Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (47 page)

President Daniels was taken aback at the words ‘twenty generations’, but recovered quickly. “I thank you on behalf of my people, Speaker Layla, for your unique perspective.” Nemesis nodded and stepped back.

Rory offered his hand, the light of the cross brand now hidden beneath the soft leather. “Mr. President.” He paused for an instant, deciding what to say next. “I voted for you.”

Surprised, President Daniels laughed and shook Rory’s hand. “Thank you, Speaker Sean, for your support.”

“I prefer to be called Rory when I am not addressing another vampire, Mr. President.”

“Very well, Rory.” The President looked back at the now-dormant teleport gateway. “That was an impressive display you put on back there.”

Rubbing his thumb over his covered palm, Rory said, “Some of the people in this room waited thousands of years to be touched by the power I have been allowed to wield, Mr. President.” He tapped the House Jiao-long emblem on his breast pocket, which matched the symbol etched into the glass of the other head table. “I redesigned the seal of my house several years ago. The dragon represents the Darkness and was taken from the original seal. The circles represent the Light, just as they do for the Children of the Dawn. The sword represents the battle between them that I have been chosen to fight. Tonight, I simply renewed their faith in my cause. That is what they need from me, in return for their trust, and it is my honor to give it to them.”

President Daniels nodded. “Faith is important and so is trust. Without them, our leadership is meaningless.”

Rory smiled. “I’m glad you understand.” He bowed to the President and the First Lady in turn. “Mr. President, Madam First Lady, we are honored that you chose to join us on this special night. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”

* * *

“Nicholas,” Lorcan said, approaching the head table where Nick and Jeremy were chatting with the President and First Lady, “may I have this dance?”

“Ruarc, I don’t think—” Nick started to say.

“Yes, you may,” Jeremy said, turning back to the conversation.

“I seem to have been overruled.” Nick grinned.

“Your Leshir is learning to be gracious, after all.” Lorcan led Nick to the dance floor as the music moved smoothly into a slow, orchestral piece. “Dance with me, Nicholas.”

Nick let him lead, and the two moved skillfully around the dance floor.

“How are you doing these days, Ruarc? We didn’t really have much time to talk back in Ireland.”

Lorcan smiled sadly at him. “It’s been more than a year. Did you think I would be sitting alone in a dark room, pining for you?”

“Something like that.” Nick laughed. “I’m glad you’re doing better. I guess I have too high an opinion of myself.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong, Nicholas.” Lorcan’s strong hands turned his partner suddenly, spinning Nick away from him and then drawing him in close.

Nick stumbled for a second before recovering, matching his steps to Lorcan’s. “I never meant to hurt you, Ruarc.”

“I know,” whispered Lorcan. “I always knew what would happen if you found out before you had a chance to feel something for me.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m told you are still close friends with the Traveler.”

“Yes, I am.” Nick’s voice was carefully neutral.

“You must know he loves you, just as I do.”

“I know. I shared a double bridge with him. I saw his heart, just as I saw yours.” Nick leaned closer, pitching his voice low, so only Lorcan could hear. “And I saw what you asked him to do before you left.”

Now it was Lorcan’s turn to stumble. “That was meant to be private, Nicholas,” he said angrily. His eyes blazed and his hand, still holding Nick’s, hovered self-consciously near the hidden brand over his heart.

“Why did you do it, Ruarc? Was it because of the things we said after our first night together, all those years ago?”

Lorcan’s eyes gradually faded from red to green. “Yes,” he admitted with a hint of sadness.

Nick stopped dancing, his hand still on Lorcan’s chest. “I told you then that it meant something to me when you made a sacrifice for my sake. It still does.”

Lorcan swallowed and stood perfectly still, his thoughts and his body frozen by Nick’s light touch. “But does it mean enough?” he asked.

Nick opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a deep voice from behind him. “May I cut in?”

Turning, Nick found Rory standing behind him, his eyes slitted and red as they focused angrily on Lorcan. Nick’s eyes darted between the two, and he noticed that although Lorcan smiled at the intruder, his eyes, too, were red.

“Guys, this is neither the time nor the place for a pissing contest.”

“Run along back to your Leshir, Nicholas,” Rory said frigidly, facing Lorcan. “May I have this dance, Magister Diluthical?”

“By all means, Magister Jiao-long.” Lorcan’s grim smile was broken by the points of his fangs. “Would you like to lead, my Lord?”

Silently, Rory took Lorcan’s hands. The dance floor emptied, other guests scattering around the two dancers as they picked up the psychic aura of fury that clung them. Alone, they moved silently in time to the music, saying nothing. When the song finally gave way to a faster number, they stood apart, staring into each other’s eyes. No one else came near them, unwilling to risk striking a spark that might ignite into violence.

“Thank you for the dance, my Lord,” Lorcan said finally. “When the time comes, perhaps we shall do it again one day.”

“Perhaps we will.” Rory’s voice was resonant with hatred. His fangs bit into his lip, leaving a bead of his own blood on his lower lip. “When the time comes.”

Lorcan smiled, his own fangs bared. “I look forward to the challenge.”

Rory’s voice was a low rumble as he warned, “That would be a serious mistake, Magister Diluthical.”

“I will never yield, my Lord,” answered Lorcan. “I will never surrender.”

“Then one day, Ruarc,” Rory’s eyes blazed with suppressed mayhem, “we will dance for real.” Then he casually turned his back and walked away toward the Jiao-long table.

Lorcan smiled pleasantly at Nick, who was standing helplessly at the edge of the dance floor, and then he also turned and returned to his seat.

Nick jumped as Toby’s lightly touched his shoulder.

“Big brother, your friends scare the crap out of me.”

Nick sighed. “You’re not the only one.”

* * *

As the evening gave way to night, Scott and Ana stood and walked to the opposite end of the hall from the head tables. As they reached it, the music faded, and the hologram of the outside sky was replaced by a large neutral-gray rectangle that stretched across the entire wall.

“My Lords and Ladies.” Ana’s voice was amplified by her AI. “I am Anaba Nizhoni Consul Jiao-long, called the Architect, the Wind of Fire. We have come to the final part of the entertainment for this evening. In honor of this moment—the twentieth anniversary of the Armistice Declaration—we have prepared a special presentation for you to remind us of the significance of this day.”

“My Lords and Ladies,” Scott spoke up, “I am Scott Phillips Consul Luscian, called the Wind of Water. For thousands of years, Sentinel history has been passed on by word of mouth, written records, and the memories of the Gift, while Nightwalker history has been passed on by telepathic memory transfer. Tonight, that changes.”

“The Arcanum Project grew out of a conversation several years ago between Scott and me,” Ana explained. “We wondered whether telepathic memory transfers could ever be mimicked by technology, as means of recording historical events directly from the minds of the witnesses. After a great deal of work, we announce tonight that it can. Together, we have designed a new form of magical artifact—one that will allow the permanent storage of a recorded memory. We have also created AI software that will allow those memory records to be viewed audiovisually.”

“What you are about to see,” said Scott, “is a composite simulation of memory recordings. This way, the same events can be seen, from the most informative perspective, in an integrated presentation. For this occasion, we have chosen two events to demonstrate this technology, which will become available for general use within a year. The first is the founding of the Armistice—the events that have brought us here today.”

Applause filled the gap in the proceedings as Anaba and Scott stepped to either side of the screen. A picture of Jiao-long’s sanctum appeared, the images drawn from both Rory’s own memory and the memories of Jiao-long that he had absorbed, depicted Rory and Jiao-long confronting each other. The audience watched spellbound as the events of that evening played out, seeing Rory’s transformation and his bargain with the White Wind, followed by his first use of the Grace on Layla and the start of the truce.

When the screen finally faded to gray, Scott and Anaba stepped back in front of it to thunderous applause. Holding up her hands to quiet the audience, Ana spoke again. “The second piece is a cautionary tale, a reminder of what we are and what we have tried to leave behind. This is the story of the Burning, the day the Armistice was breached and we all went back to war.”

They stepped aside again, and the screen lit up to show Rory facing Luscian for the first time across the coastal defense barrier. Silently, the audience watched Luscian’s deception to pass the barrier, Nick’s final moments, the battle for Castle Night, the astral confrontation between Rory and Luscian, and the explosion of the Grace into the bloodline. They saw Take’s fight with Luscian, Nick feeding from Rory to absorb his power, and the final battle between Nick and Luscian. Then they viewed Anaba’s confrontation with Nick as the Daywalker was possessed by the Crown of Souls, and the fall of the Citadel.

When it ended, Scott and Anaba stepped forward again. The applause was more subdued this time, but when it died down, Scott said, “We have seen the history of where we’ve been.”

“We know the price of peace,” added Ana.

“It is up to all of us to make sure we learn from it, so that those who sacrificed so much did not do so in vain,” Scott said.

“Thank you for your attention, and goodnight.” The gray screen faded back to the night sky hologram as the two walked back to their seats at the head tables.

Ms. Bradshaw turned numbly to her camera crew. “Tell me you got all of that.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Every frame.”

“You people are more dangerous than I thought.” President Daniel’s expression was grim.

“Yes,” said Nick. “Never forget that, sir. We walk a finer line between hope and savagery than humans. We have offered you the hand of friendship, Mr. President. Our peoples can travel this road together if you choose to lead them in that direction; if not, we will find our way alone.” Standing, he reached out and put an arm around Jeremy. “And now, we have to say goodbye to the rest of our guests. Thank you very much for coming. I hope the evening was enlightening.”

“It was an education, Ambassador.” The President and the First Lady stood and shook Nick’s hand.

Nodding, Nick turned and walked down the aisle toward the teleport gateway, his Consuls rising to follow.

Jeremy lagged behind. “Goodnight, Mr. President, Madam First Lady. Perhaps if my situation changes someday, we might meet under better circumstances.”

Daniels frowned. “Agent Harkness, you threatened the lives of the people I am sworn to protect. That choice has consequences. As President of the United States, I can assure you that your situation will never change. You will remain a fugitive from justice until you pay the price for your actions.” He turned to face Nick, who was watching them from the teleport gateway. “However, as a man living in extraordinary times, I can say that from what I have seen, your lover has walked a hard road to get where he is. That is a heavy burden to carry. If you can ease that weight in each other’s company, so be it.” He held out his hand to Jeremy. “Good luck to you both.”

Jeremy reached out slowly and shook the President’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered. “I won’t let him down.”

C
HAPTER 38

Central Intelligence Agency, Langley, Virginia; One week later

Andrew Kensington clicked off the raw footage from the Armistice Day event. He hadn’t even bothered to watch the edited version with the reporter’s commentary, which continued to be broadcast by the major news outlets. No, he wanted to see the nuances, without missing anything. Putting the remote down, he leaned back into his desk chair.
The President is a hell of an actor,
he thought,
if that were a strategically cordial performance. The only time he showed a hint of anger was when he slapped down the fucking terrorist, and even then, he recovered nicely.

His musings were interrupted by one of his team members, who yanked open the door and hurried inside.

Kensington frowned. “Don’t you knock?”

“You’re going to want to see this, sir, right away.” He handed over a file.

Slipping his glasses down off his forehead, Kensington started to read. Coming to the end, he read it again. “This has been verified?”

The other man nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. Our Fire Sentinels have confirmed the results. The technology is a viable delivery system.”

Kensington put down the file and picked up the phone, dialing an internal number.

“What is it, Kensington?”

“We did it, sir. We are finally ready.”

P
ART
VIII
: 
C
HECKMATE

C
HAPTER 39

October 2041; House Diluthical Stronghold, Binn Mhadagáin, Belfast, Northern Ireland; Twenty-one months after public exposure

“Enter.” Lorcan stood and tossed the book he had been reading onto his desk.

“Master,” Siobhan said as she entered and knelt before him, “my life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

“I accept your honor, to defend as if it were my own. Rise.” Lorcan waited while she stood. “Why are you still up, Siobhan? It’s almost noon.”