13. Tristan with Duncan
Chapter thirteen
Tristan with Duncan
I wait until Martin Ellis's car disappears beyond Glenhaven Castle’s gates before speaking to Duncan.
Piper has gone upstairs with Mrs. MacLeod, notebook tucked beneath one arm, determined to learn how much of the guest wing remains original and how much has been altered over the centuries. She said when she’s stressed, she needs to do something. I understand.
I quietly close the door.
"Duncan."
"My Lord, this makes no sense."
For a long moment neither of us sits. The oak table between us remains covered in deeds, conveyances, trust agreements, title registrations, and legal opinions accumulated over centuries.
I’ve looked at them all. None offers an answer.
Duncan rubs his forehead with the same careful precision he has shown in everything for as long as I have known him.
"I've practiced law for four hundred and twelve years."
I look at him. Duncan does not exaggerate. He considers exaggeration a defect of character.
"I've never encountered anything remotely like this."
"Neither have I."
"The sale cannot stand."
"I know."
"Find the error."
"I’ll spend every minute trying to find the error, the reason."
I place a hand upon Piper's purchase documents.
"They're genuine, these documents. Legal. The signatures are authentic. The registrations were properly recorded."
Duncan exhales quietly. "I dislike mysteries involving paperwork. This should never have happened, and only a high-level official could have pulled it off. Paperwork ought to be dull and straightforward, Lord Sinclair."
"It generally is."
"When it becomes interesting, someone has usually committed a crime," he says, looking at me with concern.
I look again at the documents spread across the table.
"The trust still exists."
"Then how did Glenhaven Castle reach public auction?"
He opens another file. "Because no one attacked the trust. And someone was probably paid off to allow it." I wait as Duncan inhales. "They attacked everything surrounding it."
One file becomes another. One small registration here, one entry there. Estate managers. Accountants. Corporate officers. Banking representatives. Holding companies.
Every change is legal. Every change appears ordinary. Every change, viewed in isolation, is forgettable. But viewed together, they become something else entirely. A web.
I feel the weight of the realization settle quietly inside me.
"This took years."
"Yes. Carefully, quietly and slowly executed so no one noticed the pattern."
I should have noticed. That thought arrives immediately.
I’ve spent centuries believing my greatest strength lay in remaining apart from commerce. I dislike business and finance. I dislike the endless noise of modern acquisitions and investment firms, unlike some of the more aggressive vampires these days.
So I delegated. I employed excellent solicitors, accountants, trustees, estate managers, and bankers. Some human. Some vampire. A few belonging to species most humans have forgotten ever existed.
Duncan is the one I trust without reservation.
But people retired. Others died. Firms merged. Names changed above office doors. One generation replaced another, and the machinery continued to function.
Or so I believed.
Someone has spent time patiently rebuilding my machine from the inside, the one that controls the all-important Glenhaven Castle.
"The younger Houses. It must be coming from the younger Houses." The words leave my mouth almost before I realize I've spoken them.
Duncan inclines his head.
"It would fit."
"They've embraced modern finance, strategy and shady dealings."
"They've embraced modern power, laird,” Duncan says quietly.
Shell companies. Private equity. Political influence. Ownership concealed beneath layers of lawful transactions.”
“And no blood spilled where anyone can see it.”
“No,” Duncan agrees. “They’ve grown more civilized.”
I look at him.
Neither of us mistakes civilization for mercy. I walk slowly toward the window overlooking the gardens.
Six centuries ago, ambitious vampires conquered castles. Warriors, good with swords, took using the old ways.
Today ... they acquire corporations. Banks. Investment firms. Crypto. Shipping companies. Private equity. Government advisors. Bribes. Corrupt tactics when they want something.
Entire governments can be influenced without spilling a single drop of blood.
Civilization has merely refined conquest.
"The Vampire Council is scheduled to meet here in several months. For the Accord Renewal."
I fall silent. No explanation is necessary.
If someone wished to influence the Ninth Seat ... my seat … removing the Keeper (me) might prove impossible.
Replacing the owner, however, makes it considerably easier.
Duncan joins me at the window.
"She has no idea of what she has stepped into."
"No, of course not. She just arrived late yesterday. She believes she purchased an abandoned castle.”
"I rather envy her the innocence of it."
For several moments we simply watch the rain drifting across the hills.
Finally I say quietly, "I confess ..."
"Yes, laird?"
"Miss Monroe surprises me. When she said she refurbishes properties, I expected ambition. Someone who spoke of square footage, resale value, and return on investment before she had removed her coat.”
“And instead?”
“I found a woman who apologized to a portrait and asked whether the library windows were original. Who loved my books. I found curiosity and humanity."
"She possesses a remarkable amount of it, it seems."
"And humor. Courage, too."
Duncan grows quiet. Then he asks the question I knew would eventually come.
"And what do you really think of her?"
I don't answer immediately. Because I already know the answer. I'm merely deciding whether to speak it aloud. At last, I sigh.
"She delights me."
The admission hangs between us, simple and honest. But dangerous. Duncan’s expression does not change, which is how I know I have alarmed him. Concern disguised as professional composure.
"My Lord. You've known her less than a day."
"I am painfully aware of that."
"And yet..."
I look toward the staircase where Piper disappeared earlier.
She laughs. Even from here I hear it. Bright, unrestrained and entirely alive. The sound reaches me more powerfully than it should. Far more powerfully than is wise.
"She's unlike anyone I've met in a very, very long time."
"My Lord, the Houses will notice. They’ll notice her quickly, and someone amongst them may have planned this. She may be a target."
"I know."
"And..." His voice lowers, "...they'll smell her. Her blood smells exceptionally delicious."
My hands tighten almost imperceptibly behind my back.
"I've fed, Duncan. Don’t worry."
"When?"
"Two days ago."
"The next feeding is scheduled?”
“Of course, with Justin.”
“But the schedule is not what truly concerns me.”
My gaze hardens.
“Then speak plainly.”
“She is beneath your roof. Her blood scent fills the castle. Her heartbeat carries through the stone. And you have already begun listening for it.”
“I know precisely where she is because I’m responsible for her safety.”
“Of course.”
His tone is neutral. I have known him far too long to be deceived by it.
Finally Duncan says quietly, "I've known you more almost six hundred years. I’ve watched you negotiate peace between Houses that would sooner tear out one another’s throats.”
"I remember."
"I've watched you outmaneuver princes, financiers, bishops, and men who believed themselves clever."
"They generally weren't."
His smile is brief.
"I've never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at Piper Monroe this morning."
I have no defense. Because he's right. That troubles me far more than the legal documents covering this table. He gathers his papers slowly before resting one hand upon the oldest deed in the room.
"Duncan, old friend, find whoever engineered this."
"I shall."
"I will protect the Lady of Glenhaven."
Duncan goes very still. I realize what I have called her only after the words have left me.
“An interesting title,” he says.
“You know what I mean.”
Then Duncan, speaking not as my solicitor but as one of my oldest friends, says, "Tristan, you will be protecting her from everyone."
I understand him perfectly. He means the younger Houses.The Council. He means the chamber below holding the Accord and blood and journals and those who may want access. He means my enemies. But he also means me. Should the fifth day ever come without fresh blood ... me.
He is one of the few who knows of my blood affliction.
"Sir, my concern is that someone else already knows she owns Glenhaven Castle."
I understand immediately.
"They won't come for the castle. They'll come for what's beneath it."
Silence settles between us. Finally, Duncan says, "Perhaps we should move the Accord document, the journals and the blood."
"No. They've never left the Chamber. And they never will."
"Even now?"
"Especially now."
He studies me for several moments.
"I sometimes think your greatest strength and your greatest weakness are the same thing."
"And what is that?"
"You still believe promises matter."
"They're the only reason any of us are still alive."
Duncan turns to leave and says, “I’ll find whoever did this. We’ll find a remedy.”
Somewhere beyond Glenhaven Castle, someone has already begun moving pieces across the board.
They selected Piper Monroe because they believed her unsuspecting, useful and expendable.
They intended Piper Monroe to be a pawn.
They could not have known that, in less than a day, I would cease to regard her as one.