To Curse the Darkness (4 page)

“On the contrary,” Conrad replied, “that is precisely how you create
more enemies
and ensure that future attacks will be forthcoming. You can deny it all you like, but we brought this plague on ourselves. It was the direct result of our own despicable actions. Were we not feared for our bloodthirsty ways, our enemies would never have been inspired to attempt to obliterate us in the first place.”

“What does it matter what inspired their pitiful actions? In the end, they were defeated, were they not? They could not obliterate us, no matter how hard they tried.”

Georgia bit back the reply that sprang to her lips. If Brockwell refused to accept that the plague was ended, how could he insist that their enemy had been defeated? She gnawed on her lip, wondering whether she should risk speaking up and pointing out the discrepancy.

“We have lost more than half of our greatest Houses to the plague,” Conrad reminded the assembly. “And our population has been decreased by fully two-thirds. I would say that our enemies were more nearly successful than any of us should find comfortable.”

“Yes, of course,” Emrys interjected. “You're entirely right. The loss of life is staggering. But it is strange, is it not? All of our houses have suffered these losses. All, it seems, but
Casa di Quintano
.”

“We have suffered losses too,” Conrad replied. “Make no mistake of that.”

Emrys shrugged. “A few, perhaps, though hardly enough to matter. Especially since, unlike so many of the rest of us, your House has actually increased in number, has it not? As well as in strength?”

“It has.”

“You'll forgive me, I hope, for stating the obvious,” Emrys continued, “but it is no secret that you have achieved this feat by dint of assimilating most of the so-called ‘lost' Houses, which, of course, were not lost at all, but merely incorporated into your own great House. It seems odd, therefore, to hear
you
speak of this loss as though it were a personal tragedy you'd suffered.”

“Does it really?”

“It does, indeed. I would go so far to say that your remarks might seem a trifle disingenuous to those of us who have not benefited from this disease to the same extent you have.”

“None of us have ‘benefited from this disease',” Conrad snarled. “Among those who died over the years were quite a few whom I considered friends. We have lost many honorable men and women, including several whose wisdom I sorely miss. Their deaths have impoverished us all. We are poorer, as a species, for having lost them.”

“I'm certain we all agree with that,” Georgia said, finally finding her voice. She laid a soothing hand on Conrad's arm. “The toll this disease has taken has been heavy indeed. And as Conrad said, we have all suffered. We have all felt loss. But, if we might move on, I believe my sire has a new policy he wishes to discuss with us, now that this ‘curse' we've all been under has finally been lifted.”

“Thank you my dear.” Conrad shot her a smile as he rose to his feet. “As I have already stated, it is my opinion that we brought this plague upon ourselves through our arrogance, our cruelty and a misguided belief in our own superiority. We are lucky to have survived, but I would not want to bet on our chances of being able to do so again.

“I am convinced that the best way for us to ensure a long, safe, prosperous future for ourselves and our families is for us all to make a concerted effort to blend in with the general population. If we make this our priority, and if we are diligent and consistent in our actions, I do not believe it will be a difficult task. I doubt it will take more than a few generations before humankind will have forgotten all about us. However, in order for this plan to be successful, we as a society will need to alter our behavior to a certain extent. We will need to make what some of us might view as sacrifices.”

“More sacrifices?” Emrys gasped in mock horror. “How terribly grim.”

Georgia shot him a warning glare as Conrad continued. “Going forward, we will need to act with greater subtlety and cultivate restraint. Secrecy will be our best defense. But there can be no secrecy where we are feared, or where we continue to kill or maim our victims. As I've said, we have survived one plague, but only barely, and at far too high a cost. The next time—and there will be a next time if we do not change our ways, make no mistake about it—we may not be as lucky.”

“Fine words,” Sojinnyara observed. “But how exactly do you suggest we accomplish that?”

“Yes, and what of these sacrifices you mentioned?” Emrys inquired. “I would hear more about them.”

“For a start, and in answer to Emrys's question, I propose we do away with the cult of
Invitus
.”

A cry of protest rang out around the room. Georgia sighed inwardly. She was not surprised that Conrad had made his announcement so boldly—especially not with the way Emrys had been needling him—nor was she surprised by the response his words received.

Brockwell glared at him. “Are you mad? Why ever would we do that?”

“Because the practice is indefensible,” Conrad replied. “It is nothing less than barbaric. Perhaps there was a practical rationale behind it at one time, though I doubt that could possibly be the case, but in the world as it is now, it has no place. It endangers us all—to the point where the only madness I see is in allowing it to continue.”

“Preposterous. I categorically reject this argument.”

“If I may,” Georgia said. “I believe my sire makes a good point. After all, there are many reasons we need be wary of humans now, beyond the threat of new diseases.”

Emrys smiled challengingly. “Is that truly what you believe? Well then, perhaps my lady would care to provide us with an example?”

“I will give you several,” Georgia said. “The advances humans have lately made in terms of weaponry is the first of them. From a military standpoint, they are now our equals, however little we may wish to accept that. If they continue in this fashion, they will soon gain an insurmountable ascendency over us. Their facility with fire is another. They can be harmed by it too, of course. That goes without saying. But the risk to us is far greater—and they know it. Finally, I would remind you all that they outnumber us, by a very, very wide margin. Even before our population was decimated by disease, this was the case. Now, of course, it's that much greater. As things stand now, any reasonably organized warlord among them could easily contrive to end us all using only a very small army, and without having to resort to anything as complicated as a new illness.”

“Which is precisely why I call it madness to do away with what is inarguably our best defense!” Brockwell shouted. “What is this nonsense I am being forced to listen to? Are you suggesting that we hide from our enemies? That we bow down before them? No! We must crush those who would oppose us, grind them back into the very dust from which they sprang.”

“It can hardly be termed inarguable,” Conrad replied dryly. “Since we are, in fact, arguing about it. But, tell me, would you crush the very source of our strength? Have you forgotten from whence we all came? Or the manner in which we are nourished? Where would we be were it not for humans? We could not even exist apart from them!”

“The past is dead,” Brockwell insisted. “What we were, or where we came from, matters very little. We have traded in the lowly status we once shared with humans and, in so doing, have set ourselves high above them. That is not to say I wish to see them all dead, of course. For, after all, they do have their uses. I see no reason we should not continue to farm them—just as we have always done—to harvest the best of them for the purpose of growing our Houses and to utilize the rest of them as food, or as labor to perform the most menial of tasks. It is, after all, what they're designed for. They are little more than cattle, yet you would seek to deify them. It's madness, I say!”

Conrad cast his gaze around the room. “I do not see a lot of new faces here tonight, so I think I'm correct in assuming that most of you will still remember my late mistress. For those who do not, let me explain that she was once considered nigh invincible. She too viewed humans as inferior beings, and did not scruple to use them in whatever way she wished. Yet, in the end, she was brought to her knees by those very humans she so despised and upon whom she had preyed for centuries. When at long last these supposedly ‘inferior beings' revolted against her tyranny, when they banded together and took on her army, wielding nothing but torches and crude farm implements, they brought down nearly her entire House. I might have been stronger than any of the humans who made up that mob. But even had I been stronger than a hundred of them, it would have done me no good.

“It feeds our vanity to think of ourselves as being superior to humans, but there is not a one among them—nay, not even the lowliest of slaves—who cannot at least claim sovereignty over his own thoughts. While we, on the other hand, are generally incapable of acting as we see fit. We are slaves to our sire's will from the moment we are turned, and the majority of us will remain so until we die. Had my mistress not been so grievously injured in the attack on her stronghold, I would never have been able to kill her—not if I had a thousand weapons at my disposal. My own strength would have been used against me had I tried. I'm sure most of us seated at this table can tell a similar tale. Being
Invitus
did not save her. Centuries of cruel oppression did not save her. It may have been my hand that struck the killing blow, but I do not deserve the credit for her demise. Her death was engineered by humans.

“That is a valuable lesson, my friends. For if we continue to give them cause to fear us, if we do not disappear from their collective memory, then sooner or later they
will
kill us all.”

“I've heard enough,” Emrys declared suddenly. “I will second Quintano's motion. Not out of any fear of humans, for I still do not view them as a credible threat, nor do I feel any need to inconvenience myself because of their supposed advances. I'm sure there are as many ways as ever by which we might contrive to manage them to our advantage, and I intend to do just that. But I also see no reason to create more
Invitus
.”

He glanced around the chamber. “I look at all of us seated here and ask myself, are there not enough of us already? Why should we wish to sire our own executioners and successors? Why should we seek to create more competition for ourselves? I'd rather live my life secure in the knowledge that all our spawn are too weak, too fearful, or too beholden upon us to ever dream of plotting against us. Do you not agree?” he asked, shooting a malicious smile in Georgia's direction.

She glared back at him. “I'll agree with part of what you've said. For I, too, see no value in creating more
Invitus
. As to the rest, I have no opinion to state.”

“How admirably political of you,” Emrys replied mockingly. “I'm sure your circumspection does your sire proud. But enough talk. Are we ready to vote on this matter yet? If so, I vote ‘aye'. Let us free ourselves from the tyranny of our children. Let us resolve to no longer nurture vipers at our breasts.”

“Let me be sure I understand you,” Sojinnyara addressed him angrily. “Did you just liken us all to vipers?”

“But of course,” Emrys replied with a laugh. “We
are
vipers—yes, even you, Madame. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool.”

“It's
you
who are the fool,” snapped Brockwell. “And a coward as well, it seems. And
your
mistress,” he said, turning to glare at Conrad, “was also a fool. You are correct. I
do
remember her, and I laughed when I learned of her death. It is as ridiculous a practice to make all of your spawn
Invitus
as it is to make none of them so. One need only look to nature—to the bees, if you will—to see how a House should be ordered. There must be both workers and drones, both soldiers and slaves. That is what I have always done and it is what I shall continue to do. Most of all, I reserve the right to do what I judge best for my own House—without asking permission or suffering interference from anyone.”

Emrys shrugged. “Your arguments notwithstanding, I still cast my vote with Quintano, as I wager most of us will.” He turned to Georgia. “And you, my lady? How do you vote?”

“I vote with Conrad. Obviously.”

Brockwell jumped to his feet. “No. You do not.” He glared at Georgia. “You have no place here! You have no voice here! You pollute this chamber with your presence.”

“Sit down,” Conrad snapped. “You will not threaten her or anyone else. Not in this place.”

“It does seem a little harsh,” Emrys murmured. “Is this chamber polluted then?”

Brockwell overrode him. “This chamber be damned. I will do as I please—here or elsewhere. I do not recognize your authority over me. I do not recognize anyone's authority over me.”

Conrad glared. “Either you will take your seat now, or I will put you back in it by force. Georgia has every right to be here or to speak her mind. She has as much at stake in this as any of us.”

“She is not her own mistress,” Brockwell growled, sounding angrier by the moment. “As such, she has no stake. In anything. She is nothing but a pawn.”

“Perhaps you have not thought things through sufficiently,” Conrad suggested. “Tonight's vote is important, yes. I'll not deny it. But it is only the start. There is but one way for the cult to truly end. We must approach it in the same way by which we eradicated the blood plague. We must destroy all knowledge of it—permanently, for all time. Everyone here today must agree to this plan. Our vote must be unanimous. There can be no exceptions.”

“And that is why this preposterous notion will never succeed,” Brockwell replied, sinking back into his seat, a smug smile upon his face. “How is it you are so deluded? Do you actually imagine I will
ever
agree with this foolishness? I will see you dead first—and all of your House with you.”