The Kingmakers(26)

Gareth kept a bland face despite his surprise at the king’s words. St. Etienne and Lyon allied with Cesare? His brother was clearly reaching out to clans across Europe and had created a far larger network than Gareth realized. It wasn’t just Munich and Budapest. Everything he had told Adele and Anhalt about the parochialism of the clans making it easy for the humans to face them one at a time was wrong. Cesare was again innovating in horrifying ways. Gareth reminded himself, once more, to stop underestimating his brother. It wasn’t just his life at stake anymore.

The king laughed, as did the remaining nobles. “Or have you come from Cesare to ask for my help? Perhaps you want my packs to save you? I know the humans continue to occupy St. Etienne despite Flay’s counterattacks.”

“Flay,” Gareth snarled involuntarily. The vile war chief was near. He would never be rid of her. Still, Flay was not his primary concern at the moment, as he was reminded when more distant blasts from the town rumbled the terrace. He flexed his hands nervously, discomfited by his too-long absence from Adele. He sniffed the air for hints of the empress, but there were none. He had to find her, to be sure she was safely to her goal. Even if she had found it on her own, she wouldn’t trigger the attack not knowing where Gareth was located.

The Scottish prince said, “Majesty, if there is nothing I can say to sway you to my brother’s side, I will take my leave.”

Vittorio regarded him curiously. “You haven’t said anything. You may go, but there will soon be a feast. Stay if you wish.”

“Thank you, no. My duties require me elsewhere. I will certainly tell Cesare of the magnificence of your packs.”

The king grunted with satisfaction and patted the prince on the shoulder. “It was a pleasure to see you, Gareth. I always assumed you would succeed Dmitri, and Cesare would be your messenger.” The fat monarch shrugged at the mysterious ways of the world. “Please do stop by again.”

“Thank you, Sire. I hope to spend time in Grenoble once the battle is over.”

Gareth lifted into the snowy air and angled hastily toward the St. Laurent side of the Bastille, dropping along the jagged path leading up the hillside where he whispered harshly, “Adele!” The wind echoed in his ears along with the far-off drumming of guns. He half crawled, half flew along the sheer stone wall, moving toward the river below. “Adele!”

He continued along the path, stopping and calling, with no response, until he arrived at the battlements immediately overlooking the church. Perhaps she had already reached the Bastille. He had been quite some time waiting for King Vittorio to speak to him. So Gareth retraced his steps back up the mountain. His limbs were numb from worry and his heart raced. He frantically searched the air for her scent. He listened for her voice, cursing the intermittent sounds of war that blotted out all sounds. The snow had increased and the wind grew stronger, so he found no trace of her on the ground either.

When he neared the Bastille, he followed the path to a doorway in the stone where an iron gate was rusted and falling aside. Snow had blown into the doorway and there, on the edge of the drift, protected from the wind, were faint tracks in the snow on the stone floor.

Adele. She was inside. Which meant she was close to her target.

Gareth scattered the white footprints to keep anyone who came after from seeing them, and plunged into the stone corridor.



Each dark turn Adele made brought another vampire standing or striding through the narrow passages. It took all of her concentration not to lose focus on the line and yet stay out of their way. One collision and she would be fair game.

Adele wished for more light, but vampires had no need of it. There were some human servants inside and they held faint candles, but they were few and far between. She kept her fingers touching the wall, and walked slowly, ever ready to step aside for a vampire who blocked her path.

Pressure built inside Adele, and she knew she was approaching the rift. Everything smelled earthy and green, full of life, even in the stone corridors of the fort. She wished she could see the lines rather than just sense them. Amazingly, in a flash of light, lines on the floor glowed white. Surges of energy flowed like blood, and much of it rushed toward her. Her mouth hung open in amazement when she saw the colors pooling around her. The sensations and smells were becoming overpowering, like overripe fruit. She was somehow drinking in the energy from the line where she stood.

There was a sharp pain, as if her skin was being stretched to its limit. Adele could barely hold the energy she contained, but she had to. There was no telling where Gareth was at this moment.

Anhalt’s assault was likely well inside the city, with no hope or intention of retreat. Thousands of vampires would be swarming the Equatorians. The slaughter on both sides must be terrible. Every minute Adele delayed escalated the loss of life mounting on the streets of Grenoble.