Chapter 13

The double doors of the audience chamber opened, and Stefan Koske was led inside, flanked by Artur and Hans.

Draken watched as his visitor approached, impressed despite himself at Koske's cool demeanour. Most who were summoned before him condemned themselves through their agitation and unease before they even opened their mouths.

"My lord Draken," Koske said, reaching the throne and offering a deep bow. "To what do I owe the honour of this invitation?"

"Let us not play games, Koske. You know why you are here. The fugitive Day-Walker was found at your home. I want to know how long you have kept him from me and where he is now."

"I have kept nothing from you, my lord," Stefan answered, holding out his hands in a gesture of innocent compliance. "In truth, I had no idea he was a Day-Walker until last night when your servant botched his arrest. As to where he is now, I really do not have the least idea."

"You vouched for him when he arrived in town," Draken pressed, ignoring the slight against his people for now, "so I didn't bother to interview him myself. You have known him for many years yet you expect me to believe you knew nothing of his daytime activities?"

"Naturally we only met at night, and he never let slip anything that would have led me to suspect."

"Hmm. You still have that little human pet, do you not, Koske? You brought her here once, I seem to recall. If I ever find out you have lied to me in this matter, her life will be forfeit and her death will be painful and lingering."

Draken smiled, his mood improving tenfold when he saw Stefan's brow crease at his threat. For all Koske's protestations of innocence and his calm appearance, Draken was sure he was lying. But that was a small matter that could be dealt with at a more suitable time. For now, the threat would be enough to keep Koske in line.

"Very well, you may leave." Draken waited until Stefan was at the door before he called out after him. "I will soon have the Day-Walker in any case. I have his human woman, and if he values her life, he will come back and give himself up to me."

He was satisfied to see the younger vampire pause mid-stride, but Koske did not answer or look back. He regained his composure and left the room, Hans hard on his heels.

"Should we keep watch on him?" Artur asked, approaching the throne once the doors were closed.

"No, he is no threat. Leave him be with his human for now. What I do want you to do is contact the heads of every city. Tell them that if this Will arrives at their gates they are to let him know we have his woman and require his return at once. If they ask, tell them it is for a middling offense, but reveal nothing of his condition."

"It will be done, Master."

"Tomorrow night I will see the girl for myself. Have her made ready and brought before me. Speak to the human slaves about preparing some sort of repast for her—whatever humans like to eat these days."

Artur bowed and glided out of the room, leaving him alone. Draken leant back in his seat and chuckled. He rested his elbows on the chair arms, hands interlaced, index fingers tapping against his lips. Everything was going according to plan. He allowed himself a moment to gloat as he reflected on the perfection of his scheme. He had already taken possession of the Day-Walker's queen and now he was moving the pieces into position for checkmate.

* * * *

It was only five degrees Celsius when Will stepped out of the terminal at Boston's Logan International Airport into the Massachusetts night air. Though vampires didn't feel heat and cold to the same extent as humans, the change still came as a shock to him after the unremitting warmth of the Australian summer.

He got into a taxi, sitting silently in the back, ignoring all the driver's attempts at conversation until they reached the Hilton in the financial district. He handed the driver a generous tip then hurried into the lobby.

After checking in, he left the hotel, hands buried deep into the pockets of his fleece coat, pure artifice to blend in amongst the crowds. This was not his first time in Boston, and he remembered the directions to the house. He wanted to see the local ruler, James Fitzroy, as soon as possible to get the duty over and done with, leaving him free to think.

"William," James said, drawing out the 'a' in his broad Bostonian accent. "How ah yah?" The accent was a fabrication of course. Will knew very well the man had been born in fourteenth century England and had only taken over the rule of Boston twenty years before.

"Hello, James. I was hoping to stay here a while—a few months maybe—if that's acceptable."

"Sure, sure; nice to have yah with us."

Will bowed and turned to go, not wanting to get into a long conversation when he really needed time alone.

"Say, Will, there was a message left for yah. I had nearly decided not to pass it on, considering how much I hate the guy, but I guess yah might like tah hear it. Seems yah upset Draken back in Adelaide before yah left, and he says he's got some human of yours and wants yah to return. Personally, I think the guy's an ass, and I'd ignore it, but it's up to yah."

Will nodded his thanks and left before his emotions could betray him. Draken had Darci. The thought of him being anywhere near her made his blood boil. His head was pounding painfully against his temple and the world around him receded into the background, the colour turning to grey, as he stormed through the streets, heading back towards the hotel.

Draken was the sort of ruler who wouldn't hesitate to kill if his orders were not obeyed. Will had no choice. He had to go back.

He paused in the lobby to make enquiries about flights. He knew the expression on his face must be dreadful from the brief waft of fear that emanated from the girl at the concierge desk when she saw him approaching. He was ready to explode when he learnt the earliest available flight was nearly twenty-four hours away, but he took a deep mental breath, managing to thank the girl politely, leaving her to make the arrangements for him.

Up in his room, he hung out the "Do Not Disturb" sign, closed the curtains and threw himself onto the bed. He closed his eyes, waiting for the storm inside him to pass. Once he was calm again, he lay there thinking. Handing himself over was out of the question. What he needed was a plan.