Chapter Fifty-Five
Not having got the early night I wanted I would have liked a lie-in, but I didn't get that either. There had been decent questions from those who'd come to talk, often with a local focus but equally a new sense of what the Pacific North-West leading by example might mean, and I'd interspersed media questions Mary and Maya had collated. Yes, Ol' Manitou River would cause disruption, and management of the green lurch would be needed; yes, I knew about Kennedy and Camelot, but no, I hadn't figured out what actually having Excalibur would add to my re-run; and what its full powers were I was still finding out. Often enough q.-and-a. became a round table, with Irpa, Frank, Jeremiah, Warren, governors, Sawyer, and the Man, and it had certainly been different, music flowing behind us and a clear triumph of practicality over party allegiance.
When we'd finally called a halt and the broadcast ended I'd had emotions from Caroline, Penny, and their crews to deal with. They had known of the threat sooner than others, if not explicitly, and with release of tension raw feelings boiled up. They weren't hostile, but there was anger they didn't know what to do with, so I'd invited them to Sunday dinner, and Asil distracted them, bless him, by offering to appear on Living Free and Moonbound. The Man was staying overnight on Air Force One, awaiting the conference call, but wanted to talk to Asil too, musicians joining us all agog. Asil bore it well, with Anna's help, and when Samuel and Ariana showed, at the end of his hospital shift, Samuel switched things by borrowing an acoustic guitar and playing very old songs. Some governors and representatives had to leave, others stayed, wondering, so I'd hung on longer than my poor feet liked, singing along when the music drifted into my ken, and living in the complex pleasures of the moment. Coyote had spoken to Dylan about Amerindian blues, and I'd asked the Rhythm Devils about 11/8, and all the musicians about how they'd done the vocals, and why a song called 'The Eleven' only counted from eight to three. We spoke Blues with representatives, including the Vicksburg woman, drawing in Adam and Jesse, and it was Jesse's yawns that let us get out of there, Irpa chauffeuring Frank, Rachel, Jeremiah, and Ros.
Once home there had been the dubious pleasure of a call from Marsilia, still as remote as Leslie said yet simultaneously hyper, demanding to know what I'd really meant vampires had to do. Exactly what I'd said, I told her, but there had been fear in her voice, and none of her unsettling laughs. That she had not believed I could dismiss Bonarata was crystal clear, but she was trying to be practical, so I tolerated as much as I could before telling her to get a good day's sleep.
"I realise it's not what you or Wulfe expected, Marsilia, and that you find it sub-optimal, but for vampires tout court it is so much better than it might have been you have no cause to repine. And you know full well, whatever you feel, that every equation is better with minus Iacopo in the terms. What are you doing about the sacrificed vampires?"
/Doing?/
"Un huh. Four of your own, and those six Europeans, were wantonly murdered on global TV. Do you not grieve them? Vamps give up the ghost with Turning, not their souls. Will you not pray for them? Your new country is watching, remember. I'd make contact fast with the theological community at St Louis U., who want to hold a service of blessing in Gateway Park, mostly for Lenka. I'm damned if it'll commemorate anything about Bonarata, but it could commemorate the ten we'll say innocent vamps who got dusted by truly obscene tactics. If you really don't get it, talk to Stefan, and hire some good PR. You can also tell Wulfe we need to talk, and the meet will be at Uncle Mike's. Goodnight, now."
Chopping her off was satisfying, but it took Adam some soothing before I dropped off, only to be hauled back by the alarm what felt like immediately but was actually 6:30. The temptation to pull on sweats was as strong as my desire to get back to bed afterwards, but it wouldn't do so I showered and dressed for church, in a blouse and skirt. Other accessories could wait, but I put on Coyote's pendant, a welcome splash of colour, and headed down with Adam, Skuffles again joining us on the stairs. Pack breakfast had to wait, but I wasn't facing world leaders on an empty stomach, so I set about pancake mix. By the time the Man and entourage arrived amid much Secret Service bustling, and turned out not to have eaten yet himself, it was only a moment's work to set short stacks in front of him and Adam, and pile into my own wishing everything was as simple and satisfying as adding maple syrup. Needing caffeine I had coffee for once, though a lot more latte than flat white, to buffer it.
"Above and beyond, Ms Hauptman, and my good luck you like cooking."
"Not a problem, sir. I needed food." I told him about Marsilia's call. "I don't know St Louis U. deserves her, but they're in the redemption business, and a memorial service for sacrificed vamps seems reasonable."
"Will she do it?"
"Probably." I drank coffee and grimaced. "You'll laugh, but I'm used to being freaked out by Marsilia, and now I'm freaked out that I'm freaking her out. It has to be an improvement, but She Freaks The Freaks is not such a good name."
He did laugh, and so did Adam.
"I dunno, love. It's a good rep. But I agree Marsilia will probably do it, Mr President. Wulfe or Stefan will have been listening and they'll see it's a smart move. Passing on contact info for the senior priest would be good."
We sent contact data both ways, and as it was theologians I refrained from tagging Marsilia as Queen of the Damned or telling them she'd been Bonarata's child and mistress. Then it was time, collecting two State Department people, to head for Adam's office, where Ben dealt with the compound feed from the White House, arraying faces in a dense mosaic that made my eyes ache, before Adam let him out. The lock clunked, Skuffles settled at my side, eyeing the screen dubiously, and the Man stepped up to the plate.
It was as he'd said, disturbed and powerful people finding themselves much more powerless than they cared to be, and wanting a fix that was not available in double-quick time. I kept my temper for all of ten minutes, explaining that magic had limits, as did magic-users, and wanting avatars to search the globe was well beyond them. There were things one could try, but most vamps did not leave the feeding scars Bonarata had on Lenka, and the biggest give-away was a dry-cellar smell they couldn't conceal that lingered on sheep. Renfields could be sensed at close range by more powerful magic users. And yes, as vampires had successfully concealed themselves for millennia, they were very good at it, though they had the same, growing problem with technology as Fae and wolves — meaning, bottom line, big data, the encroaching digital omniscience of the state that could search for anomalies in biometric and actuarial data, find the financial patterns of seethes and multi-sheep households among the noise, and scan the ubiquity of CCTV for things that defied normal explanations. Then the British oaf of a Prime Minister interrupted.
"Look, Mrs Hauptman, this fancy footwork is all very well for the long term, but we need something faster — quick results to keep people happy, capice? And as you created this problem, that's rather your job, you know, whatever magic it takes, eh?"
My eyes were flickering golden, but I gave the Man a look and he gestured me to speak as I would while chopping silence at a startled State Department face. I took a breath, willing myself calm.
"With all due respect, sir, which just now isn't very much, if you actually believe you just made sense you're being what I believe your class of Brit calls a complete duffer. Newsflash, sir — Britain has had resident vampires since they arrived with the Romans. And did you not hear me say there is no simple find-the-vamp magic? Even a fae discovery spell needs a name, and with the Undead that's no guarantee. There is only the long haul, and you have been given contact details you've already used to good effect, so why on earth are you moaning about having to mop up your own country for yourself? Try saying thank you, instead."
A gesture took in the whole mosaic onscreen.
"And though politer and, I presume, smarter, all of you are in effect asking for a ready-made version of a complex long-term package deal the US is still working out, when you already have the outlines, and further demanding a way to make it work over days rather than decades while not actually having to put your backs into it. So without apology, ladies and gentlemen, get real. If the US has an alliance between kinds it's because we're all trying hard to find mutual benefits, and if you want alliance with preternaturals you need to make it in their best interest to be allied with you. I know some of you are doing things about that, but others don't seem to be. And if you just want a means of vamp genocide, then, very politely indeed, go away, because I'm not into crimes against humanity."
Russia, looking as broody as he always did on TV, said something in Russian and Adam cut in, using his own Russian. Quite a few could obviously follow, including China, and Adam sent images that let me know the question was what would prompt wolves to action against vamps, the answer being multiply contingent — not only the vamp offence, but what action with what consequences. Adam dropped back into English.
"And consequences are very much the point, ladies and gentlemen, because preternaturals take them seriously. Most of our fights are to the death, and while we were hidden our codes were unforgiving, in the name of safety for all. Yes, wolves, like avatars and fae, have a real distaste for vampires, but we have our own ethics, as those of you with serving wolves know. And we have already done a great deal for all of you, without asking or expecting reward. Mercy has done most. You are all better off by an order of magnitude already, and clamouring for more before you've tried to meet preternaturals half-way is really not so impressive."
China politely held up a hand, and spoke in excellent English.
"This I accept, Mr Hauptman, but I find myself in a difficult position." His eyes met mine. "Ms Hauptman, I heard you say you do not know what kinds of preternaturals there might be in my land, save dragons and spirits of Feng Shui. The problem is that I do not know either, no preternatural kind having come out here, and I am unsure where or how to begin to meet any of it, half-way or otherwise. I would welcome advice."
"Right. No offence, sir — I'm no kind of expert, and mean none — but I'm guessing Chairman Mao's thinking didn't have much room for folklore?"
"No offence in that, and you are right. Peasant superstitions needed to be overcome, with religious indoctrination, and had not then been shown to be more than superstitions. Nor have they yet, though circumstantial evidence has, ah, gone through the roof, I believe you say."
"We do, sir. But I doubt your many dragon motifs and lore came from nowhere. Is there anything to stop you being frank about it in public? It's not on the late Chairman he didn't know about the preternatural, and now you do it must be accommodated — which cannot mean fitted into an orthodoxy devised for the natural. Fundamental new data means time for a rethink, within larger state parameters, but still."
He nodded cautiously. "If I made such a statement what preternatural consequences might follow?"
"Who knows, sir? May we play twenty questions?"
"By all means, though you may ask what I cannot answer."
"So noted. I take it you're familiar with the Fae and binding oaths?"
"Certainly."
"And you accept binding means for ever? Not subject to expediency, policy change, or anything else? Everything your constitutional oath means with preternatural as well as legal penalties for any oathbreach."
"I do."
"Then you're equipped to deal with any preternaturals you find. I'd try Feng Shui for manitous you ought to have — Yangtze, Yellow, and Amur Basins — and be very prepared to rethink your dam projects. No manitou likes feeling bloated, and Three Rivers has to be a real downer."
To my surprise he smiled.
"It is for me, I assure you. But I take your point, Ms Hauptman. A magically conveyed offer of something a manitou will want."
"No, sir, a sincere offer of a deal. If you can make contact, a great manitou won't out any preternatural kinds living within it, but might be willing to tell them you'd be glad to talk. Call it a diplomatic backchannel. Now, great manitous can look after themselves, so while I have no idea what is and isn't possible, I will ask Medicine Wolf and Ol' Manitou River to do whatever they can to alert major river-basin manitous elsewhere to keep an ear cocked, and think about whether they want to come out and deal. I can also ask Thomas Hao to take your call — he's American, but has contacts. Beyond that, sir, it depends if you have a binding oath to offer me, one you will keep utterly regardless of the result in November, saying you will protect the interests of any preternatural I facilitate contact with, meaning interests as that preternatural defines them, not you."
I looked at Russia.
"Same question for you, sir, because the answers would overlap. You and China both have equivalents of First People who might know things, but none have any reason to trust Moscow or Beijing further than they can throw them. If you were listening last night, you heard me say the US record on minority rights is appalling, but neither of you have done much better, and both keep up state persecution and killing far more openly. Has it occurred to you any number of preternaturals will have been caught in all that down the decades, from human magic-users — shamans, witches, wizards, geomancers — to wolves, fae, half-fae, vamps, and whatever? It's not a system I like, but you need to relabel them and their families and communities as nomenklatura, or why would they bother to obey you, let alone be willingly loyal? So, last two things on this, one, do you all realise how much the President has done on this here? How much he risked? Think about where he'd be now if Bonarata had killed me, Adam, and Jesse in Gateway Park, and the kind of faith that took. Think about the fact that he challenged his own party as much as lifelong opponents, and endorsed me although my platform includes constitutional amendments and throwing everyone in the green lurch. And point two, remember the natural in preternatural. We are mostly of earth and air, animal kinds and ecosystems, and we know you do not need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, so if you really want to be in touch with preternaturals be prepared to get greener fast and permanently. And while I truly don't do attack ads, know that if I am elected I will pursue that argument any and every way I can, because kiddos are on the line, period."
There was a silence before China nodded again.
"You make compelling sense, Ms Hauptman. I am reminded North America's First People crossed the Bering Strait."
"That's the one, sir. Enquiries might be made, but if that's to happen we'll need to meet in person, here or there — binding oaths aren't made by satellite link, but face to face, under the sky. Bread is broken. Preternaturals play by old rules and mean them." His sense and courtesy eased me, and mischief twined with curiosity. "I'll offer you this as an earnest, sir — if you can set up a meeting with dragons, and care to send an invitation, I'll come. I've never met one and can't say I'm not curious."
After a second he smiled again, quite widely. "I shall hope to hold you to that, Ms Hauptman. And a, let us hope, as we surely may, state visit by US preternaturals would be domestically interesting, to say the least."
"Something to look forward to, sir. But I'll say now the scare-away firecrackers thing doesn't work. Anything immaterial couldn't care less, and anything with ears just gets a headache."
His smile became a genuine laugh. "So I have suspected, Ms Hauptman. And I have taken more than enough of your time this morning. Thank you, and I shall hope to issue that invitation in due course."
He shot a stream of Russian at Russia, which Adam later told me amounted to don't mess with us on this, but yes to joint ops if you'll truly commit. My eyes drifted across the mosaic, and found Italy.
"Sir, you've been silent so far, but may I ask how things are with Bonarata's seethe, and if the Vatican's said anything yet?"
I got a very elegant Italian shrug.
"You ask good questions, signora." His English was charmingly accented. "We occupied the seethe but there were no vampires, only catatonic humans they had fed from, all now comatose in hospital unless they have died. There were more hoarded astonishments, data we have managed to decrypt and data we have not. Aid would be appreciated."
"I don't see why not, sir. Charles Smith will call when we're done here."
"Thank you. As to the Vatican, who knows? They have yet to say a single word, and one hardly dares guess why that might be."
"Bonarata would not have ignored papal power, however few divisions the pope might have, and by preternatural standards it's not long since the answer to Stalin's question was more than one." I glanced across the mosaic, picking out faces. "The issue is what any religious authority says about vampires, or the preternatural at large. I understand faith is not logical, but I have been purposefully engaging with our religious extremists and trying to drag them into thought on their own terms."
I flicked oafish Britain a glance.
"You, sir, might note that as an Episcopalian I am far more likely to heed the Archbishop of Canterbury than you, and everybody needs to think about the hit I strongly suspect the Vatican will take, as well as anything the Qur'an may have to say about djinni or other preternaturals. I acknowledge there's a lot of very dirty history and politics involved, but even so you do not want a religious war against the preternatural, because the preternatural will fight back, and given the Medicine Wolf Accords, and Ol' Manitou River Accords to come, if preternatural kinds tout court are under threat, any President will be under immense pressure to support them. So if you want advice, head your overly pious off at the pass, with whatever force is needed. I'd plug them into the interfaith interview with Ol' Manitou River that is being organised — tell them to contact the Christian Science Monitor — and be talking hard to imams, patriarchs, brahmins, whatever, because anything resembling barking bigotry needs … productively stamping on, fast." I shrugged. "Not easy, I know, but ecology worked on raving Christians, so maybe it'd work for others — not frying your grandchildren has serious transcultural mass appeal. And if small delegations of faith leaders want to meet Medicine Wolf and Ol' Manitou River, and will swear by whatever most tightly binds them to maintain courtesy no matter what, I can and will arrange that."
I wanted more breakfast and fewer bigwigs on my plate.
"Long and the short, too few ladies and gentlemen, show sincerely willing and I'll help as best I can, regardless of November, because I want what's best for humans and preternaturals alike. A Path of Mercy. But don't ever forget the Path of Assertion, because they come together or not at all." One last breath. "Human politics largely work, or have worked, through dishonesty. How do you know if a politician is lying? Lies, damned lies, and statistics. Read my lips. Business as usual. SOP. But most preternaturals hear lies, and preternatural politics are pragmatic because they have an absolute bottom line. Everyone has leeway until they swear but then it's letter of the oath. Ask Gwyn ap Lugh, the Marrok, Irpa Thorsden, anyone. Prove to have lied and you're toast, even if you're an ex-sea-god and sitting Gray Lord. And that's all I can tell you today. I have pack breakfast to sort, church to attend, and guests due for whom I need to cook, so you'll have to excuse me. US preternaturals will do their best, and I dare say the Farouts and FBI, to answer sensible questions, but our definitions of sensible are going to be a lot narrower than most of yours." I looked at Britain. "Capice, Mr Prime Minister? And farewell, everyone." I looked at Italy. "If you stay online, sir, I'll ask Charles in."
The Man took over to make his own brief farewell, and when only Italy was left both of them grinned at me.
"I capice, Ms Hauptman. May I say that, like the astonishing Signor Moreno, I appreciate your style. And I have been enjoying your campaign, however it has now come very much closer to home."
The Man laughed. "Oh yeah. And you really do get even when you get mad, don't you? But let's get Mr Smith in."
Italy summoned a cryptography geek, and after a moment Charles summoned Ben, so we left them to it. In the hall the Man gave me a look.
"That puts them all on very interesting notice. Britain's an idiot, and trouble while he lasts, but now they're out of Europe they're not much use to us, saving NATO, so ignore him. You handled China very well, and Russia. I'd forgotten you spoke Russian, Mr Hauptman — that scores big points."
"He seemed twisty, but also to get it, sir."
"That's about right. Gets a bit muscle-bound by his own image, but he's no kind of stupid." He checked his watch. "Your service is at 11?"
"Yup. Pack breakfast first, if you want more food, sir."
"I could nibble, but I was wondering if you'd mind if I came to the service? I need to be in DC this evening, but we should do joint PR and a looming service will keep it short. I'd also like to know what'll be happening with I84 and the rebirth of Celilo Falls." He grinned again. "You could call it pack practice for having the president to breakfast."
As most of the pack, cooking and laying the table, thought that funny we had the president to breakfast, again, and after telling him what I could about June I left him to Jesse's tender mercies and did some surfing. First interviews with vamps who'd signed up were out, and with the Department of the Mississippi Basin occupied space everywhere, but I was rarely less than co-headlining, PBS image prominent. Asil, also surfing with a wry look, had them not knowing what to say beyond repeating his tale with screamers, but heavyweights had been struck by what one called my 'bold and utterly unselfish use of extraordinary political capital'. I could, apparently, have done nothing but preen in the spotlight and welcome adulation, stroking Excalibur the while, but had instead set everybody a lifetime of psychosocial repair-work. Besides the mixed metaphors, threatening indigestion, I had to grant the point, though I hadn't thought it a choice, just doing what needed done. More reassuringly, more than one faith leader had, while declaring shock and theological turmoil, cautioned vampires were within God's or whoever's creation, and everyone needed to know a lot more before doing anything hasty. I'd always worried about human reactions, but there hadn't been anything that could be done — before now. I caught Jesse's eye.
"You're doing vamps Wednesday?"
"Like I have a choice, though I want to get other things in."
"Bring up what faith leaders are saying and push tolerance? I wondered about asking Penny to do a new series — Living Free and Bloodbound. Stefan might be willing."
"Good one, Mom. Perhaps a one-off rather than a series — vamps aren't so photogenic and furry." She looked at the Man. "Has there been trouble anywhere here, sir?"
"Not that I've been told, Miss Hauptman, but police are on all seethes as deterrents. And as vampires don't seem to get PR, anything you can do to, ah, tide them over until they get their act together would be welcome." He shook his head. "I meant every word I said yesterday, you know. Maybe I should give the whole family a medal. The British gave one to Malta."
"Oh hush, sir. We need to go to church."