The Rift Walker (7 page)

“There's never
been
anything like it.” Mamoru took the pitcher and draped a cool cloth on Adele's forehead. “That's the point.”

“Lucky for me, I'd say. Was my performance convincing? Did I fall to the floor like a helpless old man in danger? I rather felt like a helpless old man when that monster looked at me.”

“I told you that you'd be safe. So close to the rift under the Great Pyramid, the crystals acted as a catalyst. Plus, given her natural response to a person in danger, she simply acted. She couldn't have stopped if she'd wished it. From the stories she told me about her experiences in the north, I suspected I could bring this out of her.”

There was a click, and a panel opened in the wall. Two women started out. Nzingu, the tall Zulu in a white satin gown, stared with intensity at the dead vampire. And Sanah, the Persian cloaked in a black burqa, looked at the supine figure of her former theater companion with concern. Mamoru shook his head for them to stay hidden in case Adele was more aware than she appeared. He wasn't ready for her to meet the entire cabal yet.

Sir Godfrey shoved the vampire's body with his well-shined shoe. “Seems completely dead! Still, I should decapitate him to be sure. I'll anatomize him to ascertain the physiological damage. Then I'll add him to the collection.” There was a gleam of anticipation in his gaze.

Ignoring him, Mamoru wet the cloth on Adele's forehead again and hummed a soothing tune he remembered his wife singing to their baby.

Adele saw dark plaster and a wooden ceiling swim into view, and she wondered where she was. A few flicks of her eyes showed a crimson brocade fabric next to her head, and a room full of books. Her fingers played over a soft blanket at her waist. She saw Mamoru start up from an armchair at her feet. His concerned gaze swept over her.

“Highness, you're awake.” He took her wrist and fumbled for a pulse as she sat up on the plush sofa in the dimly lit library. “You should remain still until Sir Godfrey can examine you.”

“I'm fine.” Then a memory washed over Adele and she gasped. She saw a vampire tearing free from its bindings and leaping for the poor white-haired surgeon. “Sir Godfrey! Oh God! How is he?”

“He's perfectly well,” the teacher said as he stared deeply into her left eye, then her right. “Thanks to you. How do you feel?”

The princess exhaled with relief and then realized she felt remarkably fine. “I'm actually very well, if a bit tired.” She looked at her hands. They looked incredibly normal. Just the delicate fingers of a young woman. But it seemed as if there should be something special about them.

Mamoru sat back and observed her with crossed arms.

She asked, “What did I do? It's hard to remember.”

“I don't know. I need to learn more myself.”

“Did you see me? I remember fire and smoke around me.”

Mamoru stared deeply at her. “No. I saw nothing around you.”

“What is it?” Adele asked. “What is happening to me?”

“Be patient, Highness. You must be patient.”

“But you have to help me. I told you about my experiences in the north. Now this.”

Mamoru took her hand gently and said without hesitation, “I ask you to trust me. This cannot be rushed. We are treading in new fields. I must study these events. Soon, I will come to you with information. But to tell you something wrong would be worse than telling you nothing. Please, a little more time and I will have answers for you.”

Adele nodded, but she was deep in thought, trying to recall more details of the night. It was hazy, but she certainly remembered reaching out to the vampire and calling a fire that swept over the creature. She remembered a somewhat similar powerful physical and emotional epiphany she had experienced in Canterbury. But more, she recalled Edinburgh and how she had burned Gareth with a power she didn't understand. And then she had burned Flay, sending the creature to her death over the side of Prince Cesare's wretched airship with a cross looped around her neck, a cross charged with some strange power that Adele could command. But now she had destroyed a vampire with only her hands. No, not even her hands; she hadn't come near the creature.

The door across the library opened and Sir Godfrey entered. He wore a heavy leather apron stained with old blood and flecked with fresh bits of something foul. He was smiling, unharmed, and whistling cheerfully.

“Ah!” he exclaimed at seeing Adele sitting. “Highness, I am gratified to see you up. How do you feel?”

“A trifle warm, but never better, Doctor. How are you?”

“Splendid. I must thank you for saving my life.”

Adele smiled at the old gentleman. “I wish I could tell you I knew how I did it.”

Sir Godfrey crossed the floor and started to take her wrist. Mamoru rose and indicated his gruesome apron. “Oh my. Terribly sorry. Hardly appropriate attire. I lose myself when anatomizing.” He slipped it off and tossed it out in the hallway.

Adele raised her eyebrows and was grateful she wasn't his maid.

Sir Godfrey returned to the princess. “Marvelous. No fever. Pulse is steady and remarkably low. You are in excellent condition. Highness, won't you please eat something, if you're so inclined?” He stepped to the sumptuous buffet, now devoid of servants.

Adele joined him. She began to fill a plate, surprised she had an appetite after all the excitement.

Sir Godfrey reached into his coat, handing her the Fahrenheit dagger. “I return this to you none the worse for wear.”

Mamoru stood to one side, watching the princess intently for signs of weakness or anything unusual. They took their seats at the grand table. “Sir Godfrey, what can you tell us about the creature?”

The old surgeon cut into a dripping pink rack of meat. “Quite dead, old boy. And more besides, virtually cooked through. Unlike my lamb here. Internal organs charred beyond repair.”

Adele looked instantly at Mamoru with surprise, but he smiled serenely, deflecting her renewed questions. He didn't have answers, his eyes told her. Yet.

He said, “If you feel up to traveling, Highness, we should return to Alexandria.”

“I feel perfectly fine.” She finished eating a stuffed grape leaf. Even her weariness had been fleeting. She now felt energized.

“Good. We'll be back very late and you have a full schedule tomorrow, so make sure you stay in and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

The princess exhaled in dismay. “After this sort of event, I have to attend meetings and receptions? How ordinary.”

“That is one thing that you are not,” Sir Godfrey said.

“Quite so.” Mamoru raised a cautionary hand. “Needless to say, what occurred in this house stays among we three.”

Adele said, “Do you think I'm channeling some power from the crystals?”

Her teacher raised his eyebrows in warning. “I told you, Highness. It will take time. In the interim, you must live your life as before, difficult as it may be given your natural enthusiasms. Time alone will unfold your future.”

“Well, I suppose time is what I have.” Adele stood and pushed her mother's dagger into the belt under her robe.

T
HE GRAND DAMES
of the Phoenix Society had broken into post-lunch clutches inside the splendor of the Delhi Room in Victoria Palace in Alexandria. Gowns rustled. Diamonds and rubies sparkled. Champagne tipped. Heads with fantastic feathered hats and fine embroidered scarves tilted with discreet laughter. Hushed, droll voices droned as conversation topics competed between discussions of failed dinner parties and horrific country weekends on the Red Sea, with eyes darting to ensure the targets of the excoriations weren't within earshot.

Princess Adele remained in her seat on the dais between two matronly monoliths of society. Servants cleared dishes with the residue of a remarkably mediocre meal as she pretended to study sketches of the Monument to Our Beloved War Dead. The planned bronze cenotaph was gigantic, gaudy, and inelegant. It was also quite forward-thinking, as the coming war had not yet begun. It strove to overawe the viewer's emotions with sheer mass and melodrama, presenting heroic Equatorian men firing rifles, cradling wounded comrades, saying good-bye to sweethearts, and, in one tableau, several men holding a struggling vampire while another soldier impaled the creature with his bayonet. Adele toyed with the idea of making sure the vampire resembled Cesare.

Lady Tahir, the chairwoman of the Phoenix Society, cleared her throat. “Do you approve of our design, Your Highness?”

“Hm?” Adele was shaken from her memories of the events in Giza the night before. “Oh yes. It's…monumental.”

“Yes, we agree,” cooed Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.). “My husband, General Alfred Cornwell, retired, personally vetted the soldiers' appearances.”

“They are very military.”

“Your Highness”—Lady Tahir indicated the monument tableau with the soldier and his sweetheart—”in this scene, which I suggested to the sculptor—”

“Who is?”

“None other than Tomas Chaudry, the man who reimagined the façades at Petra.”

“Oh, him,” Adele said flatly. “Yes, those remarkable old ruins were long overdue for a sprucing up.”

“Exactly! Anyway, as I was saying, I suggested this touching scene of a proper Equatorian lady bidding adieu to her beloved husband as he departs for the vampire front.”

“Stirring,” Adele lied.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Lady Tahir chuckled with great self-satisfaction. “You may be even more pleased when you note that the soldier's visage is based on your own betrothed, Senator Clark.”

“What!” Adele jerked the sketch closer and, with a shock, saw the resemblance. She remembered not to scowl and grunt, and instead smiled politely. “I see. Well, it is pleasing to imagine him going off to war.”

“We thought,” said Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.), with jealous emphasis on the
we
, “it an appropriate honor to Senator Clark as our gallant ally and soon-to-be prince regent.”

Across the room, the Phoenix Society began to churn from some disturbance. The two chairwomen at the dais lifted their heads to study the alarming activity. The buzz of female voices was undercut by a deep male sound that came closer and closer as a figure moved through the throng.

Only when the words, “Ladies, if you will make a lane, please!” penetrated the air did Adele rise to her feet with a sickening stomach.

Senator Clark appeared from among the dowagers like an explorer cutting his way through an overgrown couture jungle. Hat in hand, he was smiling generously as he nodded at each kind word and gently grasped each gloved hand that was extended his way. But his eyes were hot with impatience.

“This is most irregular,” Lady Tahir murmured. “He was not invited.”

Adele knew sadly that the likelihood of these matrons throwing him out was slim. When his eyes locked on her, she felt angry, for the first time, that proper protocol wasn't being observed and wasn't serving as her protector.

The senator finally reached the long white-clothed table where Adele stood. He bowed properly, sweeping his hat to the floor before him.

“Your Highness,” he said. “How delightful to see you.”

“Senator,” she intoned. “This is an unexpected…well, it's unexpected.”

“Yes, indeed. That's how I operate. Strike fast when they least expect it.” He nodded to Lady Tahir and Mrs. General Alfred Cornwell (ret.). “Ladies.”

Adele held up the monument sketch. “Alas, I am quite occupied. You should see my secretary for an appointment.”

Clark's smile twitched. “I'm a bit fatigued fighting through the skirmish lines of your staff. It was hard enough just finding out you were here. I was hoping we might have a stroll and a few words.”

Adele sat purposefully. “You may have a few words.”

“Not here. I'd appreciate a moment in private.” His smile twitched harder and he glanced at the matrons again. “If you ladies don't mind.”

“Oh no,” Lady Tahir bubbled girlishly. “Not at all, Senator Clark.”

Adele glanced coldly at her, then took a deep breath. “Very well, Senator.”

“Call me Miles.”

“Why would I call you that?”

“It's my name.”

“Really? I didn't realize you had a first name, only a title.” Adele rose slowly and started down the table. Stepping off the dais, she headed for a side door and heard a murmur of excitement as she pushed through into the kitchen. By then, it was too late to turn back, and she didn't care anyway.

The serving staff was relaxing, smoking cigarettes and chatting. Most of the men had removed their tuxedo jackets, while some of the women sported bare feet instead of shoes under their long skirts. They all froze in shock at the appearance of Princess Adele and, on her heel, the uniformed Senator Clark. Stubbing out their smokes, they stood at attention.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Adele said to the wide-eyed staff. “Please, stay. This won't take long.” She gave Senator Clark an impatient gaze, her arms crossed over her breasts.

He laughed uncomfortably. “I felt it was time you and I had a chat, face-to-face. It is our wedding, after all.”

She stared silently.

“It's just that we need to make a decision. You do understand the stakes, don't you? How close are you to being recovered?”

“Thank you for caring.”

Clark narrowed his eyes. “Let's stop pussy-footing around, Adele. You're fine. You're traipsing around at official lunches and garden parties and such. Hell, it won't take any more time or effort to get to the altar and say
I do.”

“Don't curse at me. And what the hell do you know about how I'm feeling?”

“You can only play this game for so long. Look, I'm sure it was bad up there—”

“The worst part was when you shot me.”

He rolled his eyes. “We are way behind schedule. We are losing the summer. Do you have any idea what will happen if we commit troops to North America and Europe in the fall and winter? We lose all our advantage. This delay is going to cost lives.”

From a purely strategic level, Adele knew he was right. Her stiff shoulders dropped a bit; she hated his tone, but heard his logic. She didn't want to put the men of her army, or her American allies for that matter, at greater risk. If this wedding was inevitable, perhaps it was time to end the stall and set a date.

Clark seemed to sense her crumbling façade, so he continued, “You've got huge fleets gathered at Gibraltar and Aden, and we've got ours at Havana and Vera Cruz. They're waiting for the word to head north and start operations. We've got to have a target date. There's no point sending airships in harm's way to strike the food source without ground troops ready to follow up and seize territory. And we can't coordinate it all until the alliance is finalized.”

Adele nodded. “I know. I understand what you're—” She paused. “What did you say? Strike the food source?”

“That's phase one.”

“What do you mean by ‘food source'?”

He looked at her with confusion. “You know what their food source is. You more than anyone.”

Adele felt a chill. “You mean humans? You're going to attack the humans in the north?”

“Attack them? No, that implies they're an enemy. I'd say we're going to slaughter them. Like cattle. It's a common strategy in war throughout history; deprive your enemy of food. Burn their crops. Drive off their herds. It's an elegant solution, if I do say so myself. We'll gas and firebomb the human population centers, driving the vampires out in search of food. We then occupy, fortify, and defend. As we march northward, this constant pressure will create competition for food among the vampires and destabilize the clans. Then we just pick them apart.” Senator Clark smiled, waiting for his fiancée to praise his military genius.

“No.” Blood drained from Adele, and she had to steady herself. “No. You can't do that. They're people.”

“They're animals. So what we need to do is set the date for the wedding and then—”

“I said no! Does my father know about this?”

Clark appeared more irritated, no doubt because he had to coddle an emotional girl. “Of course he knows about the war plans.” He checked his pocket watch. “In fact, this chatter is making me late for a planning session with the emperor. So I can tell your father we're in agreement?”

Adele reached out and seized the front of his blue tunic, causing the senator to rear back in shock. “You can tell my father that I wouldn't marry you now, even if you weren't a murderous, filthy reptile! You might be too stupid to understand, but I know he believes what I've said about the northern humans.”

Clark angrily slapped her hand away. “Everybody knows what you said about those creatures in the north. We all saw your papers and reports. But it doesn't matter, because everybody also knows that you're a histrionic lunatic. Your opinion means nothing.”

Adele glared at him. She couldn't feel her fingers or feet, and her face flushed with rage. She stood breathing hard for several long minutes. Clark went from vicious to slightly worried, watching her for signs of a nervous breakdown.

Finally she looked him in the eye. “We'll see. We'll see how my opinion matters.”

Adele slammed out though the door and surged past the Phoenix ladies, whose heavily powdered faces were frozen in shock after overhearing much of the unpleasant exchange between their future loving rulers.

Word spread rapidly through the palace that something had happened. Princess Adele left her staff behind at the Delhi Room in the east wing. Messages flew through pneumatic tubes clanking into in-baskets across Victoria Palace. Retainers and footmen raced through corridors to intercept the princess as if she were a ship torn loose from her moorings and endangering all other ships in the harbor.

The princess crossed the central atrium of the palace and turned up the wide stairs to the upper floors. Heads turned to watch. Then Senator Clark passed too, with a face like a thundercloud. He took the stairs three at a time.

Adele saw the great door of her father's council chamber at the far end of the hall. A group of soldiers standing outside suddenly came to attention at the sight of the princess. Some twenty yards from the door, Adele's secretary sprinted from a side corridor, looking both ways and expelling her breath with enormous relief at intercepting the princess.

“Your Highness,” the secretary said pleasantly, but out of breath, “may I help you?”

Adele surged past without a glance. She marched to the soldiers—imperial marines—who blocked the door.

“Step aside, please.”

A marine, Persian by the look of him, responded, “I fear I cannot. Entrance is forbidden by His Majesty Emperor Constantine.”

“I am his daughter.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The marine commander's eyes shot over her head to the approaching secretary and Senator Clark, seeking guidance or support.

“What is wrong with you?” Clark snarled as he neared. “Stop it, Adele. You're only making a fool of yourself.”

She whirled. “I won't let you kill thousands, hundreds of thousands of innocent people! The vampires call you a butcher, and that's exactly what you are.”

Adele's secretary stood with her hand at her mouth. The crowd behind her was aghast.

Clark laughed and stepped past Adele. Flashing a quick salute to the marine commander, he reached for the ornate door handle and pushed it open. He turned to give Adele a nasty grin. “If you'll excuse me, the emperor is expecting me. Good luck with your agenda.”