Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (48 page)

“I could ask the same of you, my Lord.”

Lorcan returned her smile. “What brings you to me so late in the day then?”

“My Lord, I have been investigating incidents that have taken place at different sites across our territory.” Her expression turned pensive. “It took some time to collect the facts to my satisfaction.”

“What kind of incidents?”

“Several members of our house were attacked last night by teams of Sentinels operating in concert.”

Lorcan tilted his head, puzzled. “What makes you think they were acting together? Sentinel tactics generally spare their limited manpower. Eliminating single targets doesn’t rate the involvement of more than one grouping.”

“That’s just it, my Lord,” Siobhan said. “They didn’t eliminate our people. In each case, they captured lone hunters and then released them to deliver a message.”

“To whom?” Lorcan frowned.

“To you, my Lord. All of the messages were addressed directly to you, by name.”

He stared at her. “What did they say?”

Reaching into her pocket, Siobhan withdrew five rolled slips of paper. “See for yourself, Master.” She held them out to him.

Lorcan took them and opened one at random.

To Lorcan Magister Diluthical Primogenitor Luscian, called the Prince of Subterfuge,

We desire an audience with you to discharge a debt of honor we owe to your master, Nicholas Magister Luscian. We will wait for you at St. Patrick’s Rock at Cashel, tomorrow night at nine p.m. Bring whatever forces you deem necessary to maintain your security, if you wish. We have no desire to fight you at this time. If you do not meet with us that night, your master will most likely die.

The letter was unsigned. Lorcan stared at the text for several seconds, then opened each of the other messages in turn. They all said the same thing. He slowly looked up at his Primogenitor. “How many of our house members are in the vicinity of Cashel?”

“Forty or fifty. How many do you wish to accompany you?”

Lorcan crumpled the letters in his fist. “All of them.”

St. Patrick’s Rock, Cashel, Ireland; Nine hours later

By late evening, House Diluthical soldiers had secured the historic site, while Lorcan waited impatiently outside the ruined church on top of the hill. At precisely nine o’clock, a white haze formed in the churchyard in front of him, and a group of twenty Sentinels appeared. The Nightwalkers and Sentinels regarded each other soberly.

“Lorcan Magister Diluthical.” A middle-aged woman among the Sentinel group regarded Lorcan with distaste. “I am Sentinel Gabrielle Dupont.”

Recognizing her accented English, Lorcan lifted his head. “Greetings, Sentinel,” he replied in French. “To what do I owe this meeting?”

“You have sworn your house’s allegiance to Nicholas Magister Luscian, Nightwalker,” she continued in her native language. “Was that an empty gesture, or are you prepared to follow it through?”

Lorcan frowned. “We will abide by our word honorably given, Madame. What is your business with Nicholas?” He gazed at the other Sentinels. “Are you Armistice?”

“We are not.” She scowled. “The Armistice is a mockery of everything we hold dear.” Drawing herself up, she said proudly, “We represent the Sentinel community of Paris.”

“I was under the impression the Sentinels of Paris had dispersed or retired after Nicholas cleansed the city.”

“For the most part,” she conceded. “However, until after the Armistice Day event one month ago, we were not aware of the true nature of the Magister Luscian’s involvement.” She stared pointedly at him. “We do not wish to be beholden to a vampire, not even a Daywalker, but it seems we owe him for the freedom to live our lives as they were before. For that reason alone, we have chosen to take up the sword again in his defense.”

“You said Nicholas would die if I didn’t meet with you.”

She nodded. “We wish to discharge our debt to Soulkiller’s Bane. Therefore, we will do what must be done to prevent what is about to happen.”

“And what is about to happen?”

“The fall of the Armistice.” Her voice was cold.

Lorcan’s jaw dropped as she continued to stare at him calmly. “I beg your pardon?”

“For more than a year, the American intelligence community has been reaching out to unaffiliated Sentinels worldwide, trying to recruit them as spies to enter the Armistice Zone. Armistice Security has been foolish enough to allow them entrance, and they have been relaying information back regarding the tactical weaknesses of the Armistice and the Hidden Cities.”

“That’s impossible. Sentinel candidates are barred from entering the Hidden Cities unless they have vampire sponsors. Their spies couldn’t have built that level of trust in a single year with any significant number of Armistice sponsors.”

“They did not,” she said softly. “They were sponsored by sleeper agents of the Court of Shadows.”

The assembled Nightwalkers muttered in disbelief.

“The Court is cooperating with humans and Sentinels?” Siobhan interrupted.

“From the documents we recovered from the vacant House Tervilant facilities in Paris, the Americans made contact with them first. The Court has been sending intelligence their way since last spring.”

Lorcan clenched his fists in fury and leaned back against the cold stone of the church. “You said the Armistice is about to fall,” he queried above the angry muttering of the rest of his house.

“When we learned of your Master’s involvement in exterminating the Nightwalker presence in our city, we decided, after much debate, that it would be dishonorable to let him be killed while we stood by and did nothing.” She took a deep breath. “Armistice Security has grown lax in their precautions, too dependent on their advanced technology to protect themselves. Those among our people who have been cooperating with the Americans inform us that the humans have developed a weapon they believe will circumvent that technology and bring down the Armistice. We are told they have been preparing to move against the Triumvirate for weeks. It may already be too late.”

Lorcan moved to stand just a foot away from her. “What kind of weapon?” he growled.

She returned his gaze levelly. “That we do not know. We were hoping the Court would have more information, so we sought you out.”

Lorcan shook his head. “No one in the Court would be so foolish as to disclose this knowledge to me, given my ties to Nicholas.”

“We did not expect that they would.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, out of reach of the persistent wind. “But we thought you might know who to ask.”

“Siobhan, I must know immediately if you and the others are loyal to me,” Lorcan said. “Are you willing to follow me into war? Because otherwise, I will do this on my own.”

Siobhan’s eyes narrowed. “My Lord, you are a child. Brilliant, yes, but still a child. Your heart is blinding you to the realities of this situation. We cannot go to war against the Court. We would have no chance at all.”

“We would,” Lorcan said softly, “if the Armistice stood with us.”

“You would have us join forces with the Triumvirate?” she asked, aghast. “Are you mad?”

“Think about it, Siobhan.” Lorcan looked around at the other members of his house. “Hundreds of thousands of our people have chosen to live under the strictures of the Armistice Declaration and have thrived even so. If we join with the Triumvirate, we will be able to draw on their strength, their knowledge. We could rise to dominance over the other houses of Europe, no longer second-class citizens, a lesser house restricted to this one island while the other houses snicker at our weakness.”

Siobhan glared at him. “Lorcan,” she warned, “you are going to get us all killed.”

“Is this life so precious, century after century in the dark? What do we have to look forward to but more of the same? The Armistice is the future, Siobhan! The hope we have had to live without for our entire existence. Isn’t it worth the risk—for the chance to be more than we are?”

She swallowed. “Do you actually believe any of that, or are you just saying what you think we want to hear? What you need to say so we will help you save your lover?”

In answer, Lorcan unbuttoned his shirt and drew it up over his head. Standing before them bare-chested, he allowed the spell of concealment to fade. The assembled Nightwalkers shrank back as the white glow of the cross brand shone over his heart.

“You know me,” Lorcan told them. “I have walked beside you for five hundred years. You know I am loyal to House Diluthical. I am loyal to you. Will you trust in me? Will you let me lead you beyond what we have been?”

The Nightwalkers regarded him silently.

“My Lord.” One of the most junior Nightwalkers stepped forward and knelt before him. “I am only a fledgling, but you have been an inspiration to me for decades. If this is the path you choose for us to walk, I will follow, even if you lead us all into the sunrise. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

The silence stretched on. Then, one by one, the others moved forward to kneel before him and speak their allegiance. Lorcan turned to Siobhan. “Join me, Siobhan. There is so much we could do together.”

“Lorcan, I am two thousand seventy-eight years old. I will not be swayed by inspirational rhetoric.” She regarded him soberly, staring directly into his eyes. “Do you honestly think you can win?”

“I don’t know. But in the end, does it really matter, as long as we simply try?”

With a deep breath, she, too, knelt before him. “My Lord, I will follow. My life is yours. I am your blade to wield.”

Lorcan pulled his shirt back over his head and turned to face Gabrielle. “House Daviroquir will have the knowledge we seek,” he told her. “Their Magister’s name is Alastair, and he is currently at their headquarters in London. One of my Praetors is on site and has a code for their jumper block. If we join forces, the soldiers we have here already may be enough to penetrate their defenses and abduct him. His mind will provide us with all the answers we need.”

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “And when do you wish to attempt this attack?”

Lorcan smiled. “The longer we wait, the greater the chance they will learn of our alliance. Give me ten minutes to set it up, Sentinel. We go tonight.”

Gabrielle stepped back among her sentinels and began quietly issuing orders.

“Siobhan,” Lorcan instructed, “contact Aislinn in London and get her code for the jumper block.” He turned to the other soldiers. “My Children, are you ready to fight?”

They all stood, showing their fangs.

“My Lord, if you had told us you planned to attack House Daviroquir, we would have been with you from the beginning,” said the soldier who had first sworn allegiance, smiling widely.

“Let the English learn to fear us once again.” Lorcan grinned and then turned and walked away from them all, into the stony stillness of the graveyard. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out his portable AI receptacle and stroked his finger over the crystal, making it glow.

“Sunburst.”

“Prince Lorcan,” answered the AI.

“Activate the video link.”

“Stand by.” After a moment, the voice spoke again. “Link established.” A black rectangle two feet wide and one foot high appeared before him. Nick’s face, framed by his office in the Washington Embassy, was visible on screen.

“Ruarc,” he said, his eyes shining. “What’s up?”

Lorcan’s voice calm, deliberate. “Nicholas,” he said, “you are at war.”

C
HAPTER 40

Armistice Embassy, Washington, D.C.; Five minutes earlier

Toby Jameson sat calmly on the couch in his brother’s office, dressed in a gray silk shirt and black slacks, watching as Nick wrapped up his paperwork for the day. Then he began to whistle.

Nick glared at him. “You know, technically, you’re a member of my diplomatic staff. I could assign you some work, if you feel you have too much free time.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

Nick growled, showing his fangs. “And how can you be so sure?”

Toby smiled and reached into his shirt pocket to pull out the all-important printed pieces of paper. “Because I have the concert tickets.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you almost finished? We should get going, if you want to go home and change first.” He looked critically at the Daywalker’s tan suit. “These guys are friends of mine, Nick. They’re not going to be impressed by the Government Stooge look.”

Nick snorted and was about to reply when he was interrupted by his AI. “Nicholas, you are being contacted by Lorcan Magister Diluthical.”

Nick checked his watch. It would still be late evening in Ireland. Lorcan usually waited until midnight to call on business. He shrugged.
Maybe he just wants to chat.
“Put him through, Rapier.”

A black rectangle opened up above the conference table, which lit to show Lorcan’s face as he stood outside next to some stone ruins. Behind him, there seemed to be quite a crowd gathered.

“Ruarc,” said Nick. “What’s up?”

“Nicholas,” said Lorcan. “You are at war.”

“I beg your pardon?” Nick paused for a moment, trying to figure out the joke.

“The Court has conspired with the Americans to infiltrate your defenses,” Lorcan informed him. “They intend to launch a surprise attack, using some kind of first-strike weapon they’ve developed.”

“Wait a minute.” Toby stood and stepped into Lorcan’s view. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly serious, Consul.” Lorcan shifted his attention back to Nick. “The Sentinels of Paris feel they owe you something, so they came forward tonight and told me. They say the Americans have been making preparations for weeks. It might already be too late to stop them.”

“Do they know where the attack will take place or anything about the weapon?” Nick asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a sneak attack.

The Nightwalker shook his head. “No. I am going to lead an assault against House Daviroquir in a few minutes. If we can capture their Magister, he should be able to shed some light on that. I will contact you afterward with what I’ve been able to find out.” He paused. “If I don’t make it back, I will have my successor contact you with whatever we learned. Goodbye, Nick. I love you.”