Gareth vaulted out of a window. He caught a rough updraft and soared quickly. Wheeling above the palace courtyard, he saw the colossus of Ramses, or Dmitri, on the ground.
In the blue sky above London, Gareth noted a vast metal airship, unlike the sailing ships he was familiar with. The weird oblong behemoth belched smoke. Vampires rose to meet it with their usual vicious abandon. Already the gleaming, sloping hull was crawling with black figures. Even without the rendezvous, General Anhalt was attacking. Or at least attempting to.
Gareth moved toward the airship on an instinct to fight alongside the Equatorians. But no. The thought of Adele and Cesare came back to him with a horrific shock. There was nothing he could do for the humans, and he knew Anhalt would understand. One more against the thousands would make no difference now. He put the ship and its men from his mind and set his face northward with terrifying urgency.
Adele woke.
She felt the soft bed beneath her and listened to the remorseless wind whistling around the empty castle. Everyone was gone. Her Harmattan, save a couple of bodyguards, and even Morgana had gone north with Hariri on Edinburgh. She took a deep breath and shifted her leg slightly, feeling the weight of Pet sprawled at her knee. His careless snores comforted her. The cat hadn't been awakened by anything unusual.
Then why was she awake?
Adele cast her eyes about without moving her head, and lay listening for anything out of the ordinary. The peat hissed from the hearth, casting a soft glow. Nothing moved.
Just as she was about to sink back into the pillow, something hard fell on her face. She instinctively tried to turn away, but her head was locked in place. Pet leapt up with alarm and bolted from the bed. She felt a pressure on her chest, and she took a sharp breath.
Immediately her head was filled with a soft, sweet smell. She cursed herself, and she now felt the prickle of herbs pressed against her mouth and nose. Her vision began to cloud. She grasped the hand on her face, but it was too strong.
“Don't fight,” came a command in a familiar voice. “I don't want to hurt you.”
Adele's gaze shifted, and in the shadows she saw the face of Mamoru hovering over her. He was drawn and thin, unshaven, a bit wild. She went for her dagger that lay on the bed next to her.
Mamoru swiftly seized the weapon and slid it into his belt. “No, no. You won't need that.”
Adele tried to claw at his eyes, but now her arm fell limp on the mattress and the fingers that clutched his hand slid down to her chest.
Mamoru pressed the sweet herbs tighter to her face. “Breathe deeply, Adele.”
The empress struggled to hold her breath. She felt like a thrashing fish on a pier, trying to fight, but her eyes told her that she was motionless. Helpless. The cloying stench was already seeping deep into her, slowing the flow of blood from her heart far into her limbs.
“There.” The samurai smiled with gentle relief and pried her eyelids wide to examine. He removed his hand from her face and then proceeded to brush the stems and leaves away like a worried mother cleaning a dirty child. “As always, you are amazing. There is no one on Earth who should have heard me approach. But you did.”
Adele watched him throw back the bedclothes and felt him reach under her neck and knees. He lifted her off the bed. He looked down into her face with kindness.
“Come, Adele,” Mamoru said. “Let me help you one last time.”
She could do nothing as her old mentor carried her out into the night, past the bodies of her murdered guards.
GARETH FOCUSED ON squeezing every sliver of speed from the cold blasting winds. He knew he couldn't reach Edinburgh before Cesare, but he didn't think about that. Reach Adele. That was his goal. Then he would deal with whatever he found. It seemed like months had passed since he left Baudoin and Flay dead in London when he finally saw the grey spires of Edinburgh.
From the air, buffeted by the harsh northern winds and the grey clouds obscuring the morning sun, the city looked deserted. There was no layer of smoke and no sign of movement. As Gareth descended, the castle looked normal.
Surely Adele would have had a fire if she were there.
Gareth dropped into the courtyard like a stone, leaving a heavy indentation in his wake, and he raced for the palace entrance. He shoved the door open and was overwashed with the smell of blood. His wounds were healing slowly, but his head swam with exhaustion. He couldn't make sense of the stench. It didn't have Adele's scent, but it was clearly blood.
He raced up the stairs, caution lost to fear. The door to her room was open, and Gareth ran inside.
“Adele!”
The room was empty. The hearth was warm, but unattended for some time. Her scent was faint.
He noticed with alarm that the bedcovers were thrown about. There had been a struggle of some sort here. His heart pounded and his breath grew thin.