Carpe Nectem

By Kate Monroe

Henry Devane is a vampire, born of the night and resplendent in its poisoned embrace. Under the command of his sire, Gabriel Canzano, his kind rule the streets of 19th Century London, reigning supreme through the marionette of the hapless Prince Regent, but its citizens are no longer content to sit back and allow the cancer of vampirism to tighten its grip. The Resistance are growing in strength, and their master plan is about to come to fruition.

The first book of the Songbird Trilogy sees a dangerous dance through the tinderbox streets of London unfold to a terrible and breathtaking conclusion. Death lurks around every corner, and each wary step Henry takes draws him deeper into the mire...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Monroe
• Release date: Oct 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301525898

Kate Monroe

Kate Monroe is a red-headed author and editor who lives near the sea in a quiet corner of southern England with her husband, daughter and three crazy cats. She has penchants for chocolate, horror, loud guitars and old movies and a fatal weakness for red wine.Her steampunk novel, The Falcon's Chase, is also available to purchase here on Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/242196

Book preview

CARPE NECTEM

Book 1 of the

Songbird

Trilogy

By Kate Monroe

© 2013 Kate Monroe

Front cover art design © Kate Monroe

Smashwords Edition

All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for the recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

London, 1814

Henry Devane covered the grimy London cobbles in long, loping strides that spoke of a grace he had not possessed when he was truly alive. It was over a hundred years now since his blood was alone in rushing through his now unnaturally cool veins.

Hissed catcalls and enraged snarls ahead of him quickened his step. The infamous rookery of St. Giles was no place to linger after nightfall, even for one as adept at defending himself as Henry was. It was not the darkness that troubled him, of course. The problem was that those lurking in the rookery’s shadows were not all faithful to the vampire who ruled over the country from behind his veil of secrecy.

No weapon could protect him better than those the twist of nature had blessed him with. He made no effort to conceal the sharpening of his nails or the way his pale gums receded to expose the gleaming and pointed teeth bedded inside them.

Numerous gaudily-dressed whores lined the streets he sped along, lounging in every doorway as they proffered both their tits and their throats to the drunken sailors, soldiers and rakes that staggered past. Their heavy rouge and powder could do nothing to disguise the waxy, sunken nature of their skeletal faces.

Henry roughly shoved a whore out of his path when she dared move forward to proposition him. An angry and disdainful sneer distorted his face. He never resorted to taking his sustenance from those who found their living on the streets, for he found them distasteful in the extreme. Even were it not for the pressing nature of tonight’s calling, he would not have given them as much as a ha’penny of his fortune or drunk even a drop of their blood.

The howls in the distance grew ever clearer as the scantily-dressed woman spat in his path before slinking away to lie in wait for a more willing prospect to pass her by. His lips twitched irritably. Leaving her unpunished for her boldness rankled deeply, but the situation ahead of him was clearly spiralling out of control.

Henry put her from his mind and quickened his step as he skirted around a pile of steaming vomit. He dashed round a sharp corner, determinedly seeking the source of the building crescendo of noise.

The unmistakable amber hues of fire danced in front of him as the stench of excrement and death assaulted his finely-honed senses. His nose wrinkled in distaste, but turning back was not an option. He had been sent to discover the source of the disturbance, and to go back to his master without an answer was, quite simply, the equivalent of signing his own death warrant. Even one as favoured as he would not escape Gabriel’s displeasure.

His menacing countenance alone proved enough to cleave a path through the heaving crowds that had gathered. Henry paid no attention to the fiery torches being swung through the air around him as the mob’s roars grew louder. Instead, he simply arched one eyebrow as his sweeping glance assessed all those before him.

To his surprise, vampires and mortals mingled as one. Their fury was incoherent, no one direction for its focus apparent to his discerning eye, but from the crowd a uniformed constable broke free to dash towards him. His helmet had been knocked aside to rest at an unintended jaunty angle over his left ear, and the polished brass buttons of his jacket were covered in crimson streaks of what Henry knew in a heartbeat to be blood.

Henry’s tongue darted out across his lips as the constable drew nearer, but something about the metallic tinge of the blood he usually so craved repelled him. Before he could think on it, the constable sank into a breathless and deferential bow.

Lord Vaughan! Thank the heavens yer here.

Oh, the heavens have nothing to do with me any longer, my man. The crooked smile that drew back the corners of Henry’s mouth was entirely lacking in humour. What is the cause of this uproar?

The constable swallowed hard in the face of the barely-controlled menace in Henry’s demand. Clearly the lord’s reputation had reached even this dingy and forgotten London rookery. A vampire, sire – well, he was when he started the night at any rate.

Henry’s composure momentarily slipped when he looked at the bloodied pile of remains that the constable helplessly gestured to behind him. At first glance he had not even realised that the scattered entrails and bodily fluids were of human origin, but now he looked more closely he realised the true horror of the situation he had been sent into.

The corpse was freshly dead; he could comprehend that much from the blood still steadily leaking from the blackened heart that lay exposed amongst the shattered ribcage enclosing it. The forces that stripped flesh from bone were so extreme that for a moment he could not help but wonder if a stick of dynamite had been thrust inside the unfortunate vampire’s body. There was no lingering smell of gunpowder, though, and no evidence of such a thing other than the utter devastation of the corpse.

He turned on the point of his leather boots and fixed his penetrating stare on the cowering constable. How did he die? he said curtly.

Finished orf with a stake through the heart, milord; no more than a mercy, I swear. He was dying from the inside out and he was in agony, I’ve never seen anything like it before. What you see down there, he went from normal to…to that, in no more than two minutes.

Good God!

The call to a deity he no longer believed in slipped from Henry’s parted lips before he could restrain it. He too had seen nothing like this before and it was no longer any wonder that such a riot had erupted around the site of it. It was enough to badly unnerve even him, with all his experience and the sense of security offered to him from his position in the realm. For those around him who were not so fortunate, the sense of terror and panic must be extreme.

We’ve got the...well, whatever it was that did it to him, milord.

His eyes almost imperceptibly widened. Lead on.

Henry had always welcomed the consuming embrace of the darkness. Even as a boy he had not fallen prey to those childhood nightmares that so taunted his contemporaries, but instead always stayed awake long after darkness fell to revel in the lullaby of the night. It was an irony that never failed to amuse him now darkness had devoured him so entirely.

The constable at his side clearly was not of the same opinion. His eyes darted frantically about as they moved towards the ramshackle gaol at the end of the street, evidently anticipating some form of attack from any or all sides.

Henry’s presence was enough to dissuade each and every one of the torch-bearing rioters from daring to do so much as approach them. In the space of a few strides they covered the ground that lay between them and the gaol without the threat of assailment.

For the first time, his thoughts turned to what it was that he might find within. Whatever it would be was strong enough to strike the fear of God into the constable at his side and destroy his fellow vampire with such force that the entire rookery had been stirred into a state of riot. True, the political climate was such that it had only been the long-awaited spark to ignite the tinder, but it had been a violent spark indeed.

With no little unease Henry strode through the heavy iron door that the constable scurried ahead to hold open. The dingy and dilapidated gaol was entrenched with the stench of piss, vomit and excrement that seemed to be older even than Henry himself. It was all he could do to rein in his disgust as the constable crossed the grime-encrusted stone floor to direct him into the depths of the gaol.

Just down this way, milord. We’ve had to put her in the strongest of the gaol cells, just to be safe.

Henry had not thought that anything else tonight could surprise him. He had been wrong. "Her?!"

Yessir.

He gritted his sharpening teeth as the gloom around them grew ever thicker and more oppressive. The weak and flickering gas lamps that lined the walls were barely able to penetrate the darkness, but as they neared their destination, the light grew just strong enough to reveal the shape of the prisoner in the gaol cell.

She was slight and slender. It was, in his opinion, impossible for her to have overpowered a vampire by sheer force of strength alone. His confusion deepened as the guards inside the cell unlocked the iron bars to allow him entry.

The woman convulsed violently in the chair that she was strapped to. Foaming spittle flew from blood-stained lips as she jerked and thrashed from side to side, but behind the agony in her wide eyes was a spark of bitter and triumphant fury as they locked onto Henry.

Want some, vampire? she ground out with a loud howl as she tore through the skin of her arm with her own teeth and twisted to offer it up to him.

Henry leapt back as his instincts of self-preservation screamed out to him. Again, something about the blood so readily offered up repulsed him. A faint, underlying tinge of herbs rankled deeply, almost toxic in the impulse it awoke in him to flee as far away from it as was possible.

He moved to just outside arm’s reach and crouched down to look directly into her wild eyes, fighting against his instincts all the while. Your name, woman.

His curt demand and the effort he put into reaching out with his mind did not have the desired effect. The woman howled again, this time with shrill, mocking laughter as she battled to bring her fit under control. I need tell you nothing, vampire. Which one are you? You must be one of Gabriel’s, judging by the cut of your clothes and the sneer on your pretty face.

Henry bristled angrily, stung by the utter disdain she wore on her own face. I am Henry Devane, Lord Vaughan; and I hold more power in my little finger than you could ever hope to achieve, you foul little bitch!

Falsely won power – milord! She spat a mouthful of green bile onto the floor in front of him as a cold smile broke out upon his face.

Ah, and now I see it. The Resistance, I presume? he drawled, rising to his feet again to tower over her imperiously. His fury was fading in the face of his bitter contempt. I should have known.

Since vampirism became so prevalent amongst London’s upper classes, a small yet powerful group of protestors had banded together under the simple name of the Resistance. Gabriel particularly despised them, for they focused their hatred upon him after he turned the Prince Regent and brought him under his control.

Of late, the Resistance had become ever bolder and more reckless in their tactics to lift the hold the vampires were extending beyond the city’s boundaries. This, though, seemed to be a new development in their campaign of defiance.

The woman’s head rolled to the side as she fought for breath, drawing rasping gasps before tensing up and lifting her head to look directly into his eyes once more. The Resistance, yes. If only it had been you I had ensnared tonight, Devane! You are Gabriel’s most favoured toy, so I hear.

Henry’s rage exploded once more at being described in such a way. He launched himself at her despite his vivid distaste. "Toy?! Woman, I would tear out your throat before you had even time to blink, should I so desire!"

Her defences momentarily slipped as terror erupted in the depths of her eyes, and he took instant advantage of it to force from her a recollection of the now expired vampire greedily feeding from her before collapsing onto the St. Giles cobbles.

With an agonising clarity of thought, he retreated to the far side of the gaol cell with inhuman rapidity. That, then, was why his fellow vampire had died – a toxin in the woman’s blood. It was a toxin that it seemed was fatal to the mortal as well, even if its effects were not as pronounced or accelerated. The patches of black, poisoned blood now discolouring her skin made that very clear.

Henry wrapped his long arms around his body as he grimly fixed his penetrating stare upon her once more. How many like you are out there, woman? Tell me.

The woman was fast losing all capability to hold a conversation of any kind. Her mask of anger had faded to be replaced by dazed and bitter confusion, and her seizures were coming in shorter intervals and arriving with more force each time.

He grew deeply frustrated as he realised all chance of securing answers to his many questions was receding from his grasp. Henry turned his piercing stare onto the small group of constables lining the walls. What did she say before I arrived?

Not even a word, milord. A pot-bellied and corpulent man touched his throat nervously as he spoke up. She kept her gob shut until you turned up – we tried to question her, find out why she did what she did, but she wouldn’t say so much as a word of explanation.

He was unsurprised by the constable’s words. The Resistance were a constant thorn in their side and their fierce and ruthless campaign had won them a grudging respect from the vampires they sought to attack.

As Henry moved to face the dying woman once more, it was apparent how rapid her deterioration had become. The black patches of discolouration that betrayed the toxin in her bloodstream were thickening and spreading, and a cascade of bile now streamed from her bleeding lips. Her eyes locked onto his one more time before she arched her back and screamed.

Long live the Resistance!

Her piercing shriek echoed around the tiny cell as her now impossibly darkened eyes rolled back in her head. With a harsh shudder that ripped through her body, she threw her head back and drew a rasping gasp of air before all life fled from her, leaving behind only a mottled and engorged corpse that Henry could not bear to even approach.

His hand instinctively flew up to cover his mouth as he took another step backwards. His century of living as a vampire had shown him many gruesome sights. This revolted him like nothing before.

Henry had no wish to linger alongside the corpse, and thankfully, the urgency of communicating to Gabriel all that had happened provided him with the perfect excuse to retreat from the scene of such foul horror.

He squared his shoulders and strolled out of the gaol cell with a deliberate sense of unaffected calm that was entirely at odds with the knot of tension contorting his guts. Bending over a constable’s desk, Henry sketched out a brief and factual summary of the night’s events, making no effort to convey the fear it struck into him. Gabriel would care nothing for such a subjective account, and there would be time to share with him all the gruesome, emotive details once the inevitable summons