Chapter II. A Thousand Tons of Truth
II
A THOUSAND TONS OF TRUTH
“JOIN ME, OF course.
“Those were the words ringing in my head as I accepted Voss’s invitation,” Gabriel declared.
“Gut twisted in knots as I stepped over the threshold and into Chateau San Maximille.
The stink of blood and battle hung in the air, the bodies of slaughtered soldiers—brave boys in León colors—cooling on the stones behind me.
Thousands of them, poured out like water on the frozen ground. My command.
“My plan.
“The last two years had been spent hunting the monster at my back. Not a night went by I didn’t relive the moment he took my everything away.
There wasn’t an angel’s chance in hell I’d ever stand beside him, but the memory of Patience in my arms burned bright, and the thought I could have her back once I’d played out this charade eclipsed all.
“I’d listen to whatever this bastard had to say.
“And then I’d spit my refusal and take my daughter back.
“My brothers, my cousin—they were even more skeptical than I. It speaks to the depth of their love that they followed me into that keep at all. But follow they did; Lachlan first, dragging himself off the icy stone beneath Kestrel’s gaze and limping up the bloodstained stairs.
Charlotte might never have joined me save for the look Lachie threw her; heart on his sleeve and plea in his eyes.
And with a glance to Ettiene—looming just an arm’s length from her throat—and an order for her lieutenants to tend the wounded, she climbed down from those bloody battlements and stalked to Lachlan’s side.
“‘I pray God and Mothermaid you know what you’re doing,’ she hissed.
“‘So do I, Charli.’
“My old ’prentice looked at the chateau and made the sign of the wheel.
“‘So do I.’
“Baptiste followed slower, walking across the gore-slicked stone and, despite the shadow and ire that yet loomed between them, enfolding his beloved in silent embrace. Aaron was still in pieces after his clash with Kestrel—arm taken off at the shoulder, guts cleaved open, drenched in red. But he still squeezed Baptiste with his good arm, brow pressed to his husband’s as he whispered.
“‘You swore you’d stay behind the line.’
“‘I lied. I do that sometimes. Like when I told you your cookery wasn’t pure arse.’
“‘This is no jest; you might’ve died.’
“Baptiste met Aaron’s eyes then. ‘I’m mortal, Aaron. That’s what we do.’
“Aaron closed his eyes, kissed his husband’s brow. Baptiste hung his head, darkness and hunger and sin weighing heavy between them. But still he took his husband’s hand. And side by side, they followed Lachie and Charlotte up the chateau steps.
“Voss waited at the top of them, clad in white velvet and silk. His head was inclined, one hand gesturing within—the perfect picture of a genteel host inviting old friends in for dinner. The air was freezing, my breath roiling white as I followed a pretty redheaded lass in Voss livery down a grand stone corridor. The chateau was finely decorated, poorly lit, but I could still see the scars of battle from where Voss had seized it. The faint perfume of murder lingered in every shadow. My pace was wary, sword anointed with Dior’s blood still wrapped in one fist, my every instinct screaming.
“I was surrounded by vampires—that court of finely frocked highbloods, drifting through the dark about me. They were Ironhearts all, Fabién’s brood, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and more.
They followed me with hungry eyes, smiled with rubied lips; a flock of killers in crushed velvet and rippling satin.
I noted a woman among them, tall and curved, a bejeweled wreath of golden hair about her brow, a gown of crimson hugging her body.
In one arm, she nursed a dog more kin to rat than hound, and upon her breast was embroidered the Wolves of Blood Chastain. ”
“My niece Nicolette,” Jean-Francois murmured. “Hard at work, as always.”
“She met my eyes, gaze drifting to the blade in my hands. Dark beauties these all were, wrought of porcelain and shadow, and not many looked like warriors. Still, they were vampires. A chateau full of them. And the only thing keeping them from our throats was the monster who’d murdered the people I loved most in all the world.
“We were led to a grand dining room in the chateau’s heart.
A great hearth encompassed one wall, a portrait of the Mothermaid and infant Redeemer above.
High-backed chairs sat about a long table, and I saw fresh bloodstains on the polished oak.
Imagining the feasts that had taken place here, my jaw clenched as I wondered if my Patience had been among the diners.
The room was so cold it hurt just to breathe, and the shadows seemed living things.
It felt surreal to sit myself at that table, watching Lachie and Charlotte and Baptiste and Aaron do the same.
The heart of the enemy’s keep was no place to break ranks, but I could see every one of them desperately wanted to—to take hold of my collar and roar into my face and ask me what the fuck I was thinking.
“What the fuck was I thinking?
“That the daughter I loved more than life could be mine again. That Voss could’ve slain my brothers and friends if he’d wanted to, and yet, he’d sought parley instead.
But truth told, I was thinking most of Mama’s journal.
My father’s words as he abandoned her. The fact daysdeath hadn’t fallen in the nights Wulfric knew her.
“So what blackened veil had he been talking about?
“‘What veil indeed.’
“The question echoed about my skull, and I was unsure if it had been spoken aloud or simply in my mind. But I threw up my walls instinctively, closing myself off as best I could.
“The last place in the world I needed this bastard was in my head.
“He stood at the doors now, wreathed in unlight and bitterest chill, his shadow falling over every heart in that room. A youth, fey and bloodless, bleached by eternity’s kiss and a millennium of sin.
Charlotte signed the wheel, a whispered prayer at her lips.
Aaron shifted closer to Baptiste, the blackthumb half rising, his pulse unmoored.
Lachlan only glowered, bloody hands curled into fists.
He’d hauled his greatcoat back on for the sake of the freezing cold, but his chest and hands were yet bare, aegis burning with a brightness I’d seldom seen.
This was the great enemy. The creature every silversaint was raised to hate, surpassing even dread Tolyev in the brutality of his conquests.
“The Forever King.
“‘Might I offer refreshment? ’
“Voss looked about the room, eyebrow arched ever so slight. My friends made not a sound, the air brittle with chill and fear, the perfume of blood digging claws into my aching belly. I swallowed, tongue thick with the leavings of battle.
“‘I could use a drink.’
“I put my boots up on his table and met that bastard’s eyes.
“‘Something sweet to wash down your children’s ashes. Laure. Danton. Alba. Aléne.’ I counted off on my fingers, name by name. ‘Killing princes is thirsty work.’
“Charlotte looked at me in horror, Baptiste’s face ran bloodless, even Aaron threw me a warning glance.
But despite the glint of rage in those midnight eyes, Fabién’s lips curled in the gentlest of smiles.
The lass who’d escorted us to the hall had started a fire in the hearth, flames licking feebly at dusty timbers.
But with a glance from Voss, the thrall slipped from the room, closing the great doors behind her.
In the silence following, Fabién walked to the slowly waking blaze.
The vampire moved like a statue come to life, no motion unconsidered, no gesture wasted. Forever in flesh.
“He stared into the fire as if fascinated. Pinpricks of light flickered on the black orbs of his eyes, the marble of his skin blushed by those rising flames. The very darkness seemed to warp and twist away from him, the horror of his presence crawling on my skin.
“‘Why, think ye, we suppose hell shall be flame? ’
“No one replied, glances shared across that bloodstained table.
“‘Flame be the giver of life. The bringer of warmth. The hearth of the home. Why then doth mortal man imagine an eternity of fire for the wicked? Why not … nothingness? An eternity of sensation, even torturous, must surely be preferable to a forever of ennui? ’
“‘I’m not in the mood for philosophy, bastard. Speak your piece and be done.’
“‘Oh, Gabriel. Never change, I beg thee.’
“Fabién met my eyes, the same smile I’d seen as he entered my home that dreadful night curling his lips once more.
It wasn’t scorn I saw. Not mockery. God, it was …
affection. He was enjoying this, I realized.
No matter I’d murdered his children, no matter the blood of thousands had just been spilled outside, no matter I’d come within a heartbeat of ending his forever.
And the truth of Fabién Voss dawned on me then.
A thousand tons of it. I saw this thing for what he was. He’d told me himself.
“Centuries have I sought an adversary worthy of me. A man who could give me but a moment in which I could again taste life through fear.
“Fabién Voss was bored.
“This was a creature who’d lived a thousand years.
Every sensation explored. Every whim indulged.
I realized all this—the war, the suffering, the pain—all of it in the end was a simple …
amusement for him. For someone who’d been everywhere, done everything, to feel some new sensation—the murder of a child, the thrill of near defeat, the threat of death—was as close to living as he could come.
That was why, awful as it was to consider, why this monster who both feared and loathed me was still genuinely fond of me.
“Terror.
“Hatred.
“Rage.
“I made him feel.
“‘Ye know me true, old friend.’
“‘I’m not your friend,’ I hissed. ‘I’m your end. Now spit whatever bullshit you have stuck between your teeth, so I can get my daughter and be gone.’