There was a pause after I spoke those words, a disbelieving silence. Then Genevieve pulled away from me and stared at me. As well she might.

"I do not understand you," she said, though a wild look in her eyes made her a liar.  She had understood, and was choosing not to believe.

"I am a vampire, Genevieve.  There is another of my kind here in the Loire, bringing death to those who have not succumbed to this mortal plague."

She rose shakily to her feet. She stared down at me for another moment, fear fighting against the knowledge that I was her father's closest friend, a man she had known her entire life.  Fear won.  She turned and ran, without another word.

"My Prince?"  Benoit was already at my side.

"See she gets home safely, please, Benoit," I said, without turning. "Do not let her see you."

Benoit disappeared into the shadows again.  I sighed and rose to my feet.  Fool, to love a mortal woman.  Twice a fool, to tell her the truth.  But she was an intelligent woman, and had already halfway guessed.  Ah, Dieu, what was I to do now?

Go back to being Prince, of course; back to my pursuit of the rogue, the monster that was worse than the plague.I stood looking in the direction she had run, a deep yearning beyond words making something inside me ache.

I wanted her; and I could not have her.  Not yet, and perhaps not ever. It made going back to that lonely, wretched chateau seem unbearable. Yet I turned in that direction rather than follow her.

Benoit caught up to me while I was making my way back home to Chateau de Monet.  I didn't bother asking if Genevieve had gotten home safely.  I'd have known if she hadn't.

"Monsieur?" Benoit looked at me quizzically, never having seen me in this mood. "Have I displeased you?"

I shook my head, suppressing a smile.  I was hardly a taxing master, unlike my own turnsire Armand, who’d had a temper, or the type who punished my fledglings for the least misdemeanour.  But Benoit always worried that he failed to meet expectations. It was one reason why I would never name Benoit my successor. A Prince couldn't worry about that sort of thing.

Not when we had an entire country to worry about.


Once I'd returned to the chateau, I sat in my leather cushioned chair in my study and pondered the reports my Gardiens brought me, one by one. The monster Corbeau was here in the Loire, moving like smoke from village to village, leaving a trail of death.  But because there were so many deaths, and premature burials, it was not an easy trail to follow.  When–-I refused to think of it an as 'if'  when we caught Corbeau, he would have to be executed. There was no rehabilitation possible for this sort of rogue.

I pored over a map of the villages of the Loire Valley, painstakingly drawn by one of my fledglings, those villages that they suspected Corbeau had attacked marked in red.  The rogue seemed to be moving west, as far as any route was discernable. He had doubled back at least once, fooling his pursuers.  That he knew he was being hunted was not in doubt.  He had to know that France had a Prince, and that the Prince had a police force.

But les Gardiens could not be everywhere.  As always, there were too few of them, and I could not go making new fledglings merely to bring up their numbers; that would make me no better than my quarry.  There were rules on the Council.  Too many rules, I had often thought, and occasionally said out loud.

As dawn neared, I sighed again; no closer to apprehending the villain, and I had badly frightened the woman I loved.  Not a night to be proud of.  I made my way up to my bedroom (let the Corbeaus of the world sleep in coffins, if they so chose, I would take a bed any day) and fell down ina dismal sort of mood onto the great black bed with its intricately carved posts.  It would be a much happier bed if I had someone to share it with...someone with golden hair and blue eyes...

In the quiet that fell just before dawn took me and sent me into the death sleep of vampires, I said "Merde."

 ____________________

For many years, there had been terrible vampire wars raging across Europe.The mortals always fought each other; and it seemed the habit did not die out of the blood when those mortals were transformed to the undead.

There were vampires, though, who thought things could be different. Who despised the killing, the constant struggles for power.  Who thought that the undead could dwell more or less peacefully and undetected amongst humans and help protect them from, well, vampires.

Word began to spread amongst the children of the night.  Those interested in a truce, in setting up a body to deal with vampire laws, vampire transgressions, vampire concerns, would come together and meet.

Naturally, the ones who responded to the call were the strongest, the ones with the most to lose should the wars continue.  From each war torn country, or sometimes group of countries, came those who responded to the call for peace.

The heads of bloodlines.  Each one a master vampire, with many fledglings and underlings, a court of their own.  Some of them employed nonvampires;  magic users were particularly favoured for courtiers.  Vampires could do no magic beyond their considerable mental powers, which they mostly used to cloud the minds of mortal prey.  And magic users could also provide protection during the vulnerable daylight hours.  Werewolves and other shapeshifters were often also used for protectors, as were those of that
strange, little known race known as the Nameless Ones.

Courts.  They had been called courts, these assemblies of vampires and other occult beings, since time immemorial.  Perhaps that was why, when the Council finally convened, they hit upon the idea of using the title of Prince to define all those characteristics that would help bring an end to the wars.  Even the women were to be called Prince.  It would give a sense of authority, of continuity, and emphasize that the gender did not matter, only
the power.

Each Prince was autonomous, but also answerable to the Council as a whole. It was a neatly closed system, so that no one Prince could garner too much power.  Should a Prince violate the Council rules (and the arguing over the rules took years, centuries...), then the Council as a whole could vote to depose that Prince and set up another in his or her place. Deposition brought with it instant decapitation and a bloody purge of the existing court.

The Council of European Princes.  There were still some struggles for power, even after it had been agreed upon, especially some internecine wars to determine which head of which bloodline should have the honour  and the burden  to be Prince.  For to be Prince was to be shackled, laden with the care of an entire country  countries, in some cases  to tend to its vampires, to hunt its rogues, to administer its laws, to carry out its executions. And there were those, even or perhaps especially Princes, hungry enough for power, even with its cares, who had covetous eyes cast upon other Princes' countries.

Annexing another country and killing its Prince were actually allowable under Council law, provided you didn't get caught and did it with politics rather than swords.  Council law was a product of its times, after all, as were the first Princes.

Armand had always been a strong voice on the Council; had been one of its first advocates. He had more or less bullied Spain, Austria/Hungary and Germany into joining.  I had been sent to Italy to persuade the strongest vampire they could find there, Carmine Abrizzi, to join the Council and be Prince.


That had been an interesting trip.  Carmine and I fenced verbally with each other.  At one point, he laughed in my face, but I remained calm; knowing that the Council and its dreams of peace could not work without Italy.  Armand was counting on me to win this barefoot, sardonic man over. I did my best.  Carmine had proven a difficult customer but had agreed in the end.   Belgium, Switzerland, Russia, Greece, and Scandinavia soon joined and theCouncil was formed.

I thought the Council had some worthy ideas behind it; I was certainly in favour of ending the feuding that had destroyed entire bloodlines and caused vampires to walk in fear of each other.  I found the meetings hard to endure, though; good ideas hidden behind so much hot air.  And some of the Princes I found myself almost despising. I liked Carmine, although he had given me a hard time; but Rodrigo of Spain and Ingrid of Germany earned my dislike.  I attended the meetings with Armand and gave them my full attention; not just because I was interested in helping the Council to become a working body, but because Armand would quiz me mercilessly on the proceedings after each meeting.

I had not objected to being named successor to Armand, the first Prince of
 France. I adored my turnsire, although our relationship had been
 more that of old general and young captain rather than father and son or...
 lover and lover.  I had never cared for men in that way, though I was far more tolerant of those who did than most human authority figures of the time.. I had been
 turned because I was a good, solid, dependable man who could fight and
 knew his way through politics and Armand had needed such a man. He had needed a lawyer.

I, however, had not been entirely unable to keep from making faces during one of Prince Rodrigo of Spain’s long rants or Nils of Scandinavia waffling over which position to take.  Sometimes, I was caught making those faces.

Fortunately, it had mostly been the vampire Prince of Great Britain, Blaine of England, who had caught me. He would waggle a finger at me as if I was a naughty little boy, but that would be his only admonition for my bad behaviour.

Blaine was an unusual Prince.  He had a sense of humour as well as a sense of honour. It had taken some years to establish which bloodline would rule England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales;  there had been two equal contenders for the title.  Blaine had solved the problem by marrying the head of the rival bloodline, ending years of feuding.  Olivia had seen it only made sense, and willingly served as his consort.  They both liked me, as I liked them, and a friendship had formed.  Not many of the Princes were friends with each other or each other's consorts.

Ah yes, the consorts.  Each Prince was expected to have either a consort or a successor. Both were preferable.  The consort would not necessarily succeed to the title when the Prince retired or died, but a successor would.  Successors had to be approved by the Council, since they would eventually sit on it.  Consorts did not.  Consorts did not have to be legally married to their Prince. They had a certain amount of respect on the Council, but no vote and no voice save in exceptional circumstances.  Successors could
speak up but not vote.  Other retainers, guards and so forth, earned no respect and had no voice or vote.  They were furniture.

But somehow it all worked, to a certain extent.  The feuds mostly stopped. Rogues were dealt with.  Princes plotted against one another, formed cabals to sway the vote, but often these cancelled each other out.

It was a hard job, and a lonely one.  Armand had had no consort, and I began to understand why. It would be an extraordinary woman (or man) who could tolerate living with and being the helpmate of a Prince.  A woman of steel.


 A woman like Genevieve St Moriens.

 ___________

Corbeau had been tracked.  I heard the report from my Gardiens in stony silence. Corbeau was here, close to the chateau, defying me and my police force to stop him.

The two half wit, half breed servants that I kept out of memory of Armand hovered near my leather cushioned chair as the Gardiens reported. Ugly, misconceived creatures they were, too; neither vampire nor human, they were a reminder that attempting to turn a fledgling did not always work. Armand had made them when he was still quite young in the blood and had been unable to dispose of them.  Nor more could I, although I found their sharp teeth and vacant eyes disturbing.

They were reminders that Armand had been, after all, only human.

"Elrich, Jared," I said now to these ghouls, "go and hitch up the horses."

Horses did not much like vampires or the ghouls, for that matter, but could be persuaded to pull a carriage freighted with the undead.

"Come, Benoit, Thierry, Marc..." I called to my Gardiens.  "We are going hunting."

They checked their weapons--stakes, swords... and followed their Prince and master.

The village had not changed much in the few nights that had passed since I had last seen Genevieve.  My heart gave a great wrench as I realized that it was _this_ village that Corbeau now stalked.

There was another carriage in the village.  I stared at it.  Noone in tiny St. Martin owned such an equipage. It was just  on the outskirts, the horses still hitched, the driver sitting upright and alert...  oh, merde, too alert, as he leapt off the seat with a yell, brandishing a crossbow.

Benoit shoved me off the carriage seat without a word, and, caught by surprise, I sprawled on the ground as a crossbow quarrel sang
through the air where I’d been sitting a moment earlier.  I'd have to remember to thank Benoit--before or after flogging him was debatable.

Then Marc and Thierry had swept down on the driver of the other carriage, making him realize why a crossbow was not necessarily the first weapon of choice.  They took too long to reload.  By the time he'd gotten another bolt in the groove, his head had parted company with his body. Two more servants of Corbeau's came rushing out of the coach to engage the Gardiens in a heated battle.

I had already recovered and bounced to my feet within seconds of hitting the ground.  I motioned to Benoit and the two of us, moving cautiously even for vampires, set out hunting for the coach's chief occupant.

Somehow, I knew just where to go.

A scream made me run faster.