The Geomancer Read online

  Gareth paced nervously before a wall of bones and skulls. It had been hours since Adele had left the catacombs to make her way to the Tuileries Palace to find Lothaire. She shouldn’t have gone. There was just too much unknown about the current situation. Numberless empty eye sockets watched him pass to and fro in the underground cemetery. He needed to cultivate a sense of strategy. It was always Adele who conceived their plans, and she always reserved the most dangerous role for herself. Gareth knew he would have to become brighter or risk losing her at some point.

  Light footsteps came from the passageway to the surface. Too light to be Adele’s. Vampires. Two figures appeared from the shadows; Gareth recognized the scents.

  King Lothaire and Queen Caterina came into view. They both stopped to stare at Gareth as if he was a stranger. The royal couple wore very plain clothes, which added to the dismaying sense that they were lost or out of place.

  “Lothaire!” Gareth rushed forward with relief, grinning out of habit at seeing the companion of his youth. He quickly saw the hesitance in Lothaire’s eyes and drew to a stop. With more reservation, he turned to the queen. “Caterina. I didn’t expect you too.”

  “Gareth.” Lothaire greeted him quietly, saying the name as if for the first time.

  Lothaire was the same age as Gareth but looked much older and was even a bit stooped. The king had lost weight in the year since Gareth had seen him last, but instead of looking healthier he seemed sallow. There was a sad weariness about him. Caterina had changed little. Strong and beautiful, dark skinned with nearly black hair. However, her expression was harder. The warmth that had always flowed from her toward Gareth was missing. Its absence here in this cold grave of a meeting place chilled him.

  “Adele found you then?” Gareth kept a respectful distance. This was not the reunion he had naively hoped for. “Is she with you?”

  “No,” Caterina answered. “She said she’d make her own way here.”

  “Ah, good. I’m sorry for the mystery, but it’s wonderful to see both of you.”

  Lothaire remained stoic, almost confused and unsure how to proceed. He was content for the queen to speak.

  Caterina asked, “Why are you here, Gareth?”

  “I need information.”

  “Why should we give you anything?” she asked with ferocity and hurt. “Why should we do anything except kill you? You’re a traitor. Aren’t you?”

  Her accusation was like a savage blow. Gareth took a step back. He had known Caterina for centuries and a harsh word had never passed between them.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And now,” she continued hotly, “you’ve come here with that monster to drag Lothaire into your insanity. You know he would never refuse you anything, but this is too much. They say you’ve lost your mind, which I believe, but for some reason I never thought you would lose your honor. How could—”

  Lothaire interrupted softly, “My dear, I should like to hear what Gareth has to say. I’ve known him forever, and you have too. Are we to give him up for lies and rumors?”

  “What lies?” Caterina’s desperate tone indicated that she wanted her husband to take away her doubt and anger.

  Lothaire touched his wife’s arm. “Look at all the stories flying about. Some say he’s dead. Clearly he’s not. Others say there are lunatics in the forests who worship him as some sort of avatar of a new age.”

  Gareth tried not to react.

  Lothaire held up a finger as if he had finally lit on a point to prove his assertions. “They even say he was the Greyfriar.” The king eyed Gareth. “Are you the Greyfriar?”

  Gareth stared at his old friend until Lothaire laughed. Gareth laughed along, a bit loudly.

  Lothaire said in triumph, “So with all those fables about him, we can at least learn the truth. We owe him the courtesy of an audience.”

  “Why? It’s our family we must protect.” Caterina’s eyes flicked toward Gareth almost apologetically.

  “I owe him then,” Lothaire said gently. “If you love me, you will consent. Why did we come here otherwise?”

  Caterina closed her eyes. Gareth could see the struggle in her. The mother versus the wife. But eventually the latter won out. She nodded.

  “Thank you, Caterina,” Gareth said.

  Lothaire moved closer to his old friend, his posture altering perceptibly into a younger, more eager version of himself. “Gareth, you know that if you’re seen in Paris, you’ll be killed? There is no clan that will offer you sanctuary.”

  “I assumed so.”

  “I couldn’t save you, even if I dared try, which I won’t.”

  “I know that, Lothaire. But I had to come.”

  “Very well.” The king raised questioning hands. “I can’t assume you’ve come because you miss me. So why?”

  “I have missed you, but I need to know about this.” Gareth reached into his pocket and drew out the blue crystal talisman.

  “What is that?” Lothaire eyed the stone.

  “I was hoping you might know.”

  “It’s a rock on a string. Nothing particularly interesting about it, except that you’re carrying it around like a human.”

  Caterina stared at the talisman. Her gaze darted to Gareth’s before she looked at the ground. Gareth continued to watch her, but said nothing. She clearly knew something about the talisman.

  Lothaire noticed his wife’s reaction too. “Do you know that thing, my dear?”

  “No,” she answered quickly.

  The king tilted his head in doubt. “Does it have something to do with Honore and—”

  “Be quiet!” she flared. “He’s still our son!”

  Gareth said, “I have no quarrel with Honore.”

  Lothaire took his wife’s hand. “Caterina, Gareth didn’t come to threaten our son. He obviously came to Paris because he knows Hallow is here.”

  “Hallow is here?” Gareth exclaimed.

  “Or perhaps he didn’t know.” Lothaire shrugged. “Yes, Lady Hallow was in Europe when . . . when your clan was killed. She came here because Honore had been a supporter of your brother’s. She’s become Honore’s chief advisor.”

  “Lothaire, please!” Caterina gripped her husband’s hands. “Stop telling him everything until we know more.”

  Gareth stood stunned. Now that he’d heard Lady Hallow was alive, it didn’t surprise him. It was possible that he had loved her once, although that seemed increasingly unlikely as the decades passed. No matter what he thought of Hallow personally, her political acumen was unquestioned. She had built the grand alliance of vampire clans that nearly allowed Cesare to smash the Equatorian war before it began. And when Hallow’s clan was obliterated, she was resourceful enough to escape and apparently thrive elsewhere. Gareth smiled coldly at her skill. “I suppose if there’s anyone who could’ve avoided the destruction of the clan, it would be Lady Hallow.”

  “Or you,” Caterina said, almost in accusation. “Were you on the Continent as she was?”

  Gareth leaned against the wall of skulls. “No. I was in Edinburgh. Adele protected me.”

  “Tell me, Gareth,” Caterina asked with trembling words, “did the Empress really kill them all?”

  He took a breath. “Yes.”

  “Did you command her to do it?”

  “No. She was betrayed. If she hadn’t stopped it when she did, all of us would be dead now.”

  Lothaire’s eyes widened. “That seems impossible. How could any human do such a thing?”

  Gareth caught the subtle flinch from Caterina. “Remember the old days and how the power of the stones and the churches and prayer could burn us? She can wield that power. Humans call it geomancy. I don’t understand it, but I’ve seen it and felt it.”

  Caterina’s lips tightened in rage. “You knew she had that power, and you let her live? Why, Gareth? Did you want her to kill us all?”

  He was quiet for a moment, his chest tight. “Perhaps.”

  “When you were in Paris last year, you
were so happy. You told me you had finally found someone you truly loved. Gareth, you didn’t mean her, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  The queen put a hand to her mouth in shock.

  “I can’t fully explain it,” Gareth said, relieved to finally be honest. “At first, she was no more than a way to foil Cesare. But from the first time I met her, I sensed something about her, something incredible, powerful, even terrible, but I could see the future in her eyes when I had never seen a future before.”

  He had hardly finished speaking when he heard a strange noise from the entrance. He broke for the shadowy corridor. Shapes scrambled in the darkness and fled. He seized one. Claws raked at him, but he ducked the blow that shattered skulls in the wall.

  He heard Lothaire and Caterina coming up behind him. “Go after them! There are at least three more.”

  The king and queen raced past. Gareth grabbed again for the vampire who still fought to escape. He slammed the struggling thing into the wall of bone. Shards of white flew. Gareth flung him back into the far side. The vampire snarled and struck out. Gareth barely dodged again, his feet clattering through skeletal remains. He then crashed against his opponent with his forearm crushing the vampire’s windpipe.

  Gareth drew a long bone out of the wall behind his struggling enemy. He pressed the bulbous end of the femur against the ground and stomped, snapping it in half. He thrust the jagged end up under the vampire’s ribs. He pushed it in deep. The vampire tried to claw, but only swiped helplessly as his heart was destroyed. Gareth dropped him and ran toward the shaft of light from the catacomb entrance high above.

  He lightened and pulled himself up through the center of the collapsing spiral staircase. Hand over hand, he rose to the surface. Once clear of the gates, he came out into the street. Gareth caught a scent of Lothaire, but saw no trace of him in the sky, so he ran down the gravel path in front of him. He stopped at a crossroad and the slight sound of shuffling feet and heavy breathing propelled him into an alleyway.

  He burst out into a courtyard to see Lothaire struggling with a vampire who looked terrified to be fighting with the king. Lothaire’s attacks were slow from years of disuse. A competent fighter could have taken the king easily. Instead his opponent was more interested in flight than victory. Lothaire seized the vampire and threw him down. His opponent kicked the king’s legs out from under him, sending Lothaire tumbling.

  Gareth leapt in before the assailant could get to his feet, but the vampire landed a solid blow. Tasting his own blood, Gareth slammed his fist into his adversary’s face several times.

  Lothaire surged in with a roar, sinking his teeth into the stunned vampire’s neck. With a shake of his head, he ripped most of the assailant’s throat away. The vampire fell limp in Gareth’s grip.

  Wild-eyed and bloody, Lothaire murmured, “Caterina” and raced off.

  They lifted into the air, leaping crumbled ruins and half-collapsed walls. Lothaire tried to scent frantically, but his face was drenched in blood. Gareth listened and again heard the sounds of combat. They raced over a rooftop, coming to a halt at the eaves. In the street below, they saw Caterina standing with her gown covered in blood. She stood over a vampire that was kicking in his death throes. Lothaire laughed, more one of relief than anything else.

  A shape moved near Caterina. The final spy bounded for the queen, screeching angrily about the dying body at her feet. Lothaire and Gareth shouted and leapt off the roof. The queen turned in surprise.

  A shadow wavered into sight between Caterina and the charging vampire. There was a flash of green. The vampire screamed and arched in agony. Adele pulled her Fahrenheit dagger free of the vampire’s ribs and swept it across his throat. The creature staggered and fell in a dusty tumble.

  When Gareth landed, he and Adele instantly spun outward, ready for more attackers. Lothaire hit the ground hard with a grunt. He struggled up and went to his wife.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assured him, eyeing his bloody face.

  Satisfied that they were in the clear, Gareth touched Adele’s arm and gave her a nod of gratitude. She slipped her dagger back into the sheath.

  “Either of you recognize any of them?” Gareth slid a foot under one of the dead vampires and flipped him over. He saw that the royal couple were staring at Adele in wonder or fear. Gareth gave a sharp whistle and nodded down at the cadaver. “Lothaire? Recognize him?”

  The king jerked out of his fascination with the empress. He narrowed his eyes at the dead body. “I’ve seen him. With Honore.” The king spat blood and looked at Caterina with determination. Then he turned to Gareth. “We need to go somewhere that will be safe from Honore’s spies.”

  “I know a place,” Gareth said.

  The queen pulled Lothaire close. “We can’t. He is our son.”

  “Open your eyes. Our son sent his mercenaries after us. And that one would have killed you but for the empress coming out of nowhere.” Lothaire scowled angrily. “No, Caterina, I’m sorry, but I am through being his prisoner. It’s time to tell Gareth about the Witchfinder.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Gareth, Lothaire, and Caterina walked north toward the river and the signs of death grew thicker as they moved closer to the center of the city. Gareth whispered for the sake of Adele who walked beside him, hidden from vampire sight, “This isn’t the Paris I saw last year. It looks more like London under Cesare.”

  Lothaire grumbled at the insult. “Not surprising with Hallow leading Honore by the nose.” He angrily kicked at a large crow picking at a rib cage. The bird screeched into the sky, only to flutter back down to its meal after they moved on.

  “I’m sorry, Lothaire. I wasn’t implying that you would sanction this butchery.” Gareth pulled his hood tighter.

  “It’s worse than you know, Gareth. The city is full of mercenaries that Hallow brought from packs all across Europe, most of them from the clans that were allies of Cesare and whose leaders are dead now. My old war chief, Fanon, whom we both fought beside has even turned.”

  Gareth didn’t reply to keep from forcing his friend to air more of the failures he was experiencing. They slipped through silent warrens until they reached the Rue de Lille, strewn with garbage and mounds of bricks from tumbled buildings. Shapes flitted overhead, but none seemed to be following or even noticing.

  Finally ahead of them was the Quai Voltaire and an unremarkable building overlooking the Seine where Kasteel had said they should rendezvous with his nest of rebels. Gareth eyed the area and scented the wet air, trying to uncover any sort of peculiarity in the setting. An unnecessary second glance from a figure drifting overhead. An impatient glare from a shadow on the corner. A furtive slip of claws. Anything to tip him to a potential ambush.

  Gareth waited until the skies seemed relatively clear, then he nodded quickly to Adele before lifting off the ground. He rose up along the wall to an attic window in the grey tile roof. He gripped the glassless window frame and listened. The voices inside were distant, but he recognized the authoritative boom of Kasteel. Gareth counted seven different voices, but smelled more waiting silently.

  He slipped in the window and landed lightly on the floor. He crept to the door, hardly touching, pushing himself along the wall. On the floor below, he heard the sounds of heavy strides, probably Kasteel’s, and the rebel leader was muttering impatiently. “He should be here today at some point. I left them just north of Senlis with directions.”

  “Is she still with him?” came an unknown voice with a quaver of fear.

  “Yes,” Kasteel said gruffly. “She is always with him.”

  “What is she like?”

  “She’s quiet and calm. But she looks through you as if she sees your weakest trait immediately.”

  “You saw her kill some of us?”

  “Stop!” Kasteel cried. “She doesn’t matter. She is nothing more than Lord Gareth’s claws. She is an emanation of his will.”

  Gareth smiled. Let them believe as they would. For now it work
ed in his favor.

  “She won’t destroy Paris, will she?” asked the first quavering voice. “I mean, she’ll tell us first so we can leave, right? She’ll let us live like Lord Gareth lived, since we follow him.”

  Kasteel growled with a touch more dread than anger. “With Lord Gareth, we have nothing to fear from her. Paris is falling apart, but we have to stay together. That is our strength.”

  Gareth had glided down the decrepit staircase and stood outside the large room where Kasteel paced from end to end with others following his every move. Kasteel went to the front window, searching the street and darkening sky.

  “Waiting for someone?” Gareth asked.

  Kasteel spun in shock. The other vampires in the room, perhaps twenty of them, leapt in alarm. They were all dressed in a poor fashion, even for vampires. They looked at Kasteel for confirmation and the rebel leader tried to overcome his embarrassment at being taken by surprise in his own lair.

  “My lord.” Kasteel bowed. “Yes, we were waiting for you. Welcome.” He craned his neck to peer past Gareth into the hallway. “Is the Death Br—the empress with you?”

  “You’ll see her when she desires it.” Gareth pulled back his hood, glancing at the others. “I brought visitors.”

  Adele watched the dumbfounded faces around the room when Lothaire and Caterina entered. It had been a momentous few days for the young rebels. First Gareth, then the Death Bringer, and now the lords of the Paris clan. Kasteel was speechless, unable to grasp the events that were piling on top of him. The rest of the rebels looked to him for guidance, but found none from their chief.

  Gareth threw off his cloak and said to Kasteel, “Post guards. Put someone on the roof and on each floor. Anyone could walk in, as I did.”

  Kasteel sent several of his group scurrying up the stairs, all of them staring back at Gareth as they went. Nadzia went without orders to a front window where she alternated studying the street outside and the rarefied company in the room.