The Geomancer Read online

  She crossed the gallery toward the Witchfinder. As she grew near, she felt a painful slap of heat and drew back with a hiss.

  The human remained calm. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’d advise that you don’t get too close, Your Majesty. I carry many traditional talismans on me which serve to repel your kind.” He reached into one coat pocket and pulled out a yellow crystal, and from inside his waistcoat he withdrew a small gold cross. When the queen pulled back farther, the Witchfinder slipped the talismans back into his pockets. “Nothing personal. One can’t be too careful. There may be some vampires who may not realize I am the clan’s science advisor.”

  “Science advisor?” Caterina realized she was likely the only vampire present without a protective talisman. She gathered herself, eyeing the disturbing human before returning to the window. “What happened to those humans out there?”

  Goronwy leaned against the far wall with his hands clasped before him. He didn’t move toward the window to view the carnage. He seemed satisfied with the screams as proof of concept. “The power of the rifts. I used the Earth to kill them. It’s the very same principle that killed the British clan, but frankly much more complicated to accomplish. You vampires are susceptible to such energy. It’s actually very easy to kill you by overloading the rifts. What the empress did was impressive only in its scale.” He smiled with pride. “Humans are hard to kill with geomancy, but I have grasped the principle. They are vulnerable to having their energies drawn out of them and into the Earth. Next I will test a long-distance event. I have prepared a site in the north that I will attempt to trigger from here in Paris.”

  Lady Hallow looked back eagerly over her shoulder. “So you could kill everyone in Alexandria just like that?”

  Goronwy rolled his eyes. “That’s a little simplistic, I’m afraid. In practice, it’s always more complicated than you might like. I would have to arrange the target pattern, those crystals you see on the ground, around the rifts of Alexandria. And then if I could create a complementary pattern, such as you see here on the floor, I could trigger the effect. But as it stands now, it would be quite difficult.”

  Hallow grew cold. “So as a weapon, your value is limited?”

  “Honestly, Lady Hallow, yes. At the moment. However, I’m confident I can simplify and amplify the process you just witnessed. I merely wanted to be sure that the principle works before I go to the trouble involved in overcoming the field limitations. For instance, I could eliminate the need for the target pattern as long as I can replicate the complementary—”

  “I don’t want to hear your nonsensical blather any more than Cesare did.” Hallow narrowed her eyes. “What does it mean for me?”

  Goronwy sighed, marshaling his patience. “In day-to-day terminology, Lady Hallow, it means you will have the power to kill whomever you wish, whenever you wish. I assume that is the sum of your scientific curiosity.”

  Now Lady Hallow purred with pleasure. She eyed Honore with what passed for lascivious desire in a cold-blooded creature. The two of them were lost in their moment, no longer caring that the queen was even present. “I don’t need to have scientific curiosity, Goronwy. That’s why I have you. Do whatever you need to do to make it happen. The resources of the clan are at your disposal.”

  Caterina instinctively wanted to upbraid Hallow for her bold distribution of the clan’s largesse. She looked to her son to say something since he was the clan war chief, and Hallow only his personal advisor. He didn’t react. It angered Caterina to see the pathetic falseness of Hallow’s blunt sexuality aimed at her son. It was so lifeless and fabricated that Caterina couldn’t believe Honore didn’t shove the pale female away out of self-respect. However, judging by the hungry look on Honore’s face, he had no notion he was being used. Hallow had him on a leash.

  On some level, the queen respected the cunning of her rival who had come to Paris as an exile from dead Britain. In less than a year, she had scanned the likely candidates who could serve her, selected the Dauphin as her tool, fanned the lad’s disdain for his father, worked her way into a place of power, and made herself invaluable to the clan’s survival. It was no surprise Cesare had trusted her as his chief political advisor.

  Caterina knew better than to fight here in the moment of Hallow’s triumph. In addition to her son, Hallow had the Witchfinder, who not only seemed to hold the key to saving the clan from the human armies, but also had powers over life and death, perhaps including Caterina’s. The queen had no choice but to stand by quietly and keep her mouth shut.

  CHAPTER 7

  Adele could feel the Earth again in its full glory. Her geomancy had returned in force as soon as her airship, HMS Edinburgh, cruised out over the Channel. The barrier over Britain that had muffled her as if her head was wrapped in thick wool, fell away in a marvelous rush. Warm tendrils reached for her, slipped into her. This was what she remembered from her wonderful days learning geomancy when Mamoru was still her trusted teacher and the world was a source of constant wonder. The comforting colors and pleasing sounds called to her, eager to pull her deeper.

  She surrendered to the call and walked the rifts, those avenues of power that some initiates called ley lines or dragon spines. She saw the veins of the world stretching out, pulsing with life, intersecting, intertwining, and tunneling off to do their unfathomable duties. They roared around Adele, bombarding her with the scents and crystalline music of the world. She tasted the chalky shores of Europe and slipped beyond to the rich loam of the Rhine Valley. With a thought, she shot even farther to the delicious dry salt and lemony aftertaste of her own home of ­Alexandria.

  Adele reveled in the fact that this was a sensation most people could only experience when overwhelmed by the colors of a sunset or the sounds of the ocean or the smells of a fir forest. This was geomancy on a level that Adele was born to dominate and trained to understand. There may have been others around the world who could do the same, she had no idea exactly how many, but likely there were none who could do it as naturally as she did. Her mother had possessed similar skills, but Adele long surpassed her. She needed no preparation, no tools, no crystals, no meditation, no site of power. That was why she had been chosen and trained by her mentor to be the greatest of geomancers and his ultimate weapon in the war against vampires.

  Adele streaked back toward the Channel. She pushed north, intent on testing Britain, to see what had become of it. The energy swirled on the outskirts of the island, sinking and twisting in odd directions, seeking paths to travel. The rifts of Britain looked gnarled and agonized. The lines of power had frozen into dark cracks, gaping wide down to the cold depths. Those rifts had been ravaged by geomancy. Her geomancy. That devastation was the reason why she couldn’t access the glory of the Earth inside Britain, and Adele nearly wept at it. She wondered if Britain would ever be the same. There was no telling what the ramifications would be for many years to come. Had Mamoru known? Had he cared? Adele felt uneasy and confused. She realized that the energy swirled around her with ever greater insistence. It had been so long since she had ventured so deep. Adele didn’t trust herself, constantly feeling that she could easily be dragged into the miraculous and lost.

  It was more of a struggle than she expected to detach herself from the seductive comfort of the rifts. Mamoru had always warned that the heart of the rifts, the Belly of the Dragon as he called it, was a dangerous place. It was vast with landmarks that were deceptive. She had to be careful not to be fooled into thinking its warmth and comfort meant it cared whether she lived or died. It was possible to lose yourself in your own sense of power.

  With a terrific shudder, Adele reeled herself back to the cold flinty Channel. Greyfriar’s gaze was on her, studying her, and she forced a smile instinctively to signal him that all was well. She adjusted her khukri and a pistol on her belt as if she had merely been daydreaming, but the sheen of perspiration on her face betrayed the truth of the struggle she had just experienced.

  Breathing out a slow shaking breath, she was rel
ieved to see Greyfriar apparently unaffected. In the past, any use of her geomancy would have inflicted pain on him. She had obviously altered him the night of the event. Still, Adele had no confidence in how safe he would be if she unleashed her power in a massive storm.

  Greyfriar settled in to watch the two boatmen who directed the small pilot cutter toward distant Europe. Edinburgh had carried them all more than halfway to the Flemish coast, then lowered the boat into the dark sea. Adele and Greyfriar had climbed in with these two trusted sailors and set off. Above them, the airship drifted silently into the night and vanished.

  They all remained quiet as the boat labored for hours through the winter swells. The wind was frigid. A thin coating of ice formed on the quivering lines. Greyfriar settled close to Adele, placing his cloak around her. She relished the warmth he offered but his gaze occasionally shifted uneasily to the dark waters around them. He was never comfortable on or over water; his kind had a natural apprehension of it.

  She was reminded of their long journey north to Scotland in a boat half this cutter’s size and a fraction of its seaworthiness. It seemed so long ago, although it was barely two years. Greyfriar had been just what he appeared—a masked adventurer from a storybook, a silent scythe among the vampire hordes of the north. Now she could see the man beneath his disguise. And yet, here with the creaking planks and cracking black sails, with the stars reflected in his glasses, he seemed to be no more than the fairy tale again. For a moment they were back to the days of flying headlong from the merciless pursuit of Cesare’s war chief, Flay. Only Adele would describe those days as a more carefree time.

  She and Greyfriar were together with a mystery, a mission, and a goal. Where it would lead, she had no idea. For the time being, no matter how dire their task, they could at least focus on that and work toward something together. She could forget her long unsettling walks through Greyfriars kirkyard searching for photographic evidence, some truth. She could ignore his manuscript lying unfinished and hated. Adele took his gloved hand and squeezed it.

  Adele thought she saw a wave blotting out low stars on the horizon, but it proved to be the coast of Europe. Greyfriar rose to his feet, steadying himself in the rocking boat. The closer they drew to land, the more likely they would fall under the sharp eyes of hunting vampires.

  Water slapped the gunwales, accompanied by the sound of crashing surf. One sailor wrestled in most of the sail. The cutter rolled in the waves and Adele took a line in hand, enjoying the wild motion. The instant the bottom scraped stones, Greyfriar vaulted the side, splashing into the knee-deep water. He took two heavy packs from the helmsman and looped them over his shoulders. Then he reached out for Adele.

  “It’s not deep,” she gently chided his unremitting chivalry. “I can make it.”

  “I don’t want you any wetter. We may be hours from a fire.”

  Adele felt silly but slipped into his powerful arms. He waded to the beach carrying her high against his chest. She clutched a rucksack, careful to protect it from the water since it contained one of her prized possessions, her mother’s notebook on geomancy. Adele needed to study quickly and learn more about her science. She had once thought herself an expert, but the specter of the Witchfinder forced her to face her own limitations.

  Once on dry land, Greyfriar set her down, dropped the packs, and returned to the surf to push the boat off. The two sailors poled out through the breakers before giving a quick silent gesture of farewell and setting sail for the open sea.

  Adele reached into her pocket and retrieved a small clear stone. The uncanny sense of the Earth filled her body. She felt the strange vibrations of its twin that rested in the possession of Captain Hariri aboard her airship over the Channel. When she and Greyfriar needed retrieval, she would shatter Hariri’s stone and he would send the cutter, or the airship itself if necessary.

  Greyfriar strode out of the water and snatched up the packs. Adele hefted her rucksack, following him off the stony beach to the grassy dunes. Both of them stayed silent and scanned the skies. They walked for hours through the soft marshy terrain until Greyfriar spotted a dark blot on the landscape and pointed. Then Adele saw it was a small cabin. No light. No scent of smoke. It was clearly abandoned, which she preferred. Too many of Greyfriar’s friends and allies had died helping her in the past.

  Greyfriar moved toward the roughhewn home. The door was unlocked. Once they were inside, he paused, pulling the scarf from his nose and sniffing the air. “This place is one of my safe houses. No one has been here for a long time.”

  “Is that bad?”

  He shrugged. “The house is open to all. But it’s not uncommon for it to be empty. Set your pack down. We’ll rest.”

  Adele remembered she was still lugging the heavy rucksack, so she dropped it with a sigh of relief. Greyfriar slid an old chair across the floor to her and pulled open one of the packs. He removed a block of cheese and some crusty bread. Jamming his dagger into the cheese, he handed it to Adele who had sunk into the damp chair. She was so tired the foul fabric didn’t alarm her.

  “I can start a fire.” He unbuckled his sword and gunbelt. He proceeded to doff his cloak and tunic, beginning the transformation from Greyfriar to Gareth.

  “Don’t risk it.” Adele scrabbled in her pack and pulled out a leather bottle. “Morgana sent along some Edinburgh whisky. Should warm me up.”

  Gareth raised an eyebrow. “I’ll fetch water. I smelled a fresh stream nearby.”

  “You’re better than a camel.”

  “Thank you.” He found an old bucket in the corner and headed out into the night. “I think.”

  So much of northern Europe was sparsely populated, with no industrial activity to speak of, that the streams and lakes were often clear and fresh. Adele wouldn’t dream of drinking from any body of water in her Egyptian homeland. She ate a few bites of cheese, preferring to wait for Gareth to return out of politeness even though he didn’t eat. She dozed until an odd sound slipped into her fuzzy thoughts. It was an ill-defined, distant whisper as of laundry on a line in a faint breeze. But it was insistent.

  She sprang up and drew Greyfriar’s rapier and her own revolver. Easing back the door, she paused in the frigid air. Her breath misted as she stepped onto the frost-covered grass. She looked up. The sky was lightening with faint sun seeping up in the east. Against the dying blue night sky, a swarm of dark figures floated over the far side of a hillock.

  A whisper of movement behind her gave an ambush away. She spun around and took aim at four plummeting shadows. Thunderously loud shots punched bullets into two of the plunging vampires, sending them cartwheeling through the air. The other two creatures dove toward her. One hissed in its language, cursing her as a human. She fired again, but missed. The vampires dropped lightly in front of her, content in their ability to cow a mere woman, even an armed one.

  Adele eyed the vampires with an expectant smile. The creatures paused, confused by strange sensations that suddenly pierced their body. She dropped her pistol and reached out. Laying her hand on the face of one vampire, smoke rose with a sizzling roar. The creature screeched. Adele focused on her glowing fingers, driving more power into the vampire and she actually felt its flesh melting under her touch. She pulled her hand back in disgust and the creature flailed to the ground. The second vampire stared at its stricken companion and, realizing it was alone, backed away.

  Adele stuck out her hand toward it, with silver smoke curling off her fingertips. The vampire hissed something that might have been her name and vaulted into the air. She left the wounded things wriggling in the dirt; reaching Gareth was more important.

  Adele staggered on. Every inch of her ached suddenly and her muscles shook as they protested supporting her. Even such a minor use of her power was draining. She fought against her own weakness because of the sounds of distant fighting. Adele ran through the damp grass and stumbled to the top of the hillock.

  The air still swirled with dark shapes. Below her, beside an icy stream,
Gareth fought with five vampires, eight already lay dead and gutted on the ground. He was a melee of limbs and feet, smashing against the five things. Adele hardly had time to wonder why they had attacked him; he was unmasked and clearly a vampire to his own kind. She raced down the hill.

  “Gareth!” she called and lobbed the rapier toward him.

  He slammed a foot into the chest of one of his attackers, ducked a clawed swipe from another, and vaulted into the air. He caught the sword and landed, lunging with the glinting blade. The rapier plunged into a vampire’s chest, piercing the heart and causing the creature to seize. Gareth drew the sword free and spun calmly to another.

  The black cloud of monsters descended upon them. Now there was little room to maneuver and it was all Adele could do to swing her glowing khukri, cutting with its searing Fahrenheit chemicals. Silver tendrils wreathed her limbs. She grabbed the vampires that came near enough. Her touch burned worse than her blade, raising smoke and the stench of seared flesh. But her endurance was near its end. Already she could barely catch her breath with each strike. Adele knew that they were faltering. Gareth’s strength was not unlimited, not against so many.

  Their eyes locked for a split second. Adele knew she had the power to destroy this horde. She could fall on her knees and press her hands on the ground. Her arms would sink into the soft soil up to her elbows as she touched the network of green and white. Living tendrils would sing. Adele could bend the dragon spine toward her so she could grasp it. The shadows of the vampires would melt before her gaze, turning to dust and bone.

  But then the image of Gareth burning flashed through Adele’s brain. She feared the greedy power of the rifts would seize her and drag her deep into its seductive grip, urging her to unleash it all, to unlock the vast system of fiery circulation around the world. She might be unable to resist. She might be unable to save Gareth again.