way, dear.” From her tone, and the way her eyes flashed, it was clear Varvara wasn’t making a request.
Devona looked like she was going to argue, but then thought better of it and nodded. We continued with Varvara in the lead, and as we approached the other Lords, the Demon Queen opened her arms and said, “Darlings! So nice to see you all!”
“And for us to see so much of you,” Talaith said cattily as she eyed Varvara’s outfit. “Why didn’t you just come naked this year?”
“Is that a criticism, or are you voicing a regret?” Varvara shot back.
Talaith reddened but didn’t reply. She looked smaller than the avatar which had attacked us in Glamere, older and more tired too. Physically, she appeared to be in her late sixties, with short gray hair, baggy eyes, and sagging skin. She’d looked better before the destruction of the Overmind: one more reason for her to hate me. In diametric opposition to Varvara’s skimpy outfit, Talaith wore a simple black and white dress reminiscent of Puritan garb. I wondered if anyone had ever attempted to burn her at the stake. If so, I was sorry they’d failed.
Talaith turned to Devona and me, and her upper lip curled in disgust. “I knew your standards were low, Varvara, but really.”
“Watch your tongue, witch,” Galm growled. “The woman is one of my birth daughters.” Maybe Devona, as a half human, didn’t rate as high in the vampire hierarchy as the fully Bloodborn, but it seemed she was high enough for Galm to object to anyone insulting her.
“I was referring to the zombie,” Talaith covered smoothly. She looked to the thin-faced man. “Really, Edrigu, isn’t there something you can do about this…thing? After all, as one of the undead, he falls under your purview.”
The corners of Edrigu’s thin lips raised a fraction in what I assumed was meant to be a smile. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties and was bald save for a fine layer of black hair along the sides and back of his head. He wore a tattered white shroud covered with grave mold, and through the ragged cloth glimpses of not flesh but bone were visible.
“What would you have me do, precisely, Talaith?” His voice was a hollow monotone, a lonely echo in a deserted mausoleum.
“Oh, I don’t know. Wave your hand and make him collapse into dust, something along those lines.”
Edrigu gave me a look and I felt the mark on my palm itch. He knew he didn’t have to do anything to me; I was due to turn to dust soon enough as it was.
“Sour grapes, Talaith,” Amon said. “You’re still bitter Mr. Richter and his late partner disrupted one of your little schemes a while back.”
“Not much of a scheme, as I recall,” Varvara said. “Even if Matt hadn’t happened along, I doubt it would’ve worked.”
Talaith glared at them both, but otherwise did nothing. The bantering Darklords reminded me of wary jungle predators facing each other over a water hole. They hated each other and weren’t afraid to show it, but this wasn’t the time or place to do anything about it. But I could see in Talaith’s eyes that she was keeping track of every insult and adding it to her list of grievances against her fellow Lords.
Edrigu stepped closer to me and reached out to shake my hand. When our flesh touched, the E on my palm burned like fire, and I took in a hissing breath. It was the first pain I’d felt since I died.
“Hello, Mr. Richter,” Edrigu said in that eerie voice of his. “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance. You are, after all, a unique specimen among my charges.” He smiled with cold amusement. “By the way, my driver says you taste absolutely delicious.”
I withdrew my hand. Edrigu’s comment had rattled me-not to mention the burning sensation-and I quickly tried to cover. “You’re a Darklord, Edrigu. You’d think you’d be able to afford some skin to cover those ribs.”
Edrigu just smiled, his eyes cold as a tomb in deep winter. I turned away, unable to meet that awful gaze. The burning in my hand was mostly gone, but a distant echo of its pain lingered.
Devona went up to Galm and hesitantly touched his bare ivory arm. “Father, we must talk. It’s urgent!
Up to now, Galm had been brooding and not paying attention to the conversation. But when Devona spoke, he looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten she were here. “Not now, child. We received bad news at the Cathedral while you were out. Varma died the final death earlier today.”
“I know, father,” Devona said softly. “Matt and I found his body.”
The other Lords fell silent and awaited Galm’s reaction. Keket seemed especially interested, which only made sense since she represented what passed for the law in Nekropolis. I half expected Galm to destroy Devona and me where we stood, but instead the ancient vampire spoke softly in a voice thick with restrained anger. “Tell me what you know.”
Devona hesitated, and then launched into a concise summary of everything that had happened since she’d discovered the Dawnstone was missing.
After she was done, the ice on Lord Galm’s glacially impassive face broke and his features contorted in fury. “Varma was a weak, immature man who existed only for pleasure. If the Dominari hadn’t introduced him to veinburn, he would have tried it on his own eventually. But if had you come to me immediately, child, I might have been able to locate Varma and use my magics to burn the addiction out of him, quite possibly preventing his assassination.” He shot Varvara a meaningful look, and I imagined the two of them were going to have a few conversations about the drug trade in Varvara’s Dominion not long after the ceremony.
“But you let your pride as keeper of my Collection interfere with your duty to your cousin-who was fully Bloodborn, I might add.”
Devona hung her head in shame. “Yes, my Lord.”
I wanted to shout at Galm, to tell him he was being unnecessarily cruel-not to mention just plain wrongheaded-to talk to Devona like he had. But I knew that despite my watering hole analogy, the Darklords’ truce didn’t extend to me, and I had to watch what I said.
“My Lord,” I said, nearly choking on the words, “what about the Dawnstone?” I hoped this would distract him from berating Devona and also turn his attention to the most important aspect of her story: that whoever stole the Dawnstone likely planned to attack with it during the Renewal Ceremony.
But I was surprised by his response.
“It is of no consequence.”
“No consequence!” I said. “I thought it was an object of great power!”
“It is,” Galm admitted, “but one which takes much mystic knowledge and skill to operate. Such attributes are possessed only by my fellow Lords.”
“And we would never use such a device,” Edrigu said. “Not during the Renewal Ceremony.”
“Edrigu’s right,” Amon said. “It would be one thing to employ the Dawnstone against each other outside of the Nightspire, but to use it here and risk Dis’s wrath? Never.”
“Not to mention what the effect of using an object of power would have on the ceremony itself,” Talaith said. “We need Dis, and all five of us, to maintain Nekropolis. If the ceremony were interrupted before completion, Umbriel would fail to be renewed.”
“And Nekropolis, and all its denizens, would be no more,” Edrigu finished. “There’d be nothing left to rule over.”
“Besides,” Talaith pointed out, “there’s no way anyone could sneak such a powerful artifact into the Nightspire, not with the powerful wardspells Father Dis has placed on the entrances.”
“It’s far more likely the Dominari have different-but no less nasty-plans for it,” Amon said. “But that need not concern us at the moment.”
I looked to Varvara for confirmation. “They’ve got a good point,” she told me. “Several, in fact.”
It sounded as if the other Lords had managed to convince Varvara. And truth to tell, what they said did seem reasonable. But that didn’t mean I bought it. My undead gut told me that despite all the Darklords’ arguments to the contrary, whoever had the Dawnstone would use it here, soon. But if the Darklords didn’t believe us, I didn’t know what we’d be able to do about it.
Evidently, Devona felt the same, too, for she said, “Father, please, you must-”
“Forget the Dawnstone,” Galm said, icy reserve in place once more. “It is no longer any of your concern, for you are no longer keeper of my Collection.”
Devona stared at her father in stunned disbelief.
“You have failed me and failed Varma. From now on you are cast out from the Bloodborn; you are no longer
