Free The Rift Walker by Clay Griffith, Susan Griffith

swung open, General Montrose stormed in and moved to one side.
    Prince Cesare entered.
    Goronwy jerked with surprise. “My lord! I was just planning to depart for the palace.”
    “You miserable goat!” The vampire's face was like white marble with sharp edges. His blue eyes almost steamed. His taloned hand grabbed the witchfinder by the throat. “How dare you force me to set foot in this wretched place. Tell me why you should still be alive when I stop talking.”
    In Cesare's grip, Goronwy managed to croak, “So that I may present my latest colleague, Dr. Selkirk of Alexandria, a renowned and illustrious geomancer.”
    Cesare eyed the captive with sudden interest, shoving Goronwy back in his chair. The vampire could tell by the dejected southerner's appearance that he was no local bog priest. Selkirk, in turn, couldn't take his eyes off the fearsome, legendary vampire as he approached.
    The prince said, “So, this is one of Constantine's spies. Is he important? Or a nobody?”
    “Imminently important, my lord. He is the very one sent to London in the early spring searching for Princess Adele.”
    Selkirk's heart pounded, terrified now as Cesare growled, “You? You walked into London and helped the princess escape? You must be dear to the court of Alexandria. Excellent.” The vampire turned back to Goronwy. “I want to know everything he knows. Everything!”
    “Of course, Prince Cesare. We've had many useful conferences and seminars already. For instance, I can tell you of a village that hasn't seen a vampire in many years, which practices vigorous religious rites. It's called Hawkshaw.”
    Selkirk buried his face in his hands, trembling.
    “Yes? Perhaps we can arrange for them to see a few vampires shortly.” Cesare fussed with his coat in mild agitation. He was growing perturbed in the troubling air of Bethlem. “Break him, Witchfinder. Turn him into something I can use. And if you keep me waiting again, I'll choose another witchfinder from among the wretches in your cells. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Yes, indeed, Sire.”
    Prince Cesare swept from the room. General Montrose grinned and followed at some distance.
    Goronwy inspected his cold pipe without great concern. “You see? Cesare values me greatly. And he'll come to value you as well. I'm very excited about our future collaboration.”
    “Collaboration!” Selkirk cried. “What are you talking about? You just spew words like colleague and institute as if they had meaning. You pretend to be some sort of scholar instead of what you are, which is a slave. Don't you understand where you are?”
    “On the contrary. I think it's you who doesn't understand where he is. But you soon shall.”

 
    I T WAS A long, hot coach ride to Giza. Adele saw snatches of green fields and palms rolling past, surrounded by the turgid waters of the Nile delta crowded with barges pumping smoke into the air as they churned through canals. The riverbanks were crowded with warehouses, factories, and homes born of Alexandria's southern sprawl. She chatted amiably with Mamoru, who sat across from her in the spacious steam carriage, about numerous topics—geology, botany, mineralogy—but they never touched on politics or the wedding, much to Adele's relief.
    They passed the narrow green boundary between southern greater Alexandria and northern greater Cairo. Steam-driven cargo carriers moved up the Nile. Trains whipped past, trailing smoke and cinders. Camel caravans wandered in and out of the morass, fearlessly driven by Bedouin merchants. The traffic crushed the carriage to a crawl, and Adele found herself staring at the sharp bulk of the Great Pyramid as it appeared through the haze. Mamoru seemed inordinately impatient, craning his head out the window, clucking his tongue at the driver's inability to penetrate the phalanx of traffic.
    “Relax,” Adele said to him. “Giza isn't going anywhere. If you'd wanted speed, we should've made this an official visit and cleared