The door swung open. “Kendrick. I had heard you had returned.”
Dominic Penrose looked just as Kendrick had last seen him twenty-five years ago, and as he had known him for the last four hundred years, though he wore his brown hair shorter in recent times. Kendrick hoped he liked the change because, frozen in time as vampires were, it would not grow back. Ironically, he looked younger this century with no beard to hide the cleft in his chin and the line of his jaw. Dominic always had a serious, unsmiling mouth, as befit a man who had lived and died during the Wars of the Roses, but now his colorless eyes regarded Kendrick with sorrow—nearly despair.
“I had not heard you were in London, old friend, or I would have called sooner. I thought you were still in Cornwall.” Kendrick crossed to Dominic and clasped his arm. Dominic returned the gesture, but he moved like a sleepwalker, one beat behind.
“Yes. Rupert…liked having us all under his thumb.” Dominic gestured half-heartedly around him. “As you see.” He stared into the distance, unseeing.
“Dominic. What’s happened?”
“You didn’t know?” Dominic wandered to the unlit fireplace and ran his fingers over the mantle, staring at the dust that came away on them. “Cornelius had joined Rupert’s cadre. He was there, in Yorkshire. He is no more.”
Kendrick stilled. “I did not see him there. I am sorry to hear it, Dominic.”
“He was taken in by Rupert’s crowd. He…chafed against our rules. But he was our blood. Little fool,” Dominic whispered. “Godfrey is…taking it hard.”
“And you?”
Dominic made a little gesture as if to say once more,“As you see.”
Vampires had family units, after a fashion. Bonds connected vampires who made others of their kind. Makers had a responsibility to train and look after those they turned, and Dominic was a man who felt responsibility keenly. He had been made by Godfrey, and so he looked after his sire. He had made Cornelius a bit more than a hundred years ago and had cared for him as a son.
“In all honesty, it is a relief, you being here.” A ghost of a smile flickered over Dominic’s face. “I thought you had stayed away because…”
Because I had ended him.“No, old friend. I would have searched you out and brought you the news in person had that been the case.”
Dominic nodded mechanically. “Rupert managed to corrupt so much in just a blink of time. I thought it was simply a phase. Children grow out of phases. But his grip was strong, and his tongue was sly, the power he offered a…tempting lure.”
“Will you tell me some of what Rupert did in the last twenty years, Dominic? I hadn’t even known you resided here now.”
Dominic’s lip curled, showing a hint of fang. “The worst vices and excesses with the most ridiculous pageantry. Rupert always liked to claim more years than he had. He tied us all to him with a blood oath and then used it to wield his will indiscriminately. Bullying and manipulation were the bywords of the court he gathered around himself, and he traded power and support for a blind eye to their behavior. No check on turning so he could strengthen his power base, and all the young, impetuous ones left to run wild with no guidance. I am afraid they are all ruined.”
“And the victims?”
Dominic blinked at him. “Victims?”
“The ones turned and abandoned.”
“Penned up in the Ossuary. I have not ventured to the catacombs except when Rupert demanded an assembly, but I believe it is bad.” Dominic shook his head, as if to clear some of the cobwebs from his mind. “Is this what growing old is like, Kendrick? This…desperate unhappiness?”
“No,” he said gently. “That is grief. And ifyouare old, what am I? No, you have a while to go before age catches up with you, Dominic, and a good thing, too. There are precious few to help me besides Etienne. Fending off the constant attacks is a bit tiresome.”
Dominic’s colorless eyes slowly focused on him. “Attacks?”
“Yes, four in the last few weeks. Come, walk with me and I’ll tell you about it. Or—let us go find a fencing academy. I’ll even concede to using the toothpicks you like so much.”
Dominic’s eyes widened a fraction. He licked his lips. “Fencing? Where?”
Kendrick hid a smile of satisfaction. Dominic had been in Spain for the rise of the rapier and loved the weapon irrationally. “If memory serves, there was some place down the street from Gentleman Jackson’s—Bradon’s or Bradley’s or some such. It may still be there.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to get out of this house a while, and soon someone who actually knows what end of a sword to hold will try to kill me. I’d rather practice with someone who isn’t actively trying to end me. Unless you’ve got a secret grudge.”
That seemed to wake him up a bit. “No grudge, Kendrick. You’re one of the few honest men I know.”
“What a compliment.” Kendrick laughed. “Get your coat.”
Brendan’s Fencing Academy did still exist, though it was much smaller and shabbier than Kendrick remembered. It seemed to be the trend for everything in London, along with a thick layer of coal dust. However, this slide into genteel poverty ensured that the proprietor was more than happy to take Kendrick’s money to open back up for the evening for two nameless gentlemen, no questions asked, and not intrude on the practice session. A small dose of Kendrick’s persuasion helped reinforce the coin.
