Dreams of a Dark Warrior

door closed behind him.
    He started to read. …
    —Begin transcript—
    Testing. Hello, hellooo, anybody out there? Check, check, one, two. Soft pee. Puh, puh. Resonance! Sooooooft pee. Alpha bravo disco tango duck.
    This is Nïx! I’m the Ever-Knowing One, a goddess incandescent, incomparable, and irresistible. But enough about what you think of me. It’s a beautiful day in New Orleans. The wind is out of the east at a steady five knotsand clouds look like rabbits … But enough about what you think of me!
    Now, down to business—
    Squirrel!
    Where was I? [Long pause] Why am I in Regin’s car? Bertil, you crawl right back out of that bong this minute!
    Oh, I remember! I am hereby laying down this track for Magister Declan Chase. If you are a mortal of the recorder peon class, know that Dekko and I go waaaaay back, and he’ll go berserk (snicker snicker) if he doesn’t receive this transmittal. …
    Chase, riddle me this: what’s beautiful but monstrous, long of tooth but sharp of tooth and soft of mind, and can never ever tell a lie?
    That’s right. The Enemy of Old can be very useful to you. So use him already.
    P.S. Your middle name’s about to be spelled r-e-g-r-e-t.
    And with that, I must bid you adieu. Don’t worry, we’ll catch up
very soon. …
    [Muffled] Who’s mummy’s wittle echolocator? That’s right—you are!
    —End transcript—
    Declan sank back in his chair, muttering,
“Jaysus.”
Why in the hell would she communicate with him?
    And she’d alluded to him being a berserker.
Fighting it all the way down …
Why would she say she’d be seeing him soon? Perhaps she planned some kind of incursion to free Regin?
    Regret about what?
    He called Vincente to his office. “Did anyone else see this?”
    “Only the one who transcribed the message.”
    “Bury it.” Declan scowled at the transcript. “And bring me Lothaire.”

TWENTY-TWO

    G ods, Magister,” Lothaire said as soon as a cadre of guards left him in Chase’s office, “try to contain that.”
    From behind his desk, the magister demanded, “Contain what?”
    Lothaire’s cuffed hands fisted behind his back. “That frenzied energy rolling off you in waves.” It distracted him from his seething need to disembowel the man.
    Chase had a look in his eyes, an almost
demented
light. The man was losing it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, vampire.” His visage was pale, his scars seeming more prominent.
    Hate scars. I’m physically flawless—why can’t everyone be?
Everywhere Lothaire went, people stopped and stared. Of course, then they usually ran. “You don’t? Ah, if only I could lie so easily.”
    The magister didn’t address that, merely observed, “You appear … saner today.”
    “Alas, you are remarkably less so.”
Demented and not quite mortal.
What was he? Lothaire had contemplated this for days. “It seems we are to meet in the middle.”
I don’t have
time
to be maddened
—
because of you.
    “But you’re not healing as I would have expected,” Chase observed.
    The torture had left Lothaire wasted. “That’s because Magister Chase’s hospitality leaves much to be desired.” The Order provided no blood for vampires—Lothaire hadn’t fed in weeks. And without blood, he was barely regenerating.
    Beneath his shirt, ash remained where his flesh should be. There were gaps in the skin that should be covering his ribs.
    So hungry I can count my ribs.
He almost laughed.
Not so flawless at present.
But Chase would carry his marks to the grave.
I will heal once I feed.
    If only Lothaire could take down Chase and drink him. His fangs throbbed at the thought, his gaze rapt on the man’s neck.
    Chase noticed. “You sick son of a bitch. You think to take my blood?”
    “When I truly want it, you’ll know. Because my fangs will be shoved deep in your neck.” Lothaire shrugged, turning to survey Chase’s office.
    The only discernible hint of his personality was that there was no hint of his personality. Lothaire strode to one of the windows, gazing out over the rainy landscape.
She
was out there in the world. Both his doom and his salvation. He wondered how strong this glass was.
Drink Chase, break the window. …
    But he couldn’t leave this place without his ring. “What do you want, Magister?”
    “You’re the oldest immortal here, and it’s said you know more secrets about the Lore than almost anyone.”
    “True and true.” For eons, Lothaire had crept through the night to drink his