believe in are real?”

“Finish your story, Ambassador.” The President’s voice was clipped.

“The Traveler’s power allows him to call the soul back to the body after death and substitute another spirit principle, called the White Wind, from the higher planes. When used on a human or a Sentinel, the Grace restores them to life. When used on a Child of Darkness, however, it purges him of the Red Wind and replaces it with the White, allowing the Nightwalker to reclaim his soul. He stops being undead and becomes a Daywalker—that’s if the soul is welcomed back. If the Nightwalker rejects the power of the Grace, the White Wind and the Red fight for dominance of the physical body and cancel each other out. The body dies, and the soul is freed to seek judgment.”

“Is that what happened to you? Someone made you a Nightwalker, and this Traveler gave you back your soul?”

“Yes,” Nick said softly, “that’s exactly what happened.” A frown creased his forehead at the memory. “Nightwalkers are creatures of rage and domination. Although there’s a range of personalities in the Nightwalker community, they have an instinctive drive to destroy and conquer. Some adapt to the change better than others and are better able to leash their instincts. When a vampire’s soul is returned, it removes much of the bloodlust and rage, returning a greater measure of control. Choice is restored. We Daywalkers have a stronger sense of free will than our dark brethren.”

The President sighed heavily, opened a drawer of his desk, and lifted a cut glass decanter into view, along with two glasses. He poured himself a shot and looked quizzically at Nick. “Do you like scotch?”

Nick stared at him in amazement, then shook his head. “It’s a little early in the day for me, Mr. President.”

“Until your performance in Los Angeles, I would have said exactly the same thing.” Daniels took a sip of his liquor. “Please go on.”

“Once the possibility of a cure for vampirism existed, the Traveler offered a truce to the leader of the Sentinels, called Shadowhunter. Shadowhunter accepted the bargain. The two began to recruit other Sentinels and Nightwalkers to join them. As the number of Daywalkers grew, the Children of Darkness began to believe in the possibility of redemption, and they began signing on in greater numbers. The Sentinels were happy to stop fighting, as long as the Nightwalkers left them and the human population alone.

“In less than a year, the truce spread throughout the United States, Canada, and Mexico. At that point, it was formalized into a treaty—the Armistice Declaration of 2021. A ruling council was set up, called the Triumvirate, composed of the North American leaders of each of the three races: Sentinel, Nightwalker, and Daywalker. A watchdog organization known as Armistice Security was also created. It enforces the terms of the treaty and punishes any breach of the Armistice. Other than one major incident, the truce has held rather successfully for almost two decades.

“Since the time we stopped fighting and started working together, we’ve made huge advances, starting with the creation of artificial intelligence, modeled after the Gift of Air. Our technologies truly began to accelerate after that, once the AIs formed their own research teams with all of human science at their disposal. In just a few years, the Armistice has grown in power and knowledge to the point that we’ve actually built entire hidden cities without humanity suspecting a thing. We call ourselves the Free People now.”

“Free from what?” asked Daniels, skeptically.

“Free from the war, from the mindless hatred and killing that plagues the rest of the supernatural world. It’s an ongoing struggle—the vampires rising above their nature and the Sentinels repressing their instincts, with the Court of Shadows always watching for a moment of weakness so they can invade and take back their territories in North America.”

The President raised an eyebrow. “Some of your press releases have mentioned the Court of Shadows, but they didn’t go into much detail.”

“It’s the ruling body for Nightwalkers outside the Armistice Zone, made up from the heads of all the vampire houses. The Court makes all of the important policy decisions in Nightwalker society, such as settling territorial disputes and coordinating attacks against particularly successful Sentinel teams. Most of the Nightwalkers who reside in the Zone reject the Court’s authority and have renounced their blood ranks. These Nightwalkers go only by their given and house names; that’s one reason why the Court hates us so much, because we’ve shrugged off their domination. Our people don’t travel outside the Armistice Zone often because the Court tends to hunt them down and execute them as a matter of principle.” He shrugged. “I still use my title, Magister, to retain my legal standing while I serve as the Triumvirate’s Ambassador to the Court, but I’m more of the exception than the rule among the Free People.”

The President poured himself another shot. “You’ve told me what a vampire is. What is a Sentinel, exactly?”

“Sentinels start off as human, but each carries a powerful form of inherited magic known as the Gift. It was created to counter the power of the first Nightwalkers, so there would always be soldiers to fight against them. It’s passed down through all of the original Sentinels’ descendants in every generation, but it is recessive, only becoming latent when inherited from both parents. When a latent Sentinel meets a Nightwalker who is not shielding his aura, the Gift is kindled, and the Sentinel’s powers awaken.”

“What kind of powers?”

“The magic of the Gift becomes active in three stages, each of which takes several hours to complete. The first stage is a cascade of physical mutations that enhance combat attributes, such as strength, agility, endurance, and healing capacity. The second stage is the activation of a preprogrammed set of magical abilities, as well as the knowledge of how to use them. The third stage of mutation is the most important. Once complete, it gives the Sentinel immunity to vampire blood, so that he can’t be turned. It also draws a set of race memories into the Sentinel’s conscious awareness; these memories tell him exactly what he’s become, the truth about Nightwalkers, and creates a genetically programmed need to destroy them. The Gift turns a human into an instant killing machine and then sets him loose to fight. They’re as governed by their instincts as the Nightwalkers are, but there’s no cure in sight for them.”

“Unbelievable,” said the President, and his eyes narrowed. “So the Court is your enemy. What about the Sentinels?”

“Outside the Armistice Zone, most Sentinels officially despise us.” Nick sighed. “However, the Sentinels outside North America are loosely organized, usually defaulting to a small group of leaders within each city or region. Most don’t involve themselves in the business of other territories. Many are nomadic, following the hunt from city to city within their territories, as the Nightwalker population wanes in response to their successes. It wasn’t until the truce began to spread that the Sentinels of North America were able to get past their programmed imperatives and settle down. Even so, they continue to fight on in other ways. For example, most of them regularly donate blood, maintaining a supply so vampires don’t have to hunt humans.”

Disgust flashed over the President’s face.

“You must understand; the human blood you find in a hospital or bloodbank isn’t adequate to sustain a vampire. It requires magical preservation to retain its unique, mystical properties. Sentinel blood is more powerful so can be used more sparingly. Donated blood is a way to keep the peace, a change in tactics for the Sentinels. It’s a different way to fulfill their function and satisfy the needs of the Gift without having to kill. Most of them are glad to make the sacrifice, if only for the chance to stop fighting and enjoy the human lifestyle they had before the Gift awakened.”

The President sipped at his drink in silence. “If there’s a treaty in the States,” he asked finally, “what happened to you?”

Nick avoided eye contact, staring at his hands instead. He took a deep breath. “Yes, I like scotch.”

The President raised an eyebrow but poured a measure of the amber liquor into the second glass and pushed it across the desk without further comment.

Nick took a large swallow and winced at the burn before closing his eyes in remembrance. “Remember when I said there had been only one major breach of the Armistice? That’s when I became a vampire.”

President Daniels’ gaze sharpened at Nick’s sudden change in mood. “What happened?”

“In 2033, the leader of the Court of Shadows was Luscian, also known as Soulkiller, or the Prince of Nightmares. He was the original Nightwalker, the oldest of the Firstborn. The one who started it all. His house has been the dominant force in Nightwalker society from the beginning. He hated the idea of the Armistice, thought it a perversion of the natural order of things, not to mention a challenge to his authority. So he came up with a plan to destroy it. He came to the Triumvirate pretending to negotiate a peace deal, but he actually intended to create a major breach of the Armistice and provoke the Triumvirate into war—a war he thought he would win. While within the Armistice Zone, he gave Armistice Security the slip and killed someone. Brutally. Viciously.” Nick’s hands trembled, despite his efforts to still them.

Noticing his distress, President Daniels asked, “Who was it, Nick?”

Nick paled, his eyes still closed. “It was me.” He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. “I try not to think about it.”

The President showed no reaction to Nick’s admission of weakness. “What happened after that?”

“War. The Triumvirate took the fight all the way to Luscian’s fortress in France, Castle Night. Once the Traveler got close enough to touch Luscian, he wiped out Luscian’s entire house, releasing the power of the Grace into the bloodline all at once. The Nightwalkers of House Luscian all fought against the Light, which destroyed them completely. Every one of them died, all over the world. Nightwalker history refers to that event as the Burning. It represented such an awe-inspiring exercise of force that the Court of Shadows has refrained from any further direct engagements with our forces, so far. I was the youngest of Luscian’s scions and still the most human, so I was the only one to welcome back my soul—the only one to survive.