“Enough to know that it was written by someone a lot older than I am.”
Raphael nodded. “The text is somewhat archaic.”
“What does it say?”
“They want to meet under a flag of truce.” Raphael’s gaze lifted to meet Juro’s, holding for a moment before dropping to the letter once more. “To discuss terms.”
“Terms of what?” Cyn scoffed.
“They want us to accept their troublemakers, younger vamps who want more than the European lords are willing to give up,” Jared suggested. “But I bet they didn’t phrase it that way.”
Cyn glanced at him, then back at Raphael who said, “The letter simply requests a meeting to discuss a reasonable accommodation, in order to avoid a war that none of us wants.”
“That’s it? Where’s this meeting supposed to take place?”
Raphael seemed to be reading further, and then he said thoughtfully, “Hawaii.”
Cyn stiffened in surprise. “I didn’t know there were any vampires in Hawaii.”
“A few, less than ten that we know of,” Juro said slowly, as if he, too, was surprised by the request.
“But . . . who’s their lord, then?” Cyn asked, confused.
“Strictly speaking, the islands would be mine,” Raphael responded. He leaned back a little, his fingers steepled thoughtfully under his chin. “But the distance is great, and their true master is a vampire named Rhys Patterson. Most vampires don’t like islands. But Patterson wanted his own territory and knew he wasn’t strong enough to hold one, especially not against me. He’s a strong master vampire, but will never be a lord. So he requested permission to journey to Hawaii and set up a colony of his own. He sailed to Oahu with a diplomatic delegation from the U.S. in the late 1800s.”
Raphael had lowered his hands and was tapping one finger on the arm of his chair, a gesture of stress from a guy who rarely showed any outward signs, no matter how bad it got. Cyn wanted to comfort him, to sit on his lap and put her arms around him, but that wouldn’t do. So instead, she moved closer under the guise of bending over the desk to study the vampire missive. Raphael immediately made room for her, pushing back a little and curling his arm around the back of her thighs, his touch comforting them both.
“He made vamps after he got there?” she asked.
“As Juro says, only a few,” Raphael told her. “He’s master enough to create his own children, but not strong enough to control too many of them. He’s never sired a vampire more powerful than he is, at least none that he’s permitted to live beyond the first night.”
Cyn blinked at the casual, and brutal, revelation of that comment. “Does he come to the Council meetings?” she asked.
“He’s not a member of the Council. He thrives in Hawaii by my goodwill. But I’ve never bothered with him. I did visit once, after air travel became feasible—I had my fill of sea travel on the journey here from Europe. It was an uneventful visit, but that was some years ago . . .” He looked up at Juro, silently asking if he remembered exactly the date.
“1968?” Juro suggested.
Raphael considered it, then nodded. “1968.”
“And you haven’t been back there since?” Cyn asked.
He shrugged. “No, but we talk on the phone a few times a year.”
“Where in Hawaii do they want the meeting to take place, my lord?” Jared asked, returning to the matter at hand. It was a practical question, and one Cyn wished she’d thought of. It galled her to admit it, especially since it was Jared who’d pulled them back on track, but she was too emotionally involved in this situation and wasn’t thinking straight.
Raphael didn’t even glance at the letter. “Kauai, which is where Patterson lives.”
“Are all of his people on one island?”
Raphael nodded. “As far as I know. He originally set up on Oahu, but he didn’t think far enough ahead. He didn’t claim enough territory to ensure privacy for him and his children, and the island got too crowded. By the time I visited in ’68, he’d already relocated to Kauai and secured a big enough parcel of land to ensure he wouldn’t have to move again.”
“May I see the letter, Sire?” Jared asked.
Raphael handed it to him.
“You read French?” Cyn asked, concealing her surprise. She knew that Jared had been brought to this country as a slave, although, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t exactly sure which country he’d been brought from. France had been very active in the slave trade, more active than the U.S., if truth be told. She’d have to ask Raphael later, because God knew she wasn’t going to ask Jared about it.
Jared glanced up at her question and gave a single nod. “They’re asking to meet on Kauai,” he repeated, reading the letter. “But there’s no mention of Patterson. You think he’s still alive?”