The other Vampyre looked grim, her complexion pale. “Yes, sir.”
While Yolanthe’s team searched the property, Julian walked through the silent house. When he came to a darkened office, he flipped on the light and went to sit at the desk. A forensics team would scour everything in the room, including any files, but for now, he turned on a desktop computer and watched as it powered up.
The welcome screen appeared, with a prompt to set up the computer. It had been wiped and reset to the factory default.
Leaving the office, he walked upstairs and looked through the stylish rooms. Standing in Justine’s bedroom, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of expensive perfume.
What was she doing now? Where was she headed next?
If he didn’t find her in the next twenty four hours, his search could very well become lengthy. He could freeze her assets, at least those he could find. But Justine was not the kind of person to keep all of her assets in easily accessible places. No Vampyre of any age would. Long-term survival was often based on a wide diversity of resources.
So, she would have money. And as Dominic had pointed out, she had allies. While she might have slaughtered her household, she wouldn’t give up on her lifestyle in the Nightkind demesne so easily.
She had history here, and political aspirations. She had grudges.
“Ninety-two,” Yolanthe said from the doorway. She sounded furious. “What kind of monster kills ninety-two of her own people?”
The question was so clearly rhetorical, he didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he opened his eyes and said, “When news of what happened here gets out, let’s hope she loses a few friends over it.” He turned to the doorway. “We need a forensics team out here. Also, the computer in the office has been set to the factory default, but maybe Gavin will know some electronic voodoo that can recover data.”
Yolanthe nodded. “It’s four o’clock, and daybreak will be soon. I’ll get a human team out to go over the property. We can take the computer with us.”
He nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
The flight back to Evenfall was silent and grim. Julian watched out the window as the eastern sky lightened with predawn. After landing, as he strode into the castle, angry Vampyres tried to besiege him with questions about Internet access and when they could leave.
In an instant, Yolanthe’s team surrounded him, fangs out and snarling a warning.
The complaints cut off abruptly. Shocked and staring, the other Vampyres fell back.
One of the team split off from the rest to take the computer to Gavin. Yolanthe stayed in the group that maintained a secure perimeter around Julian as he strode to his suite. Once he gained access to his rooms, he gave orders that he was not to be disturbed, and he got to work.
On a lockdown, only two dedicated lines were left open. One of them went to Gavin in the IT headquarters, and the other fed into Julian’s suite.
Gavin had also set up a program on Julian’s computer that kept a running total of who was in residence at Evenfall, including council members. At any given time, usually when the council was in session, Evenfall could potentially have up to three hundred souls.
Julian checked it quickly. One hundred and eighty-nine people were locked in, including two council members, Annis and Leopold. He couldn’t remember the business that had brought them to Evenfall, and it didn’t matter — they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Right now, they were two less council members he had to worry about.
The icon for his email inbox indicated he had nearly a thousand messages. He ignored those as well. What he focused on instead was composing a letter to the human governor of California.
The demesnes of the Elder Races overlaid human states and governments. Humans were governed by human law, and those of the Elder Races were subject to the laws of their demesnes. The borders that separated them were invisible ones of race and community.
The global unifier was commerce. Sales taxes were split, and the taxes on income went to the relevant agency, either Elder Races or human. For the most part, the two different realms coexisted well enough.
Sometimes they didn’t, especially when the clashes of one spilled into the physical space of the other.
This would be one of those times.
As soon as the letter was finished, Julian put it in the body of an email and hit send. Afterward, he sent copies of the letter to local human officials.
When he had finished, he went to the doors that led to the hall, opened them and told Yolanthe, “See that the media room is ready, and let any press we have in Evenfall know that I’ll be making an official statement in a half an hour.”
Speculation shifted in her dark eyes, but all she said was, “Yes, sir.”
He strode into his bedroom to change into a uniform, not parade dress, which was reserved for more ceremonial occasions, but somber black. Then he left the suite and, surrounded by his guards, he strode to the media room in the IT headquarters. More people had gathered in the large communal spaces and hall, but this time, no one attempted to stop or talk to him. Instead they watched him and his guards in tense silence.
Fifteen minutes later, in the media room, they were ready to shoot. Julian looked into the cameras. “Over the last twelve hours, there have been two significant attacks against Nightkind government officials, resulting in multiple casualties. The death count is now well over a hundred.”
At least it was, when you counted all the attackers who had died going up against Xavier and Tess. He said, “Significantly, most of those who died were humans.”
As he paused, no one made a sound, although everyone in the room stirred, including his guards. While technically, he spoke the truth — most of those in Justine’s household had been human — once humans became part of a Vampyre’s household, they were considered to be part of the Nightkind demesne.
Still, their deaths would have a hell of an emotional punch. The massacre signified a massive betrayal of the trust Julian had worked so hard to build between the Vampyres and the human population, and Julian was not above twisting the literal truth to his advantage whenever necessary.
Deliberately, he continued. “These terrible crimes must be answered. As King, I am placing the Nightkind demesne under martial law, effective immediately. From sundown today, any Nightkind creature found more than a quarter of a mile away from its domicile of residence will be subject to the severest penalty by law, up to and including death. Martial law is an extreme measure, to be used only in cases of emergency. The Nightkind demesne is presently in just that kind of emergency. People of the Nightkind demesne, the movement restrictions are for your protection, as we search for the criminals who initiated the attacks and we take every necessary step to make sure that another attack doesn’t happen.”
For a brief moment, he hesitated. The temptation to call Justine out in public grew so strong he had to clench his muscles against giving in to it. Publicly identifying her as the person responsible for so many deaths would be even more effective at stopping her movements than implementing martial law, but without acceptable proof to back up his claim, he knew the entire Nightkind council would turn against him.
None of them, not even Dominic, would tolerate an unsubstantiated attack against one of their own. The resulting backlash would end up hurting Julian’s ability to hunt for Justine far more than it would help. He needed to gather proof first, the kind of proof that the council would accept.
His frustration boiled over. For the first time in his speech, he let his fury show in his clenched features and burning gaze. He felt his fangs descend and let them show in an expression of naked aggression. “Rest assured,” he said softly, “we have no higher priority than this. We will hunt down those who are responsible, and they will be brought to justice. I won’t be taking questions today. That will be all.”