Incarnation (35 page)

“There is one thing that I don’t understand. Why would you want to preserve the Slayer line?”

He glanced at Dee, looked away, and said, “Because like it or not—and I don’t—the periodic culling of vampires by a Slayer is part of the natural order. Left to their own devices, humans and vampires both are capable of destroying this world
on their own. For humans, the problem is a conviction that the next conquest, the next weapon, the next advancement of science or technology will finally make them feel safe when nothing of the sort can ever occur. As long as death is inevitable, safety is an illusion. They need to reconcile themselves to that, but they show no ability to do so. As for vampires . . . we have many admirable qualities, not the least is the ability to take the long view and plan for the future in a way that eludes humans. But as you saw with Lady Blanche, we also possess voracious appetites that, when not properly controlled, lead us to commit acts of unspeakable violence. Without restraint, we could easily depopulate the earth of all humans even though that meant our own inevitable extinction.”

As much as I longed to be able to refute at least part of what he said, I could not. Mordred had summed up the failings of humans and vampires all too accurately. That left only one possible conclusion.

“You are saying that we need each other.”

“Exactly.” He waved a hand toward an as-yet-undefined future. “Who knows, perhaps someday nature will meld humans and vampires together to craft a species that can live in harmony with the earth and with each other. But it should be left to nature to do so, not to the likes of de Vere.”

I took it as a measure of Mordred’s returning strength that he could bring himself to speak of his captor even if I was not entirely clear what he meant.

“De Vere told Gladstone and the others on the Star Committee that he was seeking a means of destroying vampires,” I said, “not combining them with humans into some new species.”

“He lied,” Mordred said flatly. “In the course of conducting
his foul experiments on me, he revealed his true intent. He wants to create a ‘new man’—stronger, longer lived, and, in his view, better suited to the world of technological marvels that is just beginning to unfold before us. He envisions such a man achieving ready dominance over the earth but sees no reason for him to stop there. Our destiny, according to him, truly is in the stars and de Vere wants to be the one to write it.”

“He is insane.”

Mordred nodded. “His supreme belief in the rightness of his cause is the key to his ability to persuade others to it, as he did with the Star Committee. Never mind that he misled them as to his true intent, they were ready to follow him because he is a man of certainty while they are plagued by doubts and fears.”

I suspected that Mordred had just defined the characteristics of every successful dictator past and future, but I was determined that de Vere would not be among them.

“He must be stopped.” I had known that since first learning of the mad doctor’s role in what was happening, but never had I understood it more clearly.

“Precisely, dear Lucy, but there is one thing you should keep in mind. He is seeking a way to create a human-vampire hybrid, but such a being already exists: you. If he realizes what you are—and he may already suspect—he will want nothing so much as to have you at his mercy.”

The mercy of a madman who had none. Forewarned, they say, is forearmed, but I could muster little thought for my own safety. However the human and vampire sides of me might clash, both were in agreement on one score—I would not rest until de Vere was brought down and made to pay for his crimes no matter what the cost.

I was contemplating the swiftest means of accomplishing that when Marco returned. As he entered the library, he gave us a quick, searching look. Whatever he saw must have reassured him that we were both still intact.

“How is our novelist?” Mordred asked. “No ill effects, I trust.”

“Bram is sleeping,” Marco replied. “I’ve sent word to his family that he is well. Obviously, they can’t be told anything else.” After a moment, he added, “I have had a message from my brother.”

Mordred brightened. Clearly, he was familiar with the di Orsinis. “How is Nicolas? And your mother, is Cornelia well?”

“She is fine. Nicolas is recovering from injuries he received while fending off the vampires who Lady Blanche let loose on the city.”

“I regret that he was hurt. As to the lady . . .” A shadow moved behind his eyes, nothing more, but I would not have wanted to be Blanche just then. “She will have to be dealt with. Word of my return will spread quickly. In a few hours, I should have an idea of who will support her and who will not.”

“How do you intend to determine that?” I asked.

Instead of answering directly, he said, “When Elizabeth was dying, those most faithful to her clustered close around, taking comfort from one another’s presence. But there were also those who preferred a swift horse and the high road to Edinburgh, where they wasted no time falling on their knees before her successor.”

I needed a moment to grasp what he was saying. “You think some of the vampires will desert Blanche and come here to you. You want to give them time to do that.”

“I see no reason not to. It will be dawn in a few hours. By then, we will have a much better idea of where we stand.”

While Marco grudgingly agreed to get some rest himself, I remained at Mordred’s side. An hour passed and another without anything happening. But in the deepest dark of night, just before dawn broke, singly and in twos and threes, vampires made their way to the headquarters of the Golden Dawn and the side of their king. Not all, not even most, but enough to make me hope that the balance was shifting in our favor.

Among the last to arrive even as the first gray light of morning tinged the sky was Felix. So relieved was I to see him safe and well that I threw my arms around him heedless of who was watching.

“I am so glad that you are here!”

He managed a faint smile, but I could see that he was sorely tried. “So am I, believe me, but I doubt you’re going to like what I have to say.”

Just then he saw Mordred through the crowd. Leaving me, Felix went to him. With a quick bow, he said, “My lord, I bring news. Lady Blanche has promised a great sacrifice on the stone table this coming night. She says that the flower of England will perish there, its strength flowing into those who follow her.” He glanced back at me, then said, “With that strength, she swears to defeat you, end the pact with humans, and make our kind supreme over all.”

A quick murmur broke out among the impromptu court but it died away quickly when Mordred spoke. “I would hardly expect anything less of her. Blanche has been planning her revenge since her family rose in rebellion against the throne centuries ago and was wiped out virtually to the last man, woman, and child. She was the only survivor and for that I must take
full responsibility.” He thought for a moment, then asked, “Would you happen to know where she intends to acquire this ‘flower of England’?”

Felix did not but I did. With sudden clarity born of desperate calculation, I knew exactly where the thirst for revenge that had haunted Blanche for so long would find its final culmination. What better place for mass death than a palace of mourning?

CHAPTER 26

T
he final event of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee was scheduled to be held that coming night at the Crystal Palace. The cream of British society would attend. And so, I was sure, would Blanche. Nothing else would satisfy her craving for revenge or her instinct for display. She would make a grand show of it, publicly declaring war on humans at the same time she struck terror into every heart.

Having told Mordred what I believed, I made haste to wake Marco. He was stretched out on top of the bed in a room next to where Stoker was sleeping. His boots were on the floor nearby and he had removed his jacket, but otherwise he remained fully dressed. At the sight of me, he sat up quickly, a certain indication that he had been doing no more than dozing lightly. A lock of dark brown hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back impatiently.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

That his first thought should be of me touched me deeply. Determined to conceal my too human response, I said, “Felix Deschamps has brought word that Lady Blanche intends an attack tonight to seize victims for the stone table. I think it’s going to happen at the Crystal Palace.”

He nodded slowly. “The final Jubilee celebration . . . yes, that makes sense.” He held out a hand. “You look tired. Sit down.”

I did so on the side of the bed, a bit gingerly. A wave of self-consciousness such as I had not known since my incarnation washed over me but was as quickly gone. There was something undeniably right about being alone with Marco in such a setting.

“What else is happening?” he asked.

“Sixty or so vampires have come over to Mordred. They are downstairs right now.” Incongruously, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. “I can’t imagine what the members of the society are making of all this.”

He smiled fleetingly. “Don’t worry about them. They’re having the time of their lives. Does Mordred have a plan?”

“He’s drawing that up right now. Do you want to help him?”

“I doubt he needs my assistance but I’ll offer it. Just not quite yet.” He sat up further, looking at me. “Lucy . . . there’s something I want you to know.”

Hardly aware of what I was doing, I leaned toward him, needing his nearness as I had once needed sunlight and air. Fragmentary memories—still all I had—darted through my mind, snatches of conversations, moments of laughter.

“Limericks,” I said.

He looked taken aback. “Beg pardon?”

“You like limericks. It’s not something you tell everyone but you have a definite fondness for them. I wondered if that included the bawdy ones but you would never tell me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. You were a sheltered young girl.”

“I didn’t want to be, you know. I had a great yearning for the wider world.”

Softly, he said, “I wanted to take you there.”

My throat was thick. His heat, his blood, my own stirring hunger, I was aware of it all but none of that mattered, not just then. I wanted . . .

Too much, everything, all that was utterly beyond my reach unless . . .

“Mordred has hinted that I could become human again.”

I heard the sharp intake of his breath in the moment before he went very still. “What are you saying?”

With far greater calmness than I felt, I replied, “It may be possible to undo what happened to me.”

He took hold of my chin and turned me so we faced each other directly. “Would you want to undo it?”

I answered instantly, without thought. “Yes, of course, how could I not? To be human again . . .” To never again soar into the night free from the constraints of gravity. To lose the keener senses, the strength and stamina, the awareness of the hidden world all around me. To age and ultimately to die. More honestly, I said, “I don’t know.”

Truly, I didn’t. By all rights, I should want to be human again, but knowing that I should want something and actually wanting it were not at all the same. Marco’s closeness only added to my confusion. If I could be restored to what I had been—

“You wanted to tell me something?”

“What?” He was staring at my lips, watching as they moved. I found that strangely arousing and had to resist the impulse to moisten them.

“Something . . . ?” I said.

“What you said about the wider world. I used to lie awake at night after I had left you thinking about the places we might
go. You’d told me how much you enjoyed Paris and I knew that you’d tried skiing and liked it. I imagined us together, free of everything else.” He shrugged. “A foolish dream, I know. We are neither of us the sort to walk away from our responsibilities. But I truly did want to be a part of your life.” His gaze met mine. “I still do.”

His declaration could have been made under more proper circumstances, but I knew it to be no less sincere for that. Nor did I mistake the depth of my own response. Tentative hope, even a kind of fragile happiness, filled me, but so did a cautionary note.

“If I can become human again—?”

He shook his head emphatically. “That has nothing to do with it. I didn’t know such a thing was even possible until you told me. What I mean is just as you are . . . however you are.” He moved a little closer so that I felt the warm caress of his breath on my cheek. My hand slipped to his chest. The vampire’s heart was hard and cold under his shirt yet I remembered how beautiful it was. And how dangerous.