Sweep of the Blade

Then…

The hot wind flung brown dust into Maud’s face. It scoured her skin, clogged her nose, and piled in her hair. She tasted grit on her tongue, dirt tinged with bitter metal, and pulled the hood of the tattered cloak tighter around her face.

Around her the endless plain rolled to the horizon, interrupted in the distance by low hills. Here and there stunted thorny plants jutted out of the dirt, desiccated and twisted by the winds. Far to the north, bur, the shaggy herbivores that made Earth elephants look small, stomped their way across the plain, grazing on the scrawny vegetation. There was no beauty on Karhari; no golden fields of grain, no forests, no oasis. Just dry dirt, rock, and poisonous salt deposits.

Ahead, by the crossroads barely marked by solar lights, the blocky metal box of the Road Lodge jutted against the wastes, tall walls and narrow recessed windows pitted from the frequent onslaught of wind and dust. A reinforced double door punctured the wall in front of her. Maud shouldered her needle rifle and headed to it, carrying the canvas sack in her left hand high enough it didn’t bump her legs. The canvas was liquid-proof, but she didn’t want it touching her all the same.

The door clanged, split in half, and slid into the wall. Maud walked inside, and the doors shut behind her back. The stench of unwashed bodies and klava caffeine washed over her. The delicate perfume of drunk vampires.

She grimaced, pulled the needle rifle off her shoulder, and dropped it through the slot in the electrified wire cage by the entrance. She kept her blood sword. The owner only cared about projectile weapons. If the patrons decided to bash each other’s skulls in, she didn’t give a damn as long as their tab was paid.

The inside of the Lodge consisted of a long rectangle, with a bar counter on the right and a collection of grimy booths and tables on the left. Toward the end of the room, a spiral staircase led upstairs, to seven shabby rooms, each little more than a box with a bed and a bathroom hidden behind a partition.

The Lodge catered to travelers, doubling as an inn and a bar. It sat on the crossroads like a trap, catching the dregs that washed up from the wastes of Karhari—mercenaries, convoy guards, raiders—lost souls who had no place to go and wandered the planet of exiles until they found their place, or someone relieved them of the heavy burdens of their life and possessions.

It was barely past noon and most of the Lodge’s patrons had either left, trying to make it to the next rest stop before dark, or hadn’t arrived. Only a few vampires milled at the tables, nursing the dark klava swill. They paid Maud no mind as she walked over to the bar.

The bartender, a large vampire woman with greasy greying hair and pitted armor, eyed her from behind the counter. Maud held the sack out to her. The woman pulled it open and fished out a blood-smeared counter defilade launcher with a hand still attached to it. Barely the size of an Earth submachine gun, the launcher fired high-energy pellets at 1,200 rounds per minute. Two pellets would make a hole in the armored side of the Lodge. The launcher’s magazine carried 2,000. Firearms of that caliber were outlawed on Karhari. The owner of the weapon had paid a fortune to smuggle it, destroyed a lodge, then spent his time riding around holding random lodges and inns for ransom.

The vampire woman sniffed the bloody gun. “Did he put up a fight?”

Maud shook her head. “Left my bike in plain view on the eastern road. He stopped to check it. Never saw me.”

The bartender scowled at her. “How did you know where he’d be coming from?”

“The west is House Jerdan’s territory; they patrol with infrared and they would’ve stripped the launcher off him. The closest place to rest to the south is four days; to the north, five, and that road gets frequent convoy traffic. Too risky. Someone might have noticed him and if he took too long driving back and forth it would give you enough time to get a defense together. No, he went east and camped for a day. No sane vampire will camp longer than one night during the storm season.”

The bartender nodded. “You do good work, human, I’ll give you that.” She reached behind the counter, put the gun away, and pulled a heavy bag out. “Water or cash?”

“Neither. I need the room till the end of the month.”

“It’s yours.” The barkeep put a large cup of mint tea on the counter. “The drink is on the house.”

“Thanks.”

Maud pulled the hood deeper over her face, took her tea, and made her way to the familiar ratty booth at the far wall, near the staircase. She slid into the metal seat and tapped the ancient remote terminal unit on her wrist. The piece of junk blinked and buzzed softly. Maud slapped it. The terminal blinked again and came to life. Maud pulled up the keyboard and sent a single glyph to the only other terminal connected to hers.

Safe.

Two glyphs appeared in response. Safe, Mommy.

Maud exhaled and sipped her tea. It was lukewarm, but free. She tapped the terminal again, running an integrity check on the armor. She could still remember the time when controlling her armor was intuitive and easy, almost as mindless as breathing. But to do that, she would have to have a crest of a vampire House. She had lost hers when her husband’s political machinations had gotten the three of them exiled to this anus of the Galaxy. No, not lost, Maud corrected herself. It was taken away from her when father-in-law had personally ripped it off her armor.

The memory of that day stabbed her, and Maud closed her eyes for a moment. She’d begged her mother-in-law for her daughter’s life. It was too late for Melizard and her, but Helen had been only two at the time and Karhari was an ugly, vicious place, the junkyard of vampire souls, where the Houses of the Holy Anocracy sent the garbage they didn’t bother killing. She’d pleaded on her knees and none of it mattered. House Ervan expelled them. Their names had been struck from the House scrolls. Their possessions were confiscated. Nobody had argued in their defense.

Helen was five now. The memories of their life before Karhari were so distant, sometimes Maud wondered if she had dreamed them.

She surveyed the dozen vampires getting drunk on caffeine. A predatory strain of the same genetic seed that had sprouted into humans, vampires were bigger, stronger, and more powerful than an average Homo sapiens. They occupied seven main planets and had colonies on a dozen other worlds, all of which together made up the Holy Cosmic Anocracy, governed by three powers: the military might of the Warlord, the religious guidance of the Hierophant, and the judicial wisdom of the Judge. Within the Anocracy, power lay with the Houses—clans, some with only a few dozen members, others numbering in hundreds of thousands.

The vampires had obtained the secret of interstellar flight when they were still in a feudal period, and their society had changed little since they launched their first ship into space. They still built castles, they wore armor, and they held on to the ideals of knighthood: honor, duty, and loyalty to the family and House. To the ragtag lot in the Lodge now, all those things were distant memories, vague and abandoned. One only had to look at their armor.

To a vampire knight, the syn-armor was almost holy. Deep black and glossy in mint condition, the high-tech nanothread mesh was custom made for each knight and paired with a sophisticated AI unit within their House crest. A vampire knight spent the majority of their time in armor, taking it off only in the privacy of their quarters. Repairing it was an art and keeping the armor in battle condition was a point of pride.

The vampires in Lodge still wore armor—they had been knights once, after all—but instead of sleek lines and glossy black, their suits were a dented mess of charcoal and grey, with sections from other suits tacked on to patch the holes where the nanothreads had been damaged beyond repair. They looked like they’d painted themselves with glue and rolled in a metal junkyard.

Her own armor was no longer black either, but at least she had managed to keep her nanothreads alive.

The door of the Lodge slid open, and a large vampire strode inside, swaddled in a black cloak. At 5’9” Maud was tall for a human woman, but he had almost a foot on her. The vampire pulled back his hood, releasing a black mane of hair that fell to his shoulders. The kind of hair that said that he was wealthy or could leave the planet to a place where water was plentiful enough to wash it. The only water on Karhari came from deep within the planet. During the short rainy season, the water filtered through the porous rock, forming underground lakes, and the vampires pumped it like oil. It tasted foul and cost an arm and a leg.

Maud had pampered her hair with conditioners and masks since she was a teenager. Their first night on Karhari, she had slashed it all off, almost two feet of black locks. It was her sacrifice to the planet. She sat on the floor of a grimy bathroom in an arrival hostel, with her husband and child sleeping just a thin wall away, her hair all around her, and cried silently, mourning Helen’s future and the life they lost.

The newcomer turned, saw her, and made a beeline for her booth. If he were human, she would have put him somewhere between thirty and forty. He had a masculine face, heavy jaw, bold features, but with just enough aristocratic refinement to keep it from being brutish. A jagged scar chewed up the left side of his face, cutting through his cheek to the bionic targeting module glowing weakly in the orbit where his left eye used to be.

Renouard. Ugh.

Maud put her hand on the hilt of her blood sword under the table.

Renouard marched down the aisle between the tables. A taller younger vampire got in his way. Renouard looked at him for a long moment and the younger mercenary decided to take a seat. Renouard’s reputation preceded him.

He slid into her booth, taking up the entire bench, and pondered her. “I thought you left, Sariv.”

She really hated that nickname. “Why haven’t you?”

“I had a small bit of business to take care of.”

Renouard bared his teeth at her, displaying his fangs. Vampires showed their teeth for many reasons: to intimidate, to express joy, to snarl in frustration. But this one was a leer. Look at my teeth, baby. Aren’t I amazing?

She drank the last swallow of her tea and studied her empty cup.

“Since your pretty boy husband got himself killed, you’ve never stayed in the same place longer than a day or two.”

Melizard was owed a blood debt. A debt she collected over the last six months, as she went after every vampire complicit in his murder and their relatives and friends dumb enough to track her down to get revenge. She’d stabbed the last murderer a month ago and watched his heart pump his blood onto the dirt.

She gave him a cold flat stare. “My memory is quite good. I do not recall you being there. Don’t presume to comment on my habits, my lord.”

Renouard grinned. “Ahh, and there is the wife of the Marshal’s brat. I keep waiting for this place to smother you, but you do endure, Sariv. Why are you here?”

She raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t going to even dignify it with an answer.

“You’ve been threading your way through the wastes, towing your crazy child with you for months, then the week before last you parked yourself at this Lodge. You’re waiting for something. What is it?”

She yawned.

“Tell me.” His tone gained a menacing quality.

A hiss came from the stairs. Maud leaned back to bring the stairway into her peripheral vision. Helen crouched on the stairs, wrapped in a tattered brown cloak. Her hood was up, but she was looking straight at them, the long blonde hair sliding out of the hood and two green eyes, glowing slightly, fixed on Renouard.

“There is the demon spawn,” Renouard said.

Helen opened her mouth, showing two thin sickle fangs, and hissed again. Crouched like that, she looked like a vicious little animal backed into a corner, a feral cat who didn’t want to fight, but if you tried to touch it, it would slice your hand into ribbons.

She couldn’t have heard them all the way from upstairs. Or at least Maud hoped she hadn’t. With a child that was half-vampire, half-human, Maud had given up on all her preconceived notions long ago.

“Are you waiting for someone to take you off this rock?” Renouard’s upper lip trembled, betraying the beginning of a snarl. “If so, you’re waiting in vain, my lady. Karhari is under a restricted access seal. Only the handful of Houses who are charged with guarding Karhari or those designated as vital trading partners are granted a permit. There are less than ten traders, all vampires, and I know every one of them.”

“It’s truly rare to find a man who enjoys the sound of his own voice as much as you do.”

“The Houses guarding the planet are paid by the Anocracy to keep you exactly where you are, and you have no way to pay for the passage from a trader. The cost to smuggle you out is too high. You barely earn enough to keep you and your demon from dying of thirst. If you’re waiting for an outsider to come to your rescue, their craft will be shot down the moment it enters the atmosphere.”

She stroked the hilt of her sword under the table.

Renouard leaned forward, taking up his side of the table and some of hers. “I’m your only chance. Take my offer.”

“You want me to sell my own daughter to the slave market.”

“A vampire-human hybrid is a rarity. She’s worth some money. I promise you, in a month, she and the planet will be a bad dream.”

If she threw the cup at his face, he’d jump to his feet and she could drive the knife on her left hip under his chin and into his mouth. Hard to talk with your tongue impaled.

“If you don’t want to sell her, leave her here. She grew up here. This hellhole is the only place she knows. She doesn’t remember House Ervan. Void, she’s probably forgotten her own father by this point. Leave her here. It will be a kindness.”

She felt the sudden need to take a shower to wash off the few molecules belonging to him that happened to land on her skin.

“Come with me. We’ll burn our way through the galaxy. I’ll keep you too busy to brood. I’m quite good at making women forget their problems.”

He reached for her.

She thrust the sword between them under the table. The point grazed his thigh.

“It seems you’ve forgotten what happened the last time you failed to keep your hands to yourself.”

His affable expression was completely gone now. An ugly snarl twisted his features.

“Last chance, Maud. Very last chance.”

“You have a shuttle to catch.”

“Fine. Rot here.” He rose. “I’ll be back in six months. We can revisit it then, if there is anything left of you to bargain with.”

Maud watched him walk away.

Helen slid into the booth next to her. “I don’t like him.”

“Neither, do I, my flower. Neither do I. Don’t worry. He won’t bother us again.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

Helen looked up at her from the depths of her hood. “Will somebody really come for us?”

The fragile hope in her daughter’s voice nearly undid Maud. She wished so badly she could say yes.

Two weeks ago, when they stopped at the Lodge for the night, she had run into an Arbitrator. The galaxy, with all of its planets, dimensions, and thousands of species, was too large for any unified government, but the Office of Arbitration, an ancient neutral body, served as its court. To meet an Arbitrator was rare. To meet a human one…Up until two weeks ago Maud would’ve said it was impossible.

Humans didn’t get out much. Through a twist of cosmic fate, Earth sat on the crossroads of the galaxy. It was the only twelve-point warp in existence, which made it a convenient hub. Instead of squabbling over the planet, the interstellar powers, in a rare moment of wisdom, formed an ancient agreement with representatives of humanity. Earth would serve as the way station for the galactic travelers passing through on their way to somewhere else. They arrived in secret and stayed at specialized inns equipped to handle a wide variety of beings. In return, the planet was designated as neutral ground. None of the galactic powers could lay claim to it, and the existence of other intelligent life remained a secret to all human population except for the select few families who minded the inns.

The few rare humans who made it off-planet were like her, children of innkeepers, all marked with a particular magic that allowed them to defy the rules of physics within their inns. The Arbitrator felt different, suffused with power, unlike any human she had met before. She had stood by the bar, trying to figure out if he was Earth-born, when he turned to her and smiled. For a second, she stumbled. He was shockingly beautiful.

He asked her if she was from Earth, she told him she was, and he casually offered to deliver a message to her family.

She’d frozen then while her mind feverishly tried to find someone to whom she could send the message. When she was pregnant with Helen, her brother Klaus and her younger sister, Dina, had come to House Ervan to tell her their parents’ inn had disappeared. One moment the charming colonial was there, hiding a microcosm inside, the next it vanished, taking everyone inside with it. When Klaus had come home from running errands, he had found an empty lot. Nobody, not even the Innkeeper Assembly, knew where or how the inn had vanished.

Her siblings were going to search the galaxy for answers. She wanted to join them, but she was pregnant and Melizard begged her to stay by his side. He was in the middle of another scheme, and he had needed her.

Two years later, just as her husband had started on the path that would land them on Karhari, Dina and Klaus had come again. They found nothing. Klaus wanted to keep looking, but Dina had enough. She was going back to earth. Of the three of them, Dina longed for normal life the most, always wanting things the innkeeper families couldn’t have, like friends outside the inn or attending high school. Maud still recalled the bad feeling that had washed over her as she watched the two of them walk toward the spaceport. Something told her to grab Helen and follow them. But she loved Melizard and she had stayed…

By now Dina probably had a normal job. Maybe she was married, with children of her own. Klaus was universe alone knew where. She told the Arbitrator as much and he smiled at her again and said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Messages have a way of getting where they need to go.”

Maud took off her necklace, scribbled a few words with the coordinates of the Lodge on a piece of paper, and handed them both to him. It felt right somehow, as if this was a test and she had given the correct answer. Now they waited.

She had no idea how long it would take. Her mercenary job had earned them two and a half weeks of stay, the rest of her money would buy another two weeks or so, then she would have to search for jobs.

Helen was still looking at her, waiting for an answer.

Will somebody really come for us?

“Yes,” she said. “If your aunt or uncle get our message, they will come for us and they will take us away from here.”

“To a different place?” Helen asked.

“Yes.”

“With flowers and water?”

Maud swallowed the hot clump that wedged itself in her throat. “Yes, my flower. With all the beautiful flowers and water you can imagine.”

***

Maud drank her mint tea. Next to her Helen nibbled on a dry cookie and flipped the digital pages of a book. The book, Weird and Amazing Planets, a paper-thin single use tablet, showed photographs of landscapes from different planets. It had cost Maud a month’s worth of water, but Helen had found it at a trader’s stall and hugged it to her, and Maud couldn’t say no. There were almost a thousand photographs and by now Helen knew every one by heart.

The Lodge was full tonight. First, two convoy guard teams, each consisting of a dozen vampires, came in one after another; then, to make things interesting, a group of fourteen raiders. The two convoy guards, the traders, and the lone travelers had taken the tables along the perimeter of the Lodge, near the walls, and the raiders were left with a chunk in the middle, exposed and surrounded. The convoy guards and the raiders were eyeing each other, but so far nobody had gotten drunk enough to start any trouble. If a brawl broke out, she’d grab Helen and head upstairs.

The door of the Lodge slid open, and three travelers made their way inside. The first was tall and broad, his cloak stretched over his wide shoulders in the familiar way it did when the fabric rested on vampire armor. The man right behind him wore dark pants and a windbreaker, his movements graceful and liquid. He didn’t move, he glided. Or rather, he stalked in, ready to fend off an attack.

The windbreaker looked Earth-made.

Human.

Her heart sped up. The man pulled back the hood of his windbreaker. Maud scrutinized his features: scarred face, russet-brown hair, clean shaven…

The human inhaled, scanned the room with his gaze. His irises caught the light, reflecting it with an amber glow for a split second.

Disappointment slammed into her. Not a human. A werewolf, a refugee from a dead planet.

The towering cloaked figure headed for the bar. The werewolf followed. A third person trailed them, wearing a tattered gray robe. The cut of the robe was achingly familiar. It looked like an innkeeper robe.

You’re imagining things, Maud told herself. It’s a gray robe. There were millions of them in the galaxy. It was the simplest and most common garment, second only to a cloak. In the end, all colors faded to gray.

The robed traveler took a seat at the bar. The bartender took the order and came back with two cups. The larger man half-turned to watch the room, blocking Maud’s view of the robed traveler.

Move, you oaf.

He leaned his elbow on the bar. The armor on his arms was jet-black. A new victim added to the never-ending trickle of exiles? No, he didn’t hold himself like an exile. She’d seen enough of the new arrivals over the years. They broke into two categories: the first thought they would own the planet in two weeks and the second were desperate and broken. Both held themselves tight, ready for an attack to come at any moment. If this vampire got any more relaxed, he’d start stripping his armor off.

A few moments passed. The raiders sized up the newcomers. Much easier prey than either of the convoy guard teams. If the raiders got into it with the guards, the other team would likely jump in, but nobody cared about three strangers. The guards would sit back and watch.

Anticipation hummed through the room like a low-voltage current.

The raider leader rose and casually moved back, giving himself room for a charge, resting his hand on the big blood hammer at his waist. Almost simultaneously, the largest raider, his face ruined by a deep scar, got to his feet and lumbered toward the bar.

“Stay close to me,” Maud whispered, and squeezed Helen’s hand.

Helen squeezed back.

The huge raider made it to his destination and stopped in front of the cloaked figure. The raider had a bit of height on the newcomer, but not much. His armor, an ugly mess of gray and black, looked like it had gone through a car crusher and was then somehow muscled back into some semblance of the right shape.

“You’re not from around here,” the raider declared.

The Lodge went quiet in anticipation of a good show.

“Such keen powers of observation,” the cloaked man answered, his voice deep.

An old House. Crap.

The accent was unmistakable, cultured and still carrying traces of the original home world, the planet that gave life to the vampire species. Everybody in the room recognized this. Her husband’s family did their best to imitate it, going so far as to hire voice coaches for the children. Maud pulled her dagger and her sword out under the table. Things were about to get ugly.

A grimace twisted the raider’s face. “Your armor is clean. Pretty. Do you know what we do to pretty boys like you here?”

The tall vampire sighed. “Is there a script? Do you give this speech to all who enter here, because if so, I suggest we skip the talking.”

The raider roared. His mistake.

The cloaked man waited until the sound died. “A challenge. I love challenges.”

The raider grabbed his sword. The cloaked man punched him in the jaw. The blow swept the larger vampire off his feet. He went airborne and landed into a booth.

Okay then.

The raider scrambled up and swung his blade. The cloaked man ducked under the strike and smashed his fist against the raider’s ribs. The shoddy armor split with a dry burst. The edge of the breastplate popped free. The cloaked vampire grasped the broken breastplate and yanked it upward. The entire armor collapsed with a deafening crunch, locking the vampire into a rigid straitjacket.

Every vampire in the Lodge winced. Maud did too.

“Nice,” the werewolf said.

“If one is going to wear armor, one must properly maintain it.”

The raider tried to rise. The armor on his left arm fell off completely, the one on the right twisted his limb so far back, his shoulder had to be dislocated. He managed to stagger halfway up. The cloaked vampire kneed him in the face. The raider collapsed, his face bloody. The other vampire kicked him. The raider went still, drool and blood dripping from his open mouth onto the floor.

He wasn’t just a random knight. This one had a lot of martial training. If he headed for the doors now, he and his friends could walk out. Vampires respected strength. Even this lot would acknowledge his victory. If he stayed…

The cloaked man surveyed the room. “Anyone else?”

He did not just say that.

Seven raiders stood up.

The werewolf muttered something under his breath and pulled a large knife from a sheath on his waist. The blade shone with emerald green.

“Might as well get it over with.” The vampire tore off his cloak and hurled it aside.

State-of-the-art armor. House Krahr crest, as old of a bloodline as you could get. The sigil on the shoulder was blurred, something higher-ranking vampires did when they weren’t acting in official capacity. Stunning face and a mane of blond hair.

Oh dear universe. What the hell was a high-ranking knight of Krahr doing brawling on Karhari? She knew almost nothing about House Krahr except that it was large, aggressive, and one of the original Houses. Had one of Krahr’s knights visited House Ervan, her husband’s family would’ve treated him as an honored guest. Back before the exile, they probably would’ve paraded her in front of the visitors and had her recite one of the ancient sagas in a dialect nobody had used for three hundred years. Look at our pet human doing cute tricks. The thought brought bile to her throat. Why did she let it go on for so long?

The Krahr knight stepped forward, and she finally got a look at the person behind him. The figure in the gray robe slid off the stool. The hood had fallen back, revealing a familiar face framed by blond hair.

The hair on the back of Maud’s arms rose. She looked again, terrified she was mistaken.

“Mommy,” Helen whispered, “who is that lady?”

Somehow Maud’s lips moved. “That’s your aunt.”

Half of the room was now standing. The vampires roared in unison, bellowing a challenge.

Too many. Because of that idiot’s hubris, the werewolf and her sister would have to cut their way to her through at least thirty pissed-off vampires. She had to act, or they would never make it.

“Helen, get down low and head for the door.”

Helen slid her book into her little backpack, shouldered it, and slipped under the table.

Dina’s gaze connected with Maud’s. Her sister grinned.

Maud jumped onto the table and sprinted to the raider leader. He was focused on the Krahr knight. He never saw her coming. She primed her blood sword a moment before she reached him. The weapon whined as the bloodred high-tech liquid surged through it, rendering it nearly indestructible. The raider leader turned, reacting to the telltale noise, and she beheaded him in a single smooth stroke.

Blood splashed on the tables. Vampires roared and attacked.

She sliced someone’s arm in half, the blood sword cleaving through the subpar armor like it was baking foil, spun away from a female vampire’s outstretched hand trying to grab her, and kicked another female raider in the face.

Around her the Lodge was chaos, vampires shouting, tables flying, and blood weapons screeching as they were primed. She registered it all with adrenaline-saturated detachment. Nothing mattered except killing until they reached the door or there was nobody left to kill.

Someone grabbed her cloak and jerked at it. It came loose as it was designed to do, buying Maud an extra second. She dropped to her knees, buried her dagger in the nearest vampire throat, rolled off the table to avoid an incoming mace, and slashed across a raider’s face with her sword. He bellowed in rage, and she sank her blade into his side, in the gap between ill-fitting armor sections.

Maud twisted, checking on Helen. Her daughter had dropped to all fours and was crawling under the tables to the exit. Good girl.

Dina was screaming something. Maud spun, trying to parry and keep her in view, but the raiders closed in on her, locking her into a ring of bodies. Too many…

A deafening roar tore from behind the raiders. Bodies went flying like they were made of straw. The huge female vampire in front of her collapsed, blood spray flying from her ruined skull, and the Krahr knight burst into the ring, his fangs bared. He brained the raider to her right with a vicious swing and hammered a savage uppercut into the stomach of the one on her left. The faulty armor cracked with a sound of crushed nut shells. The raider doubled over, and the Krahr drove his left elbow into the back of his neck. The blow swept the raider off his feet, sending him to the side. One moment there were two bellowing vampires. The next there was only the Krahr knight, brandishing his mace.

The raiders stared, awestruck for a moment, and Maud used every fraction of it to stab and slice as much as she could. The ring around them widened and suddenly she found herself back to back with the Krahr.

“My lady,” he said in that deep cultured voice. “I apologize for not arriving sooner in your time of dire need.”

Hell would freeze over before she would owe another vampire. “Not that dire, my lord. Please don’t bestir yourself on my behalf.”

She dropped, spinning, kicked a vampire’s legs from under her and stabbed her in the throat on her way down.

He smashed his mace into the shoulder of a raider with a bone-snapping crunch. “I insist.”

She parried a swing that nearly made her drop her blade and drove her dagger into the raider’s groin, punching through the damaged armor by pure luck. “No need.”

He struck at the vampire on his left, took a hit to the shoulder from another, grunted, reversed his swing, and hammered a devastating blow to the new opponent. The vampire bent forward from the impact and the Krahr drove his fist into the back of his head.

“Please, allow me this small diversion. I’m but a guest on your planet. It was a long trip and I have sat for far too much of it.”

Argh. He out-mannered her. As absurd as his claim was, he backed her into the role of the host and the laws of vampire hospitality dictated that the guests were to be indulged.

Wait, I’m not a vampire. Why does it even matter?

A male vampire kicked. She stumbled back, bounced off the Krahr’s broad back and threw herself into the fray.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dina fighting her way to the exit, the orange energy whip hanging loose and sparking on the floor. Helen was in her arms. What was she doing? Helen’s best advantage was in her size and speed. Now neither of them could move.

She doesn’t know, Maud realized. Her sister had no idea what kind of a child her daughter was.

The werewolf thrust himself in front of them and began carving a path to the door.

“My lord!” Maud called. “We’re leaving.”

He grunted. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“My lord!”

“I’ll cover your retreat.”

Dina and Helen were only a few yards from the door. Maud charged at the remaining vampires. In two swings she was through the gauntlet.

“Arland!” the werewolf screamed, his voice cutting through the noise of the Lodge.

So that was his name. Maud looked over her shoulder and saw him, drenched in blood, mowing down bodies.

“Arland!” the werewolf snarled.

The Krahr turned, saw them, and began backing up toward the door.

The heavy metal doors swung open. Dina ran out, clutching Helen to her, and the werewolf followed. As Maud sprinted through the doorway, she saw the barkeep waving at her with a small surreal smile.

A narrow black shuttle waited on the landing strip and they ran toward it. The doors slid open. Maud leapt into a seat and plucked Helen from Dina’s arms. The werewolf landed in the pilot’s seat and started the pre-flight check, his fingers flying over the controls.

Where was the Krahr? If he didn’t emerge in the next ten seconds, she would go back in and get him. He fought for her and her daughter. She owed him that much.

A ball of bodies rolled out the door and collapsed into eight individual fighters. Arland appeared, fangs bared, face splattered with blood. It was like something out of one of the Anocracy’s pseudo-historical dramas—a lone hero on a strange planet, standing against impossible odds, roaring his rage to the heavens.

Arland swung his blood mace. It smashed a female fighter’s skull in a gory explosion of blood and brains. Before the swing was finished, the Krahr knight turned, grabbed the one to his left by his throat, shook him once like a rag doll, and tossed the dead body aside. The perfect blend of sheer brutality and efficient precision was beautiful to watch.

The Krahr knight kicked a huge raider to his left, driving the full power of his armored leg into the vampire’s knee cap. The man dropped, and Arland backhanded his jaw with his mace, almost as an afterthought, turned and sank the head of the mace into the ribs of the raider on his right. A hammer landed on his back. Arland shrugged it off as if he’d been smacked with a flyswatter, spun, too fast on his feet for a man of his size, and slammed the mace against his attacker’s right arm. The arm went limp. The vampire turned and ran. Arland hurled his mace. It soared through the air and bounced off the vampire’s smaller back. The armor, already dented and hanging together on a prayer, cracked, and the raider flew into the side of the building, bounced off and fell to the ground.

Wow.

Vampires took pride in ground combat; her husband was one of the best, but this, this was on another level. Where did House Krahr even find him? What did he do for them?

She turned to Dina and pointed at Arland. “Who the hell is that?”

“The Lord Marshal of House Krahr,” Dina said.

Oh sweet galaxy, he was the military head of his House. How in the world did Dina manage to rope him into this rescue?

The two remaining raiders charged in concert. The Marshal braced himself for the attack, roaring a challenge. When one of the raiders got close, he stepped to the left, crouched, and dove low into the charging vampire. The attacker had no time to react to the sudden shift in the center of gravity. The momentum carried him forward while the Marshal drove him up and over his shoulder in one smooth movement. The raider fell on his head. His neck snapped with a dry crunch. The Marshal scooped up the dead vampire’s hammer and brained the last remaining raider with it.

Maud remembered to breathe.

The Marshal sprinted to the shuttle.

Sparring with him would be amazing. She could go all out without holding back.

In a couple of breaths, he jumped into the cabin and landed in the seat next to the werewolf.

The door of the Road Lodge slid open and a mob of vampires tore out, snarling and roaring.

“Do you even know how to fly, werewolf?” the Marshal growled.

“Buckle up.” The werewolf pulled a lever and the slick craft sped into the sky.

Gravity sat on Maud’s chest. It was real. They were leaving. She hugged Helen to her.

“What happened?” Dina asked. “Where is Melizard? Where is your husband?”

“Melizard is dead. He led a revolt against his House. They stripped him of all titles and possessions and sent us to Karhari. Eight months ago he crossed the wrong local and the raiders killed him.”

“We killed them back,” Helen said.

“Yes, we did, my flower.” Maud smiled at her and petted her hair. “Yes, we did.”

It was over. It was finally over.

The Marshal turned around and looked at her. He seemed shell-shocked, as if her existence somehow upset the structure of his universe and he couldn’t quite reconcile the two. She’d seen that look before. None of the vampires expected a human to know which end of the sword to point at the enemy, let alone wear their armor. Dina must’ve told him something, so he’d expected a human, but he hadn’t expected her, and she clearly blew his mind.

Maud met his gaze. Shockingly handsome. His features were strong and masculine, carved without any weakness, yet neither crude nor cruel. His thoughtful eyes, a deep intense blue, took her measure, noting her armor and lingering on her bloody sword. He looked back at her face, and Maud saw surprise and respect in his eyes, an admiration of a fighter appreciating a peer’s skill.

Something forgotten and repressed stirred inside her.

“Well fought, my lady,” he said quietly.

“Well fought, my lord,” she answered on autopilot.

“Are you or your daughter hurt?”

“No, my lord.”

“All is well then.”

He smiled at her. He was handsome before, but he was impossible now.

No, she told herself. No. You tried before, you tried your best for years, and they threw you and your child away like garbage. She wouldn’t become involved with another vampire again. She wouldn’t even entertain that idea, no matter how hard he fought or how much admiration reflected in his eyes when he looked at her.

She was done with all things vampire.

***

Three weeks later Arland lay naked on the metal examination table. Bloody blisters sheathed his body. Some had ruptured, leaking polluted, foul blood that smelled of acid and decomposition.

Panic flailed and clawed at Maud’s insides. She took his hands. His fingers were like ice. He looked at her, his blue eyes brimming with pain. It cut Maud like a knife.

You fool. You stupid fool.

They were besieged in Dina’s inn. An alien had asked her sister for shelter and she took him in, knowing that his entire species was a target of a planet of religious zealots. A clan of assassins had targeted the alien. She and Arland had been helping to hold them off, fighting side by side, sparring, eating in the same kitchen, repairing their armor at night at the dining room table in a comfortable silence. He provoked her, she responded, then she provoked him, and he parried. She watched him play with Helen, treating her like a treasured vampire child. She noticed when he smiled. She trained with him and she told herself that none of it mattered. They were just friends fighting for the same cause.

Today the assassins managed to introduce a seed of the World Killer into the inn. A flower with the power to wipe out the entire planets, the World Killer was impervious to fire and acid. Made of energy, it passed through every barrier they could throw in its way and only became flesh when it was about to attack. It would kill and grow and kill again until nothing alive remained on the planet and the five of them, Dina, Sean, Helen, Arland, and she would become its first victims.

They stood frozen in the kitchen, afraid to make the slightest movement. Then Arland declared that his blood was toxic to the flower. She saw him look at Helen, look at her, and she knew deep in the very core of her soul that he would sacrifice himself for them. The enormity of that realization smashed into her, throwing her so off balance, she couldn’t even think.

She remembered his voice, so calm it chilled her. “Lady Maud, if I die, say the Liturgy of the Fallen for me.”

Saying the Liturgy of the Fallen fell to the one you treasured most. Your spouse. Your lover. Your one who was everything. She couldn’t dishonor that confession and she answered him in the language of vampires. “Go with the Goddess, my Lord. You won’t be forgotten.”

He had thrown himself at the flower. It stung and seared him, wrapping around him like a constrictor snake. It pierced him again and again, poisoning him until it brought him to his knees. He’d screamed, his voice raw with pain, tears streaming down his face, and still he fought it until he finally grasped its root, tore it open and spat his own blood into it. It died.

And now Arland would die too.

They made him release his armor while Helen cried and begged him not to die, then they brought him here into the medward. He had grown so weak. There was barely any strength in his fingers. Her sister kept washing him, rinsing the polluted blood off his body, but his wounds bled and bled. There was no antidote.

She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t. Thinking of getting up in the morning, knowing she would never see him, shredded her soul. She wanted to scream and rage, but he was looking at her face, their stares forging a fragile connection. She held his hand and looked back at him, terrified this tether would snap and he would be gone forever.

She saw death in his eyes, coming closer and closer. Vampires died surrounded by family or on the battlefield. She had to help him. She had to…

Maud made her voice neutral and calm. “Dina, do you have a vigil room?”

“No.”

“Then I’m going to make one. Off the kitchen.”

She closed her eyes, reaching for the magic of Gertrude Hunt. Dina’s inn responded, moving first slowly then faster, pulling apart floors and walls, forming a new space, shaping a massive tub, growing the proper plants…It would give him the peace of mind. If he was reassured that proper rites would be said and prayer offered on his behalf, he might hold on.

Hold on, she willed. Please, hold on. Please don’t leave us.

She opened her eyes, took the showerhead from Dina, and kept washing him.

His chest barely rose.

“Don’t go,” she begged. “Hold on to me.”

He smiled at her, so weak it almost broke what little resolve she had left.

“Fight it,” she said. She grasped his hand, trying to pour some of her vitality into him.

“Everything is slowing down.” His voice was quiet. He raised his hand, his fingers trembling. She leaned into his palm, and he stroked her cheek. “No time.”

“Fight it. Live.”

His eyes dimmed.

A knock sounded. A door opened and Caldenia ka ret Magren strode into the room. Once a galactic tyrant, now Gertrude Hunt’s only permanent guest, with a bounty on her head that would let you buy a paradise planet. She carried a small box.

A cure. Maud had no idea how she knew it, but she believed it with every heartbeat.

Her fear had paralyzed her, and Maud turned numb.

Even as the needle pierced Arland’s skin and his wounds stopped bleeding, she still couldn’t bring herself to hope. She directed the inn to transport him, she watched him slide into the mint bath in the vigil room, and then she sat by him and whispered prayers, one after another.

Around them the inn was quiet. Dina had left somewhere. Sean and others were in the kitchen, but they might as well have gone to the moon.

Live, Arland. Live. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave Helen.

A warm wet hand touched her. Maud opened her eyes. He was looking at her, his blond hair wet, his skin still too pale, but his blue eyes were brighter and deep within his irises, she glimpsed the same iron will that drove him into battle.

“My lady,” he said quietly.

“Never do that again,” she whispered.

“Stay with me,” he asked.

“Where would I go?”

He smiled then. She rolled her eyes and went back to the rites.

***

The practice mace whistled over Maud’s head. She dropped into a crouch and kicked out, aiming to sweep Arland’s legs. The Marshal of House Krahr leaped up and back, avoiding the kick. Maud lunged to the left, rolled to her feet, and came up in time to dodge another blow.

He forced her across the white marble floor. Sweat drenched her face.

Around them the grand ballroom of Gertrude Hunt glowed in all of its glory. The enormous light fixtures on the ceiling were off, and glittering nebulae shone on the dark walls and the tall ceiling far above, clusters of stars sparkling like constellations of precious gems. The only illumination came from the delicate glass flowers blooming on golden vines that twisted around the towering turquoise columns.

She used to spar with Melizard like this, but their practice matches always had spectators. Like everything, her late husband put on a show meant to impress and further his ambitions. Maud once told him she was uncomfortable with the attention, and he told her that he wanted everyone to witness his human wife’s skills. He spun it as a way to improve her position with House Ervan. Now, years later, she understood that it was always about him, never about her.

Arland never paraded her or himself in front of an audience. If someone had come to practice beside them, he wouldn’t object. He was a knight of an old House and politeness was ingrained in his bones. But he never invited attention. However, their practice sessions were theirs alone, private, quiet, just for the two of them. And she never held back.

He told her he loved her. She remembered every word. It was etched in her memory. He stood before the tub where her catatonic sister sat, watching them with unseeing eyes, knowing that they were about to go into battle that might end them both and told her the truth.

When I first saw you, it was like being thrown from a shuttle before it touched the ground. I fell and when I landed, I felt it in every cell of my body. You disturbed me. You took away my inner peace…

Arland charged her. She danced away, spun around him, tapped his back, and was away before he could chase after her again.

…You taught me the meaning of loneliness, because when I don’t see you, I feel alone…

Arland lunged, thrusting. An unexpected move, one particular to a sword, not a mace. It caught her by surprise. She took the blow in the chest and staggered back. He advanced and got a slice of the practice sword across his neck for his trouble.

…You may reject me, you may deny yourself and if you choose to not accept me, I will abide by your decision…

Arland dropped the mace and rushed her. She should have avoided him, but the last battle for the survival of Dina’s inn had taken a lot out of her. Her emotions were a mess, her brain felt like it was overheating trying to wrestle her thoughts under control, and Maud was still too damn tired. His fingers caught her right wrist, and he pulled her to him, turning her so her back pressed against his chest. His hands clamped her upper arms in a steel vise. He’d caught her like that before, and she knew from experience that getting out of this hold was impossible. Even if she pulled up her legs, hitting him with her dead weight, he would simply hold her above the floor.

They stood in a kind of embrace.

…But know that there will never be another one like you for me and one like me for you. We both waited years so we could meet.

He let her go. She picked up her sword and walked back to the practice weapon rack.

Arland loved her. And she loved him too. She had known it the moment he asked her for the Liturgy of the Fallen, because it felt like the fear that he would die would wrench her heart out of her chest. But then he ruined it all and asked her to marry him.

Maud dropped her sword and her buckler onto the practice weapon rack and pulled on the inn’s magic. The inn obeyed, parting the floor under the rack and letting it sink down into storage, but it responded sluggishly, almost as if it was confused by her directions. The response at her parents’ inn had been instant. Here, it was like giving commands to a sibling’s dog. It obeyed her because she was family and a human, but it knew she was not its human.

It would get better with time, if she stayed. And staying at the inn made all the sense in the world. She and Helen would be safe here. Dina could use the help, and Helen loved it. The inn responded to her much better than it did to Maud. All inns instantly took to children.

But what would happen when her daughter realized she couldn’t have friends?

What would happen when he left?

That last thought gave her the shove she needed. Maud turned to Arland.

“I love you,” she told him. “But I can’t marry you.”

His handsome face stayed perfectly neutral, but she caught the splash of happiness in his eyes. It dimmed instantly, but she caught it.

“May I ask why?”

“Because love is simple, but marriage is complicated.”

“Explain.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, using them as a shield. “When you look at Helen, what do you see?”

“Potential.”

She could’ve kissed him for that, but that wouldn’t help. “If you didn’t know her background, would you say she’s a human or a vampire?”

“A vampire,” he said without hesitation.

“Because of the fangs?”

“Because of her predatory drive. Fangs make her look like a vampire. They can be obtained by surgical means, but the instinct to identify and strike at the opponent’s weaknesses can’t be fabricated or learned. One either has it or doesn’t. She has it.”

That was her assessment as well. “If I stay here, in my sister’s inn, Helen would have to confine herself to the grounds. She can’t attend a human school. Other children wouldn’t be safe around her. They wouldn’t know what she was but they would know she was different. They would ignore her or torment her, and she would retaliate.”

Arland’s expression hardened. “I have no right to offer my opinion, but would imprisoning her in the inn be the best thing for Helen?”

Imprisoned. That’s how he saw it. That’s how she saw it too.

Within the inn, the innkeepers possessed almost god-like power. They built rooms for a hundred different species in minutes. They bent the laws of physics and opened passages to planets thousands of light years away. They saw the oddities and wonders of the galaxy pass through their doors.

But the human world of the innkeepers was small, the friends few, and even though the galaxy lay at their door, most of them rarely stepped over the threshold. Outside of the inn, they were vulnerable. The children of the innkeepers grew up at home, apart from human society, and when they grew up, they became innkeepers or the ad-hal, the enforcers of the innkeepers. Sometimes they left Earth the way she and her brother had. Almost none of them entered human society. Once they learned to use their magic, there was no putting it back into a box.

“What would happen to Helen if we took her to House Krahr?”

Arland frowned. “She would run wild around the keep with other children like her. I’d like to see the Sentinels try to wrangle her into a classroom. In fact, I would pay good money…” He caught the expression on her face. “That is, she would receive a fine education in line with the other scions of House Krahr.”

“You once told me that she should be a rassa in the grass, not a goren on the porch.”

Rassa were fierce ambush predators, while gorens, smaller and tamer, served vampires like dogs served humans.

Arland cleared his throat. “I may have been too blunt.”

“No, you were right. Helen is a rassa and at House Krahr she would be among other rassa. It would be more dangerous, but she could find her place there the way she could never find it here. Then there is me. I’ve worn the armor of a vampire for six years. I’m not the same human woman who left her parents’ inn. I’m not even the same woman who had been exiled to Karhari almost three years ago. I don’t know where my place is. I haven’t figured out where I belong.”

“With me,” he said. “You belong with me. Maud, all of these are arguments in favor of our marriage.”

She nodded, “I know. And that’s a problem. I’m a widow of a dishonored knight. My husband tried to murder his own brother to become the marshal of his House. I am a human. I know how vampires treat outsiders. I’ve lived that life. Your House will see me as a human woman who has nothing, no status, no honor, no purpose. No use to anyone. A woman who has a half-vampire child and would do anything for the sake of that child, including seducing the pride of their House and then manipulating him to get what she wants.”

Arland raised his eyebrows. “I’ve survived countless attempts at manipulation before. I appear to be too dense for it. However, I am open to being seduced.”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“I don’t care what my House thinks.”

“But I do. For years I was an exemplary wife to the son of a vampire Marshal. Nobody could find fault with my behavior or with my daughter. I worked for the benefit of House Ervan. I organized their banquets, I taught them to deal with their alien neighbors, I memorized their rituals, rites, poetry…I know more Ancestor Vampiric dialects than most vampire scholars. Yet, when my husband committed treason, his House threw us away like garbage. None of my accomplishments mattered. I didn’t exist outside of my husband.”

His face turned hard. “I’m not Melizard and House Krahr is not House Ervan.”

Maud nodded. “I know that. But the imbalance between us is much greater than between Melizard and me. I don’t want to be the pet human, Arland. I won’t let myself be treated that way again. My trust in your society has been shattered. I swore to myself that I would never return to the Holy Anocracy. I wanted to save myself and Helen from rejection. I can probably take it. It would crush me, but I would survive it. I’m an adult. Helen is a child. The first time it happened, she was too young to fully understand it, but now she is old enough. I can’t put her through it. To have found a home and a father and then to have it ripped away from her for the second time would be too unfair. I can’t let anyone throw us away again. I won’t. But I can’t keep my promise to stay away from the Anocracy either, because the thought of you leaving terrifies me and because my child is half-vampire. She deserves to know where she came from.”

“I am the reflection of my House,” Arland said. “I love you. I see you as you are, a woman who would be an asset to any House. If you come with me, those close to me will see you as you are as well, and they will come to love you. There is not a person alive who wouldn’t care about Helen.”

“Tell it to her grandmother.”

Arland bared his fangs. “I will when opportunity arises. Marry me.”

“I can’t. But I can’t let you go either. I want to come with you, and I don’t know if I am doing it for Helen, for myself, or because I am too weak to do the right thing and thinking about not being with you makes me desperate. I won’t lie to you, Arland. I used to finesse my husband, because he left me no choice, and I will never do that again. I can’t promise I will marry you. I can’t even promise I will stay with you. I can promise that I will try to prove to your House that I am worth it. This is so much less than you deserve. I have only two conditions. One, you do not pressure me into marriage. Two, if I want to leave, you will provide me with a passage back to Earth. Take us with you or don’t. The decision is yours.”

She stared straight ahead, looking in his direction but not seeing him.

“Maud.”

She met his gaze.

“How quickly can you pack?” he asked.

Now…

The stars died, replaced by total darkness.

Maud hugged her shoulders. The cold, slightly rough texture of the armor felt familiar under her fingertips. Reassuring. The plan was to never wear armor again, but lately life had taken a baseball bat to her plans.

The floor-to-ceiling display only simulated a window, with the cabin itself hidden deep within the bowels of the destroyer, but the darkness yawned at her all the same, cold and timeless. The Void, the vampires called it. That which exists between the stars. It always made her uneasy.

“Are we dead, Mama?”

Maud turned. Helen stood a few feet away, hugging a soft teddy bear her aunt bought her for Christmas. Her long blond hair stuck out on the right side, crinkled from her sleep. From here she could almost pass for a human.

“No. We’re not dead. We’re traveling in hyperspace. It would take too much time to get where we need to go under normal propulsion, so we thread through a wrinkle in the fabric of space like a needle. Come, I want to show you something.”

Helen padded over. Maud swept her up—she was getting so big so fast—and held her to the display.

“This is the Void. You remember what Daddy told you about the Void?”

“It’s where the souls go.”

“That’s right. When a vampire dies, his soul must pass through the Void before it is decided if it goes to Paradise or to the empty plains of Nothing.”

“I don’t like it,” Helen whispered and stuck her head into Maud’s shoulder.

Maud almost purred. These moments, when Helen still acted like a baby, were more and more rare now. Soon she would grow up and walk away, but for now Maud could still hold her and smell her scent. Helen was hers for a little while longer.

“Don’t be afraid. You have to look, or you will miss the best part.”

Helen turned. They stood together, looking at the darkness.

A tiny spark flared in the center of the display. The brilliant point of light rushed toward the spaceship, unfurling like a glittering flower, spinning, its petals opening wide and wider, painted with all the majesty of the galaxy.

Helen stared, her eyes opened wide, the starglow of the display playing on her face.

The dazzling universe engulfed them. The ship tore through the last shreds of darkness and emerged into normal space. A beautiful planet hung in front of them, orbiting a warm yellow star, a green and blue jewel wrapped in a turquoise veil of gently glowing atmosphere. Daesyn. It wasn’t Earth, but it could’ve been her prettier sister. Two moons orbited the planet, one large and purple, closer to the surface, the other tinted with orange, smaller and distant. The sunsets had to be spectacular.

“Is this the planet where Lord Arland lives?”

“Yes, my flower.” Maud set Helen on the floor. “You should get dressed.”

Helen scampered off, like a bunny released from its hutch.

The turquoise planet looked at Maud through the screen. The home world of House Krahr.

This was crazy. Certifiable.

If she went on logic only, she should’ve never come here. She should’ve never brought Helen here.

The planet grew on her screen.

Maud hugged her shoulders. It would’ve been so much more prudent to walk away and stay in her sister’s inn. To relearn being a human after trying for so many years to become the perfect vampire.

Being in love in the inn was simple. They were fighting for their lives every day. It left little room for small things, but in ordinary life those little things often became important enough to shatter relationships. Jumping headfirst into vampire politics was unwise, especially House Krahr politics. Melizard would’ve cut off his arm to own this ship, and Arland drove it back and forth like it cost him nothing. The threshold was that much higher.

When she had married Melizard, she had hoped for acceptance, second family, and trust. She found none of it. Now…Now she just wanted to find out if House Krahr was worth it. She was no longer willing to settle. They would take them in as their own, or they wouldn’t need to bother.

A sphere slipped from behind the curve of the planet. It didn’t have the usual pitted look of a satellite. She squinted at it.

What the hell…

Maud pinched her arm. The sphere was still there. Three rings wrapped around it, twisting one over the other, each consisting of a metal core bristling with a latticework of spikes. From here the rings appeared delicate, almost ethereal. She touched the display, zooming in on the rings.

Not spikes. Cannons.

House Krahr had built a mobile battle station. Her mind refused to accept the existence of so much firepower concentrated in one place.

Dear universe, how much did that thing cost? Arland had mentioned that because of her sister’s help, their House was doing well, but this, this was off the scale.

Maud’s fingers went to the blank crest on her armor. The crest controlled the armor’s functions and granted her entry to the Holy Anocracy and permission to operate within its borders as a free agent, a mercenary. She wouldn’t be trapped on Daesyn. If things went sour, she could always grab Helen and go back to Dina’s inn, she told herself. She made Arland promise to provide a passage, but Dina had insisted on sharing the proceeds of the sale of weapons they collected during the attack at the inn. She could easily buy a passage back.

“Mama?” Helen asked. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost, my flower.”

She turned. Helen had put on the outfit they bought at Baha-char, the galactic bazaar. Black leggings, black tunic over a crimson shirt. She looked like a full-blooded vampire. But she was only half. The other vampires would not let her forget it. At least not until she beat every last one of them into submission.

“Come here.” Maud crouched and adjusted Helen’s belt, cinching her daughter’s tiny waist. She reached for the small box waiting on the shelf next to the bed and opened it. A strip of black metal lay inside, ten inches long and one inch wide. Maud took it out and placed it on Helen’s left wrist. Tiny red lights sparked inside the metal. The strip curved around Helen’s wrist, joined into a bracelet, and shrank, adhering to her skin. Thin rectangles formed on its surface.

“Do you remember how to use it?” Maud asked.

Helen nodded.

“Show me.”

Helen tapped the center rectangle with her finger. A translucent screen showing the layout of the ship flared into life one inch above her wrist.

“Call Mommy.”

Maud’s own unit came to life, tossing her own screen out with Helen’s image on it.

“Good.”

The harbinger unit served as the Holy Anocracy’s version of a smartphone. Equipped with a powerful processor, it made calls, tracked its target, provided maps, monitored vital signs, tracked schedules, and simplified dozens of small tasks to make one’s life easier. In adults it interfaced with armor, but Helen was wearing a child’s version. It couldn’t be removed or turned off by anyone other than a parent.

For the past five years, keeping Helen alive had been the core of Maud’s existence. Once they made planetfall, there would be times Helen would have to be on her own. Thinking about it set Maud’s teeth on edge. The harbinger didn’t take away the anxiety, but it blunted it, and right now she would take all of the help she could get.

“All set?” Maud asked.

“All set,” Helen said. “Can I bring my teddy?”

“We’ll bring all our things.”

They had so little, it didn’t take them long to pack. Five minutes later, Maud swung the bag over her shoulder, glanced one final time at the cabin and display, and took Helen by the hand. The door slid open at their approach. Maud squared her shoulders and raised her head and they stepped through it.

Let the games begin. She was ready.

***

Space crews had a saying, “Volume is cheap; mass is expensive.” In space, where air and friction weren’t a factor, it didn’t matter how large something was, only how much it weighed. It took a certain amount of fuel to accelerate one pound of matter to the right velocity, and then a roughly equal amount of fuel to decelerate it.

House Krahr had taken that saying and run with it. The arrival deck of the ship looked like the courtyard of a castle in the finest Holy Anocracy tradition. Square gray stones paved the floor and veneered the towering walls. Long crimson banners of House Krahr, marked with a black profile of the saber-toothed predator, stretched between the false windows. The gentle breeze of atmospheric circulators stirred the fabric, and the several krahr on the banners seemed to snarl in response.

In the middle of the chamber, a vala tree spread its black branches. Solid, with a sturdy trunk and a mass of limbs that divided and subdivided into a vast crown, the vala reminded Maud of basswood, but unlike the gentle green of linden trees, the vala’s leaves were a vivid scarlet. The blood-red heart of the ship, a remnant of the origin world, sacred to vampires. No major ritual took place in vampire society without the vala tree to witness it.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, a two-foot wide stream meandered through the smooth stream bed, crossing the deck, winding around the tree in a perfect circle, and disappearing beneath the roots. Maud could’ve understood if it was part of the water supply that would be later recycled, but there were bright sparkly fish in it. The stream served as a decoration, nothing more. The luxury boggled the mind.

There had to be some way to close it off, if the ship had to maneuver, Maud reflected. Otherwise they would have a mess on their hands. There was nothing more fun than unsecured water in zero-G.

“Can I?” Helen whispered.

“Yes,” Maud told her.

Helen ran to the tree, little heels flashing.

Maud followed slowly. She’d walked across stones just like these countless times before when she was married. If she let it, her memory would change their pale gray to a warm travertine beige; the crimson banners to Carolina-blue; and the dark ceiling of the ship to an orange-tinted sky.

She stopped before the vala tree. Every vampire planet had them. If the climate couldn’t support them, the vampires built hothouses just to plant them. A vala tree was the heart of the clan, the core of the family, a sacred place. The blossoms of the vala tree had decorated her bridal crown. It was a great honor, appropriate to the bride of the second son of the Marshal of House Ervan.

A hot pain pinched her chest. It’s in the past, she told herself. It is over and done with. Let it go.

Careful footsteps approached from behind, trying to sneak up on her. She hid a smile.

“Greetings, Lord Soren.”

The footsteps stopped, then resumed, and Lord Soren halted next to her. Vampires aged like their castles—growing bigger and sturdier, as if time itself reinforced them. Lord Soren was the perfect example of a middle-aged vampire: wide in the shoulders, muscled like a grizzled tiger, with a spectacular mane of dark-brown hair and a short but thick beard, both touched with gray. His syn-armor, midnight black with red marks denoting his rank of Knight Sergeant, and the small round crest of House Krahr, bore a few scars here and there, much like Lord Soren himself. A testament to life spent in battle. He looked like a humanoid tank.

He was also Arland’s uncle. She had worked hard to get him to like her. Lord Soren wasn’t complicated. His worldview came down to three things: honor, tradition, and family. He dedicated his life to upholding all three, and they were never in conflict. He viewed her favorably, but how far exactly his good will extended remained to be seen.

He pondered Helen, who had dropped her bag and was dipping her fingers into the stream. “The child loves the water.”

“There is little water on Karhari, my lord.” There was nothing on Karhari except miles of dry, hard dirt, and it desiccated those sent there until they hardened and dried as well.

“It’s a new experience for her.”

“It is.”

They watched her in comfortable silence.

“It’s good that you joined us,” he said.

She hoped he was right.

“Perhaps, with your presence, my nephew will stay put for longer than five minutes before running off on another fool’s errand halfway across the galaxy.”

The arrival deck was slowly filling up with people waiting to go planetside.

If he does, I’ll run off with him. “I understand Lady Ilemina is in residence?”

“She is.”

Sooner or later she would have to meet Arland’s mother. It wouldn’t be a pleasant meeting.

“Has my nephew told you why I had to come to the inn to fetch him?” Lord Soren asked.

“No.”

“What do you know of House Serak?”

She raked her memory. “One of the larger Houses. They control most of their planet, which is also named Serak, if I recall correctly. They’ve never produced a Warlord, but they did come close twice in the past five centuries. After suffering defeat in the Seven Star War, their influence diminished, but they’re still formidable. They’re also hungry to regain what they’ve lost and that makes them dangerous.”

Lord Soren nodded in approval. “And their sworn enemy?”

It took her a second. “House Kozor. A slightly smaller House, but a great deal more aggressive. They control the second habitable planet in the Serak system.”

“They’ve decided to bury the bones of their fallen,” he said.

Interesting. “An alliance?”

“A wedding.”

Maud blinked. “Even so?”

“Yes. The son of the Serak’s Preceptor will marry the daughter of the Kozor’s Archchaplain. They required a neutral location in which the ceremony can be performed.”

“Naturally.” It was a sword-edge wedding. Nobody trusted anyone, and everyone was waiting for an ambush. “Did House Krahr offer them such a haven?”

“There was no way to reasonably refuse,” Lord Soren said. “We dominate the quadrant and Serak is only one hyperspace jump away from us. The wedding is in eight days. It would’ve been more appropriate for Arland to have been on the planet to assist with preparations, but since he’s been otherwise occupied, we’ll be arriving about the same time as the wedding guests.”

“Correct me, but isn’t there another vampire-controlled star system, closer than this one, to the Serak system?”

“There is.”

Something was off about this wedding. “One wonders why two Houses with such lack of trust want to be bound.”

“Supposedly to end their conflict and form a pact.”

“If they are unable to come together for even the most joyous of occasions and require a neutral location and a host to oversee them, their alliance is doomed from the start. There must be willingness from both Houses for the marriage to hold.”

Lord Soren studied her.

“How large of a wedding party are you expecting, my lord?”

“One hundred guests from each side.”

“And they will arrive armed?”

“They will.”

House Krahr could field tens of thousands of troops. Two hundred vampires, no matter how elite, shouldn’t have posed a threat. So why did this suddenly make her uneasy?

The door in the far wall slid open and Arland strode through it. She saw his handsome face, framed with a mane of blond hair.

His blue eyes found her. He grinned. Her heart skipped a beat.

Damn it.

Arland zeroed in on them and broke into a march. He moved like a massive predatory cat, deliberately, smoothly, the blood mace at his waist a reminder of his rank. He’d fought for the place at the top and won. All of Krahr’s military obeyed him without question. And his mother was the Head of the House, the Preceptor.

Arland was the perfect embodiment of everything a vampire lord should be. Smart, powerful, fearless, and loyal. A paragon of vampire knighthood. It took Maud exactly two seconds to deduce that he was his uncle’s pride and joy. He was likely his mother’s pride and joy, too. And she was a human nobody.

“Lord Soren,” Maud murmured. “Lady Ilemina must be stressed by these preparations. Perhaps it would be wiser not to mention Lord Arland’s proposal.” And her refusing of it.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the Knight Sergeant said.

She let out a small breath of relief.

“Unfortunately, my nephew took it upon himself to inform his mother already.”

What? She kept her voice calm. “He did?”

“Oh yes,” Lord Soren said, his face looking like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “He sent the message two days before we left the planet, by an emergency jump-drone, announcing that he would be bringing a bride and to make sure adequate accommodations were prepared.”

Damn it, Arland. “He didn’t ask her blessing?”

“No. I believe he commanded the household to make themselves ‘presentable.’”

Because his mother would never find that offensive. She closed her eyes for a tiny moment.

“Then he sent a second message, stating that you turned him down but will be joining him anyway.”

Arland had accelerated. He was looking at her as if she was the lone light in a dark room.

“Did his mother reply?”

“Yes.”

Maud steeled herself. “What did she say?”

“Just five words,” Lord Soren said. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

Great. Just great.

Soren reached over and awkwardly patted her arm. “It could be worse.”

She couldn’t for the life of her see how.

Arland reached them. “Lady Maud.”

His voice sent a soft rumble through her. She hated that. It was a weakness, but she had no idea how to compensate for it. She wished she could be immune.

“Lord Arland.”

Lord Soren discreetly stepped away and strolled closer to the arch of the summoning gate. Helen abandoned the fish and the water and brought her bag over. Arland held out his hands, but Helen stayed by her side.

“No hug?” he asked.

“Mommy said to be polite.”

“There are certain appearances that must be observed, my lord,” Maud said.

“I never cared much for appearances,” he said. His eyes were soft and warm. Inviting.

She needed to get her head examined.

“Unfortunately, some of us are not in the position to not care.”

The summoning gate turned crimson. Lord Soren stepped into the light and vanished.

“My lady.” Arland indicated the gate with his hand.

He reached for her bag, but she shouldered it out of the way. They walked toward the gate.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked quietly.

“You told your mother.”

“Of course I did. You’re not some shameful secret I’m going to hide.”

“No, I’m a disgraced exile who had the audacity to turn down the most beloved son of House Krahr.”

He considered it. “Not the most beloved. My cousin is much more adorable than me. He is two and his hair is curly.”

“Lord Arland…”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “You could always remedy it and say yes.”

“No.”

Helen was looking at them. Maud realized they were standing in front of the summoning gate and bickering.

“Do you remember this?” Arland asked Helen.

Helen nodded and eyed the gate. “It makes my tummy sick.”

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Maud asked.

“We have to do it quick, like charging a castle.” Arland reached out, swung Helen onto his shoulder, and ducked through the gate.

“Arland!” she snapped.

He was gone. She was on her own on the arrival deck with half of Arland’s crew gaping at her. She clenched her teeth and walked into the crimson glow.