Free On a Darkling Plain by Unknown Author Page A

Malkavian, whose face was always as strangely ruddy as if he were constantly sipping blood to replenish the glow, disliked him so. Perhaps it was a part of his insanity. Supposedly all members of the Malkavian clan were mad in one way or another, although Gunter never displayed any obvious signs of derangement.
    “How kind of you to honor us with your presence,” Gunter said snidely. “How fortunate that the petty problems of the domain have finally kindled your interest.”
    Elliott supposed that, since he was here to urge everyone to stay calm and work together, he ought to adopt a conciliatory tone. “1 have been dilatory,” he admitted. “I apologize.” Gunter’s beady, bright-blue eyes blinked in surprise. “What have the three of you decided?”
    “Nothing yet,” said Sky with a fluttering, helpless gesture of his long-fingered hand. “We’re just going back and forth.” In the midst of the youngsters, Elliott thought sourly, allowing them to eavesdrop on your uncertainty. Feeding their fear. It was the worst possible way for the elders to palaver. Judy, Sky and Gunter must be far more shaken than they appeared; otherwise, they would never have forgotten such an elementary principle of leadership.
    “Then let’s turn this into a proper meeting,” Elliott said briskly, “and include everyone in the discussion.” He nodded toward the rest of the Kindred in the room.
    Gunter’s mouth twisted. “What insights can these childer offer us?” he demanded.
    “Conceivably some very useful ones,” Elliott replied. “That they can’t match our level of power doesn’t mean they aren’t bright. I would hope that their sires chose them to Embrace partly because they are intelligent. And in any case, they’re in a funk. If we talk with them, perhaps we can calm them down.”
    “A true elder doesn’t care how his brood feels,” said Gunter contemptuously, “only that they obey.” He looked to Judy and Sky for support and then, discerning from their faces that they agreed with Elliott, made a spitting sound.
    “But all right. Invite them all to jabber if you think it will do any good.”
    “Thank you,” Elliott said, hoping he didn’t sound sarcastic.
    He walked to the midpoint of one of the walls — one of the natural visual focal points of the parlor — where a semicircle of four straight-backed chairs and music stands, set up, perhaps, for some string quartet, sat beside a harpsichord that had once belonged to Bach. He clapped his hands together.
    The drone of conversation ebbed. Everyone turned to peer at him. For an instant his stomach felt queasy, just as it always did when he first confronted an audience, even after all these centuries.
    Drawing on his charismatic powers, reminding himself to be the magnificent King Henry and not a useless, disconsolate widower, he said, “May I have your attention, please? We all know the domain is facing a crisis. I think we should discuss the situation and decide on the appropriate measures to set things right. Make yourselves comfortable and we’ll begin.”
    Wood squealed on wood as the vampires shifted their seats around to face him.
    “Thank you,” Elliott said. “As I see it, we have four problems.” He raised his hand to count them off on his fingers. “One: Our prince has mysteriously fallen ill. Two: our financial holdings are under attack. Suddenly people are launching hostile takeovers against our companies, filing suits and seeking injunctions against them, and manipulating stock and bond markets to our detriment. Three: we have a rogue Kindred stalking our territory, feeding wantonly and jeopardizing the Masquerade. And four: someone is roaming the world systematically vandalizing works of art which we created, or which were created by mortals under our patronage.”
    Judy raised her hand. Elliott acknowledged her with a nod. “It can’t be a coincidence that all these things are happening at once,” she said. “Somebody’s pursuing