“One hundred and fifty years.”
“Almost like yesterday.” Fanon backhanded one of his companions on the chest. “Prince Gareth here killed more humans than any other I know. Such a sight to see.”
The Scottish prince nodded in uncomfortable modesty.
“He was incredible,” the vampire continued. “He moved so fast, I could barely see him. Killing. Just killing.” He pointed at Gareth. “Do you remember when we struck those ships trying to escape Brest? Why, when Gareth was through, there were thousands dead on those vessels. So much blood flowing off the decks that—”
“Thank you, Fanon,” Gareth interrupted. “I’m honored you remember, but I’ve forgotten much of that time. Is the king at home?”
“He is,” came a bellow from above, and a figure dropped to the ground. He was a young male, likely under one hundred years old, and he wore a uniform jacket with epaulettes along with striped trousers. He looked a great deal like Lothaire when Gareth had known him; shorter, but more muscular, with a full face and flowing flaxen hair.
“Honore?” Gareth bowed. “I see your father in you.”
“I am the Dauphin,” the boy said without any welcome, using the old term for the French royal heir, another seizure of human traits by vampires. “So you’re Gareth? I’ve heard about you, but have never seen you in all my years.”
Fanon gave Honore a hard look of reproach, but it found no purchase on the lad’s demeanor.
“You wish to see my father?” the Dauphin said with a pompous breath. “Come with me.”
Gareth and Fanon followed Honore inside, and the trampled glories of the Tuileries enveloped them. Portraits were torn and crystal shattered. Windows were cracked and jagged. Tattered fabric hung mildewed, and rugs decayed underfoot. They went up a once-grand staircase now crusted in dried blood and bits of hair and bone. The hallways were crowded with clan lords and retainers hurrying about their great business. Some faces latched onto Gareth with recognition, but none spoke, preferring to stop and stare and whisper about why the Scottish prince was in Paris.
Gareth and Fanon walked, but Honore leapt and floated everywhere, vaulting up stairs by bouncing from wall to wall, grasping columns and spinning. It wasn’t exuberance; it was aggression, directed at Gareth. Honore was a young male, spending energy in pointless display, and since energy wasn’t needed any longer for hunting, it was free to waste. Fanon seemed annoyed by the rudeness, but Gareth was amused by the boy showing his power in front of his father’s old friend.
No doubt, Gareth reflected, he and Lothaire had been the same in those times together. Both young, ambitious, strong, and violent. Gareth, like most young males in those days, spent much of his early life wandering. He found Lothaire to be an agreeable companion, so they hunted Paris and environs together for decades. Then during the Great Killing, Gareth had returned to join Lothaire in battle to cement the alliance between Dmitri and Lothaire’s father. The battles they won and the bloodshed they caused were legendary. The sheer destruction of human life was enormous. Shamefully, Gareth could still recall the screams, the feeling of claws tearing flesh, and the smell of fear everywhere, the pure stench of terror that fed the vampire hordes nearly as much as the oceans of blood.
Honore settled onto a massive door lintel, crouching impatiently above Gareth and Fanon, who approached on foot. “I’ll leave you here.”
“Thank you, Dauphin. I hope to see you again.”
After the lad lanced up into the darkness, the embarrassed Fanon exhaled. “My apologies, sir. Prince Honore is…young. Please forgive him.”
Gareth shook his head and laid a hand on the old fellow’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We were all like him once. I certainly won’t mention it to His Majesty, if that’s your concern.”
“Thank you. The boy is good at heart. A bit impulsive.” Fanon shouldered open the door onto a horrific chamber of noise and motion. It was a room full of children of all ages. Toddlers. Young males and females. Even a baby who crawled on the floor. Shouting. Screaming. Frantic motions and bodies flying from one place to another. The children looked openly at Gareth as he shuffled uncomfortably into the room. A small female stopped at his feet and stared up at him. Gareth nodded to her, but she continued to glare at him like a snake. An adult female vampire standing quietly near the baby lifted her head briefly, and then turned her attention back to a child beside her.
With one eye on the girl with the reptile stare, Gareth asked with an uncertain stammer, “Fanon, is this the clan nursery?”