Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (25 page)

He gently inserted his mental probe into the Daywalker’s mind and eavesdropped on the psychic connection between Nick and Scott.
Water
, he corrected himself,
not Scott
. The shift in Scott’s personality when subsumed in the Wind link was obvious; the Sentinel’s mind operated on an entirely different level from human thought while interlaced with the collective consciousness of the Winds. Jeremy didn’t intrude further, knowing that the presence of a foreign element in the Wind link would be immediately detected. Instead, he concentrated on looking through Nick’s eyes while the vampire was distracted, watching as Nick nervously ran through his speech over and over again while he waited for his turn to speak.

National Mall, Washington, D.C

After the formal ceremony, Nick watched anxiously as President Daniels addressed the assembled members of the press. Earth, Water and Fire stood behind him, propping him up with their psychic support via Nick’s link to Water, while Air reached out with his mind from Anchorpoint and carefully scanned the crowd and the surrounding buildings for any threats. While even their most basic kinetic shield spells would stop a sniper’s bullet, it never hurt to be prepared.

Then it was Nick’s turn to speak. The vampire stepped forward to the second podium, opened his mouth, and then stopped as a wave of magic rolled over him. In less than a second, Fire’s hand seized his arm as she tried to teleport the four of them away. Nothing happened.

Letting go of Nick, she turned to Earth. “Teleport blockade. We cannot pass.”

The three Sentinels took up positions around Nick, calling their weapons to their hands. “We’re under attack,” Earth urgently informed the Secret Service agents, who watched in consternation.

A sudden, cold wind began to blow as the agents burst into motion, hustling the President away. The sky darkened ominously, and storm clouds obscured the sun.

In the center aisle, between the two blocks of reporters, a white haze appeared and then coalesced into the figure of a man wearing a black suit and black gloves, his face shadowed by a cowl. An unsheathed sword, the intricately inscribed blade chased with gold, gleamed in his right hand. Reaching up with his left hand, he pushed back the cowl, revealing his features.

Nick gripped the sides of the podium, the soft wood deforming under the pressure of his grasp. “Lorcan?”

“Prince Nicholas.” Lorcan’s expression was aloof, arrogant even.

Nick stepped around the podium, his confusion obvious. “Why are you here, Ambassador?”

“I have come to deliver a message from the Court of Shadows.”

Nick schooled his expression, his face a mask of polite neutrality. He didn’t bother hiding his emotional turmoil from the Sentinels. “And what does the Court have to say to me this day?”

Lorcan sneered. “The Court of Shadows objects to this alliance. Humans are prey, to be dominated and nothing more. You disgrace your bloodline to treat with such filth.”

Nick laughed, genuinely amused. “Forgive me if I fail to take offense at this slight to the reputation of House Luscian. They were monsters, the lot of them. They disgraced themselves by their very existence.”

“You are a shame to your house, Nicholas. You have no honor.” Lorcan’s smile was predatory.

Nick’s thoughts slammed to a halt as if he had been thrown into a wall. “Ruarc! What are you doing?”

“I am merely stating a fact, Magister Luscian. Do you have anything to say in response?”

Nick marched toward Lorcan, his eyes blazing as he glared at his lover. Over the link, the Sentinels were battered by his barely contained fury. They stepped forward as one, maintaining their positions relative to Nick. The Daywalker felt the four Winds monitoring the surroundings for lines of attack, in case Lorcan’s words were a diversion; the Court was hardly known for frontal attacks. Nick knew that objectively, but he was too overwhelmed with rage to give their suspicions any weight. Coming to a halt six feet away from Lorcan, he addressed the Nightwalker with deliberate calmness. “Walk away, Lorcan Primogenitor Diluthical. I heard nothing but the wind.”

Lorcan chuckled. “Then I will repeat myself more clearly.” He drew himself up and raised his voice. “Nicholas Magister Luscian, you have no honor.”

Water felt Nick’s intent and tried to dissuade him.
“This is a trap, brother. Do not walk this path.”

“I accept your challenge.” Nick smiled widely, displaying his fangs.

The Wind link fragmented as Scott withdrew from the mental fusion and his human personality reasserted itself. “Nick, no! Don’t do this!” The Sentinel sheathed his knives and reached out to grasp Nick’s shoulder, trying to drag the vampire around to face him. Nick, his eyes still boring into Lorcan’s, pulled away.

“I am a Head of House,” Nick answered. “Protocol requires me to answer a challenge to my honor.”

“That’s Court of Shadows protocol, not Armistice. You’re not one of them!” Scott pleaded desperately. “You don’t have to follow their laws!”

Nick’s scarlet eyes stared intently at Scott for a moment. “I am both Court and Armistice, Consul. This is part of what I am.”

Lorcan laughed. “You have the right to choose the time and place. Will you hide behind the Winds until they find a way to kill me secretly, or will you face me here and now?” He looked around at the reporters, the cameras turned to record their every move. “If you value them so much, let the humans see. Show them what you really are.”

“By all means, Lorcan.” Nick snarled. “Here and now is acceptable.” He turned to face Take. “Takeshi Nakamura Leshir Jiao-long, may I have the honor of your sword?”

Take looked at him, and then at Scott, who was watching with disbelief. Reversing his grip on his katana, he held it out to Nick. The faint ripple in the spellworked steel caught what remained of the light as Nick weighed it up in his hands. “Kick his ass.”

Holding the sword in his right hand, Nick casually walked past Lorcan to the grass beyond the blocks of chairs. Take followed just a few paces behind, waiting. Lorcan trailed after Nick, taking up a position ten feet away. Cameras tracked their movements as the reporters left their places to stand silently around the periphery of the open space.

Nick raised his arms, the sword glinting in his hand. Behind him, blue flames spread out in a half circle fifteen feet across. “Two have entered,” he said, invoking the combat ritual.

Lorcan copied his movements, and green flames spread behind him in a mirror image, forming a circle of fire around them, half green, half blue. Then Lorcan did something unexpected. Driving his sword vertically into the ground, he strode stiffly through the green flames to the outside of the circle.

Nick stared at him, his mouth agape. Then the air shimmered between them, and Brion appeared in the exact spot where Lorcan had been standing. “One will leave,” Brion said, completing the spell, his fangs extended as he smiled in triumph.

The green and blue flames ran together, and the circle burned white. Brion grasped the grip of Lorcan’s sword and drew it from the earth. Beyond the white flames, Lorcan collapsed as his body was wracked by convulsions.

Ana knelt next to him, laying her palm on his chest. “Neuromuscular feedback,” she said aloud, alerting Nick that their temporary link had been interrupted. “Compulsion spell. The control weave was severed when the circle closed.”

Nick looked at Brion. “Who are you?”

“I am Brion Magister Diluthical, called the Prince of Dread,” the other vampire stated. “I assert my privilege to stand as Champion to any honor combat on behalf of a member of my house.” He raised Lorcan’s sword. “You will face me now.”

Staggering drunkenly to his feet, Lorcan screamed and lurched forward to pound his fists against the invisible barrier that rose out of the white flames. “
NO!
No, my Lord, please. You can’t!”

“I will deal with you later, Lorcan,” Brion said icily, not returning his gaze.

With fangs and talons extended, Lorcan clawed desperately at the barrier and howled at his Master, “Brion Magister Diluthical, you have no honor!”

Brion turned to face him, red eyes meeting red. “I accept your challenge, Primogenitor. You may fight me after I have disposed of your upstart Daywalker.”

“I will kill you for this, Master.” Lorcan wept in impotent fury. “I swear it! You will die today, even if you win.”

“I think not, Lorcan.” Brion’s lip curled in disdain. “Instead, I will be rid of two thorns in my side, instead of one.” He turned back to Nick. “Shall we begin?”

Nick moved in a blur. His sword struck like a cobra, drawing on the full power of his Gift and the theoretical knowledge of countless duels absorbed from Luscian. Turning Nick’s sword aside, Brion reversed his cut, slashing back to slice through Nick’s shirt as the Daywalker leaned away from the blade at the last minute. The two stared at each other, each coldly appraising the other’s skill. Blood oozed from the shallow cut on Nick’s chest. The Daywalker dabbed at the red stain without looking down and then casually brought his fingers to his lips. “Tesiar poison?” he asked, tasting the blood.

Brion smiled cruelly. “It has its uses, especially to prevent regeneration.”

“Clever,” said Nick, as he swept the blade of Takeshi’s sword in a figure eight before him. “By all means, let us begin.”

They moved simultaneously, too fast for human eyes to follow. The metallic clang of their swords was the only sound as they circled again and attacked. For nearly ten minutes, the ringing of their blades filled the air as the vampires lashed out at each other, both struggling for supremacy.

Lorcan screamed as, weakened by poison and blood loss, Nick mistimed his strike. The tip of his sword buried itself in the ground, while Brion danced aside. Wasting no time, Brion lashed out, striking squarely with his full strength at the joint between the blade and the hilt of Nick’s sword. The Sentinel sword shattered, shrapnel flying as Nick staggered. Kicking out with his right leg, Brion buried his boot in Nick’s abdomen.

Knocked backward off his feet into the barrier that surrounded them, Nick collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. Immediately, Brion stood above him, raising his sword, ready to cleave Nick’s skull. As the Daywalker looked up, dazed, Brion opened his mouth to gloat—then he suddenly froze. His still-open mouth released a trickle of blood as his sword slid from his twitching fingers, and he stared down at the foot of black steel protruding from his chest. The blade’s blue runes shone brightly as the flames licked at Brion’s shirt. His talons clawing weakly at the black sword, he looked desperately into Nick’s eyes. “Have mercy, Lord.”

Nick’s expression twisted in anguish. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Brion stumbled away, Reaper sliding out of his chest as he collapsed. The black steel hungrily absorbed Brion’s blood, the blade attuning itself to its latest victim. Brion whimpered in fear. “Mercy,” he croaked one last time before his eyes glazed over.

The runes flared white, and Nick shrieked as he heard another voice join the chorus within the Crown of Souls. Dropping the sword, he clawed at his head, desperately trying to drive out the screaming in his mind. A storm of loathing rose from the imprisoned souls as they struggled to break free, his weakness only driving them to fight harder. Nick felt them rising to displace him, fighting against his feeble attempts to suppress them again.

Then he felt Lorcan’s arms around him, and the exquisite pain as the Nightwalker bit into his neck. As Lorcan fed, the bridge opened between them, and memories Lorcan had kept carefully hidden rushed forth. Nick experienced the unexpected loneliness of the three years after their first meeting, the sudden joy Lorcan had felt when he arrived in Anchorpoint for the first time and found Nick waiting at the teleport gateway, the Nightwalker’s helpless desire as they rekindled their relationship, the night Lorcan had looked down at Nick’s sleeping face and finally understood.

Love.

In the face of that knowledge, as the inmates of the Crown of Souls howled their hatred and despair around him, Nick did the one thing Lorcan had always denied him. He leaned forward and drove his fangs deep into Lorcan’s neck, and the two fed simultaneously. The blood magic doubled and redoubled, growing exponentially in strength as the bridge encompassed everything they were. All of their secret thoughts and dreams opened to each other as they became one.

Their collective will drove back the storm of hopelessness from the Crown of Souls, locking the imprisoned voices away again behind Nick’s internal shields. Then, alone, they turned once more to each other in the echoing silence of their joined minds.

“I love you, Nicholas.”
Lorcan’s inner voice was tinged with sorrow.

“Ruarc, I’m sorry.”

“I have no regrets. If your heart thaws, I will be waiting.”

“Someday, I might come for you.”

The bridge faded. Lifting their heads and retracting their fangs, Nick and Lorcan stared into each other’s eyes—red to red. Nick turned away, to where the black sword lay upon the ground, its runes returned to their original azure. In a three-foot circle around it, the grass had turned crisp and brown. As he watched, the sword faded, re-sheathing itself in the back of his mind. Lorcan stepped away from him, retrieving his own sword as he went.

Feeling Take’s light touch on his shoulder, Nick took the proffered hand and stood.

“We tried to help you fight them down, but Scott couldn’t reach you. Lorcan said blood magic was stronger, so we let him try.”

Nick nodded and turned to Scott, who kept their link masked. They contemplated each other silently.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Scott said aloud.

“I didn’t have to, Scotty. I could have let him kill me.” Nick glanced at the circle of dead grass. “Maybe that would have been the better choice.”

After a moment, Scott reopened their psychic connection. Silently he reached out to Nick and held the Daywalker in his psychic embrace.
“Be at peace, brother
,” he thought.
“I will never leave you.”