The Kingmakers(133)

“I'm going to have to let you go again, aren't I?” she whispered.

“Yes. As I will let you go when the need arises. We have a day at most before I will need to depart.”

His arms lifted to collect her and hold her against him. She slid carefully onto the bed and wrapped her arms about him, just holding him, feeling his heart beat at her breast, her mouth never leaving his. It wasn't a forceful kiss but a gentle, comforting one that allowed them the reassurance of the other's life and love.



London was calm. The flocks of vampires crowding the evening skies were thinner than normal, and less hectic than a typical clan gathering. Still, there was electricity in the air for the coming coronation and the celebration that would follow. For now, it was somber. The clan lords from across Britain were here, but their packs were left at home. Likely kings and queens of other clans had come too, but they brought only token retinues. Cesare would nearly empty London for the coven. During an interregnum, vampires tried to ensure squabbles were kept to a minimum. Too many had died in internecine struggles over the centuries.

Gareth drifted in from the north watching the green countryside turn grey. His gaze strayed to the pile that was Buckingham Palace. It was no longer his father's home. Gareth had no idea what had been done with his father's cadaver. Once it wouldn't have mattered to him, but humans seemed concerned about how their dead were treated. He had taken so many human traits, this interest in the dead was but one more.

There was the British Museum, his home in London. As he descended, he saw the grounds in front of the building strewn with wreckage. Large chunks of stone and concrete, and scattered detritus spread outward from the front of the edifice. Gareth touched down with clenched fists, looking with alarm at the massive hole smashed in the front wall. The bronze doors were flat on the portico and the stonework around the doorway had been widened rudely, leaving a gaping wound in his home. There were deep gouges in the ground as if something heavy had been dragged from the building.

Humans were the only ones who could have wrought this damage, and they would not have done so without Cesare's express orders. Perhaps it had been an act of spite in compensation for Gareth's tardiness to London. Perhaps it was simply Cesare's way of speeding his brother's official presence from the scene.

Gareth leapt into the air and angled for the palace. He contemplated a furious meeting with Cesare, and had to remind himself to maintain control. This was not the time to strike his brother. As he closed in on the palace courtyard, he saw an incredible sight. It was the colossal statue of Ramses the Great that had been inside the museum.

Gareth halted in midair and stared down at the object in its strange new space.

“Impressive, no?” came a voice.

He spun to find Cesare hovering above him. His brother smiled. “Welcome to London. Did I startle you?”

“What is this?” Gareth pointed down at Ramses. “Is this your doing? That statue belongs to me.”

Cesare settled to the earth, followed by Gareth. “I had it done. I wasn't aware that you claimed the objects in the museum.”

“You destroyed my home.”

“Oh, don't go on so. The doorway had to be widened a bit. There are still countless pieces of stone and metal inside for you to stroke. There's still a roof to keep the rain off your head.”

“Why is it here?” Gareth touched the colossus and felt sick that it had been defiled. Adele had explained the statue to him when she was his guest in the museum. It had been their first meaningful conversation. Ramses was from Adele's homeland; he was her ancestor.

“It's Dmitri,” crowed Cesare.

“What?”

“It's a monument to our father.” Cesare patted the pharaoh's stone trunk.

“You simpleton. This statue is someone. This is a real man. His name is Ramses. You can't just grab an object and say it's someone else.”

“No? I believe I just did.”

“But…” Gareth struggled for words. “Why are you even putting up a monument to our father?”

“He was a great king.”

The elder brother shook his head in confusion.

Cesare continued as if it was all quite clear. “This monument will show everyone how magnificent he was; then they will know that I am greater still when I surpass him.”

“But this statue isn't Dmitri,” Gareth repeated.

“It is now.”

Gareth wanted to tear the smug grin from Cesare's face. His vision swam red, and his claws extended involuntarily. Then suddenly a strange thought occurred to him. Cesare was staring up at the huge statue with pride, and Gareth started to laugh.

“Something funny?” Cesare asked with a surprised snarl.