Out of the Shadows 031
A 5-star machine-augmented MIDNIGHT'S WAR novel
“Ten million of Romanov’s wergild will be transferred to your personal account,” Medici continued. “Consider it compensation for the offense given.”
“I don’t want his money.”
“Of course you do,” Medici said mildly. “Money is power, and power is survival in our world. Besides, think how it will annoy him to know you’re spending his funds. Perhaps you could invest it publicly in your life extension research—pour a little salt in the wound, as it were.”
Despite his irritation, Elliott felt his lips twitch with amusement. “That would be petty.”
“Magnificently so. I encourage it.” Medici returned to his seat. “But there’s another thing. I will require you to accept Andre’s apology. In public, with good grace, as befits my progeny.”
Elliott set down his glass carefully. “You want me to pretend I believe his lies?”
“I want you to demonstrate to everyone that you understand how our society functions. That you can play the game at the highest levels.” Medici’s tone brooked no argument. “There will be a gathering next month on neutral ground in Geneva. Andrei will be there, as will a number of other major players. You will attend as my representative, and you will be gracious when he offers his personal apologies to you.”
Elliott forced himself to nod. “I understand. I won’t embarrass you.”
“Good. This is how we prevent centuries-old conflicts from destroying everything we’ve built. You will smile, you will accept his hand, and you will plot your eventual revenge upon him in silence like a civilized vampire.”
Medici’s demeanor softened slightly. “I know this rankles. Your human instincts shriek for action and immediate revenge. But immortality requires a different perspective. Romanov made his move, it failed, and now he’s paid for it. The ledger is balanced. But ledgers can always be reopened when the time is right.”
“When will the time be right?”
“Perhaps in a decade. Perhaps in a century. Perhaps never, if he proves sufficiently useful to us.” Medici shrugged elegantly. “The point is, you have the time to decide. All the time in the world.”
Elliott digested this along with the blood wine. The vampire approach to conflict struck him as a sort of three-dimensional chess played across centuries with moves and countermoves echoing through decades, with alliances shifting like tides and revenge served at temperatures approaching absolute zero.
“There’s something else,” Medici said, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “My security teams have swept your facilities and residences. The immediate threat has passed. You’re free to return to your former life, to the extent that you can.”
“Return to HemaTech?” Elliott felt an unexpected mix of relief and trepidation. “Is that wise?”
“Your absence has been noticed. Questions are being asked that will become harder to avoid if you remain hidden much longer.” Medici produced a tablet, showing headlines from tech blogs and business papers. “Your CFO has done admirably in your absence, but the company needs its leader. Especially now, as you navigate the transition from public to private funding.”
Elliott scanned the headlines—speculation about his health, rumors of a hostile takeover, anonymous sources suggesting everything from a nervous breakdown to a secret merger. The vultures were circling.
“I suppose I can’t run HemaTech from a bunker,” he admitted.
“You could, but it would be inefficient. Besides, displaying fear emboldens our enemies. Return to your life, but with the appropriate precautions. I’m assigning you a permanent security detail—discrete but highly capable. And we’ll establish safe houses throughout the city, places where you can retreat if threatened.”
“To whom does my security report?”
“To you, but as my representative,” Medici corrected. “Your safety is my concern. If they believe you are taking unnecessary risks, they will inform me. But if they do so, they will let you know. They are not spies.”
Elliott heard the qualifications in that statement but he didn’t push. He had learned that vampire society ran on surveillance and information as much as it did on blood.
“When should I leave?”
“Tonight, if you wish. Or tomorrow. At your convenience.” Medici paused, seeming to consider something. “Miss del Giorgio has expressed her willingness to accompany you and help you continue your readjustment. And you can trust her to find the appropriate daytime assistants you’ll require.”
Elliott kept his expression neutral despite the sudden acceleration of his pulse—or what passed for a pulse in his transformed body. “That’s generous of her.”
“She’s taken a personal interest in your welfare. I encourage such connections, as they help the newly transformed maintain psychological stability during the transition period.” Medici’s expression gave nothing away, but Elliott sensed there was an amount of calculation beneath the casual suggestion. “Of course, the choice is yours.”
“I’d welcome her company.”
Out of the Shadows is available in Kindle, KU, audibook, and hardcover editions.
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