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LORD DALLINAR’S HAND shook slightly as he poured whiskey into a tumbler. A lock of lilac hair fell into his eyes and he flicked it over his shoulder with a toss of his head. He turned to his allies and lifted an eyebrow, silently offering the vampire and werewolf a drink.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Lord Kreaton said with his upper lip lifted high enough to show a hint of fang. Vampires didn’t drink anything except blood. He would just vomit it back up if he drank it. His swarthy skin looked sallow beneath the bright lights. They’d just ended another meeting with the Guild Masters and their guildmembers and had retired to their private sitting room on the floor above their meeting chamber.
“I’ll have one,” Lord Graham said in a near growl. His wild ginger hair and beard looked even more unkempt than usual. As always, he wore a black t-shirt and jeans. The fairy lord wore a black tunic and pants and the master vampire wore his usual black suit and shirt. The alpha werewolf loped over to the fairy, took the tumbler and gulped down the contents. He immediately held the glass out for another shot.
“You two need to learn how to control your baser instincts,” Lord Kreaton said dourly. His eyes were so dark a brown they were nearly black. His hair was black, lank and always looked unwashed. “It’s bad enough that Lord Dallinar can’t control his addiction to alcohol. I don’t need to be tied to another perpetually drunk ally,” he added darkly.
“It isn’t my fault my kind can’t tolerate non-fae alcohol,” Lord Dallinar said with a pout. He poured more whiskey into Lord Graham’s glass then they all took a seat on the plush armchairs. They were covered in rich, dark red velvet. A crackling fire warmed the chamber and gave a falsely cheerful atmosphere to the room.
“No one is forcing you to drink non-fae alcohol,” Lord Kreaton pointed out dourly. “You could drink water or tea.”
The fairy wrinkled his nose at that prospect and took a sip from his tumbler without commenting. “The Guild Masters don’t seem confident that they will be able to control their people,” he said when the silence stretched out.
“Guild Master Latour isn’t strong enough to control the masterless fledglings,” Lord Kreaton said derisively. “No master vampire could take on that burden and hope to keep the starving lesser vampires from turning on the populace.”
“Guild Master Reed is a powerful werebear, but he has the same restrictions,” Lord Graham agreed. “More and more shifters are losing their ability to control themselves. The city will soon be overrun with rogues.”
“My people don’t have that problem,” Lord Dallinar said smugly. “Guild Master Onvier will be able to keep them in check.” He received sour looks from his allies at that reminder.
“Are you sure there isn’t a way for us to funnel some of our power back into Nox?” the master vampire asked once again.
Lord Dallinar scowled at him. “As I’ve already told you numerous times, it’s impossible to reverse the spell that drained the energy from the Night Cursed beings. The Energy Tax is the only thing that is keeping Nox operational.”
“It’s also slowly killing our citizens,” Lord Graham pointed out. “With each year that passes, my kind are becoming weaker and weaker. It’s even affecting their offspring. The younglings aren’t born with the normal strength and stamina they should possess.”
“Vampires are having the same problem,” Lord Kreaton said. “The masters don’t have enough energy to regularly conjure up blood for their fledglings. The war that was sparked between my kind and the human witches and wizards has caused a rift. It isn’t as easy for my people to find enough food to sustain them now.”
Lord Dallinar was staring into the fire with a brooding expression. He had his own problems and he didn’t care about their petty issues. “More arrivals come to Nox each year,” he said with a careless shrug. “There will always be a steady supply of outsiders to add to the magic that powers Nox.”
“It isn’t enough,” Lord Graham growled. “More energy is needed to be converted to magic than what we tax from the populace.”
“Where exactly are we supposed to source this energy from, pray tell?” Lord Kreaton asked sardonically. “The olde-worlde magic that we stripped from Crowmon and his priests and priestesses will be enough to sustain Nox for a year. The citizens will have a short reprieve, but it won’t be enough to revitalize them. We will be forced to tax them again next Halloween.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Lord Dallinar said morosely. “The Night Cursed were supposed to make us immortal and that part of our plan worked, but Nox wasn’t meant to become so horribly diminished in the process.” He swept his hand at the window that overlooked the City Square below, almost slopping his whiskey over the edge of his tumbler.
They looked outside to see only a couple of streetlamps were working. A solitary carriage being driven by a skeleton circled around the stone fountain as it ferried a passenger to their destination. Litter had piled up in a few places and the windows of the guildhalls were decidedly filthy. The vitality that had emanated from Nox was gone. The City of Night was living up to its name.
“We couldn’t have foreseen this outcome,” Lord Graham said as if trying to convince himself that they weren’t to blame for the city’s downfall.
“We trusted Crowmon and Raum and look where it got us,” Lord Kreaton said with a scowl.
“How surprising that a trickster god and a demon managed to turn the deal we made with them against us,” Lord Dallinar said sarcastically. “It’s our own fault for trusting them in the first place.”
“We should never have made that deal with Raum,” Lord Graham said. “His demonic magic allowed us to turn the humans into the Night Cursed as we agreed, but we should have known he wouldn’t be content with just becoming the ruler of the demons in Nox.”
“He manipulated us into allowing the demons to have their own guild and he’s now the Guild Master,” Lord Kreaton added. “His kind are always ambitious and seek to elevate themselves. I wonder if his machinations have ended, or whether Raum intends to rise even higher?”
“Do you think he’s one of the rebels who will try to overthrow us?” Lord Dallinar asked blearily. He was having trouble focusing on his allies. A horrible sense of doom had begun to rise inside him on Halloween. It grew stronger with each night that passed. It was almost like the cold finger of fate was prodding him, warning him that he would pay for his arrogance in twisting his destiny to make himself truly immortal.
“I would have put my money on Crowmon and Raum teaming up to try to become a new triumvirate with a third ally,” Lord Graham said. “I guess that’s out now that Crowmon is no longer a threat.” His tone had turned smug that they’d gotten the chance to clip the deity’s wings, so to speak.
“The trickster is out of commission, but Raum is more powerful than ever,” Lord Kreaton said. “If anyone is going to try to fulfill the future that little Night Cursed gypsy foresaw for us, it will be him.”
“He isn’t strong enough to overthrow us,” Lord Dallinar pointed out. “He would have to find allies who have knowledge of magic similar to mine. The only way they could hope to defeat us would be to dispel our shields and try to overwhelm us with a barrage of spells.”
“As you pointed out, new arrivals appear in Nox each year,” Lord Kreaton said. “For all we know, there could already be allies who Raum could make a deal with to try to overthrow us.” A shiver wracked his spine and he fleetingly thought of his former friend, Lord Sebastian. He’d used the master vampire as a scapegoat to pin the murders of his kiss on, but his rival had escaped all of the traps he’d set for him.
Sebastian had been hunting him for the past century and a half. Sooner or later, he would come to Nox in search of him. Lord Kreaton had eyes and ears in the Vampire District. They would tell him when Sebastian arrived in search of vengeance. The moment he heard whispers of his rival’s presence, he would send one of their assassins out to destroy him. He’d already decided which of their minions he would choose for the task. A cold smile tilted the corners of his mouth upwards slightly, but it did nothing to soften his cruel, harsh features.
