“Yes, of course,” Kain vowed.

  Cornelius straightened out of his chair, stepping away from the table. “Excellent, I believe we’re done here.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Cornelius turned and walked briskly out of the cafe without looking back.

  * * *

  Cornelius blurred out of the hole in the floor, appearing in the middle of the R.I.S.C Enterprises boardroom. He spoke the code words again, and the two halves of the table glided back together to form a seamless whole. He returned his coat and hat to the rack in the corner of the room.

  He turned to the windows, extended his senses to their vampiric maximums and silenced his mind to a still point of concentration. He became a tall, lean statue, preternaturally still while passions flowed through nearly a thousand years of memory. He began the process of activating the precognitive power sourced from the Metaframe sorcery of Jean Philippe Allemande.

  Mekra; her touch had been pure electricity, her passions like storms as powerful as they were unpredictable. She’d found him in the Levant in 1096, Baron Cornelius de Grue, a noble of Brittany and a General in the first Crusade. She’d told him she wanted a military leader to stand at her side and quell the chaos of the vampire world. Her offer had fallen upon fertile ground. Cornelius had grown weary of the internecine struggles between various factions of the Order of Thoth and the Red Empire. The constant wars to gather together the three artifacts of the Metaframe to a single hand. He’d forsaken his oath to the Order of Thoth and Mekra had made him a vampire.

  Memory continued to unfurl, rolling past the diamond-like focus of his mind. The chaos of centuries of war of all against all, his eventual rebellion and assassination of Mekra, and the destruction of the cult of her devotion. The discovery of the voodoo sorcerer Jean Philippe Allemande in Haiti. The realization that magic was very real, and based on a partial, incomplete access to the Metaframe. Training with Allemande and using the sorcerer to bind five generals to his service during the 1850s. Four exceptional men and one unique woman who were unable to harm him, and unable to defend themselves against him. With the generals in place, the Vampire Dominion had become the unquestioned power amongst the surviving vampires, and the time of chaos had ended.

  Chloe Armitage flooded his mind. They shared a common heritage; both born into the Order of Thoth, both Ramp masters before their conversion into vampires, both heirs to rulership. Desire, admiration, and regret flooded his soul, warring amongst themselves without resolution. Of the five generals, she was the best, and the closest to what he’d sought in a protégé.

  The power of prevision bloomed within him. The near future came into view, as the momentum of past events spread out into a multi-dimensional matrix of possible events aligned to his own life. Bright lines anchored in the certainty of the past, whipped through the nodes of the matrix, linking the most probable future paths. Other lines, fading from bright to dull, indicated the less probable through to the least likely events.

  There were no nodes where Chloe could attack, or kill him. The curse of Jean Philippe Allemande continued to bind her and the other generals, making it impossible for them to harm him. It was an inescapable trap, born from the same source that gifted him his precognitive ability.

  He noted a new line, barely illuminated, leading directly from the events on the Boston docks to spear through a new node of his own death. There was a small chance that within a year, his long life would end. A new threat had been born on the docks, closely associated with the Wu family and now waiting to grow to realization. Cornelius had foreseen such events before and had taken action to thwart them. He noted the possibility and anticipated he would again be victorious. He would watch the event gain form, he would identify who was shaping it, and he would kill them before the possibility of his death could become a certainty.

  He searched through the matrix for pathways leading to the acquisition of the Interpretive Codex. A line of moderate strength led through General Haras Mosule. Chloe was now absent from all pathways that would bring the Codex into his possession. He emerged from the previsionary meditation and reflected upon what he’d learned.

  Something has recently changed, her growing ambitions blind her, she is no longer looking for the Codex. It is slipping away from me. First, we must quell this petite rebellion and then refocus our efforts on recovery of the Codex. Chloe will be the key to both goals, I must restore her motivation to the tasks at hand, she is the most valuable piece on the chessboard. And now there is a new threat, Chloe has messaged me of her victory over the Order grand master Gang Wu, but what of his daughter and his apprentice? Either of them could be the origin point of the new threat line. I need to know more about what happened tonight.

  Cornelius paged his secretary. A moment later the boardroom door opened and Ursula inquired, “Sir?”

  “Any news?”

  “Sir, General Armitage has just arrived on the external helipad in a R.I.S.C helicopter.”

  “Bring her here, I’m not meeting her in my private quarters tonight.” Cornelius shook his head emphatically. “But first - bring me my sword.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ursula replied and left.

  Cornelius continued to watch the details of the recovery and cleanup of the Boston warehouse site, the main screen illuminating his face with colored lights and shadows.

  He mused out loud to himself in the empty boardroom, his voice filled with dreadful intent, “I’ve spent centuries mastering information and knowledge. I built my library, mastered more than a dozen languages, I commissioned the Panopticon and even acquired a secret Metaframe inspired pre-cognitive ability, and yet I couldn’t see that it was a trap. It was designed as a trap, and we were caught in it - but a trap set by whom, Francis Mirovar, Arthur Slayne or Shabbah al Ahmar? Chloe had better have an exemplary excuse for tonight, or by God, I will bathe this room in her blood and take the Interpretive Codex from the dead hand of Shabbah al Ahmar myself.”

  * * *

  Chloe stared at the smooth chrome of the doors as the elevator descended from the external helipad to the 101st floor. She’d never been asked to an audience in the corporate boardroom. That was where Crane dealt with humans, not with his generals. To be asked to meet in the boardroom was an insult. Chloe sighed once, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered the possibility she’d misjudged Crane’s response.

  She’d taken off her body armor in the R.I.S.C helicopter, stripping down to her form-fitting black jumpsuit. The nanotube suit was already dry, she stood comfortably in her bare feet waiting for the elevator to reach Crane’s public executive suite. There was no point in trying to protect herself from her king; Allemande’s curse ensured that she would not be able to defend herself should Crane choose to attack her. In her left hand, she carried her chest and back plates by their straps; the puncture marks and bullet holes clearly visible on them. The body armor damage matched similar blood-stained holes in her jumpsuit.

  The body armor was her primary evidence to explain what had happened and to drive home the risks that Crane now faced.

  Chloe considered her tactics. A bold approach is best. The truth is my ally, the more he knows, the better to demonstrate my loyalty and competence in the face of a tactical defeat. There is but one key fact that must be kept secret - the existence of Anton Slayne.

  The elevator pulled smoothly to a halt, the door swishing open. Chloe walked into reception, approaching the main desk. Sitting primly behind it was Crane’s executive secretary Ursula Zielinkski.

  Ursula smiled coldly, her blue eyes lighting up with anticipation. “General Armitage, you’re expected. He is waiting for you in the boardroom.”

  Chloe ignored her, walking confidently into the boardroom. Closing the door behind her, she dropped her body armor onto the top of the boardroom table where it clattered against the fine wood and leather.

  “Six praetorians you gave me - I needed twelve!” she declared forthrightly.

  Crane blurred across the room toward her. Chloe reflexively stepped back, there was neither room nor time to avoid being pushed against the wall. The point of Crane’s broadsword pushed through the fabric of her jumpsuit, slicing through the skin over her sternum and grinding through the bone beneath. For the second time this night a sword blade rested inches from her heart.

  Crane’s left hand clamped down on her right shoulder, pushing her hard up against the wall. He held his sword flat and level as he leaned in, his face inches from her own.

  A cold fury erupted deep within Chloe, she stared hard at Crane as he straight-armed her up the wall, her feet dangling half a foot off the floor.

  Crane glared at her with tightly held rage, and demanded, “The truth Chloe.”

  Chloe blinked, for a second the world closed in upon her. The hand holding the sword in her chest was rock steady, terrifying in its stillness, matching the resolve writ large in Crane’s eyes.

  The urge to fight flowed strong and clear through her soul and Chloe’s hands clenched into fists. She conceived the attack in a moment, she would take a deep cut as the sword blade would be pushed up and out of her chest with her left hand, while her right would break his hold upon her shoulder.

  Chloe began to blur with a supreme ramp.

  Lightning crackled through the boardroom, playing along her skin, icy fire ripping along her nerves.

  “Allemande’s curse!” she gasped, suddenly becoming limp as a rag doll.

  The lightning ebbed; her mind raced, I’m trapped, but the truth is still my ally.

  Chloe looked steadily into Crane’s eyes, and explained around gasps for air, “The ground proved more treacherous than anticipated. The Order used the river to advantage. They approached without being seen.”

  Crane shoved her hard against the wall, the plaster cracking behind her. “I warned you about giving your opponent the choice of ground for the battle. It was clearly a trap, and you walked into it like a novice.”

  “Mirovar would never have appeared without the ground, he is not stupid,” Chloe observed; managing to hold onto her composure. “I had to give them the ground to draw them out, and it worked - they showed up in force.”

  “Well someone was stupid,” Crane noted, glaring at her. “I wonder if it was me for trusting the promise that you made in Jerusalem.”

  Chloe shook her head. “We needed the extra praetorians. If we had twelve, we would have won.”

  “I’ve always respected your integrity,” Crane affirmed softly, “You’ve always kept your word.”

  A wet patch spread out from the cut in her chest as blood oozed past the blade. She braced herself, she’d seen Crane in this sort of mood before where he would praise quietly before -.

  Crane twisted the sword blade a quarter turn, speaking with tightly controlled fury. “But now you falter, now you fail.”

  The metal grinding against raw bone sent jagged bolts of pain through her body.

  Chloe gasped out through gritted teeth, “I asked … for twelve … you insisted … I go with six.”

  “Six would have been enough if you had not lost our Shadowstone forces before the battle started,” Crane snapped.

  Chloe’s eyes widened. “You advised me to keep Shadowstone out of it - and now you claim that they were essential for victory?”

  Dragging his sword clear, Crane threw her down to the floor.

  Catching herself before she fell flat, Chloe crouched and looked up at him, her face an unreadable mask.

  Crane frowned, shaking his finger at her. “Do not dare put this on me. We have worked together for more than a century - I know your tactics - you should have won.”

  Chloe stood up, the wound in her chest began to close. Nodding contritely, she offered, “Normally I would have. This time was different.”

  “I wonder if you held back. I wonder if your heart is still in this fight. Are you still willing to take the battle to our enemies or,” Crane thrust his long index finger at her, “are you playing your own game?”

  Chloe tilted her head and declared incredulously, “I am stunned that you would ask that of me.”

  “Something happened in the last twelve hours that cost us victory tonight. You are the most powerful piece on the chessboard. What happened? Why did you fail?”

  Chloe shook her head.

  Crane stared at her. He remained silent, forcing her to continue.

  “We underestimated Gang Wu, he was a genius with the sword,” Chloe attested, pushing a finger through the sword cut on her jumpsuit. “He nearly killed me; his blade was against my heart.” She thumped her chest. “I only just managed to get my hand down in time to prevent him dragging his sword out and cutting it in two.”

  Crane’s face twisted into an incredulous leer, he stepped close, pushing his fingers through the hole in Chloe’s black jumpsuit.

  “He would have been fully ramped,” Crane observed decisively, his eyes darkening with suspicion. “You’re very fast, but that is extraordinary, even for one of us.”

  “I was lucky, I started moving as he thrust.”

  Crane sniffed skeptically, stepping over to the boardroom table, he fingered the bullet holes in Chloe’s chest plate. “.50 cal if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Depleted uranium, hurt like hell and pushed me out the side of the helicopter.”

  “You didn’t see them firing at you?”

  “Not this time.”

  “I don’t see how someone, as experienced as you are, could miss a machine gun firing at them.”

  “I’d just been stabbed!”

  Crane pursed his lips, dropping the chest plate on the table. Turning away from Chloe, he looked out the windows at the metropolis shining in the night.

  “Then what happened?” he asked irritably.

  “The engines of the helicopter were destroyed, and it followed me into the Mystic River. It crashed on top of me, knocking me unconscious and pinning me in the muck on the bottom.”

  “… Clearly, you got out.”

  “The nose had cracked open on impact, luckily I was off to the side and not directly underneath it. I was able to wriggle my leg free and get back up to the surface before I drowned or bled to death.”

  Crane turned back from the window. He stared hard at the wrecked body armor, frowned, and studied it closely.

  He is listening - success.

  * * *

  Cornelius stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  Chloe had almost died. If his best warrior was almost overwhelmed, he must have underestimated the threat. Obviously, Kain did not have enough control over the force teams and especially the Mirovar team. Was the Order resurgent? The shift in probable outcomes could easily have resulted from actions by the Order. Was it Mirovar, the Wus, or the new fellow from Boston? He decided he’d relied too much on the secret detente with Kain.

  “We have become complacent but not anymore,” Cornelius declared. Reaching out, he flicked a switch on a console in the middle of the table. The room filled with the open communications from the praetorians at the Boston warehouse site.

  Cornelius and Chloe looked up at the main screen. He manipulated the console and one of the satellite streams on the screen expanded to fill it. It showed a floating crane positioned about sixty yards away from the dock. Thick black cables ran down from the crane into the Mystic River, they snapped tight, the barge tilting under the load.

  A tall praetorian stood on the dock, blond hair escaping from underneath his tactical command helmet. Looking up at the Vampire Dominion drone hovering two miles above the site, he tapped his comm link and inquired, “Sir, are you watching this?”

  “Yes, Centurion, give me your report.”

  “We’re in the process of recovering General Armitage’s nightfalcon and her equipment.”

  “Can you confirm casualties?”

  “Yes, Sir. Spengler, Hendricks, Smithson, Calley, Senna, and Hato are confirmed dead. We have also recovered the pilot from General Armitage’s nightfalcon.”

  “Were the bodies sanitized?”

  “Yes, Sir. The Shadowstone lead operative has used grenades to keep our secret.”

  Chloe offered quickly, “James Haley cleaned up the evidence.”

  Cornelius’ eyes flicked toward Chloe, and he whispered, “So he knows.”

  She nodded once.

  “And the status of the site, what of the humans?” Cornelius asked.

  “Sir, the site is secured. The bodies are bagged, and Shadowstone PSYOPS are in operation.”

  “Good. Ensure full handover to Shadowstone by 04:00 and return to the Citadel.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the Centurion replied. The audio dropping back to mute as he turned away and began giving orders to his troops.

  Cornelius frowned, turning back to Chloe he directed, “It is clear that Haley knows our secret, and even though he has done the right thing, he and the Wesson woman must be dealt with.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ve watched Haley closely over the last eight years, and I would recommend him for advancement into our ranks. He has highly intuitive combat skills and would make a fine vampire warrior.”

  “Haley’s conversion is approved but what of Wesson?”

  Chloe’s eyes flicked back to the main screen, and she suggested, “From the data, looks like she’s got a concussion, I will confirm what she remembers. If she can be recovered, she will assist us with rebuilding Shadowstone. She is a highly capable operative and excels at forming teams. I will need time to assess how best to induct Haley, and I will verify Wesson at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Be careful how long you take with Haley.”

  “We will need to allow time to provide an effective cover story and to groom a replacement for him. I would recommend holding off for now - especially given the current state of the Shadowstone organization, Haley is critical to rebuilding it.”

  Cornelius frowned. “You will be held accountable for his actions.”

  “I can guarantee his discretion.”

 

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