Incarnation (40 page)

The battle at the Crystal Palace might have weakened him, but his recollection of ancient streets in a vanished London remained intact. Within minutes, we had passed beneath half a dozen buildings and reached the basement of the club. Rats scurried before us, and here and there we had to step over dank puddles, but overall the passages were in good repair.

“These have never been abandoned, have they?” I asked.

Mordred waved a hand negligently. “All sorts of the city’s inhabitants have reason to want to get about unobserved. You’ll even find the occasional human down here, although not often and not usually twice.”

We had come to a broad oak door studded with iron nails. It looked as though it had stood undisturbed for centuries, but when Marco inched it open, the hinges did not so much as creak.

“Beyond here is the Bagatelle,” Mordred said. “Lucy, once we enter, can you find the room with the stone table?”

I truly did not know if I could but I nodded all the same. The room might elude me; Amanda would not. We proceeded, Mordred in the lead. I expected to hear the sounds of a victory celebration, prelude to the bloody sacrifice to come, but all was strangely quiet. The fear began to grow in me that I had made a terrible mistake. Could Amanda have been taken elsewhere?

I was about to ask Mordred that when a faint moan silenced me. Leaning forward, I strained to hear it again.

“She is here,” I whispered. Going very carefully, I turned a corner in the passage and found myself in front of a narrow opening. Slipping through it, I entered the room where I had seen Harley die. No trace of him remained save for bloodstains on the floor, but by the light of fires in the iron lattice baskets, I could make out my sister bound to the stone table.

Amanda was conscious, her eyes glazed with terror. When she saw me, she cried out, “Don’t . . . oh, God, don’t!”

Having made so many mistakes that night, I made one more. I thought that she did not realize who I was and was crying out in fear. In fact, she knew me at once. As I ran to the stone table and began trying to free her, she cried out again.

“It’s a trap!”

They came from all sides, shielded by the same dolomite that had kept them from sensing our approach. Lady Blanche was there and Delacorte as well, but so were several dozen others, all those not nursing their wounds. I was gratified to see that their number was so much smaller than when they had come over the walls, but that hardly mattered given that we were only three.

Lady Blanche was smiling. “My dear lord,” she said to
Mordred. “I fear that you have fallen under the sway of this”—her mouth curled in distaste—“this halfling. Surely as unnatural a creature as has ever lived. She is attempting to turn you against those who love you most. We must not allow her to do so.”

“She is attempting,” Mordred said coldly, “to preserve my rule in order to prevent the war you and certain foolish humans seek. A war that will destroy us all.”

“Will it? I think not. Much has changed since you were captured. We”—she gestured at her followers—“we have realized that we must take a stand against the humans now, before it is too late. Their power grows daily, exceeded only by their arrogance. They believe themselves the rightful masters of this earth and will never be content to share it with us.”

“Whereas you,” Mordred said, “are happy to share it with them, or at least enough of them to keep you well nourished?”

Lady Blanche shrugged. “We are as we are. I accept that. You would be wise to do the same.”

He was silent long enough for me to fear that he was considering what she had said. Nor was I reassured when he spoke.

“What do you want?”

She did not hesitate. I suspected that the answer had been uppermost in her mind for years. “Name me your queen consort, then withdraw to regain your strength. I will guide us through this turbulent time.”

“You would rule in my stead?”

Her head lifted. She stared at him coldly. “You are hardly in any position to do so yourself.”

Rather than dispute her, he said, “What of these others—the halfling, the Protector”—he gestured at Amanda—“this unfortunate human you’ve seized.”

Blanche waved a hand dismissively. “That one can go. I have no interest in her. Provided . . .” She turned to me. A red glow burned in her eyes. “Take your sister’s place, halfling. Lie on the stone table and give up your blood.”

“No!” Marco stepped forward furiously. He held the vampire’s heart and was clearly prepared to use it. Several of Blanche’s followers, those most eager to demonstrate their loyalty, stepped in front of her, shielding her from him.

“Try that, Protector, and you will all die,” Blanche warned. “You can kill one or two of us before we overcome you but in the end you cannot win. The halfling or the human, those are my terms.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Marco shouted at me, but I scarcely heard him. My attention was focused on Mordred. He was looking from me to the stone table and back again.

Quietly, he said, “I suggest you do what she wants,
halfling
.”

I frowned, trying to understand what I was certain he was trying to tell me.
Halfling.
The creature spoken of in legend who could destroy all the vampires. But how? I certainly knew of no such power within me. But did Mordred? Had he withheld that knowledge simply because he did not trust me to have it?

Before I could decide what to do, Marco took the matter into his own hands. Ignoring the odds against us, he raised the heart, took aim at Lady Blanche, and let free a blast of energy. At once, the vampire directly in front of her splintered into a thousand shards of glowing light. Another fell as quickly, but true to her word, before he could fire again, a dozen vampires threw themselves at him. He managed to kill one more as he went down beneath a savage attack.

I screamed and tried to reach him but it was too late. At
Blanche’s command, the vampires rose. Marco lay bleeding out onto the floor.

“You cannot save him,” she said. “Any more than he could save you. But you can save your sister.” She came closer to me. The chill of her body made me feel encased in ice. Despite myself, I trembled. “Take her place on the stone table,” Blanche said. “I will sate myself but you may somehow manage to survive. A human certainly will not.”

From behind me, Mordred said, “Do it,
halfling
. There is no other way.”

Amanda was crying softly. I wanted to go to her but Marco’s blood was flowing away across the floor, his life vanishing with it. I knelt beside him for a moment and touched his face softly. So that only he could hear, I whispered, “Don’t die, my love. Hold on. I will not fail you.”

Even then, I wasn’t sure what I was promising. I knew only that all other choices were gone. Curtly, I nodded. Amanda tried to resist when they cut her from the table but Mordred put his arms around her and held her close, turning her head into his shoulder so that she would not see.

With a last glance at him, I laid down on the stone table. When Delacorte approached to bind me, I snarled at him. “Do not. I am here of my own choice.”

He looked to Blanche, who nodded. She approached swiftly, hunger stark on her face. But even so she lingered a moment, tracing the line of my throat with a slender finger. “You are actually rather beautiful,” she said. “Did you know that?”

I averted my gaze and did not answer her. She laughed softly and unsheathed her fangs. As they thrust into me, I stiffened. My back arched off the table but quickly fell back.
I laid quietly, staring up at the ceiling high above. Distantly, I thought that Mordred was right, after the first bite there was no pain. But neither was there the sense of dark intimacy that he and I had shared.

Blanche sucked ravenously, avid not only for my power but also for the power of the one who had incarnated me. She would emerge the strongest of all vampires who had ever existed. Mordred would never be able to reclaim his throne. The war would come and bring devastation. All would be lost—

Halfling.
I heard Mordred’s voice in my mind, as though the connection between us remained as strong as ever. Strength stirred deep within me. A bright, pure energy began to flow in my cells, in my veins . . . into Blanche.

She gasped and sat up suddenly. Her hands flew to her throat. She stared at me in horror. “You . . .” I saw what was happening to her before the others did, but they saw quickly enough. Several screamed and tried to run but Mordred was having none of that. Having set Amanda aside gently, the king of the vampires proceeded to have his revenge against those who had betrayed him.

While he was so occupied, Blanche’s skin turned yellow and began to flake away. Her lips pulled back, revealing blackened teeth. Her hair, that stunning white, thinned and fell out, revealing her mottled skull. In minutes, the centuries of her long life overtook her. She perished, not as a vampire does in shards of light, but as a shriveled old woman whom Death had long ago claimed but only now come to collect.

When it was over, only her pearls remained. In what I thought was an odd but somehow touching act, Mordred carefully collected each one.

I knelt beside Marco, holding his body in my arms. Amanda tried to offer what comfort she could but my devastation was complete. Despite my promise to him, it was too late. He was as pale as I. No sign of life remained in him.

“You can still save him,” Mordred said.

I met his eyes across the bloodstained room. Hope stirred but feebly in me. “How?”

“The only way it can be done. Transform him.”

I stared in disbelief. “Transform a Protector? You are mad.”

Mordred shrugged. He rose, holding the pearls in his hands. “It’s the only way. Otherwise, he dies. Of course, if you do it, you’ll be taking another very large step yourself toward completely becoming a vampire. I’m not sure that you’ll ever be able to go back from that. I’d do it myself,” he added, “but unfortunately I’m too weak right now.” He gestured to the bodies littering the floor. “You understand.”

I wasn’t at all certain that I did or even that I believed him. It was perfectly possible that Mordred had never intended to allow me to become human again and that this was simply the most convenient way of stopping me.

I gazed down into Marco’s beloved face—so strong yet capable of both gentleness and passion. My lips brushed his. I thought of his courage and his sacrifice, his honor and his commitment to humanity. He had given his life trying to protect me. What could I give him? Softly, I touched my mouth to his and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

EPILOGUE

I
called on Nicolas a week later. He was fully recovered from his injuries at the battle near the Bagatelle and later at the Crystal Palace. We spoke in his office at the Serjeant’s Inn. Cornelia was not in evidence. I had been given to understand that she was in the country, caring for her son.

After a brief encounter immediately after I transformed him, Marco refused to see me. I understood, or so I wanted to believe. The shock of finding himself changed into the very creature he was sworn to defend against was profound. He might never recover from it.

“Be patient,” Nicolas counseled. He gave me tea, the same kind Cornelia had brewed. It helped a little with the hunger that stalked me constantly but that I could not bring myself to satisfy. Since wading through Marco’s blood, I had lost my appetite. Mordred had mentioned a doctor in Mayfair who was studying the science of transfusion and who might be able to help me.

“After I turned,” Nicolas went on, “I refused to have anything to do with anyone for months. But eventually I realized that I was only hurting those who cared about me. Marco will do the same.”

No doubt he would, but I had no confidence that he would ever forgive what I had done to him.

“I couldn’t let him die. Of course, that was completely selfish on my part. The thought of losing him—”

“You did what was right,” Nicolas said. “Someday, he will understand that.” Leaning back in his chair, he looked at me gently. “What are you going to do now? Stay here in London?”

I could, of course. Mordred had asked me to do so, but I was not sure that I saw a place for myself in his orbit. He was occupied accepting the protestations of loyalty and devotion coming from all those who somehow had been so unfairly suspected of being followers of Lady Blanche. Felix was there to help him sort the wheat from the chaff. I didn’t think he needed me as well.