The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus Read online

  He suspected, however, that they would work very differently on vampires. He wasn’t convinced that vampires retained human emotions after their transformation. The only sign of caring that he’d ever witnessed, or read about, had been a vampire’s slavish need to defend his master.

  That was why Nico wanted to capture a master. But what would a master care about? What would cause him to betray his people? His own life, perhaps. That was the one thing most humans would sacrifice anything for, including any loyalties they possessed. He wondered if that effect would manifest differently in vampires, who lived potentially forever. He was going to need a vampire subject.

  “David!” he shouted. The butler answered from another room, and quickly appeared in the door to Nico’s workroom.

  “How can I assist?”

  Nico looked up from where he’d been lifting a carefully wrapped piece of amber from his pack. “I’ll be going out later tonight. There won’t be any need for dinner.”

  “Will you need a carriage?”

  David had made a point of asking that ever since Nico had been attacked. Most times he agreed and let the boy arrange for one. But not tonight. He wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do.

  “Not tonight. It’s not far.”

  The boy’s expression said he disapproved, but he didn’t say it. “Would you like lunch a bit later then? In case the food isn’t to your liking?”

  That had happened once. Nico had come home as hungry as if he hadn’t eaten all day, and made enough noise that David had come downstairs to deal with it. He’d ended up making eggs and potatoes for both of them.

  Nico chuckled to let David know he was remembering the night. “We’re going to a restaurant, so I think I’m safe.”

  “Very well. If you change your mind about the carriage—”

  “I will let you know.”

  Nico waited until he heard David take the stairs down to the kitchen, then unwrapped the roughly cut chunk of amber, to reveal the metal key hidden at its very center. Nico had called them the amber manacles because of this key. Once they were secured on the prisoner’s wrists, this key—trapped in amber—was hung from a hook or placed on a shelf in full view of the prisoner. It was the key to his freedom, his salvation—so close, and so very unattainable.

  There was a second key that Nico now freed from the silk cloth surrounding the manacles, careful to keep the silk between him and the cuffs themselves. This key, a twin to the one in amber, was completely ordinary—a metal key to an ordinary lock. Nico slid the second key into his pants pocket, and placed the amber key in a metal-banded wooden box. He then locked the box and placed it in his desk drawer, and then locked the drawer. It wasn’t that the amber key was valuable, other than the value of the amber itself, but it was the last and only chance to free someone who’d been locked in the manacles without Nico’s permission.

  The clock in his sitting room chimed, reminding him that he’d wanted to return to the library and his purloined stash of reading material. He considered foregoing his usual research routine, but decided against it. He didn’t have a clear plan for how to proceed with the manacles, and sometimes when he read texts that were necessary but which contained numbingly bad prose, his mind wandered onto other topics and came up with unexpected conclusions. Some of his best spells had been created that way. And so, he rewrapped the manacles and restored them to a deep corner of his backpack, and went off to the library.

  That night, however, he would go hunting.

  NICO DRESSED IN common clothing beneath his elegant top coat, to avoid any questions from David. The boy . . . . His butler, he reminded himself. He had to stop thinking of the young man as a boy. So, his butler had appointed himself Nico’s protector, and worried like an old gran sitting by the fire.

  Once out of the house, leaving it securely locked and warded behind him, he stashed the too conspicuous coat behind his house, and went back to the alley where he’d first been attacked by vampires. Despite the tales of impossible-to-find nests from Charron and other members of the group, he was confident he could locate the place used by the vampire master who’d attacked him.

  He’d reasoned that it had to be somewhere near where he’d been attacked, since the master had appeared so soon after sunset. He’d also kept the unwashed shirt he’d worn that night, hoping the vampire blood staining the cloth would help him locate the creatures later on. Fingering a square of that cloth now, he cast a simple location spell that he’d learned as a small child and began to hunt. For all that he had sorcery working for him, he wasn’t naïve enough to believe his search would be easy. The vampire master he’d fought was dead, but most of his vampires were still alive. Vampires must have a procedure for a new master to rise up and take over when the old master died and left a territory empty. That said, whoever took over wouldn’t have been foolish enough to remain in the same building.

  Wanting to test the spell, since he’d never before used vampire blood this way, Nico let the magic pull him where it would. The first tug came two blocks before he reached the site of the fight, and very quickly led him to an obviously empty nest. He took the time to search it, but was soon convinced it had been abandoned and no other vampires had since taken up residence. Simple bedding had been left behind—straw mattresses mostly, though there were a few that looked to be feather-stuffed, given the occasional lone feather poking out. He found it curious that the vampires hadn’t simply stolen what they needed, and obtained something better than straw. There were no blankets, as if the surviving vampires had taken those and left only the beds. As the mattresses were the best indicator of how many vampires had once used the nest, he studied the rows. Most were clustered in the center of the room, probably to avoid any sunlight seeping through narrow openings in the poorly constructed walls. In the very center, a few tattered blankets still hung in a square of sorts, surrounding the center pole, but leaving enough room for a pile of three mattresses which formed a single bed.

  The moderately better conditions led Nico to assume that this was where the master vampire had slept. The other vampires were utterly committed to their master’s defense, so it made sense that their sleeping arrangements would reflect that. Anyone thinking to come at the nest from outside would have to fight their way through every regular vampire before reaching the center and the master. For all Nico knew, it was designed that way to permit the master to escape alive, while the others died to give him time. It seemed an odd system to him. He’d been told from the time he’d been a toddler with a wooden sword that the lord of the realm—whatever that realm was—always led his people into battle.

  Even after his powers had developed, and his training had changed radically, he’d held to that basic principle. It was one of the many reasons that he had no respect for Sotiris—his enemy always sat above the battle, isolated from danger. The bastard had once told Nico that he did it to facilitate the use of his sorcery, because it gave him a better view of the battlefield. But Nico had led enough armies to war that he’d known the “reason” was nothing but an excuse to remain safe while others died on his behalf. It was a despicable quality in a leader.

  Once he’d walked the entire room, Nico left, not wanting to waste time. He was careful not to be seen, lest he gain a reputation for being strange. The last thing he wanted was to find himself questioned as a murderer . . . or a vampire, the first time some innocent died on the street. He could have used his power to block others from seeing him when he went out, but unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to do that. His magic was as powerful as ever, but the magic available in this world for resupply, as it were, was pitiful. He was fully charged just then, and wanted to keep it for something more serious than walking around unseen.

  Casting the location spell once more, he closed his eyes and set his senses free, letting the spell take him where it would. When he felt another tug, he opened his eyes again
, lest he trip, or run into a wall. He maintained a steady stride, turning this way and that, sometimes worrying that the spell was sending him in a circle rather than anywhere useful. He’d almost decided to stop and recast the spell, when the path became as clear and straight as if it were lit by a solitary beam of moonlight. But rather than race ahead, he slowed his steps, holding a pace that permitted him to study his surroundings, noting every door and window, every dark alley or space. He called up a defensive spell and held it in hand, ready to use. All he would have to do is raise his arm and point toward his attacker, and the spell would shoot a line of magic-based fire, which was a thousand times more deadly than ordinary fire and impossible to douse.

  When the attack came, it was from behind. The vampire landed on Nico’s back with such force that it drove him to his knees before he had a chance to react. Long nails dug into his shoulder and head as the vampire tried to bare his neck, stretching it tight to assist him in sinking fangs into his human prey.

  But Nicodemus was no one’s fucking prey. Reaching behind, he gripped the vampire with both hands and threw him over his head to land with an audible crunch on the filthy ground in front of him. The vampire howled in pain and anger, but sprang to his feet with shocking speed and turned to face Nico. One shoulder was visibly damaged, the arm hanging limp, but the vampire didn’t appear slowed by the injury. If anything, the pain seemed only to make him angrier and more determined. As if to prove it, the vampire raised his uninjured fist and swung it in a hard upward arc to smash into his own damaged shoulder. He howled again, but when his fist lowered, the shoulder was no longer hanging quite so unnaturally, and the vampire had bared a mouthful of bloody teeth and fangs.

  “I don’t feel pain, human,” the creature rasped.

  “Lie,” Nico snapped. “You may ignore it, but you still feel it.”

  “Why are you here? Do you wish to die?” The vampire laughed, his bloody mouth a gaping and gruesome hole in his pale face.

  “I’ve no intention of dying, vampire. What about you?”

  “We don’t die, fool. The master’s blood grants life eternal.”

  “If that’s true, then why do you fear me? I am but a mortal man.”

  The creature narrowed its red-tinged gaze. “What game do you play? Were you sent by an enemy to test my master’s strength?”

  “So your master doesn’t rule this entire city? How disappointing for him.”

  “No one master can rule Paris. The city is too large. Even a stupid human should understand that.”

  “Yes, I am stupid . . . about vampires, at least. Don’t make the mistake of thinking me stupid in all things, however.”

  The vampire sneered. “Or what? You have no power to threaten me.”

  “Then come closer.” Nico tilted his head to bare his neck in invitation. “Taste.”

  The vampire’s eyes flared with hungry desire, but the barest hint of distrust lingered on his face.

  Nico shrugged. “Perhaps that’s one more thing I’ve gotten wrong about you, then. I’d heard the vampires of this city were all but fearless. That the human population dreaded sunset, cowering behind—”

  The vampire’s attack was a blur of silent death. He came head on, with not so much as a nod on the side of caution. The deadly creature had been right in one aspect. Nico didn’t understand vampires. He’d been so confident of his own strength that he hadn’t anticipated a vampire could take him by surprise. Not when he was forewarned of their presence, with the vampire standing right in front of him.

  But as shockingly fast as the attack had come, Nico was ready for him. With a single word, he had the vampire frozen in midair, and from there dropping helplessly to the ground, unable to move or protect himself. But while the spell was good, its effect wouldn’t last long, especially Nico suspected, on a vampire. Whipping the manacles from the pocket of his peasant jacket, he jerked the vampire’s arms into position, then slid the cuffs on and locked them in place, using the plain, metal key.

  The vampire’s eyes watched him with twin flames burning in their depths. “You will pay for this, human. Your pathetic spell will wear off, and these will never hold me.” He rattled the cuffs hard enough that Nico’s attention snapped downward, wanting to be certain the manacles were still locked. That freeze spell of his should have lasted much longer, even on a vampire. He made a mental note to add that to the journal he’d begun, listing everything he thought he knew and everything he’d learned about the bloody creatures.

  “I think they will hold,” Nico told the vampire casually, as if the two of them were having a learned discussion. “But . . . you asked why I was here, and said I knew nothing of your kind. And these—” He tapped one metal cuff. “—are the answer to both question and assertion. I design weapons of power, and I’m here to learn. You, unfortunately, are to be my teacher.”

  “Never,” the vampire snarled.

  “You say that now. But will you say it still when you’re starving? When your skin shrivels and your bones soften for lack of blood? You may think so. But I’ve used these on enemies who were both stronger and smarter than you. And they told me everything before they died. And so will you.”

  Casting a second immobility spell, he tied the vampire’s feet, and risking his fingers, slid a thick wad of cloth into the creature’s mouth, then tied a scarf over his lower face, holding the wad in place. He waited several minutes after that, letting the manacles begin to take hold, to drain both consciousness and power from the vampire’s mind. At that point, Nico cast a concealment spell, covering both of them. It wouldn’t hide them from someone specifically looking for them, or from one who knew what to look for. But he was willing to take that risk, since their destination was nearby.

  Part of his planning for this night had included the need for a place where he’d have absolute control, and could muffle any sound, so he’d rented a building not far from where he’d been attacked, one that had been abandoned for some time. Many of the windows had been broken, and the interior had been scavenged for anything a thief could steal. But it had a basement, which was its most important feature. Nico didn’t bother with repairs, but simply placed a warding spell on the entire building, which inflicted anyone approaching with a terrible fear that grew stronger with every step they took closer.

  Approaching now, Nico sent a small thread of his power into and through the property to make sure it was secure, then unlocked the rear door and slipped inside, where he took the stairs down to where a locked, heavy wooden door blocked access to the basement. He slid a key into the thick lock, which appeared ordinary, but was actually ensorcelled to unlock only when Nico himself held the key.

  Once inside, he went directly to a sturdy cabinet against one wall, shoved the vampire inside, then closed and locked the iron-banded doors. Confident that his multiple security measures would guard against discovery of the prisoner, he left the basement. Locking the door behind him, he climbed the stairs, checked to be certain his various spells were still in place, then left the building and went home, remembering to retrieve his coat before going inside and to bed, pleased with the night’s work.

  NICO WOKE LATER than usual the next morning, due no doubt to his late-night wanderings. He was eager to question the vampire, but had to wait until after sunset, and so was meeting Hadrien Charron for lunch. Charron had suggested a café in the Palais Royale and had made a point of saying it would be just the two of them. Nico and the group leader were no more than politely cordial during the group’s weekly meetings, and so the invitation had been both unexpected and intriguing.

  The day was unusually warm, and the two men chose to sit on the patio. Once they’d ordered their meals, and were enjoying the first course, Charron slowly broached the subject of why they were there. “Vital tells me your work together has been productive.”

  “I’m pleased that he finds it so.”


  “He’s very enthusiastic, although he refuses to say what you’re working on.”

  Nico lifted his wine glass and regarded the other man over the rim, then took a sip. “We have several projects in early stages, but agreed not to discuss them with the rest of the group until we’re certain we can make them work. There’s no point in raising hopes, only to disappoint.”

  “Yes, I understand. Although as the group’s leader, surely I should be consulted before any decisions are made about whether to proceed or not.”

  Nico regarded the other man quizzically. “I wasn’t aware you had any particular talent for designing spelled devices.”

  Charron drained his wine and poured more. “I don’t. I do have a wealth of experience in the use of sorcery, however.”

  “True,” Nico agreed. “And once Vital and I have a design that has been tested and proven to work, we will consult you and the rest of the group regarding refinements or resolutions for any specific problems we’ve encountered, in either spells or fabrication.”

  Pushing away his empty plate, Charron spent some time lighting his cigar before saying, “Look, Katsaros, we both know you’re somewhat stronger in magic than I am.”

  More than somewhat, Nicholas thought, but said only, “That’s probably true.”

  “And yet you volunteered to assist Vital with his work, rather than assuming the leadership role, which would have been the more logical course.”

  “Logic would depend on my goals, wouldn’t it? I enjoy working with Vital, and I enjoy creating magical objects. I am content.”

  “Are you? Let me be blunt, then, since you are far too adept at contriving palatable responses to my queries. Why are you here in Paris? I want the truth, and I will know—”

  Nico chuckled. “If I chose to prevaricate, regardless of the topic, you would never know.”

  “There!” Charron slapped the table hard enough that the dishes rattled. “You say such things with neither modesty nor concern. I sit across from you at meetings, and can almost feel your power filling the room. But never more than “almost,” because you do such a masterful job of concealing your strength. Why? What do you truly want from us?”