Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (24 page)

As he contemplated what to do with the remainder of the evening, his AI spoke into the silence. “Jeremy, Scott Phillips is trying to reach you.”

Jeremy scowled at the interruption, then schooled his expression. “Put him through, Grendel.”

A virtual screen opened up over the coffee table.

“Hello, Jeremy.” Scott looked back at him.

Jeremy nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“You know how I usually meet up with Take, Rory and Anaba to play poker on Wednesday nights?”

“Of course.” Jeremy snorted. “The Winds’ night out. Did you guys decide to skip it to get a good night’s sleep before the ceremony tomorrow?”

“No. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Jeremy frowned slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“If you’re not interested—”

“No!” said Jeremy. “No, I … I was just surprised. It’s like a private ritual with you guys. You don’t even invite Nick to your game. Why me?”

“Jeremy, I don’t forgive you for what you did to Nick in Los Angeles, but I can’t argue with the fact that it helped him turn his life around. In the meantime, you’ve tried to be a loyal, supportive friend to him, and I can’t argue with that, either. Now, I know you’re probably planning to spend the night sitting alone in your room, so I thought I would make you a better offer.”

Jeremy swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes or say no. It’s up to you. If you want to come over, we’re meeting at Ana’s apartment in twenty minutes.” Scott grinned. “Bring cash. Newbies don’t get credit.”

The virtual screen turned black and disappeared. Jeremy stared silently at the space where it had been for several seconds, then he got up from the couch and headed for the shower.

* * *

Lorcan woke about an hour before dawn, gently lifted Nick’s arm from off his chest, and rolled over in bed to face the sleeping Daywalker. Nick’s cheek was warm beneath his light kiss. “Someday, Nicholas, you’ll find that feeling again, too,” he whispered. “I just hope it’s with me.”

He slid silently out of bed and dressed, his senses sharp in the dark. Casting another glance at Nick, he smiled and walked to the living room. He picked up the bottle of Selene and carried it into the kitchen, placing it in a cabinet with Nick’s bottles of Tiamat. With a last look at the bottle he had guarded for so long, Lorcan closed the cabinet and walked to the front door, letting himself out.

As he walked the streets of Anchorpoint toward the gateway back to the Court of Shadows Embassy, he found himself whistling an old lullaby he hadn’t thought of in centuries. The ever-present rattle of the perimeter screen, a staccato crackling similar to fracturing ice, formed a percussive counterpoint to his melody. Fragrant flowering vines grew prolifically along the edges of the wide streets, protected from the sharp mountain chill by warming spells; he breathed deeply of the fresh scent.

Connor,
he thought, as he looked up at the pre-dawn sky.
If you’re watching, you know you will always be first in my heart. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. He makes me happy for the first time since I lost you, and I don’t want to let him go, even if he doesn’t feel the same way. I hope you understand and that you forgive me.

His mind on his two lovers, Lorcan paid scant attention to where he was going as he walked to the low tower that served as the embassy’s antechamber. Entering the lobby, he made his way to the teleport gateway and punched in his security code for transit to the main embassy building in Icehaven. In a flash of light, he jumped directly to the living quarters on the top level.

Placing his hand on the security plate, Lorcan let the AI recognize him and opened his door, yawning. When he stepped into his quarters, he immediately sensed he wasn’t alone. Instantly, he raised his defenses and prepared to fight, centuries of training taking control before he was even aware of his actions.

“That will not be necessary, Lorcan. Please come in.”

Lorcan rocked back on his heels at the voice, noticing the familiar figure who stared out of the window at the city of Icehaven.
Impossible! He could not be here.
Lorcan took a few steps forward, letting the door close behind him. Ignoring the eight other Nightwalkers in the room, he had eyes only for the man at the window.

“My Lord?”

Brion Magister Diluthical turned away from the window and regarded him frankly. “Lorcan Primogenitor Diluthical, have you forgotten all basic courtesy in your time away from us?”

Lorcan immediately dropped to one knee. “My Lord, forgive me. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

Brion tilted his head absently. “I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own. Rise.”

Lorcan scrambled to his feet. “Master, I don’t understand. I received no notice of any request for a member of the Court to enter the Armistice Zone.”

Brion turned his back to Lorcan again and gazed at the low obsidian buildings, which gleamed beneath the opalescent dome of force. The vampire lord’s sandy brown hair seemed almost blond in the low light that the denizens of the city preferred. “I did not request entry. Armistice Security has no knowledge of my presence.”

Lorcan’s mouth was dry, and it took him several seconds to find his voice. “Master, how is that possible?”

“The Court has sympathizers within Armistice Security. You will forgive me if I do not give you their names, I trust?”

Lorcan nodded numbly. “Of course, Master.”

“In any case, these agents have altered certain intelligence records in the Armistice Security database to allow us to substitute the entry records of several embassy staff to match those of myself and my associates. After that, it was a simple matter of impersonating them as we entered the Armistice Zone.” Brion slipped his hand into the vest pocket of his charcoal gray suit and pulled out a skeleton watch on a silver chain.

“And my staff members?” asked Lorcan, already knowing the answer. The ticking of the watch was loud to his enhanced senses in the otherwise silent room, and Lorcan felt each second like the blow of a hammer, nailing his coffin shut.

“We could not allow them to live. Their discovery could have jeopardized the operation.” Brion checked his watch and nodded in satisfaction, before slipping it back into his pocket. “Now I have little time and a great deal to accomplish. Are you ready to assist me in my duties?”

“Naturally, Master.” He finally glanced at the other vampires in the room. He recognized them all: the senior spellcasters from half a dozen houses. There was no way they would cooperate in a joint effort without a direct order from the Court of Shadows. “My Lord, may I ask the nature of this operation?”

Brion reached out and picked up a plastic card from a wooden stand in the center of Lorcan’s desk. “Lorcan, do you remember the day we first met in person?”

Lorcan stiffened. “Yes, Master.”

“As do I. It was the night I gave the order that you be restrained, to prevent you ending your life after the death of your human mate. I did not inquire, at the time, as to his name.”

“Connor, my Lord,” Lorcan said without emotion.

“You had shown such magnificent potential, even so early on in the second life; I did not wish to lose such a valuable resource. I have not regretted that decision, not once in four hundred years.”

“My Lord does me too much honor.”

Brion turned the plastic card over in his hands, so that the Journeymen logo and the word “security” showed clearly in the dim light. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Are you in love with Nicholas?”

Lorcan felt his heart stop and then race wildly. “My Lord?” he asked weakly.

Brion turned toward him again, dropping the security pass carelessly back onto the desk. “I have followed your career for almost four hundred and fifty years. Your brilliance and skill have been unsurpassed by any Nightwalker it has been my honor to work with. But you lacked passion, ever since that night we first met. You were a banked fire, for all that you continued to climb steeply upward through the ranks. Honestly, I am surprised you were content to remain at Consul rank for so long.

“Originally, I thought I might be forced to have you killed, in case you attempted to challenge me for leadership of House Diluthical. But, after a time, I realized you had reached the limit of your ambitions. It was prudent, given your youth and the power of those senior to you, but it was disappointing to see your career stagnate.”

A soft chime sounded throughout the city, echoing from the stone walls, marking the sunrise. To the Nightwalkers, the predominant population of the city, it was a moment that symbolized violent death.

“And then, six years ago, you began an aggressive campaign to rise to the rank of Primogenitor. It took me almost a year to realize what had changed when you initiated your drive to stand at my right hand. Suddenly, you had fire again. You burned with passion and ambition. You maneuvered Nightwalkers three times your age into compromising positions and eliminated them. You dueled over and over again with remarkable recklessness to thin the ranks between you and your goal. If I had not named you to your current position, you would undoubtedly have decimated the strongest members of my house in pursuit of advancement.”

Lorcan said nothing. The vampire lord’s carnelian eyes held him fast, seeming to lay bare all his sins and failures. Something terrible was approaching, and Lorcan was helpless to avoid it.

“That transformation took place immediately after your mission to recruit the Magister Luscian to our cause. In your report, you stated that you had initiated a sexual relationship with him, which you felt could be the basis for progressive influence in the future. That relationship was one of many factors in appointing you to be our Ambassador to the Triumvirate, although your obvious diplomatic credentials were the primary determinant. Our intelligence since then has indicated you have restored that relationship—even built upon it—expanding your influence to the point that Nicholas is quite trusting of you.”

Brion’s voice dropped into a lower register, betraying his anger, but he remained perfectly, inhumanly still, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Conversely, however, his influence on you has been reported to be substantially greater. You have displayed significant behavioral changes in his presence over the course of the past two years, changes I would not have believed if the information had not been corroborated by many sources. Because of those reports, your loyalty has been widely questioned throughout the Court of Shadows. I have been hard-pressed to defend you, given the evidence. You do not treat him as an assignment, Lorcan.” Brion stepped closer and stared into his eyes. “You treat him as your mate.”

Lorcan forced himself to speak through his own wintry dread. “I do not understand what you wish me to say, Master.”

“I wish you to answer my question.” Brion’s voice remained even despite the power of the threat implied by his words. “Are you in love with Nicholas? Is he, in fact, your mate?”

Lorcan’s mind scrabbled for some evasion, some way to deflect this line of inquiry, but his thoughts were frozen. And then it was too late. He witnessed the exact moment his Master took his hesitation for assent and knew that he was lost.

“Oh, Lorcan,” said Brion, sighing. “You could have been among the greatest of us, and you have thrown it all away for a Daywalker half-breed.” He pulled a chair forward and made himself comfortable. “Ambassador, I have direct orders from the Court of Shadows, and I regret to inform you that your assistance will be necessary to carry them out.”

“What does my Lord require of me?” Lorcan tried to salvage some honor from his abject failure.

“The Court of Shadows believes it is finally time to express our displeasure to Nicholas Magister Luscian over his actions of the last six months.” Brion looked at him with pity as he explained in detail what he needed.

Horror rose like bile in Lorcan’s throat as he listened. “No, my Lord. Please, no.” He fell to his knees as tears of blood coursed down his cheeks. “Show mercy, Master. Please, I beg of you. I cannot do this. Find someone else.”

“There is no one else. Your knowledge of his thought processes and your personal influence will be necessary for the plan to work, otherwise he might decline, regardless of the cost to his honor.”

Lorcan got shakily to his feet and wiped away his tears with his sleeve. He faced Brion squarely. “Master, I refuse.”

“You refuse,” Brion said with only mild interest. “You have sworn your honor to my service. Does your word mean so little to you?”

“My Lord, it means nothing to me at all. I will not serve.”

“Lorcan,” said Brion sternly, rising from his chair, “your assistance is necessary, not your cooperation.”

Before Lorcan even had time to think, the compulsion spell the eight spellcasters had created before he entered the room snapped tightly around him. He collapsed on the floor as he was bound, and his conscious will was locked away, screaming.

Brion regarded him dispassionately. “Get up.”

Lorcan got to his feet.

“I have told you what I require. Now, based on your firsthand knowledge of Prince Nicholas and his protectors, tell me the most likely way I can successfully achieve it, as well as any possible difficulties you can anticipate.”

Lorcan began to speak.

C
HAPTER 18

July 2040; Armistice Embassy, Washington, D.C.; Four hours later

Jeremy lounged on the comfortable couch in Nick’s office and watched the formal ceremony on the virtual screen suspended over the desk. Months of work had culminated in this moment—recognition of the Triumvirate as a foreign government in a ceremony at the National Mall—and he didn’t want to miss a second of Nick’s triumph. He just wished he could have gone in person. He rolled his eyes at his own foolishness.
Who knew being a wanted terrorist could have a downside?

On the screen, Nick was flanked by Scott and Ana. Takeshi also stood behind them, ostensibly one of Nick’s guards but actually there to demonstrate to the watching Armistice population that the Triumvirate fully supported Nick’s actions. On a whim, Jeremy extended his thoughts to find the familiar light of Nick’s mind, halfway across the city.