A Shade of Vampire 79: A Game of Death

by Forrest, Bella

  “I suppose you’re right. Nevertheless, thank you, Kalon. It’s good to know we have your support.”

  He stopped and caught my hand. Stilled, I looked down at his grip on me, then up at him. There were thunderstorms gathering in those eyes, and my blood rushed like a swollen stream, headed straight for a steep waterfall.

  “You’ll soon understand what kind of person I am, Esme. You may not like all of me right now, but if there is one thing I can guarantee, it’s that I support the concept of justice more than anything. I only hope we get to the bottom of this before it’s too late.”

  “Before it’s too late?” I asked, frowning slightly.

  He thought about it for a moment, his gaze wavering. “Before the killers get away, I suppose, would be a better choice of words.”

  Was it, though? Or did he mean something else entirely? I didn’t know him well enough to recognize deception when he spoke, so I kept my guard up, ready to consider him an enemy, if needed. But part of me longed to trust him. He seemed genuine in his actions, in his dedication to finding Nethissis’s killer. He also had to have secrets—the kind of stuff he wouldn’t have wanted me to uncover.

  That just made me all the more curious. Perhaps time would tell me more…

  Behind him, someone moved. I saw a flash of red vanishing behind a wooden door. His eyes searched my face, trying to understand what was going through my head. “Esme, is something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said quietly, though my senses were already flaring.

  The air moved close to my face. His hand shot up, and I froze, as he caught a flying dart. It was small and made of steel-like metal, with bright yellow and green feathers. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes wide with shock.

  “What the hell is—” I wanted to ask, but he slipped an arm around my waist and quickly pulled me away from the street, cramming us between houses in a space so narrow that our bodies were virtually glued to one another.

  Everything happened so fast, I didn’t even realize how close we’d gotten. But I could hear the darts whistling through the air, and I could see them shooting from different directions. We were out of their reach, and I knew they were all for us.

  “Poison,” Kalon whispered. “Not enough to kill us, but definitely enough to knock us out and make it easier for others to cut our heads off.”

  “Who’s—”

  “I don’t know,” he hissed, nervously looking around as he tried to think of a way out of this. It was only a matter of time before the darts reached us. Our attackers were bound to try new angles.

  From where we stood, I could tell that they were shooting from above, likely the upper levels of the houses flanking the cobblestone alley. Glancing up, I could see a service window just above us, leading into the first level of the villa behind me. My ears twitched as I tried to listen carefully, beyond my frantic heart. My nostrils flared. I caught a scent…

  “Kalon,” I said, pointing above me. “We can go through there. One of them is inside, up on that floor.”

  He nodded firmly and gripped my waist, pushing me upward with enough strength to launch me toward the window. I twisted myself as I raised my arms and caught the wooden sill. Pulling myself up, I looked inside. The window led into a modular staircase between the first and the second floor.

  Perfect, I thought, as I tried to open it. “Dammit,” I mumbled. It was locked from the inside. A dart shot past me, missing my shoulder by mere inches. There was no time. It had come from above, so I had a hostile on the second floor.

  I punched through the window, the glass crashing and spreading down the stairs. I cleared out the rest of the shards with a bleeding hand, hissing from the stinging sensations. It didn’t matter.

  Pulling myself all the way in, I reached the stairs and bolted up them. Kalon jumped through and joined me, moving like a shadow. I heard a scream somewhere below—a Nalorean woman with a tea tray. We’d scared her, but that didn’t matter, either.

  We made it onto the second floor, as I followed the foreign scent into one of the rooms. A Rimian in a black hood was by the window, reloading a brass tube-like contraption with another poison dart. He’d shot the one that had nearly caught me between buildings. He saw me and raised his dart-weapon, but I got to him in a split second and punched him in the side of the head so hard and fast, it knocked his lights out.

  “Whoa!” Kalon exclaimed, almost laughing. “You are one savage little vampire.”

  “Who are you calling little?” I returned, and took the dart-weapon away from the unconscious Rimian. Kalon grabbed it and pointed it out another window that overlooked the alley from which we’d just escaped. He pressed the small trigger below it, and I heard someone cry out in the distance. He’d hit one of the other attackers.

  We stared at each other for a minute, listening to the sounds outside and below. Boots thudded on the floor and on the ground. Hushed whispers. Doors opening and slamming shut. Windows breaking. But no more darts being fired. Something had changed.

  “They’re leaving in quite a rush,” Kalon said, his breathing ragged.

  The Nalorean woman we’d scared earlier finally found us upstairs, and she was terrified, shaking like a leaf as she held up a broom. “You’re trespassing! Get out or I’ll call the silver guards!” she screamed, her full cheeks red, her lips quivering.

  “I’m Lord Visentis, and you will do no such thing!” Kalon shot back, standing tall and menacing in front of the open window.

  Whoever had tried to take us down was already gone, from this house and the others—except, of course, for the Rimian I’d sucker-punched into oblivion. The Nalorean woman was just as surprised to see him as we were, though.

  “What… Milord… What is going on here?” she asked, unable to regain her composure.

  “We’re not sure,” Kalon replied. “But I assure you we mean no harm.”

  “You broke my window.” She huffed, gradually calming herself down with deep breaths, leaning against the doorframe, broom still in her hand.

  I pointed at the unconscious Rimian. “Do you know him?”

  “No! I don’t know what he’s doing here!” she said.

  “Then, if I were you, I’d be less worried about the window I broke, and more worried about how this guy made it all the way up here in what I assume is your house. He was trying to hurt us,” I replied.

  As if suddenly conked on the head with a magical bat of clarity and common sense, the Nalorean woman exhaled sharply, her pale blue eyes bulging with realization. “He snuck in. He must’ve snuck in. I didn’t hear a thing… What’s that ruckus outside?”

  Voices emerged through the open window. I got up and joined Kalon in front of it, to find dozens of confused Naloreans coming out of their homes, their doors wide open and some of their windows broken. Darts were scattered all over the alley, though none had hit their target. Whoever had attacked us had snuck into these people’s homes, and they’d rushed out as soon as we’d taken this Rimian guy down.

  That told me a few things about their capabilities. I had a feeling we were dealing with the Red Threads. Rimians didn’t stand a chance against us in direct combat, which was why they’d chosen to fire their poisonous darts at us. I rushed back to the unconscious Rimian and searched his pockets, wondering if—there it was!

  I took out a red leather thread, knotted on both ends, and showed it to Kalon. “I think we found the Red Threads.”

  Kalon looked a little pale as he gawked at the thread between my fingers. “Oh, good. The day has not been wasted yet. I would’ve preferred different circumstances, of course, but I’ll take what we can get.”

  “We can’t take him back to the palace,” I said. “If there are Darklings who have infiltrated the gold guards, he’ll be dead before we get anything out of him. Assuming, of course, that the Red Threads and the Darklings are cooperating, somehow.”

  “Well, the Red Threads are definitely interested in us. We’re getting closer,” Kalon replied, blinking s
lowly as he leaned against the window frame.

  I looked at the Nalorean woman, adrenaline still rushing through me. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said to her.

  Kalon fumbled through his pockets and threw her a couple of gold coins, which she caught in her hands, still speechless and stunned by this clearly unexpected development. The woman was probably getting ready for a nice cup of afternoon tea and a good book. “Here, take these for your broken window,” Kalon said. “I’ll be getting a nice little prize from Trev’s victory tomorrow, anyway. I think I still have my winning flyer…”

  He patted himself down, his words slurring. There was something wrong with him.

  “Kalon, are you okay?” I asked, measuring him from head to toe.

  “I don’t think so.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

  “Oh, dear…” the Nalorean woman managed, pointing somewhere behind him. I followed her gaze and took a couple of steps to the side. A dart was lodged just under his shoulder blade. The poison was already spreading through him , hence the increasing sluggishness. He’d been hit somewhere along the way.

  I gripped his shoulders, shaking him so he would look at me. “You said the dart wouldn’t kill us, right?” I asked, and he nodded slowly. “What will it do, though? If we’re hit?”

  “It’s slow acting… for Aeternae… but… put… to sleep…”

  A second later, Kalon was flat on his face, snoring like he hadn’t slept in centuries. I was baffled and genuinely alarmed. I had an unconscious Aeternae, an unconscious Rimian, and a barely conscious Nalorean woman who couldn’t understand what was happening or what we were all doing here.

  We did have a member of the Red Thread faction in our possession, though, and I knew they were using a similar identification method as the Darklings, with the red leather strips. I also knew they wanted us silenced, so I had to find us a way out of here, and fast. The Red Threads might’ve left, but the Darklings were bound to show up soon.

  If evil Rimians couldn’t take us, evil Aeternae definitely could.

  “I need some rope for the Rimian and a cold bath for Lord Visentis,” I said to the Nalorean woman after a few minutes of feverish thinking and planning.

  She stared at me as if I’d just insulted her mother. “Excuse me?”

  “Did I not make myself clear?” I replied, raising my voice. “Rope. Cold water. Help. Now!”

  I startled her, but it worked. She rushed down the stairs and came back minutes later with a handful of twine. She was panting, but I had her on my side, judging by the curious look in her eyes, as she watched me tie the Rimian’s hands behind his back.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Now, the bathroom?”

  The Nalorean woman pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Down the hall, here.”

  “Help me get Lord Visentis in there,” I replied.

  I had my hands full, to say the least. I needed Kalon up and running, ideally before the Rimian came to. For good measure, I ripped a piece of the Rimian’s cloak and used it as a gag, to keep him quiet in case he woke up. I’d clocked him good, though.

  Whatever this hot mess was, I was all the more determined to untangle it and get to the truth. Someone didn’t want me investigating the Darklings and the Red Threads, and that was exactly what I was going to do. First, however, I’d have to bring Kalon back into the realm of consciousness.

  Tristan

  We arrived in the far south of the city, where the Makios dynasty was known to live. One of the more fortunate families, they counted six to ten siblings per marriage, and they occupied an entire neighborhood in this area.

  The alley was flanked by blue brick homes with three levels and whitewashed windows. The doors were white, with brass knockers, and there were flowers at every entrance and sill. “It’s a common theme for the Makios,” Valaine said. “The dark blue and white. They’re seafarers, most of them. Sailors. Matching their colors to the sea and its foamy waves.”

  “Do you know Egan’s wife?” I asked, as we made our way up the steps to his house.

  Two gold guards had come with us, and they stayed in the middle of the street. The sun was setting through the reddish haze, a giant crimson blotch spreading across the sky. I took my mask off as Valaine knocked on the door.

  “Maritza. Yes,” she said. “Not intimately, but I know she’s a good person. Gentle and kind, patient. An excellent mother, too.”

  “They have children.”

  “Four of them,” Valaine replied, slightly amused. “I don’t know what it is about the Makios bloodline, but they never had fertility problems.”

  “Are they the only ones?”

  She shook her head. “There are others, a couple minor dynasties. It’s rare, still, but not rare enough to build effigies of their forefathers, if you know what I mean.”

  The door opened, and a young-looking Aeternae woman appeared in the frame. Wearing a simple, pale gray skirt with a white, frilly shirt, she wore her curly blonde hair in a loose bun, and gold teardrop earrings hung from her ears. Her blue eyes widened when she recognized Valaine.

  “Lady Crimson,” she breathed. “What an honor to have you come to our door! Please, do come in!”

  “Thank you, Maritza,” Valaine replied, and we made our way into the hallway, then the living room to our left.

  It was a pretty home, with pale blue walls and sculptural white molding that framed the ceiling. A crystal-and-brass chandelier came down, with small candles mounted on each of the thirty arms. They were half lit, and Maritza joined us, holding a box of long matchsticks. We’d caught her in the process of preparing for the evening.

  We sat on the large gray velvet sofa, and Maritza offered us fresh blood. I took a moment to observe my surroundings, admiring the dark wood mantel and the matching, sturdy bookcase, filled with thick, leather-bound volumes of Aeternae literature. There were dozens of small paintings on the walls, a combination of portraits, scenery, and still life—a harmonious balance meant to portray an equally harmonious family life.

  Every object in this room had been carefully handpicked to match everything else. A lot of care and attention had gone into the décor, and there was nothing in here that would suggest Egan’s extremist tendencies.

  We waited until Maritza came back with a small crystal pitcher, from which she poured fresh Rimian blood into our lily-shaped glasses. “What brings you into our humble home, milady?” the Aeternae asked.

  “Do you mind if I ask, where are your children?” Valaine replied.

  Maritza frowned slightly. “Upstairs, taking their afternoon nap. They’ve had a full day.”

  “How so? The study season is over, isn’t it?”

  “It is. But they learn new subjects outside of it, and the boys have also taken up swordsmanship. We try to keep them busy during the holidays, as well, as much as we can,” Maritza said. “They have more energy when they’re young. Their minds are perfect for learning.”

  Valaine nodded slowly. “Listen, Maritza, there is no good way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Can you please sit down?”

  The good humor left her with incredible speed. She lowered herself into an armchair a few feet across from us, hands fumbling with one another in her lap. “What’s wrong, milady?”

  “It’s about Egan,” Valaine replied. “I’m sorry, but he’s dead.”

  Maritza sucked in a breath, the color instantly draining from her face. “What… Why? How?!”

  “For the sake of your children, I need you to remain calm,” Valaine said, reaching out. She took Maritza’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently as a means to comfort the Aeternae.

  “I… I don’t understand,” she murmured, tears gathering in her eyes.

  “Egan was a Darkling. He attacked me and my friend here. We had no choice,” Valaine said. “I didn’t even know it was him until we took his mask off.” She went on to tell Maritza about last night’s attack and our visit to the orphanage, laying out the details of the subsequent attack, whi
le the woman sobbed and struggled to process everything that she was told.

  For a moment, I saw rage flaring in her bloodshot eyes, but it soon faded, as Valaine further explained the circumstances which had led to her husband’s death. It took a good half hour to get Maritza back into a functional state, but she did it. Personally, I was impressed with Valaine’s ability to command a person like that, despite the tragedy that had clearly befallen Maritza Makios.

  “I was only defending myself,” Valaine concluded. “If I could turn back time, I would… but I worry the result would be similar, if not the same.”

  “The Darklings were determined to kill us both,” I added, my voice low.

  “Who are you, exactly?” Maritza managed, her lower lip quivering as she looked at me.

  “Tristan Vaughn.”

  “One of the outsiders,” Valaine clarified. “He’s been helping with our investigation into the Darklings, Maritza. And I had no idea it would make us cross paths with your husband. Please, accept my condolences.”

  “I… I don’t understand,” the Aeternae sobbed. “Egan is a good provider… a gentle husband. A patient father. A loyal Aeternae. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “We don’t know.” Valaine sighed, lowering her gaze as she stared at the black-and-white thread she’d retrieved from Egan’s pocket. “This is a distinguishing mark among the Darklings, it seems. Do you recognize it? Have you, perhaps, seen it before—maybe around the house?”

  Maritza stared at the braid for a while, then shook her head. “No.”

  “Did Egan stay out at night for longer than he should have? Did his behavior seem off at any time?” Valaine asked.