The Hidden Citadel

They entered what was clearly Medici’s personal study, a circular room with a domed ceiling painted with constellations that seemed to move subtly in Elliott’s peripheral vision. The furniture was an eclectic mix of periods—a Renaissance desk, Victorian chairs, and modern computer equipment somehow integrated into antique cabinets and desks.

“Brandy?” Medici offered, moving to a sideboard. “I keep it for guests, though I confess I much prefer wine.

Elliott accepted and sipped at the brandy—Hennessy Paradis, if he wasn’t mistaken—and was pleased to discover that he had lost none of his taste for it, although the alcohol didn’t affect him anywhere nearly as much as it had before his transformation.

“Now then,” Medici said, his demeanor shifting to a more businesslike attitude. “I would like to discuss tonight’s events. The attack on you was too well-coordinated and too well-timed to be random. It’s clear that at least one unfriendly party knew your location and sought to exploit your relative vulnerability as a fledgling.”

Before Elliott could respond, the study doors opened and Katarina entered, followed by two other vampires Elliott didn’t recognize. One carried a tablet, the other a folder that looked like it had been pulled from a Cold War archive.

“Lord Medici,” Katarina said formally. “We’ve completed the preliminary investigation.”

“And?”

“The hunters were employed by Silver Dawn Consultants, a mercenary corporation based out of Delaware. They’re mostly active in Asia and Africa, which suggests someone didn’t want this pointing directly back at them.”

The vampire with the tablet stepped forward. “We’ve traced their communications, my Lord. Encrypted, naturally, but our code monkeys were able to crack it without any trouble. The activation order bounced around, but the original transmission came from a server in Moscow.”

Elliott felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. “Moscow?”

Medici’s expression could have been carved from marble. “Continue.”

“Our financial forensics confirm it,” the second vampire added, opening his folder. “Three million dollars, transferred through a series of shell companies to an SDC account with UBS in Boston, that ultimately lead back to Swiss accounts controlled by the Romanov organization.”

The silence that followed was profound. Elliott could hear the heartbeats of human servants somewhere in the complex, the hum of electronics, the distant sound of water flowing through hidden pipes. But from the vampires in the room, there was nothing but stillness.

“That fucking Russian!” Elliott expostulated suddenly, his anger overriding any sense of diplomacy. “He sat at that table with me, smiled at me, voted to accept me, and then tried to have me killed?”

“It would appear so,” Medici said calmly. Too calmly.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Elliott stood, pacing to the window that showed only an artfully lit underground garden. “He attacked your people right in your own territory!”

“That’s very likely true.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“I will do nothing.” Medici’s voice cut through Elliott’s gathering rage like a blade. “Nothing at all. Now, sit down, Elliott.”

Elliott turned, shocked. “Nothing? He tried to kill me!”

“And he failed. You’re here, perfectly well, and you’ve learned a valuable lesson about the merciless realities of our world.” Medici’s dark eyes held no sympathy. “Andrei made a calculated move. He tested our defenses, probed us for weakness, and demonstrated that the newest member of our community is indeed vulnerable. But he did so with sufficiently plausible deniability that I cannot act without seeming the aggressor.”

“Plausible deniability? We have proof!”

“We have nothing of the sort. What we have is evidence that someone in his organization funded the mercenaries. There is no evidence whatsoever that Andrei personally ordered the hit. Any number of his subordinates could have acted independently, whether seeking to curry favor with him or seeking to undermine him by provoking my wrath. Regardless, unless we can prove his direct involvement, there is no point in responding at this juncture.” Medici spread his hands.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t Romanov in charge of the organization?”

“To a certain extent. Viktor, his predecessor, is now on the Council but he still has considerable influence within the family. Which is precisely why we cannot act. If we were to lodge a complaint with the Council, or worse, strike back at Andrei directly, he would simply produce a guilty party, who would admit his guilt and accept his punishment without demure. Andrei would be left unscathed.”

Elliott sank back into his chair, disbelief warring with fury. “So he just gets away with it?”

“For now.” Medici’s smile was thin and dangerous. “To my mind, Andrei has overplayed his hand, though he doesn’t realize it yet. I believe he thinks me too soft, too attached to modern conveniences and corporate warfare to remember the older ways. He forgets that I learned patience when Machiavelli was chasing whores in Firenze.”

“Patience.” Elliott laughed bitterly. “I could have died tonight.”

“But you didn’t. And now you know to be more careful. To expose yourself less readily. To understand that immortality doesn’t mean invulnerability.” Medici rose gracefully. “You’re angry, Elliott. That’s natural. But anger without purpose is nothing more than noise. Channel your anger. Harness the motivation it provides you. Use it to make you stronger.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one they tried to assassinate!”

“No,” Medici agreed. “I’m merely the one whose protection was challenged. Whose authority was called into question. Whose investment was imperiled.” His voice carried a dark edge now, a reminder of the ruthless killer always lurking beneath the civilized veneer. “Do not mistake my restraint for indifference, Elliott. Andrei Romanov will pay for tonight’s insult. But he will pay at a time and place of my choosing, not in some clumsy, childish tit-for-tat that would only unite the other families against us.”

Elliott wanted to argue further, but something in Medici’s expression suggested that would be unwise.

“Now, do you really think I don’t understand how you feel? I cannot count the number of assassination attempts I have survived.” He smiled coldly. “And yet, I am still here.”

Out of the Shadows is available in Kindle, KU, audibook, and hardcover editions.

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